NAI Blog

Researchers at Reach Advisors have been mining a mountain of data from an in-depth survey of thousands of museum members and dedicated museum goers across the US. A number of interesting patterns are emerging, yielding helpful insights into this audience. I suspect the museum-going community may also be a part of the audience we see at nature centers, historic sites and other interpretive venues, so I’ve been very interested in the reports from Reach Advisors.

One of the significant audience segments they’ve identified is the “ultra mom.” Ultra moms are particularly active in providing a variety of experiences for their children. They want to provide opportunities for their kids to have fun and learn, and they may be frequent instigators of a family visit to the museum. In addition, the ultra-moms are more likely to be the adult that accompanies children to the museum. This group tends to be some of the most enthusiastic supporters of museums and programs for kids, and they may be some of the more steadfast members—at least as long as their children are engaged in the museum and programs.

"Ultra Mom" Sebrena Lewis with daughters Gracie and Anna at the Chicago Field Museum.

In his work on Identity-Based Motivations among audiences in zoos, aquariums and museums, John Falk identified a category of guests that he described as “Facilitators.” These were visitors who were focused on facilitating a good experience for others—often children, family members, friends—and their satisfaction was linked to the enjoyment experienced by the those they were facilitating. Moms are a classic example of this Facilitator group, and if their children are having a good time they feel they’ve been successful in providing a great experience. I see a pattern here: perhaps ultra moms are also ultra Facilitators.

But there’s that troubling trend that ultra moms tend to drop out of the museum audience as their kids get older and “outgrow” the institution. That suggests that these adults aren’t finding value for themselves in the museum, they only see it as a value for their children. So how can that be addressed? I have seen some museums (particularly children’s museums) provide coffee and some space for parents to socialize while their kids are engaged in programs. That may help nurture a social network among adults (those that are regulars at the museum) that lasts for many years, even as their kids grow older. In addition, providing programs (adventure camps, science days, student docents, etc.) that appeal to the “tween-age” and teen age audience may extend the involvement of ultra moms and their families. This has the added benefit of developing the next generation of supporters as the family stays engaged with your institution.

Look for the ultra-moms in the audience for your interpretive programs this summer and see if you observe this phenomenon. If you can connect with this segment, try to establish a relationship with the ultra moms and find out how you can better serve their needs. They may well become some of your most loyal fans and supporters—and we can’t have too many of those these days. If you’d like to read more about ultra moms, you can start with this recent blog post from Reach Advisors: http://reachadvisors.typepad.com.

—Jim Covel

One of the more rewarding—and sometimes challenging—audiences we work with would be guests with disabilities—challenging in that some disabilities challenge us to be innovative in making interpretive experiences accessible to the audience. Rewarding in that enabling every audience member to connect more deeply with nature and history is a source of professional pride and satisfaction for any interpreter.

When individuals with disabilities connect with the natural world, there may be something more at work beyond the skill of the interpreter. Nature itself may have ways to minimize the limitations that accompany some disabilities. I was reminded of that again today as I watched youngsters with a variety of disabilities try scuba diving in the Great Tide Pool at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. The tide pool provides a protected environment, separated from Monterey Bay by some carefully constructed rock work, but with the same marine life one might see on a dive in the bay. Stairs and a special platform provide easy access to the tide pool. Special kid-sized dry suits, tanks and regulators make it possible for youngsters to use real scuba equipment. Staff and volunteers with advanced dive skills work with each individual to ensure a safe dive experience.

Some of these kids with mobility challenges fight gravity every day to accomplish activities that you and I take for granted. However, once in the water, gravity ceases to be a challenge and the freedom to move, float and drift is exhilarating. There’s the thrill of observing fishes and other marine life up close and personal. It can be a life-changing experience. Some of our other divers weren’t fighting physical challenges, but had cognitive or developmental disabilities. Whether overcoming a physical disability or building the confidence to do something way beyond one’s comfort zone, there’s a sense of triumph with every child that gets into the water. I’m not sure which I enjoy more—looking at the smiles on the kid’s faces, or seeing the tears of joy on the faces of mom and dad watching their child engage in an experience they never thought possible. So I enjoy watching both.

Those who work with children have long observed the advantages that children experience in the out of doors. In Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv writes about the phenomenon of children with certain learning disorders increasing their academic performance when moved into an outdoor classroom setting. Students that may have difficulty focusing in an indoor classroom seem to have more success in the more complex setting that nature provides. It stands to reason: Most of the learning throughout human evolution has occurred as experiential learning, in the outdoors, with adults serving as guides, mentors and teachers. Putting kids inside a classroom, focusing on rote memorization, reading (or working on computers in more recent times), are very new and different learning scenarios for humans. This is one of the reasons I suspect interpreters—offering experiential learning opportunities in natural or cultural settings—may be very effective teachers as well.

