John B. Marek is a writer, farmer, outdoorsman and recovering economic developer. You can find his books at johnbmarek.com.
The window on the mountain is frosted over this morning. The radio mentions snow flurries a few miles to the west, but it’s just cold and damp here. The weather was much better toward the end of last week, and I dug the second of three “Hugel Sisters” pits and cleared another 50 yards or so of trail through my woods. The going’s getting a little tougher as I descend toward the creek, where I will eventually have to build a small footbridge. But that’s a story for another day.
My 1986 honeymoon was “interesting.” We took the ferry from Port Clinton to Put-In-Bay, so technically, I can say we took a “cruise,” but we only stayed on the island for the afternoon. That evening, we got a hotel room in Huron and saw a movie at the Sandusky Mall. The film was the Rodney Dangerfield comedy “Back to School.” While it was okay it was certainly no “Caddyshack,” and we left the theater slightly disappointed and with only one catchphrase to show for it, “Remember, you’re a Melon.”
The plot involves a bombastic older businessman who decides to attend college alongside his introverted son for reasons I can’t quite recall. Hilarity (sort of) ensues. I remember thinking how weird it would be to return to college as an older adult.
Well, here we are. This week, I began online classes at the University of Wyoming. Granted, taking a class on your computer isn’t the same as hanging out in the student union, catching rays on the college green or cohabiting with a dude named Dakota, but it’s still a bit of a stretch for a 60-something pretiree.
The class I’m taking is a certification course for outdoor industry professionals. I first got the idea at an outdoor economy conference I attended in Cherokee a couple of years ago. Western Carolina University had a booth there touting their professional outdoor industry certificate. At the time, I thought, You know, when I “retire” I should do that. Unfortunately, WCU is a little “squirrely” about when the course is actually offered, what the requirements are and how it is delivered, so I went looking for a similar program elsewhere.
I wound up at the University of Wyoming’s Haub School of Environment and Natural Resources. To be fair, the UW course is shorter, cheaperand focused more toward the guide profession than WCU’s, but if you hang a professional certificate for the outdoor industry on your wall, you could do worse than the Wyoming Cowboys bucking bronco logo.
So, what do I intend to do with my certification, assuming I earn it? Well, sure as heck not become an outdoor guide, at least not in the traditional sense. At a minimum, I can justify it as an investment in my Owen Sinclair novels, which feature a variety of colorful outdoor professionals. Learning more about the ins and outs of the industry should provide great insight into their thinking and lifestyle. I am also a member of the Friends of Stone Mountain, a nonprofit that assists the rangers with maintenance and programming at the state park near my mountain property. And there is always the possibility that a couple of years into this pretirement thing, I may get bored and decide to get a part-time job in the great outdoors.
When I graduated from Bowling Green nearly 40 years ago, there was no email, social media or internet to speak of. In those days, distance learning was accomplished via the mail, so the idea of online learning is a little foreign to me. UW uses a platform called Canvas, which strives to be a sort of virtual classroom where students can access lectures, assignments and resources from the comfort of their homes using computers or other internet-enabled devices. It boggles my analog mind that one could get a college degree on an iPhone.
One of the primary advantages of online learning is flexibility, as students can set their own pace and schedule, making it accessible for individuals with diverse commitments. However, the need for self discipline and lack of interaction and feedback seem like pretty significant drawbacks. While I may possess enough gumption as a 60-year-old to get down to business, I wonder how my less reliable 20-year-old self would have fared.