Further your career with a master's degree in resource interpretation - As I finished my four years of college, I simultaneously made one of the worst and one of the best decisions of my life: graduate school. After spending nearly 20 years of my life in classrooms from kindergarten through college, I thought another two years really could not hurt all that much. I left my summer seasonal job with the NPS, began classes and promptly burned out.

Seeking my master's degree was the perfect picture of Dante's seventh circle of hell. Living at the poverty level, working half-time doing jobs that nobody in the private sector would ever want for very little money and a tuition discount, sitting in crowded classrooms full time listening to lectures and sitting in libraries reading journal articles until the wee hours of the morning seemed to be especially cruel and unusual punishment. I did meet some very good people in my graduate program, including my wife, and was ultimately SCEPed (the Student Career Experience Program) into the NPS (the good part of the decision).

But my two-year degree program bled into a third and then a fourth year (the bad part of the decision) as I continued to work on my thesis, tithe the better part of my meager income to the university business office, and pursue my NPS career aspirations.

I did ultimately finish my master's degree and, in retrospect, I am glad that I did. But I have come to the conclusion that people looking to earn a graduate degree are faced with a difficult decision. On the one hand, jumping into a classroom-based graduate program directly after finishing a four-year college degree can definitely contribute to burnout and slow your progress toward completing your degree, as it did in my case. But conversely, options such as leaving the NPS and relative financial security to pursue a master's degree in a college town far from your duty station or working full time at your job while spending several years of your free time in night school classes are equally unappealing. With these thoughts in mind, I decided that suffering and frustration were the only universal concepts associated with seeking a graduate degree.

Fortunately, NPS interpreters now have a better option should they choose to seek a graduate degree in interpretation. When I learned that the NPS Interpretive Development Program in conjunction with the Stephen F. Austin State University Arthur Temple College of Forestry in Nacogdoches, Texas, were partnering to offer a master's degree in resource interpretation, skeptical thoughts of matriculation raced through my head. However, this is not a traditional graduate degree program. There is no need to quit your job and move to Nacogdoches or work full time while attending night classes. Coursework is completed online or submitted to the IDP certification program. This is truly a user friendly degree program.

The two-year (based upon full-time enrollment) program is linked to the IDP 10 benchmark competencies. Each student must complete a five-course core curriculum consisting of:

• Module 103: Preparing and Presenting an Effective Interpretive Talk
• Module 230: Effective Interpretive Writing
• Module 311: Interpretive Media Development
• Module 340: Interpretive Research and Resource Liaison
• And one 200-level or 300-level competency of your choice.

Each student will also be required to complete three additional elective courses including:

• Module 210: Preparing and Presenting an Effective Conducted Activity
• Module 220: Preparing and Presenting an Interpretive Demonstration or Illustrated Program
• Module 270: Presenting an Effective Curriculum-Based Program
• Module 310: Planning Park Interpretation
• Module 330: Leading Interpreters: Training and Coaching

Students will have assignments related to each course that will be completed online. And, just as in submitting IDP interpretive products for certification, students will submit interpretive products for each module to the Mather Training Center for peer review by trained certifiers, a sort of "final exam" for each course. Upon demonstrating certification standards in the core and elective competencies, students must propose a master's thesis topic and research and write a master's thesis. The subject of the thesis is at the discretion of the student and the student's faculty committee. Finally, students are required to complete 400 hours of paid or unpaid field experience in interpretation at a national park, state park, nature center, museum or other site that provides personal and non-personal interpretive services to the general public. Professional interpreters may count their everyday work duties in interpretation toward fulfilling this requirement.

Though the program is not free, the tuition costs for the degree are still up in the air. To help defray the cost to each student, Mather Training Center and Stephen F. Austin State University are also offering 20 $1,000 scholarships beginning in the spring 2004 semester. If you are interested in the degree program and would like more information regarding course offerings, how to apply, program cost, scholarship information and more, contact David Larsen, acting training manager for interpretation, education, partnerships, recreation and conservation at the Mather Training Center (David_Larsen@nps.gov). If you have been thinking of going back to school, seize this bull by the horns - you will probably never happen upon a better opportunity to earn a degree and keep working at your job.

