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"We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
-T.S. Eliot

We're back. A long but happy school day of riding airplanes, and students are sleeping in their own beds. They are almost certainly different people now.

Altogether, the group took over 5,000 pictures. There are a number of students who are planning to study abroad in college. Dajeh wants to live in Rome. On our last night, Vladimir--who has been quiet for much of the trip--summarized:

"We've known since 6th grade that education opens doors, to college, and to making money. But this trip has helped me to know that it opens many more doors than that. I see things in a new way."

Thank you for travelling with me and Vladimir and the rest of the group. When we return to school on Monday, the group will begin assembling a documentary based from the hours of video they've shot. I'll post the video to this blog.

We are so fortunate to have had this opportunity, and I look forward to sharing more stories in person, in the coming months.

Our Last Day

Today we Visited Ostia. Ostia is an amazingly preserved Roman port city, similar to Pompeii, but more working class. We toured the baths, admired beautiful mosaic floors, and vogued in the ancient theater. As Tiffany and I went back in search of a lost umbrella, we mused about how the ruin might have looked two thousand years ago.

Tonight we pack, and many of the students are feeling blue.

Off the Beaten Path

Today, the group from JMW Arts and our tour guide traveled to Florence, leaving us with a free day in Rome. Most of the touristy sites in Rome are closed on Mondays, so we were really left to our own devices.

We took a chance on the Borghese Gardens. Neither our tour guide nor our gudebook could tell us much. But we intrepidly picked up sandwiches and bottles of water and marched into the park.

We had a blast. We ate our picnic on a log. We rented and raced 4-person rickshaws. We visited the zoo.

Afterwards we stepped into a cafe for antipasti. Briantey had her first cappuccino. When she said she was going to name her children, "Pied," and, "Aterre," we cut her off.

Meals

The typical American teenager survives on a startling diet of trash. Many BPCPS students-including star athletes-consume a large percentage of their calories as Doritos. Students take comfort in pre-packaged food. I observed one especially skittish student try a pastry like this: First, she smelled it, thoroughly, in the manner of a dog sniffing a piece of strange meat. Then, she poked her finger in through a corner, and peered inside the hole. Finally, she rolled back her lips, and, with bared teeth, bit off a tiny flake.

Needless to say, the Italian way of eating has been really eye-opening for these kids. Many have never sat at a table for so long. One learned to properly hold a knife and fork. One complained: "My stomach can't digest all this unprocessed food!" (Especially salad.)

Just recently on this trip, students have begun adopting more cosmopolitan attitudes. I watched a lengthy speculative conversation about the ingredients in that night's pasta. They're identifying their favorite gelati, and learning that it's cheaper to eat standing at the bar than sitting down. Yesterday, Donovan adopted one of my favorite strategies: he bought something unfamiliar (a delicately fried ball of meat and vegetables) just because it looked good.

I don't know exactly how these new attitudes fit into our school's system of virtues, but they seem important nonetheless.

Modern Day Gladiators

We typically discourage violence at Boston Prep.

On Top

This requires a little background on Kadian. Since 6th grade, Kadian has been one of the shyest, quietest members of her class. When she enrolled, it took the school months to correct a spelling error in her recorded last name: she just never told anyone the weekly progress report was incorrect. In the 9th grade, she positively refused to attend an overnight retreat with members of her class.

Over the years, Kadian has made a concerted effort to come out of her shell. She raises her hand more in class. She initiates conversations in the cafeteria. And of course, she ultimately agreed to spend a week in Rome.

Anyway, this afternoon we hit a low point at lunch. The group had been dragging. When we entered the cafeteria, they flopped into cafeteria seats. Jackets and hats were on. (I've forbidden this in restaurants.) I was tired of pulling teeth and got very white in the face:

"You feel like this because you did not sleep last night. Tonight, you need to go to sleep at bedtime. Now SIT UP!"

We grudgingly consumed our lunches.

The afternoon offered four free hours. We were a 30-minute walk from our evening's destination, but we had nothing programmed for the remaining time. We were still near St. Peter's. I made a suggestion, with the caveat that we'd only do it with universal agreement:

We could climb to the cupola on top of the church. Characterized by our gude as the best view in Rome, the guide also warns:

"The staircase actually winds between the outer wall and the inner one. It's a sweaty, crowded, clausterphobic 15-minute, 323 step climb."

Before I caught my breath, Kadian raised her hand and said something. I misunderstood, and responded, "that's right. CLAUSTERPHOBIC." She replied a little louder: "No. I said I'll do it!"

We went around the circle, and one by one, kids said, "yes," or raised hands, or simply nodded. And the group was changed.