Most current training for interpreters includes background and methods for working with audiences with disabilities to ensure access to interpretive opportunities. That doesn’t just mean physical access, but also access to the intellectual content, emotional connections and overall experiences, and this effort will improve the quality of programs for every audience. I would strongly recommend taking advantage of every chance to engage individuals or audiences with disabilities. This will be one of your best professional development opportunities. Beyond the opportunity to build your skills as an interpreter, there’s the sense of personal pride that comes from helping individuals cross barriers and conquer challenges to connect in new ways with the world around them.

—Jim Covel

On these summer days many of my lunch breaks are spent overlooking some rocks on the edge of Monterey Bay. As I munch on a sandwich the harbor seals are fighting with cormorants over who gets to occupy the top spot on the rock. Eventually we all settle into our respective spots to enjoy a few minutes of sun before getting on with the events of the afternoon. And then George showed up.

Photo courtesy Monterey Bay Aquarium

George is a very young California sea lion. He doesn’t belong here. The sea lions clump together on the breakwater, and these shoreline rocks are reserved for the local harbor seals. At least that was the system until George and hundreds of his year-old cohorts appeared in Monterey Bay. They probably followed a run of squid into the bay and ate well for a few weeks. Now the squid are gone and these inexperienced sea lions don’t know where to go next or how to find food under more challenging conditions. So they spend their days “Sittin’ on a dock of the bay, watchin’ the tide roll away” as Otis Redding might have described it. And they’re slowly starving.

As these sea lions continued to pile up on the shore, they’ve now filled the rock jetty at the harbor, they’re all over the boat ramp, parking lot, and all over the decks of boats moored in the harbor (something the boat owners aren’t very excited about). One of the quirks of sea lions is that they’re thigmotaxic—they like to be in physical contact as much as possible. They are most content when behaving like the proverbial pile of puppies. So when George showed up alone, I knew something unusual was going on.

When I was growing up there was a popular comedian by the name of George Gobel. Part of his act was how he always somehow landed in the role of an outcast, so he went by the nickname of “Lonesome George.” (One of his favorite lines was, “Do you ever feel like the world is a tuxedo and you’re a pair of brown shoes?”) Seemed like a good name for our loner sea lion. When George tried to sidle up to the basking harbor seals on the rock, they would have nothing of it (harbor seals don’t appear to be big on physical contact). Poor ol’ George seemed even more of an outcast, just lying there on the rock by himself, rejected by the other pinnipeds.

Every few years we seem to have this unfortunate phenomenon of stranded sea lion youngsters in Monterey Bay. We don’t fully understand why this occurs. Hundreds of them die from starvation before the group decides to move on in search of food elsewhere. Perhaps the survivors learn from the experience that they have to keep on the move, keeping up with the schools of squids and fishes they depend upon for groceries. While tourists are entertained by the sight of sea lions all over the piers and rocks, parking lots and beaches, this is a troubling sign for biologists that the population may be out of balance with the resources to support it. Sea lion populations have been shifting dramatically in recent years, with the rapid decline of Stellar sea lions and a commensurate increase in California sea lions. Along with cycles of El Niño and La Niña that shift fish and squid populations around, life is anything but predictable for sea lions.

I haven’t seen Lonesome George for a couple of days now. A raft of sea lions has been floating off the kelp beds in front of the Monterey Bay Aquarium, “jugging” (where they float on the surface with one flipper sticking up in the air—looks like a group of dolphins frozen at the surface). I hope that George is one of those, and that he has re-joined the rest of his cohort. One thing I know for sure—the resident harbor seals are happy to be in sole possession of their rock again.

On this anniversary of D-Day, June 6, we’re still reflecting on the meaning of the events that were set in motion 66 years ago on the beaches of Normandy.

When I was a young lad it seems like I was surrounded by veterans. Many of the park rangers and wardens that were friends of my father had been in WWII. They took advantage of the GI bill to go to college when they returned from the service, and veterans preference points also helped draw them toward civil service positions. A number of them enjoyed the outdoors and an active life, so working as a ranger or warden seemed like a great choice. But there was something more that was going on with these veterans. They seemed to have come away from the war with a deep sense of responsibility to help put the world back together and to contribute to bettering society. This cohort became a remarkable generation of educators, parents, craftsmen, civil servants and contributors on so many levels. It’s no surprise they became known as the greatest generation.