Resource Management

At an interdisciplinary meeting of state, federal and tribal representatives in Montana, a Salish Indian shared her aversion to the term "preservation," a word most of us likely take for granted as basic to the resource management mission.

The speaker said it conjured up images of jelly jars in her basement, or lab specimens in formaldehyde - static, dead things. She spoke of wanting not to preserve pictures of past natural or historic elements of her culture, but to perpetuate the living, evolving links between people and places. She is not the first American Indian whom I've heard ask why EuroAmericans separately categorize resources as natural or cultural; "we view them as related, as the same." Be they salmon, bison, sweetgrass or bitterroot, these natural resources are integral to the culture of one or more tribes of people.

In a growing movement to document and protect "cultural landscapes" recurs lively discussions of what the term means, generally an amalgam of natural and cultural resources and their surrounding geography that's associated with a historic event, activity, person - or some combination of those. Beyond our agency borders also grows a trend to designate "heritage areas." These grassroots efforts may take advantage of a fairly new category of Congressional recognition (23 National Heritage Areas were established between 1984 and 2002), but often ignore such officialism in favor of a state, local or even ad hoc designation by willing partners in promotion of heritage conservation and tourism. The National Heritage Area program, coordinated by the NPS, though the agency deliberately declines leadership in creating heritage areas and ownership of or jurisdiction over them, describes the goal as focused on conserving the special qualities of cultural landscapes, which reflect the ongoing interrelationship between people and the land. Communities, non-profit corporations, and/or commissions have created plans to conserve, interpret, and in some cases promote tourism or other economic growth within heritage areas without either the benefit or burden of park, forest or other "preserve" designation.

Existing national heritage areas aim to protect and celebrate remnant structures, traditional land use patterns and practices, waterways, and other cultural and natural resources - represented by such varied entities as the Cache La Poudre River Corridor, the Ohio and Erie Canalway, the Hudson River Valley, the Motor Cities Automobile NHA, the Rivers of Steel NHA in southwestern Pennsylvania and Yuma Crossing in Arizona. In these areas, private individuals, public institutions, corporations and organizations work out the objectives and management strategies, with or without a kick-start of federal funding. The people living and working on the local or regional landscape struggle with the difficult questions of whose culture(s) and traditions they want to celebrate and maintain, and how, as they also continue or enhance economic activity in their region.

It will be interesting to watch the evolution of these and other nontraditional reserves across our nation. Are such newer models of landscape conservation a temporary trend, or might they increasingly influence how we manage well-established park, forest, and recreation areas? Should we hold fast to traditional cultural and natural resource management practices (and categorizations) as the way to ensure "preservation" of long-established park areas and the resources within, or are we holding stores of dusty specimen jars in the lab, somewhat disconnected from living peoples of many cultures? It seems to me that only through increasingly interdisciplinary and cross-cultural discussions and - yes - partnerships, with our varied park users, concessionaires, inholders, neighbors, critics and advocates can we perpetuate the unique natural and cultural resources and the broader landscapes that represent America's varied beauty, scientific value and compelling stories.

~ Sue Consolo Murphy, Yellowstone

Protection

"In valor there is hope."

These timeless words of Cornelius Tacitus are inscribed upon an entrance wall of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, D.C. Near them, other words are etched into the memorial's stone - more than 16,000 of them, each the name of a brother or sister law enforcement officer who has paid the supreme sacrifice in the line of duty.

This past May law enforcement officers from all over the country gathered at "Our Wall" to honor those whose names already grace the memorial and to witness a solemn ceremony wherein 376 more names were added to the wall. One hundred forty-nine belong to officers who were killed in 2002. Three were National Park Service rangers, and one was a U.S. Park Police officer.

Among the thousands of officers assembled were scores of NPS rangers and USPP officers, some from as far away as Alaska. The experience forged indelible images in our memories. Anyone who is or has been or wishes to be a law enforcement officer should make it a point to attend this ceremony - the Candlelight Vigil - at least once in their lifetime. It's that impressive. Many years from now, I will look back on that night as one of my most memorable. A classier, more moving occasion one would be hard pressed to find.

