Vermont In July

I forgot how long it takes to get here.  Plainfield is a five-hour drive from my house, 250 miles on interstate and secondary roads that go south then north, south and north again through the hills of Maine and the mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont.

I forgot how hot it can get here when there is no breeze, landlocked in the mountains.

I arrived Monday evening in time for dinner.  I sat alone at a table by the window so I could watch passers-by on the sidewalk outside and diners as they entered the cafeteria.  I recognized no one, yet I felt completely at ease.. 

It is the place that feels familiar.

Tuesday was a day of workshops and meetings.  I had conversations and made connections.  At lunch I sat with new colleagues who shared like old friends.

Like smoke through my pores, the sense of possibility seeps into my system.  Stories are told and attention is given.  Questions linger.  Positive feedback is commonplace. 

Today started with a memorial service for a beloved member of the faculty.  The Goddard community is like the best kind of family.  Grief is shared, joy is celebrated, and all are welcome.

The rest of the day consisted of a dozen sessions on a range of educational topics led by current students and alumni.  With little preparation and few props, attendees shared ideas and posed questions about teaching through writing, democratic education, international schools, historiography [the history of history], and action research.  We challenged ourselves and supported each other, the way we learn as students of Goddard.

For the first time I am staying in a hotel instead of on campus, something I promised myself I would do the next time I made the trip.  The air conditioning feels good after a day without it.  A delicious meal in a favorite restaurant was a welcome change from cafeteria fare.  The king-sized bed is a bonus.

The conference wraps up tomorrow morning.  Then it's back to reality.  I still have questions, and I am okay with that.