As a boy I asked some of these men and women (my mother was a WAVE, so we also knew quite a few women that were veterans) if they had any favorite stories from their time in the service.  Sometimes they’d change the subject, or tell some story about army food or basic training—but nothing particularly serious. Based on their limited stores, I grew up thinking that their service was one grand adventure, not much to complain about. The movies about WWII in that era tended to romanticize military service—also not particularly realistic.

That all changed a few years ago. History didn’t change, but it turned very real in the stories of the participants. Some of those men and women veterans that were friends from my youth are still alive, and I’ve tried to stay in touch with them. Several of them have started talking about their combat experiences in Europe or the Pacific Theater. They have been sharing fears, feelings, triumphs and tragedies that have been kept close inside for all those years—things I suspect their family members may not even know. I was now hearing the real war stories.

So why now? Why has it taken so long for these stories to come out? In some cases these stories involved actions that were recently declassified by the government and could now be spoken of.  Of course many of these individuals are well into their 80s now and may want to tell their story while they’re still around. But there’s something else going on here. That entire generation paid dearly to learn some of the most important life lessons a human can learn. In telling these war stories and passing on these crucial lessons, I believe these veterans desperately want to ensure we will never let the world go down that road again. One of their last duties is to make sure we learn from that history.

So the next time you’re talking to that grandparent, that retired ranger or warden, or maybe just an older acquaintance, take advantage of any opportunity to hear their story. If they were alive during WWI—whether they were in the service or not—that experience likely changed their lives and they undoubtedly have something important to say about it.  Hear those stories while you can, as the tellers are rapidly disappearing. And to any and all of you that have served in the armed forces, you have my undying respect and gratitude for the many sacrifices you’ve made for our country.

—Jim Covel

Many interpreters face a daily dilemma that impacts our programs significantly.  We all recognize the importance of evaluating our work.  We need feedback from our audiences to find out if we’re being effective in meeting the goals and objectives of our programs, and to find out where and how to improve further.  In addition, that feedback helps document our success and provides valuable ammunition when defending our programs and budgets.

Here’s the rub:  Many programs are sponsored by public agencies and any significant survey of guests has to be cleared through an elaborate and time-consuming human subjects review process.  That process was originally put in place to protect the well-being of research subjects (which is a good thing) but it also presents a serious impediment to getting systematic feedback on the impacts of interpretation.  What’s a conscientious interpreter to do?

We get away with a lot of informal evaluation under the guise of “audience building”—asking folks to answer a few informal questions or asking for a show of hands during a presentation.  We may also use some unobtrusive measures, such as observing stay time in front of exhibits or labels, looking at license plates in the parking lot, and so on.  However, most of these methods don’t provide much insight into the motives, attitudes or thought process going on inside our visitors.  However, we may be able to get some insight into those deeper aspects of an interpretive experience.

One of my favorite places to look for additional research is to see what’s going on in the closely-related museum field.  Here are a few resources I’ve found useful:

• I’ve learned a lot about population trends, effectiveness of history centers and community museums and other useful information from the Reach Advisors website (http://reachadvisors.com/).
• The Institute for Learning Innovation is a good resource related to free-choice learning—evaluating effectiveness of museum exhibits, programs and experiences.  Their study, Why Zoos and Aquariums Matter, has some great information on audience characteristics and how interpretive experiences can change attitudes and behavior.  You can access that study on the ILI website, http://www.ilinet.org/display/Resources/Resources+Available .
• CAISE (Center for the Advancement of Informal Science Education) has good resources available on conducting evaluation, learning in informal environments, and other helpful articles (http://caise.insci.org/).
• InformalScience is a web-based compendium of evaluation studies, research and projects related to all types of non-formal learning environments (not limited strictly to science): http://informalscience.org/ .
• Visitor Studies Association (VSA) is a good resource, particularly for evaluation studies, particularly focused on museum environments: http://visitorstudies.org/ .

There are more resources out there, and these sites will link you into many others.  A visitor reading a label in a museum may not be that different from a visitor reading a label in your visitor center.  Looking at the visitor research and evaluation findings in other non-formal learning environments may provide some insights we can use in other interpretive settings, and may also provide some thoughts for more ways to evaluate our own work.

Of course the best resource is NAI’s own Journal of Interpretation Research.  You have the opportunity to subscribe to JIR as a member, and it’s well worth it.  You can read about research that relates directly to interpretive settings, including evaluation studies.

