We finished quarter 1 in
early October, and since then, WS staff and students have enjoyed 1) Activity
Week (AW) and 2) Quarter Break. This post is devoted to AW. You'll notice
immediately that I don't have photos. I gave the camera to Chris, who went to
Austria and hopefully took *some* photos. I'll just need to dazzle you with
word pictures. Here follows a meandering travelogue of some experiences...
Grade 11 Advanced Trek:
5-13 October
Rupin Supin Pass /
Baradsar Lake, Himalayas
The bus is late. The
chaperones -- Pants, Titu, and I -- make ourselves comfortable on the steps
leading from dorms to school. The hours slide slowly by, students drifting to
and from Cozy Corner or Chardukan for bun omelets and chocolate. Not an auspicious
start to our adventure.
*
Several hours into our
eight-hour bus ride, we make a welcome dinner stop. On a restaurant's cool
porch, we stuff ourselves full of thali: endless spicy dal (a split lentil
concoction), simple subzi (cooked veg), and chapati (flatbread) -- and chalwa
(rice), once we're full. Delicious!
*
I roll out my sleeping
mat next to three students: Khyati, Shreya, and Chloe. They are stuck with me
for the week, but gracious and welcoming -- and thankfully, not night owls.
Minutes after lying down, all is quiet.
*
After hours of uphill
walking (and ensuing student dehydrating / stopping), we're greeted by a
beautiful, bucolic camp site. Soft, green grass, rolling hills, and a view of a
huge valley. We take a welcome rest, with fresh pakora and chai and laughter.
The students revive quickly after wilting on the trail.
*
My favorite hike, hands
down. We start with an hour of steep uphill but are rewarded with a walk
through rambling woods. The trees are losing their leaves, and the crunch of my
boots brings me back to autumn in the U.S. It makes me nostalgic for
apple-picking and cider donuts, for runs through Hickory Hill Park and carving
pumpkins. I reminisce with students from New Hampshire as we stumble through
the forest.
*
"Hakuna Matata,
what a wonderful phrase..." Some students are singing again, cycling
through a mix of Lion King, Mulan, and Wicked.
I join -- a jazzy, "ain't no passing craze!" I love these
girls.
*
Some students chop veg
on any surface they can find, some watch as water slowly boils. It is our night
to cook, and despite heroic efforts, the sauce is bitter and the pasta
overdone. Still, whether from effort or sheer exhaustion, the food is tasty! We
chow down late in the evening.
*
Before breakfast, Titu
tells us that a shepherd's donkey was killed by a leopard last night. I don't
believe him, because he always teases, but we follow him down a shallow valley
anyhow. He isn't lying. We spot the donkey about 30 meters away, notice the
slit throat. Titu explains that leopards only drink blood right after they
kill, and return to eat flesh later on. The shepherd's dog stands guard against
the vultures above. Later, Titu hears from the shepherd that that the dog is
ashamed he didn't protect the donkey, and will stay with the donkey
indefinitely.
*
10km day: a haiku
always walking on,
slow like ants, we make
our way.
mountains scrape blue
sky.
*
Straight up, we press,
for several hours. We climb through a field of boulders and over the ridge. At
the top, 14,500 feet above sea level, we can see far down in both directions,
the wide valley on one side, and the always breathtaking snows on the other. We
lunch atop an outcrop, and eat snow flavored with iced tea.
After an hour, we
descend. I hold Shreya's hand to boost her confidence, but she still trembles
with each stop, squealing any time her foot slips on the small rocks. We make
slow progress down the mountainside, and by the time we reach our camp after 10
hours of hiking, we are exhausted from head to to.
It was the BIG day, the
summit day. Because our group is large, and varied in ability, we split
students into three groups. Some stayed at camp, some climbed to the ridge, and
some went all the way to Baradsar Lake. When we told them the groups, some were
thrilled and some cried. Others were mad, saying the trek advertised going to
the lake and that we should all try. It was a tough decision that probably hurt
our group dynamic some. But it worked. For the first time, a group of WS
students made it all the way to the lake.
*
We sit outside sipping
chai when it starts to sprinkle, then rain, then hail and pour. My tent is
stuffed full of girls, so I crawl into a two-man tent with Setse and Lulu. It
is cramped, but we pass the time with our chai and countless chatter. They want
to hear about how Chris and I met (about love), about English, about being an
adult. In return, I learn of their families, their friendships, and their view
of school life. Despite the wet all around, it is a lovely way to spend a few
hours.
*
Friday night is always
pizza night! Again, students chop. They grate. They make sticky dough. They
manipulate camp stoves. Altogether, they transform our camp into a dirty
pizzeria. Rain again drives us under makeshift shelters and some students back
into tents for the night. The students make so many pizzas, and we must eat
them all... Our favorite concoction includes wrapping a snickers bar in pizza
dough and pan frying it until the chocolate melts. So. Yum.
*
After many miles, we
reach Sankri. Our afternoon consists of trips to eat bun omelets, Lays,
chocolates and to drink many cups of chai. One of our guides, Trepan, invites
us up to his house. It's a beautiful mountain house, painted wood, slate roof,
a porch that overlooks a valley. "Sundar hai," I muster in my broken
Hindi.
*
The last night. We sit
in a guest house's common room, lit only by some candles and a few headlamps.
We play "Hotel," a game that involves languages and acting -- a
brilliant choice for our multilingual students. We laugh, laugh, laugh as
YounJung explains in Korean that a cow peed on her bed to Setse, who replies in
confused Burmese. Even I'm forced to play, speaking crazy kindergarten German
about a cat demanding a beer.
*
In my first bed for
days, I drift off to sleep as students play truth or dare, and my memories
return to my childhood -- "truth, dare, double dare, promise to
repeat" on the cracked driveways of Jamestown Terrace. To be young. The
students constantly remind me of their age, about how vital and hopeful we are
in our teens, but also how awkward and searching.
After a long quarter,
with frustrations building at the end, this trek is a great reminder of why I
teach. My students bring me so much joy -- especially when we're not bothered
by the regular business of school, the lessons, assessments, grades,
complaints. Instead, we can just be human together.
Thanks, Woodstock, for a
brilliant week.
