So the governor wants Maine kids to go outside, and he's rounded up our two Olympic gold medalists to get the message out. Good for him. And following proper politician protocol, he's organized a conference on the issue, setting an objective "to cooperate with organizations that are already working to get kids outside and connected to nature." I'm not really sure what that means, but it must be good if the governor is saying it, right?
Wrong. What everyone over, say, forty is not understanding is that you're not going to accomplish much by taking a kid who is addicted to his iPod and hauling him to Katahdin so he can "smell the beautiful air and enjoy the beautiful resources we have," as Baldacci suggests. Sorry, but the only smell that even registers on most teenagers' olfactory neurons seems to be that emitted by teenagers of the opposite sex. Kids are like sponges, constantly seeking out new stimuli with which to fill their expanding brains. If a television is on near them, they'll lock in on it like they've fallen for the Jedi Mind Trick. If a teacher manages to reveal to them the wild things lurking inside a molecule or a microscope or a metaphor, they may just decide school doesn't suck so much after all. And, unfortunately, if someone offers them a drag on a cigarette or a sip on a beer, they may foolishly convince themselves that substances are a way out of boredom.
Which is precisely why the governor and everyone else who might have an impact on young people need to ramp it up a bit. Instead of talking about the pleasant breezes in Baxter State Park, why not show young people the adrenalin rush they'll feel when tearing down a mountain bike trail or scaling a sheer rock face? Surely Seth Wescott feels a bit more zing when he's flying off a half-pipe than when he's carving wide turns on a cruiser run, and that's what he needs to be telling teenagers about. I'm learning the importance of this kind of indoctrination first-hand: while I'm happy to sail along in 5 knots of breeze on Penobscot Bay, my young kids don't come alive until the leeward rail is underwater and the wind is gusting over twenty knots.
On a gorgeous sunny day like today, there's no way any grown Mainer in their right mind would opt to spend the day indoors. But to convince the next generation that en plein air can also mean catching rad air, we need to learn to speak a whole different language.

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