OUTREACH SUNDAY (Some Observations) by Jack Rauch

They start arriving before 9 AM. If you are on the hundred yard range waiting, you can see them walking up the road from the clubhouse. They will all be bent a little forward at the waist as they lean into the hill as they walk.. Older children will race ahead, eager to see what awaits and the little ones will lag behind with an up stretched hand firmly grasped by a parent. Bill will say, “Uh oh, here they come”, and all the teachers will turn and look. Tim and Harri, who arrived early to load all of the equipment onto a truck and set up a firing line within ten yards of the targets, will hurriedly finish setting out the cones and putting up fresh targets on the bales. Gone are the casual discussions about the weather and the pastoral nature of the range. It is time to go to work.

The teachers hand out the bows and try to match the right bow to the size and strength of the prospective archer. Many are so young that they do not know if they are right or left handed. Those who have arrived earliest are lucky because they will not only get the best equipment but they will get the best instruction as there will be one teacher for each student. Later, time will have to be shared with too many and crowd control may become as big an issue as the instruction.

Basic safety procedures are explained. “Never point an arrow at anyone.” “Never step in front of the firing line until you hear an instructor say the range is CLEAR and you can go forward and get your arrows.” The most elementary archery instruction is given. “Stand with your feet shoulder width apart.” “Make a T out of your body.” “Three fingers under or one finger over and two fingers under.” “Draw the string back until your middle finger touches the corner of your mouth”, a phrase that will be repeated a thousand times this day.

The kids are anxious to learn but the equipment is alien to them and every movement is awkward. Clumsy fingers on chubby little hands fumble with tab, arrow, and string. Arrows fall off the arrow rest when inexperienced fingers curl too much as they draw back the string. After much practice and patient instruction they all get the hang of it but the girls seem to learn just a little bit faster than the boys. Little sisters positively beam with delight as they outshoot older brothers. Parents always let the children shoot first but it is really obvious that many of them want to shoot too. After some appropriate time and anxious waiting they break down and ask if they, too ,can shoot. Told to select an adult sized bow from the tables they quickly join their children on the firing line.

Groups of people arrive continually and very busy teachers work a crowded firing line. Bill and Dick seem to have a knack for working with the really young kids and Mark and Tim work really well with the adults. Jim works up and down the line wherever he is needed and Dan’s voice is heard time and again, “push and pull, push and pull”.

Things settle into a pattern as everyone shoots their arrows and then follows the commands: “Last arrow”, “Put your bow down”, The range is clear, go forward and draw your arrows”,” The range is clear, you may open fire.”

Now is the time when all the laws of physics are suspended. This is the time of the exception that proves the rule and only those who have ever taught someone to shoot a bow have seen it. Arrows shot from unskilled hands strike the targets at every conceivable and even inconceivable angle. Arrows hang crazily across target faces having only just barely penetrated the cardboard backing. Arrows glance off the top of the bales and shoot skyward to be lost in the trees on the hill. Arrows strike the target, fail to penetrate, and bounce back to the firing line. Arrows carom off the sides of the bales, strike the rebar anchoring straps, and turn in almost forty five degree angles to fall behind other targets farther down the line. This is a time of incredulity. “I didn’t know an arrow could do that”, Mark says in awe as others just stare open mouthed and shake their heads.

Slowly the new archers begin to group their arrows and the accuracy improves. Excited voices can be heard: “I got a bulls eye” and “I just missed a bulls eye.”

Now it is time for the balloons and, as Tim affixes them to the bales, who could guess what joy could come from these simple air filled toys. “Yes, I got one”, said with much pride as an arrow finds its mark. “I got two in a row” is exclaimed in an ecstatic tone as sharp pops announce more arrows have struck their targets.

As the hours go by, some of the children begin to tire and get sore fingers or lose patience with their slow progress and begin to throw pine cones or sticks for Guess (the wonder dog) to fetch. Little do they know that the simple act of throwing that stick has created an unwritten contract with Guess that will require them to continue this act for the rest of the day; and Guess is relentless. As they play with the dog, Dan gleefully grabs his bow and begins popping balloons.

Most of the hard part of the teaching is over now and the students just need time to practice their new skills. Teachers can stand back a little and be selective about those who really need help. Phrases like “keep your elbow up” and “draw the string all the way back” are frequently heard. Growling stomachs remind the instructors that it is almost noon and every one of them is hoping that Marina and Jeanine and Pat have prepared one of their famous five star lunches in the clubhouse. The lunch they prepare is worth more than a morning’s work and if Marina has made breakfast burritos there will be a lot of happy smiles on teachers’ faces.

By 11:45 things are winding down and people begin to drift away. Donations are solicited and received. The last round is announced and the last arrows fired. There is much hand shaking and many thank you’s from the students as they turn to go. Errant arrows are sought and brought off the hill from behind the targets and the teachers load the equipment back onto the truck to be driven down to the clubhouse.

The excited and enthusiastic voices of the children can be heard as they recede down the path towards the parking lot: “Can we come back here again?”, and “Can I buy a bow, daddy?” They have fulfilled their destiny on this day and joined the ranks of the small community of those who derive so much enjoyment from a bent stick and the practice of this stone age skill.

They’re archers now.

Just like that.

Weary but contented the teachers walk away and nature’s peaceful quietness returns to the meadow on the hundred yard range. But to those who give a backward glance there are already memories of the day’s joys and the meadow, somehow, seems a little cold and barren without the children.

Some may wonder if the sacrifice of time they made today was worth it but know deep down inside that it was, because something more than archery was learned here today. Feelings of self esteem were raised as little boys and girls discovered they could learn a new skill and be successful. Families were brought closer to one another as father and son and mother and daughter enjoyed an activity together. More than a few of the children were just happy that a sympathetic adult paid attention to them and cared about what they were doing. And everyone felt better because they spent the day outdoors in the fresh air enjoying the harmony of nature.

Satisfied, the teachers leave and know in their hearts that what Wordsworth said is true:

“...with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.”

On Outreach Sunday.

Just like that.