There's no hiding

They've come for me while I was at dinner, but I guess I was almost finished with that salad.

They've come for me while I was riding the bus. Most recently when I was listening to Sara Bareilles (as prescribed by my Sarah, my sister), ear buds in, oblivious to my surroundings.

They've come for me while I was out walking and minding my own business.

Millikin University students in Verona.

They've come for me while I was reading, which, of course, is more often than not.

They tweet at me; they e-mail me.

It's like they're everywhere.

They, naturally, are my students, and I thought I'd spend a few minutes talking about what it's like to travel with students and to teach while away from campus.

Luckily (for them, but more so for me), I actually like most of them. That makes all of this easier, but when you travel with students, there's really no hiding.

I can't hide from them. We're in a town of 8,000 with about 10 restaurants or bars within walking distance of our apartments. While I'm not technically living with them, I am definitely living among them.

Some of last year's travelers, sitting near me at dinner.

• That means that sometimes when they come for me at dinner, it's just a matter of coincidentally choosing the same location. (Yesterday, though, they were asking about today's exam. That's right. Exam. This is a real class with real assignments that get graded and everything. Being in Italy may be the best part of my job, but it is still my job to help them learn about marketing.)
• That means that sometimes I've gone out with friends to relax and realized I couldn't completely cut loose because my students were literally watching.
• That means they learn a lot more about me in four weeks than their friends did during a 16-week semester. We meet two hours a day for four days a week just for class sessions. Then we have anywhere from 7 to 36 hours of travel for side trips during the week. (Most of those come with assignments attached. EVERYTHING here is a teaching moment.)

Class field trip from last year. Most oof them are exactly as happy as they look.

1. They see how I respond the unknown.
2. They see how I deal with fatigue.
3. They see how I handle stress.
4. They see if my personality and my expectations for them are consistent when dealing with items 1, 2, & 3.
5. They see how I love to explore and learn. I never try to hide my geeky core, but the proximity reinforces it for them.
6. They see me as a real person who walks with them to find a public toilet, who sweats under the Italian sun, and misses Mexican food.
7. They see how I treat people outside of the classroom--students, supermercato clerks, camerieri*, bus drivers, and colleagues.

• That means I learn a lot more about them in four weeks than I did about their friends during a 16-week semester.

1. I notice who's eating the local food, and who's getting by on patate fritte.**
2. I notice who's taking the short nights (theirs are decidedly shorter than mine) on the chin and forcing themselves to attend AND stay (mostly) awake during class.
3. I notice when the short time frame to explore Italy and complete class assignments has a negative impact on classroom performance. (And it is a crazy time frame. We traveled to Verona and Venezia this weekend, returning around 11pm last night. Today, my students took a test and turned in two majors assignments and two minor ones.)
4. I notice their consistency, too. Some can rebound from that negative impact; others never do. I try to treat each assignment as a blank slate so that past performance doesn't color my judgment of the assignment in front of me. I'm probably not completely successful, but that likely hurts the students who start out strong and slip more than the ones who made major corrections.
5. I notice when the situational learning just starts burbling out out them. It's obvious because they voluntarily start talking to me about what they just did or who they spoke with. This year, one of the local business owners has started deep and intense conversations with our students, and they've loved discussing the differences between Americans and Italians on topics like the death penalty and gun control.
6. I'm constantly surprised by their addiction to ranch dressing. (Blech. I have no words.)
7. I notice how they treat people outside the classroom--me, each other, our local partners at Centro Studi Italiani, the townspeople and local business owners. That means I know who's hooking up, which friends are fighting, and who has the roommate from hell.

Hmm. Perhaps we should be warning them that there's not hiding in travel courses, because I'm with them everywhere. I come away with a much stronger feel for who's a good person and colleague than I do in a traditional semester setting. That assessment stays with me, and I use it when it's time to write recommendations or pick leaders for students organizations.

This year's travelers in Gubbio

What happens in Italy definitely comes back to campus with us.

There really is no hiding.

*Camerieri are waiters or servers.

**This one (you probably figured out without me) is french fries.

 

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