Photo: Steve Peterson
I haven’t posted much this summer. This being the first summer of blogging, I was interested to see how I would react to the change in routine that summer brings.
Photo: Beth Lynch
Normally, I post thoughts about my craft and the profession as a whole, and not much personal stuff. Trouble is as far as blogging goes, much of my “work” these days has been deeply personal, regenerative, and outside the classroom.
For instance, I recently spent ten days in Italy to hike in the Parco Nazionale dei Monti Sibillini. I haven’t been out of the country much at all and don’t speak or read Italian, but an opportunity arose to meet my partner in Italy after some work she did there…so, well, why not?
The trip was fantastic. Much of the hiking was above tree line, through meadows full of small alpine flowers, which were in full-bloom.
Photo: Beth Lynch
Other hikes brought us through deep gorges carved through limestone cliffs, and up through beech forests and open pasture lands. Still others brought us through the winding, twisting streets of some of the many hilltop medieval walled towns that dot the landscape. The food was splendid (including a long, long dinner cooked by one of the local “slow food” chefs) and the wine was plentiful.
Photo: Steve Peterson
Two things about this experience seemed worth writing about in this blog space. First, the region of Italy we visited, Le Marche, is not frequented by American tourists and the local Italians didn’t speak much English. Yet, through lots of good will on the part of the people we met, we were able to function pretty well, get what we needed, and figure stuff out as we went.
I remember a Russian language professor in college telling me (when I complained about how hard it was to learn Russian) I must remember that five-year olds in Russia spoke better Russian than I did. I think he wanted to remind me that it’s not about difficulty, but about experience.
This experience in Italy reminded me what it is like to be in over my head and to have to figure things out as I went. That’s a really good position to put myself in. My brain knew this concept already, but my heart re-discovered the feel of that experience while on the trip. Patience, and some very good and helpful people lowered my anxiety about something so new and unknown to me, though not for the average five-year old Italian. Perhaps this experience will help me step outside myself in the classroom, too, so that I might provide support and understanding for my students as they enter a new and strange land next year.
Second, as I’ve been thinking about what to write about this summer I have realized that writing about the classroom is really difficult when I’m not in it at that very moment; hence the personal story about a trip to another country. I’m not sure what to make of this silence, but I think it has to do with how the classroom, for me, is an environment that is mostly governed by relationships, rather than plans.
Sure, plans are important. At this point, I’m planning for next year, with all the changes that are in store for me, but I also know that these plans are really only a way to prepare my mind and heart for the year that is coming. Very little will go as planned. Writing about the plans I’m making seems stilted and (though not a lie) at least sort of untrue. The real sorting and writing will happen next year as I add relationships to the plans. Together, those will help to create the country the children and I will visit together.
Steve, your trip sounds wonderful. We all need time to reflect and regenerate and even though you are not working too much on your classroom mentally, the experiences that happen outside of the classroom are the ones that give us perspective when the school year is in full swing. Enjoy the rest of your vacation and I look forward to heating about your new school year when it begins!
Hi, Kim. Thanks for stopping by to comment. I agree that these times of regeneration and renewal are important for perspective and stamina, too. For awhile, I’ve been struck by how hard it is to talk to non-teachers about my job. There’s something about the classroom that is hard to explain unless you’ve been there. I’m interested in my OWN response to being out of the classroom. Suddenly, I’m having a hard time writing about what it’s like inside, though I”ve been there pretty recently! I’m guessing that the reason it’s hard for me is that the classroom is so much more than just technique and instructional strategies, but a web of interactions and relationships that are difficult to conjure up and describe when I’m not immersed in it.
Hey! What am I doing talking to you!!!! You’re supposed to be on vacation, aren’t you? 🙂
Seriously, I love your blog.
Being a travel junkie, I can’t imagine that you won’t carry this experience back with you into your classroom. If nothing else, the kind of travel it sounds like you’re doing–away from the crowds, with no tour guide in sight–does make you be a learner and a problem solver, which I always find so incredibly valuable–and humbling in the best kind of way. And I’m sure that the simple act of slowing down to taste the wine and walk through a landscape, noticing what there is to be noticed, has implications for being with students that may not be fully revealed until later. So if you’re back, welcome home. And if not, buon viaggio! And thanks for letting me vicariously spend some time above the tree line!
Thanks so much for stopping by to visit, Vicki! Yes, I agree that the “fruits” of this voyage-vine will continue to age with time, to be decanted and savored. The slowness of rural Italy (other than the young, male drivers on the switch-back mountain roads!) was great to see and taste. Among other things, I fell in love with the gardens — the tomato trellises, the use of every bit of space, the fig trees (yum), the sound of hoes scratching the fields as dusk fell. I’ve not been traveling as much I’d like, but, after this trip, I’m planning more for future summers. Best to you!