By: Diana Phillips

Sterile classrooms. If you asked me what it meant to educate the public before my internship began, I would have envisioned sterile classrooms with seated audiences for hour-long lectures. Imagine my surprise when my first educational event involved thirty people packing into a hallway to drink and eat snacks. It became immediately obvious that not everything I learned that night would happen during the lecture next door. An equally important component was the opportunity for the community to come together: to have fun, to interact, to catch up on projects, and to hear about each other’s goals. Nor was the classroom sterile, as the room was covered in a mural of fish, the audience filled with laughter, and the lecture filled with equal parts information and jokes about the ghost that haunted our building. 

That night was my first introduction to the concept of passive learning. Not everyone who learned something was trying to or would even realize that they eventually internalized new information. Rather than expecting participants to become well-versed in a topic, the focus was on highlighting key concepts that any passerby could internalize.

Another such passive learning opportunity was my project to fabricate a lionfish model which participants could shoot at with foam darts. The message was simple: invasive lionfish are harmful and removing them is good. I began by dismembering an old model, ripping it apart to start anew. The body was made with an old water jug, while the fins, head, and tail were made from cardboard, with some structural support from wood and wire. The model was covered in duct tape to secure the fins and create an even texture, then it was given an eye-catching lionfish paint job. 

Ironically, the fins that make real lionfish hard to predate upon also make it incredibly difficult for an intern to transport as a 3 ft model when packing it into their car. To overcome this obstacle, I decided to add hinges to the pectoral fins. Aesthetically, this meant that the fins could “swim” while simultaneously giving us a flat side of the fish so it could be more easily transported. Interestingly, adding this singular moving component was surprisingly difficult. It made me understand the saying common in engineering: “The fewer moving parts, the better.” Eventually, the fish was complete and positioned as an activity for participants in our derby to engage with. Ultimately, there are a few things more gratifying than watching people of all ages enjoy the activities you created. Seeing the family’s bond as their curiosity was stoked was satisfying. 

The lionfish model was not the only educational activity I fabricated for our derby, as we had another key concept we intended to share. Avoid hitting the reef when spearing lionfish. This game utilized a real lionfish spear with the tip removed and replaced with a tennis ball for safety. Then, I fabricated two boxes designed to look like a coral reef. Images of fish attached to cut-up pool noodles were covered in Velcro and attached. The game taught participants how to shoot the lionfish spear and capture the lionfish while avoiding the reef and other fish species. This activity was heartwarming to facilitate as it became an intergenerational activity for parents who go lionfish hunting to show their kids how to use the spear. It was so sweet to hear the eagerness of their children, hoping to join their parents for lionfish hunting. It was also fulfilling to hear the fishermen explain to their kids why they should avoid hitting the reef and other fish species with their spears as they helped them play. 

Fabricating these hands-on activities during my internship showed me that not all learning happens in classrooms. I realized that the most influential information can be shared in ways that are fun for the audience. Facilitating interactions between participants is equally as important as the message we hope to share.