One of my favorite sayings is, “None of us is as smart as all of us.”  When we take advantage of the research findings in our field and related fields, we enhance our professional knowledge and capacity to be more effective interpreters.

—Jim Covel

Courtesy maveric2003

It all started innocently enough. A new docent class was in training at Point Lobos State Reserve, a California State Park that has to be one of the most beautiful locations on the entire California coast. As part of the training, I was invited to join the group for a demonstration nature walk. We had no idea what was awaiting us on that walk.

Back in my ranger days, my favorite nature walk was when a group of children would take me on a walk, and we’d all stop at places that attracted their attention and interpret what we encountered. So the docents agreed to lead the walk and I would share some tips on interpretation along the way. To give everyone a chance to lead, we switched leaders at every stop. Each leader would take us 20 paces; we’d stop wherever 20 paces left us and interpret whatever we found there.

Twenty paces brought us to some poison oak. Another 20 paces and we found some shelf fungus growing on a tree. Twenty more and we were standing near some beautiful rattlesnake grass and wild strawberries. And so we travelled from stop to stop, until we pulled up in the presence of a Monterey pine stem, long dead, no bark, topped about 12 feet above the ground. As we contemplated that old trunk, there were signs of damp wood termites and beetles, skunks digging around the base or a meal, woodpeckers drilling up and down the entire stem. Then one of the docents looked up about ten feet and said “Is that an owl?”

I looked up at a hole in the tree and there was a tiny face looking down at us. It was a saw whet owl, one of the few I’ve ever seen in the wild, and the only one these docents had ever seen. The saw whet is one of the smallest owls in North America, standing just a few inches tall—smaller than the screech owl you may be familiar with. The owl was quite content to hang out and look us over, and we were grateful for the opportunity for such a good look at this unusual bird. A couple of docents had cameras with them and captured some good photos of our new owl friend.

While our nature walk continued a bit longer, it was all downhill after the “owl tree.” When we returned from the walk, the docents couldn’t wait to tell the rangers and other docents. The news spread quickly from there. By the end of the day, birders were “flocking” to see and photograph the owl. By then a second owl had appeared, and the prevailing opinion was that these saw whet owls were nesting. It is the first recorded nest of these birds in Monterey County, and they would soon reach celebrity status in our local birdwatcher community.

And now I worry about the owls. Is all this attention impacting their attempt to nest and raise their young? Are all the owl watchers behaving in a respectful and appropriate manner? Who’s monitoring the admirers? And I ask myself if we should have quietly enjoyed our special discovery and then agreed not to share this news with the rest of the world?

As interpreters, we try to provide our audiences the opportunity for special encounters with the cultural or natural world. Facilitating special encounters with wildlife is always a hit with audiences, and can change their lives. But we also have an ethical responsibility to make sure our work isn’t damaging the resource, including protecting the wildlife we may be watching. I frequently have this conversation in regard to appropriate ways to watch whales and sea otters from boats without impacting their behavior, or observing harbor seals with their pups on local beaches. These are all remarkable wildlife encounters, but they’re also opportunities for the public to learn about protecting and respecting wildlife in return for that special encounter.

We’ll keep an eye on our new owl celebrity to see if we made the right choice in bringing the world to his or her doorstep.

—Jim Covel

The world is changing and NAI isn’t—at least not yet. But we need to change. Over the past year, the staff and board have been closely examining key trends in NAI, and here’s what we’re seeing:

• Our membership is aging. As a whole, we’re retaining long-term members (that’s good) but we’re not adding new (and younger) interpreters in sufficient numbers. As a result, the average age of NAI members is increasing. That’s not a desirable long-term condition in any sustainable population.
• We need to establish new lines of business. NAI engages in a variety of activities—such as training, publishing interpretive books, and conducting workshops—that generate some surplus revenue to subsidize member services. (Yes, member dues don’t cover the entire cost of member services.) As the cost of member services and the number of members increase, we need to grow or add more revenue-producing endeavors. We’ve already modified our system for locating national workshops to ensure more consistent attendance and stable workshop budgets as a step in this direction.
• We need to structure NAI for the future. Some of our sections are struggling, as are some regions. The current structure of regions and sections to deliver many member services may not be the right fit for the future. Do we realign borders? Combine some of these units of the organization? Redefine the services regions/sections provide? Change the formula for distributing resources to regions and sections?
• Life is different for entry-level interpreters today. More interpreters are in seasonal or part-time positions where they may not get much support for memberships or attending conferences and workshops. People may be more mobile and less likely to affiliate with a region, and also more difficult to communicate with as contacts change more frequently.
• There are more nontraditional interpreters. The numbers of docents and volunteers delivering interpretive services increases each year. Teachers, concession staff, community recreation leaders and many others may be serving as interpreters in some capacity. We need to appeal to this larger audience with training and services that enhance their professional skills and capacity.
• Interpretation is growing around the world. Other countries are looking to emulate aspects of NAI’s programs and services, and we want to support those efforts. We need to grow our own cultural competency and skills to serve an international market.
• Cultural diversity within interpretation and in NAI still lags behind the real world. Any plan for the future success of this organization and this profession must address this growing diversity gap.

