Race to First Class
Speed over skill. Checkbox over experience.
When I was a Scout, advancement to First Class reflected a Scout’s growing competence, their bond with a patrol, and a lived rhythm of outdoor life. Today, it reflects how fast that experience can be condensed.
The ranks up to First Class were never meant to be hurdles. They were meant to be a journey. A progression through mentorship, patrol responsibility, and tactile skill. But now, new Scouts often complete major chunks of advancement in classrooms, summer camps, or worksheet sessions: rushed, fragmented, and rarely connected to a lived outdoor rhythm.
We were putting up a tarp. I asked a Life Scout (close to Eagle) to tie a bowline. He remembered being taught it long ago. Hadn’t used it, so forgot how. We are talking about one of the most fundamental knots.
Even worse, in nearly all troops, this race takes place in a “New Scout Patrol” of the newest Scouts. They may elect a Patrol Leader. But the Patrol Leader is the leader of the patrol in name only. It’s actually led by an appointed “Troop Guide” and an Assistant Scoutmaster. It only participates in the life of the troop as an appendage, as its focus is the rush to First Class Scout.
“We do not want to make Scout training too soft.” — Baden-Powell
Erosion of Outdoor Immersion in First Class Requirements
| Legacy Emphasis | Modern Shift | Impact |
|---|---|---|
| Cooking over fire, improvising with available gear | Cooking typically done with stoves; USDA nutrition models dominate | Skill becomes procedural, not adaptive |
| Navigation via map and compass in natural terrain | GPS apps permitted for orienteering | Undermines tactile learning and terrain intuition |
| Lashings and camp gadgets built from natural materials | Lashings often taught indoors or in demo settings | Loss of improvisational problem-solving outdoors |
| Nature study through direct observation and journaling | Identification via leaves, photos, or collections | Reduces field engagement and ecological curiosity |
We camped by patrol, apart from the others. Eight Scouts, one ground fire. No dining hall. No stove. Just flame and hunger. Cold eggs came from a poor woodpile. Missed chores meant no dinner. That fire cooked our meals and warmed our friendships. And burned our scrambled pancakes! It forced us to plan and burned our mistakes into memory. Advancement didn’t come from ticking boxes: it came from living rough, recovering well, and walking the trail together. I was proud to wear the Flaming Arrow patrol patch. Home away from home. And prouder still when years later, as their Patrol Leader, I helped new Scouts through the same failures, now understood as beginnings.
Formal sequencing was once Scouting’s quiet teacher. Every rank was a distinct chapter earned in order. That structure collapsed in the BSA in an early 1970s experiment with “Skill Awards”, a well-intentioned but costly detour. Although the belt loops were retired, their modular legacy endures in today’s fragmented advancement program.
So today, there is no longer a rule to complete one rank before beginning work on the next. A Scout may pursue First Class requirements while still a Tenderfoot, effectively dismantling the sequence that once shaped the journey. This change prioritizes speed over growth, encouraging Scouts to check boxes without living the experience each rank was meant to teach.
| Legacy Structure | Modern Practice | Impact |
|---|---|---|
| Requirements grouped by developmental stage (by rank) | Each requirement is treated as a one-time checkbox | Spaced out instruction is combined and thus is not built upon |
| Skills taught in context (e.g. fire-building during campouts) | Skills taught in isolation or simulated indoors | Disconnect between learning and lived experience |
| Requirements reinforced through repetition and cross-application | Each requirement treated as a one-time checkbox | No layering of mastery; retention and confidence suffer |
| Advancement required both skill and reflection | Advancement based on completion, not comprehension | Scouts may “pass” without internalizing meaning |
| Rank and badge requirements once formed a coherent whole | Now fragmented across digital syllabi and modular worksheets | Mentorship replaced by task management |
When I asked a Scout wearing his troop’s t-shirt what rank he was, he hesitated. He’d earned requirements across Tenderfoot, Second Class, and First But he genuinely didn’t know what that made him. The path had stopped being a path. It was now just terrain with dots but no direction.
I mentioned the Scout rank patch on his formal uniform. He looked down and said “I’m actually Tenderfoot.” It was not significant enough for him to sew it on.
Evolution of the Handbook
The BSA handbook has always been the complete guide to First Class Scout. To understand what First Class once meant, we should understand the book that taught it. Let’s see how it has changed over the years.
Compare the chapters:
1911 Handbook
- Scoutcraft (knots, signaling, first aid, tracking, fire-building)
- Campcraft (cooking, tents, hygiene, outdoor living)
- Woodcraft (trees, animals, nature observation)
- Chivalry & Character (honor, courtesy, bravery, trust)
- Patriotism & Citizenship (flag etiquette, civic duty)
- Games & Stories (moral tales, folklore, physical play)
- Personal Development (clean living, self-control, thrift)
2022 Handbook
- Introduction to Scouting
- Advancement & Ranks
- Scout Skills (knots, first aid, camping basics)
- Outdoor Ethics
- Safety & Youth Protection
- STEM & Merit Badges
- Leadership & Service
- Resources & Support
- Appendices (requirements, forms, policies)
The old book formed a youth into a man. The new one manages a youth through a program. The rhetoric is different: verbs vs modules, virtues vs logistics, apprenticeship vs access. Even the binding speaks. Once small and pocket-sized. Built to travel and survive campouts. Now it’s spiral-bound and desk-bound. A classroom tool for a classroom program.
To become First Class once meant emerging from a forge. Today, it means completing a checklist.
When I was a Scout, we carried our handbook as a source. A mentor in print. Today, it’s only carried to advancement events. I suppose back then all events were advancement events. We lived as Scouts and in the process, advanced in rank.
Conclusion
When advancement is reduced to checking boxes, Scouts miss the cumulative lessons of patrol life: responsibility, resilience, and confidence built over time. The rush to First Class has hollowed out advancement into transactions, rather than transformation. And separated it from the camping life of the patrol. Each requirement becomes an isolated task instead of a stepping stone. Without a clear sequence, rank no longer traces a Scout’s journey.
I still remember the day my patrol spent building a survival shelter from pine posts and sticks, draped with overlaping layers of palm fronds like shingles. We gathered materials at dawn, tested each beam for strength, and before dusk we had a waterproof refuge that stood firm through wind and rain. Our shelter was the best in the troop. We poured ourselves into it. Working together taught lessons no worksheet ever could.
Reclaiming that model means restoring sequential advancement and patrol-based mentorship. Older Scouts should train younger ones within their own patrol, guiding each step in context: fire-building after it rains, tying dependable knots, cooking to feed a hungry patrol. Requirements should open one chapter at a time, building on the previous chapters.
In Scouting, a boy is encouraged to educate himself instead of being instructed. — Baden-Powell
Scouting’s true measure is not how quickly a Scout earns a patch, but how deeply he learns from the trail, the fire, and the bonds of his patrol. By slowing down, trusting the sequence, and honoring the shared journey, we ensure advancement is not just a badge. It must represent experience lived.