An island is a great place to contemplate the concept of evolution. (It seemed to work for Charles Darwin.) I know there are multiple perspectives and meanings related to this term, so for the purposes of this article, I’m defining evolution as a process by which something develops into a different or better form. Things change over time, including individuals, organizations, and cultures. So it was good timing that I spent a week in Hawai’i recently, with time to think about the ongoing evolution of NAI.
The challenge for both creatures and cultures on an island is the tendency to become isolated. Evolution doesn’t stop in this situation, but it may proceed at a different pace or in different directions than if those creatures or cultures were exposed to the mainstream of the larger world. That isolation isn’t a bad thing—it can be rather blissful as long as it lasts. The problems occur when the isolation ends and outside influences cause a crisis for the island populations where they must adapt rapidly or face cataclysmic decline. These crises usually occur when the island population is reconnected to the outside world after long periods of isolation. It’s a mixed blessing—isolation can yield unique cultures and creatures, but in today’s interconnected world those isolated populations are often at risk through mere exposure.
I have marveled at the amazing examples of adaptation (or lack thereof) in the Hawaiian islands. This series of volcanic islands sits at the crossroads of the Pacific, yet they were isolated long enough to develop a unique culture and distinctive flora and fauna. Some of these species are remarkably resilient, like the lichens, sadleria ferns, and Ohi’a trees that begin growing within months on recent lava flows. At the same time, a number of endemic plant and bird species are very fragile in some ways and have been severely impacted by competition when exposed to introduced species. The Hawaiian culture is a great story of retaining cultural integrity and identity while incorporating influences from a variety of Pacific Rim neighbors.
There may be some lessons here for us. First, I like to think of interpreters as one of those resilient and adaptive species. Like the Ohi’a trees, we seem to be able to sprout anew after experiencing devastating hits to programs, budgets, or staff. At the same time, we need to be careful not to succumb to the blissful ignorance of existing in isolation from the larger world. We need to stay connected to important events that will influence our future and maintain our ability to adapt quickly to new circumstances. In order to keep up with our changing world, NAI is constantly scanning the larger economic, social, political, and cultural environment we function within, looking forward for trends that we must adapt to if we’re going to remain relevant and successful. To do otherwise would be risking the long-term viability of the organization.
Over the past year NAI has been conducting one of those periodic internal and external scans—a “check-up” on the health of the organization, if you will. Through electronic surveys, emails, and focus groups, every member has been invited to provide feedback about services and processes, and over 1,000 of you responded. The Board appointed a task force to sort through this input, draw out the trends, and make recommendations for NAI to modify our services, structure, or operations to respond to these trends. That group has accomplished its charge and is now vetting these recommendations. Ultimately, we will all vote on these changes that will constitute the next step in the ongoing evolution of NAI.
Make no mistake about it, we must change; we must continue to evolve as an organization. The economic, social, and political climate—even the actual climate—is changing around us. In such a dynamic environment we can’t afford to stand still. Indecision or discomfort with change can be organizational suicide in the long run. How we change is up to us collectively. We have the choice to define a new future for NAI now, or let circumstances define it for us down the road. I prefer that first option, and I look forward to sharing that new future with you.
NAI’s president Jim Covel is the senior manager of guest experience at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in Monterey, California. Reach Jim at jcovel@mbayaq.org.


As we wrap up another year, it’s a good occasion to reflect back on meaningful events and accomplishments of the past 12 months. I’ve often likened NAI to a tree, comparing our efforts to prosper this organization as the kind of work that goes into nurturing a tree—you have to take the long view of decades or more to envision the eventual height and shape of the tree. Yet even ancient trees have annual growth rings and growth increments that help tell the story of the life of that tree and the environment it grew in. So if NAI was a tree, what would this year’s growth look like?
I remember the 1970 debut of the Youth Conservation Corps(YCC) and later the Young Adult Conservation Corps (YACC). Wonderful things happened with those programs and many of our colleagues in the interpretive profession got a start as a YCC or YACC camper or worker. Many colleagues also started as staff working with these great programs, that were similar to the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) of the 1930s.







