The Value in the Panic Zone

Earlier in August, I participated in the only face-to-face instruction that I'd get as part of my master's program, and went to Colorado State University's lovely Mountain Campus for a week-long seminar in experiential learning. There was quite a bit of course work to complete both before and after the course, and some of that has made its way into previous blog posts, but I've just focused one piece of the experience in my synthesis assignment and want to be sure that it's included here.

One of the things we talked about quite a lot was the idea of Senninger's Learning Zone model, pictured here:

As the graphic indicates, the stretch zone is where learning occurs, particularly in an environment like the one I was faced with at the seminar. One of the days we spent at the campus included some time at the challenge course, which I've posted about previously as part of a literature review. I would absolutely agree with the idea that all of the descriptors listed there are great for fostering learning, especially when it comes to outdoor or other challenge education, and I've seen those characteristics in classroom learning as well. When it comes to the panic zone, however...

There are a multitude of places on a web search that suggest that being in the panic zone is detrimental to learning, and again, based on the descriptors, I can certainly see why. In a heightened state, in that panic zone, trying to manage anxiety, fear, or frustration can lead to exhaustion and stress.

By the same token, however, at least as a measure of personal experience, the panic zone can have value, too.

One of the things I mentioned in my post-course self-assessment was that I realize just how much time I spend in the comfort zone, which makes me rather sad. The whole idea of the comfort zone is about being in that place where you know yourself, your tasks, and your place, and in a way, it becomes that pair of comfortable shoes that you rely on every time you step out the door.

When I signed up for the seminar, I knew that it would put me out of my comfort zone just by being an in-person offering. I also knew, since it involved a challenge course, there might be things I couldn't physically do based on my current state of fitness (or lack of). I promised myself, however, that I'd step up, that I would confront the things that I was afraid of, and just try, because what's the harm in that?

On our day at the challenge course, after the introductions, we were taken through several activities, including a spider web that we had to pass a rope through without ringing the bell. Here we all are, post-challenge, and rather pleased about our success:

We also had a tightrope course, and here's where my challenge truly started, since the tightrope involved a low wire and a high wire, one to grab and one to walk on. Ultimately, my ankles failed me on this one, but I count it a victory that I tried it, and went on to shadow others to help catch them in case of any falls. It was just as much fun to watch, shadow, and cheer everyone else on as it had been to try for myself.

The final portion of the day involved the high ropes course that included a wall to climb, along with other obstacles.

I've run across similar obstacles before, even back into childhood, where my summer girl scout camp had a rock wall that I was always too scared and too intimidated to climb. The object of this wall is to climb up to the platform, move to the back side of the wall, get hooked into a swing, and then jump to swing your way down. To say I was scared is putting it mildly, but at the same time, that final step, the jump and swing, looked like it would be a whole lot of fun.

I was the last person to try to climb the rock wall. I acted as an anchor for several folks, watched as they climbed, and tried to imagine myself doing the same. When it came to my turn, I stood in front of that wall in panicked tears for what felt like an eternity before I finally remembered that promise I made to myself, and started that climb. I had one classmate nearby who was cheering me on, and a whole bunch behind me, some of them acting as my anchors, doing the same.

(That's me, the climber on the left.)

While I didn't make it all the way to the top, I still count the fact that I even made the attempt as a huge victory.

What does all this have to do with the panic zone?

Even the panic zone, I think, has its place in learning. With the support of my classmates, and with my own determination to participate no matter how petrified I was, even if I failed, I was able to push through that panic and fear. I didn't scale the whole wall, but I tried, in spite of my fear, and that personal sense of achievement is something that I'll always be able to take with me.

I learned so much about myself and my capabilities as part of the experiential learning seminar. I learned the value of pushing past fear. I learned the value of both having and being part of a support system. While the panic zone isn't a state in which I'd want to spend all of my time, I know there are moments when it helped me, and I wonder whether the same would be true for other learners.