Each of these trends represents an opportunity to design an organization that fits the future. When the Board of Directors meets in May, we’ll initiate a planning process to design an NAI organization that will be as strong and vital in the next decade as it has been for the past 20 years. Ultimately, this is your profession and your professional organization. We have to design a sustainable organization that addresses your needs as an interpreter—now and in the future.

Your input is essential in this planning effort. Please send us your thoughts and ideas—particularly those related to the trends mentioned above. Stay tuned to the NAI blogs, newsletters, and the NAI Now email newsletter for updates on the planning process.

I can’t think of a better group of people to spend my future with. Let’s work to make sure we have a professional organization that supports the needs of interpretation as we venture into that promising future together.

—Jim Covel

An oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico

It’s hard to miss the daily reports about the oil well blowout in the Gulf of Mexico. This event is a spectacular example of how a cascade of problems can overwhelm contingency plans. The oil is mixing with sea water (emulsifying) as it floats to the surface, so it forms this kind of “petroleum mousse” by the time it hits the surface. That toxic mousse is difficult to burn off, and the microbes that can be used to digest oil apparently don’t work well with this emulsion. Waves and winds are helping the oil slick jump absorbent booms that try to contain it.

From an environmentalist point of view, it would be very easy to use the disaster to prove that offshore oil drilling can be very risky and demand that we halt any further offshore drilling or exploration. This blowout is just the latest in a string of seabed oil well blowouts. The technology for offshore drilling is improving, safeguards are getting better, yet every few years another disaster occurs. And the real disaster may linger long after the blowout is controlled.

Any of that crude oil that sinks to the bottom may reside in benthic sediments for years. Long after the waters have cleared up the slowly degrading petroleum continues to feed toxins into benthic food chains–perhaps for decades. Marine organisms that are part of that benthic food chain include shrimps, crabs, flatfishes, clams and many more. These are the same marine organisms that are the basis of many of the gulf coast fisheries. This ongoing contamination may put those commercial fisheries out of business for many years to come.

So with all the apparent risks and threats, why do we keep expanding offshore oil exploration? Because we need the oil! At least we do at this moment. If we suddenly abandon offshore wells, we’ll make up the difference by expanding petroleum imports, which is also fraught with economic and environmental risks. Environmental psychologists are suggesting it erodes the credibility of conservationists to suggest that we should immediately shut down offshore wells. That argument can be perceived as extremist or impractical.

What, then, are we to do with this growing sense of outrage about this petro-disaster? Perhaps we should direct our energy toward speeding up the move toward alternative energy sources and away from oil. This spill is a good reminder that our addiction to oil is costing us dearly in many ways. The faster we replace petroleum with other energy sources, the faster we can—realistically—move away from the economic and environmental hazards of oil.

I can think of some pelicans, some sea turtles and more than a few fishers that can’t wait for that day to come.

It started a couple of weeks ago. I woke up in the middle of the night and saw this eerie green glow coming from the direction of the water. Steven Hawking had just made the news saying it could be risky trying to contact aliens on other planets—they might decide to visit Earth and the outcome could be very unpleasant. For a second I was wondering if Hawking was right and the aliens had arrived.

Photo courtesy NOAA

It wasn’t aliens—it was SQUID! The squid had returned to Monterey Bay in huge numbers to spawn. Over 25 large purse seiners were in hot pursuit, hauling up tons of squid with each set of their seine nets. It has been several years since we had a good run of squid, and I’d nearly forgotten about the lights. You see squid are attracted to light at night, so shining powerful lights (particularly ones that emit greenish light) concentrates the squid to maximize the catch. The Chinese fishers that first established squid fishing in the 1850s knew this. They burned Monterey pine cones in wire baskets off the side of their boats, and scooped squid up with a dip net as the cephalopods rose to the surface. That same process now takes place on an industrial fishing scale.