Escorted by a motorcade of police motorcycles, survivors of the fallen officers arrived at the memorial and were greeted by uniformed personnel. As pipe bands played mournful tunes and an honor guard stood at present arms, family and friends entered one of two corridors lined with state troopers, sheriff's deputies, police officers, corrections officers, special agents, marshals, game wardens and rangers. This was our small part in a week's worth of treating these noble people as the most important folks in town. It was our sincere honor to honor them in this special way.

Wives, mothers, girlfriends, sisters, aunts, grandmothers and daughters passed by, and we offered them a rose, which we were sure they would leave at the foot of the wall below the name of their loved one. Often, a small child, or maybe two, would walk by wearing a T-shirt with their daddy or mommy's picture on it. Those were the toughest to watch, usually through tear-filled eyes.

The colors were presented, our national anthem played, an invocation was asked and speeches were given to honor our fallen heroes. Then we lit the candles. Thousands of them. It was quite the spectacle: Rank and file of tiny flames burning brightly as far as one could see in silent tribute to the souls of our fellow officers.

Next, as a laser projector cast a thin blue line over our heads, the music of "Braveheart" began to play. I remember thinking, "How fitting that they chose the instrumental theme from an epic tale of a warrior's warrior to honor all these warriors today." A voice over a loudspeaker explained what most of us already knew: How all law enforcement officers across this great land provide a "thin blue line" of protection for the masses. Cold chills ran up and down my spine.

At the conclusion, agency representatives read aloud the 376 new names. Word began spreading throughout the crowd that NPS rangers were forming up at the head of the reflecting pool. We started with 10, grew to 20, then more, until just about every green-and-gray uniform with a Stetson was standing at parade rest, dress right dress. The speakers read the names of the federal officers killed last year, and rangers snapped to attention, rendering a hand salute. Among the names we heard were four of our own: Kristopher William Eggle, Hakim Azim Farthing, James Randall Morgenson, Thomas Patrick O'Hara.

I remained at the memorial as late as I could that night, as I did every other night that week. I wanted to spend as much time there as possible, learning about these heroes. There is something sacred about the place. You know it as soon as you set foot on it. It is holy ground, and it's the one place in our nation's capital that law enforcement officers can call uniquely our own.

As I moved slowly through the grounds, trying to read as many names as I could, I was struck by the haunting foresight of the memorial's designers - they had made sure to leave room for the roughly 165 new names that will be added every year. The walls are slightly less than half full right now. The remainder is empty space waiting for new names. Again, the chills.

Equally striking were the countless mementos brought there by loved ones. Photographs, poems, biographies, shoulder patches, white gloves and the heart-wrenching "Dear Daddy, I miss you" letters. I read as many as I could. Each one made my throat a little tighter than the last.

From across the grounds I could hear a pipe band playing another ballad. Small huddles of uniformed officers gathered in front of a name. I could hear them laughing about a memory, praying together, weeping together and bidding their comrade a final farewell. In front of another panel a solitary figure knelt, sobbing. Head bowed, her outstretched hand traced each letter of a name very dear to her. I looked away quickly, embarrassed that I had trespassed on her private moment.

Continuing on slowly, I made my way around the entire wall and stopped where the roster told me to - East Wall, Panel 11, Line 23. I read the bottom row until I found it - the one name of the 16,000 that I knew personally. I had found my friend. I stood there rigidly, unmoving for a moment, closing my eyes in disbelief, hoping irrationally that when I opened them his name wouldn't be there. But it was there, chiseled into the cold marble in the company of fellow heroes as a permanent memorial to his inspiring life.

I stayed there with him for a while, talking to him, asking again the same unanswered questions I had asked so many times over the past nine months. I took photographs, made several charcoal rubbings of his name, and said a prayer for his family, whom I have come to love. I stood, faced his name, and raised my hand in a slow, ceremonial salute.

Then I turned and walked away as quickly as I could, inwardly pondering the wisdom of a first-century Roman senator.

~ Kevin Moses, Big South Fork

Professional Ranger Archives
Summer 2003