Inside, outside, online

There's something a little odd about teaching a summer online course called Writing about Nature. I assume that students who take the course are interested in spending time experiencing nature face to face, but instead I'm going to force them to sit inside with their eyes glued to their computer screens and their fingers flying across the keyboard. Walt Whitman would be appalled.

Then again, he's not registered for the course.

But eight students are registered. Eight! That magic number allows the course to proceed and releases me to construct a syllabus and post assignments and activities online. The course starts the first week of June, but I've already got a whole host of reading and writing assignments ready for my unwitting victims--er, students. I'm squeezing 15 weeks of material into an eight-week session, so this course is no walk in the park, no matter how much we would all prefer to be in a park instead of in front of a computer.

Why not do both at once? I'm determined to find a way to do some of the course work out in my woods, and I've even picked out a prime work location: a big smooth sittable rock nestled in near a mayapple patch. It's easily accessible now, but we'll have to diligently clear weeds from the path to keep it accessible through the summer. Next week I'll start recording podcasts to post on my course page and I may try to do some recording from the field, as it were. Picture me sitting on the rock and balancing a computer on my lap while surrounded by trees and wildflowers and butterflies and birds.

It sounds idyllic but it will work only if I can prevent one potential problem. What nature and technology have in common: a tendency to be infested by bugs.