We spent 90 minutes in line happily discussing college and careers and BPCPS history. Then we spent half an hour climbing between the walls. When we emerged-thirty stories high, winded and smiling, Dania exclaimed, "I want to stay here forever!"

The rest of the afternoon was a celebratory stroll along the Tiber. Students learned to haggle with street vendors and played with a mime, and sat up very straight at dinner.

Perhaps the happiest afternoon I've had with teenagers, in a very long time.

The Vatican

Many of our students are very religious; most spend a big part of every weekend in church.

Today we visited the Vatican. Gabrielle and I tried to pick out the Bible stories on the walls and ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. As we entered Saint Peter's, Kadian turned to me and said, "I'm a Seventh Day Adventist. It's Saturday and I'm back in church!"

Our First Day

Our flight was very smooth, and everyone made a good faith effort to sleep a few hours. Upon arrival, it took us an hour to get our bags. During the wait, Briantey learnrd to say, "if you have a white tag, exit to the right," in Italian.

We met our tour guide, Gabriella, who explained that Rome had been snarled by the first real snowstorm since 1985. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, some of our group dozed off on the slow ride--through narrow streets on a gigantic bus--to town.

Lunch warmed and woke us up. Kids had their first tastes of prosciutto and giant bites of mozarella. Big plates of pasta with fresh tomatoes and seafood.

Afterward, we stabbed Benjamin at the newly excavated site of Caesar's assassination.

Strangers

Lots of nerves this morning. Jen's entire family was crying when they dropped her. Another student couldn't stop throwing up. Dajeh hugged her neighbor and closed her eyes when the plane took off.

Now we're laid over in Dulles for 6 hours, and something magical just happened. We are joined by the Travel Club of the JMW Arts School in Pawtucket, Rhode Island. EF Tours combined us because both schools are so small. Jen is our only white student. Nearly all the JMW Arts students are white.

In Boston, our students eyed one another across the gate. Once we found our gate at Dulles, I took the half of our group that wanted a Potbelly sandwich; the others waited for the Wendy's trip.

When my group returned 15 minutes later, students from both schools had stretched out on the floor of the gate, engaged in a massive game of Uno. Donovan coordinated several rounds of introductions around the circle.

I'm not sure how this will go. My desire for control initially made me very anxious about sharing a bus, an itinerary, and hotel rooms with strangers. Now I'm not so sure--getting to know kids from across the state border might really teach something.

Packing

I won't say who, but somebody missed the 50 pound weight limit.

Here's the transcript:

ME: Hmm. We can work this out. How many shirts do you have in there?
STUDENT: Three. Plus my uniform shirt.
M: That's pretty good. Pants?
S: Three.
M: Shoes?
S: Three.
M: Maybe we can do something about that. Explain this to me. You have you uniform shoes, a pair of sneakers and...
S: Mr. McCue, they're all sneakers.
M: You don't need that!
S: Mr. McCue, they match different outfits.
M: Hmm...
S: Mr. McCue, I wonder if the problem is my iron?

We removed the iron, and now the bag is a comfortable 49.5 lbs.

The three sets of sneakers remain.

The Weather

The bus to the airport is supposed to leave tomorrow morning at 6 AM. Today's forecast is for more than 9 inches of snow to fall between noon and midnight; the forecast for Washington D.C. (where we transfer) isn't much better.

I'm not sure what this does to our plans. How long does it take United to rebook a group of 18 whose flight is cancelled?

This is a very bad time for a snow day.

Founders

Vladimir, Dajeh, Donovan, and their classmates have been the oldest kids in their school, every year since the 6th grade. Since we've built BPCPS one grade at a time, they have been the first to do everything. They've been taught the first draft of every curriculum. They've been the first to experience every ritual. While they have lost classmates over the years--students who moved, or enrolled in selective schools, or left because BPCPS was just too hard--they've seen the school's enrollment balloon beneath them.

This experience has bred a unique class identity. They are proud, but battle weary. They love and hate one another, as only siblings can. They consider the trip to Rome, and their not-too-distant acceptances to college with a funny combination of certainty and disbelief. Nobody has yet experienced BPCPS as they have, and nobody will ever again.

A few years ago, I visited the Hyde school, in Bath, Maine. Hyde serves a predominantly white, middle class population. Yet the school has developed a reputation for helping kids with a history of behavioral problems. At Hyde, character comes before everything else. Coaches deliberately schedule soccer matches against much better teams, because of the power in learning from losing. My student tour guide at Hyde shared his pre-Hyde drug abuse, without prompting. Hyde's Principal explained to me that Hyde alumni typically characterize their experience at the school as one of the key 3 or 4 most formative experiences of their lives--just behind getting married and having children. The principes gained about how to live stay with them into old age. I believe Vladimir, Dajeh, and Donovan may say this as well. But what, exactly, will they say they gained?