The market squid (Loligo opalescens) is a great example of the kind of animal that can sustain heavy fishing pressure. These animals are short-lived (about a year on average) and reproduce in huge numbers, so we can catch substantial numbers of them without damaging the population. The market squid catch in 2008 was nearly 84 million pounds, just in California. That’s a lot of calamari!

Squid fishing is just one example of how we humans have refined our ability to tap into certain resources. Our early ancestors figured out that the Earth is a big place, and one could spend a lot of time and energy wandering about hoping to encounter some animal by chance. That challenge is magnified many times over in the oceans as there is a vast area to search for fish. However, with a little careful observation, one might discover patterns in the movement of many birds, mammals, fishes. These patterns might be migrations, spawning runs, or feeding concentrations. Now that the creatures are concentrated in a predictable time and place, it becomes far more efficient to harvest them. Many of the native cultures around the world grew around this phenomenon of harvesting animals during migrations, spawning runs, etc.

While this particular harvest method allows us to survive and progress as a species, it also has a down side. As we have become increasingly skilled at the harvest, we run the risk of overdoing it. Unfortunately, the story of the American bison, blue fin tuna, Eastern elk, Chinook salmon and many other formerly prolific creatures includes overharvesting by humans. This picture is very complicated for many fishes as it can be challenging to accurately estimate the population. That, in turn, makes it difficult to determine how many fish you can catch before you risk damaging the overall population.

Fortunately, our market squid population seems to be holding up relatively well. Squid is on the “green list” on the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch guide, meaning it’s a species we encourage people to choose when ordering seafood. So I get a warm feeling when I see that eerie green glow over the bay at night. I know that some fishermen are enjoying the opportunity to earn some money catching squid…and I know that I can look forward to some fresh calamari on the menu!

Bitapi Sinha of India presents to participants from 14 countries at International Conference in Australia.

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of community.  Whether it’s a community of organisms in nature or a community of humans—there are some universal properties.  The defining property of a community is that all the individuals are connected in some way—that connection may be a common interest, economic interactions, location or some other set of interrelationships.  Studies of community ecology have found that communities with more connections and stronger connections tend to operate with higher efficiency, are more stable and have high productivity.  I would suggest that may be the case with human communities as well.

Our early human communities formed around individuals that saw each other face-to-face on a frequent basis—clans, tribes, villages.  Through the years we invented more and more ways to communicate—one of the key features that ties a community together.  Symbolic communication, written language, telephones and now e-mail, Facebook and other social networking sites—all help to keep members of a community in touch with each other.  Still, there is no substitute for that face-to-face interaction with its rich context of non-verbal cues that add to the conversation.

That’s what got me hooked on hanging out with interpreters way back in the days of the Western Interpreters Association.  Those early WIA meetings provided an opportunity not only for professional development, but more importantly to join a community of people with the same interests, values, ethics—and just to have fun and enjoy each other’s company.  When WIA combined with the Association of Interpretive Naturalists, the size of our community doubled overnight, but the nature of the members didn’t change.  We still held similar key beliefs and values, skills and interests.  The family got larger and the nature of our interactions became richer still.  Perhaps the one downside is that many of our face-to-face meetings have become very large, so it seems like there’s never enough time to engage in all the conversations one would like.  It’s a pleasant dilemma to face.

Rick Morales of Panama and Sam Ham of the U.S. chatting at IC 2010 in Australia.

Our interpreter community has taken yet another step forward.  A global community of interpreters is forming around the annual NAI International Interpreters Conference.  I’m not sure this would have happened without the opportunity to meet face-to-face on an annual basis.  Talking to each other in-person quickly overcomes differences of language and culture, and we quickly realize we’re all interpreters that share the same basic values, beliefs and skills and challenges.  And the conversations just get more interesting as we add the exotic venues and multiple cultures to the story of what we do.  E-mail and conference calls help us keep in touch between meetings, but I believe the meetings are essential to keep advancing this fledgling global community of interpreters.

As our world continues to shrink and international tourism grows dramatically in the coming years, our own cultural competency will need to grow with it.  Spending time with interpreters from outside the US is a fun and effective way to grow your experience interpreting to international audiences.  You can seek out the increasing number of international interpreters that attend our national workshop each fall, or better yet, try to attend an international interpreters conference.  Our 2011 international meeting will be in Panama and promises to be a fabulous gathering.  The price tag should be reasonable, and you’ll never regret the experience you gain and the new friends you make.  I hope to see you there!