When I was living in New York, the arrival of spring meant puffy eyes, air conditioning instead of windows down, running away from grass and trees, an itchy palate, pollen everywhere you looked, and the beginning of the countdown to the end of the school year. Since we’ve moved to San Diego, the arrival of spring has a more varied meaning. Sure, there are still some of those allergy symptoms and no longer the countdown till the end of school, but the start of the season seems to have a broader meaning now.

Do you remember your time in a classroom? Perhaps there are flickering images of building with blocks, playing handball at recess, or you can possibly grasp the names of your teachers all the way back to kindergarten. Perhaps you remember running the mile in physical education, joining your first bake sale, or that time you wanted to learn to play the flute.

It’s officially summer in the northern hemisphere. Days of beach frolicking, no alarm clocks, park picnics, and RV tours are met with nights spent following the trail of fireflies, roasting that perfect marshmallow, and watching nature’s evening show as the sun meets the horizon.

These are the cherished days of summer where traditional schooling is flung by the wayside and finding fun reigns supreme.

I can still vaguely remember a few class trips from primary school in New York. I have sketchy images of a visit to Fire Island’s barrier beach, a stop at the national historic site of Sagamore Hill, and a cool trip to a rock museum. I remember being able to touch geodes, collect water samples, and visit historical spots. But mostly, I recall standing outside, being a part of nature and connecting with the land. It’s weird that those memories are still visible and still felt all those years later.

When I was thirteen, the term ‘cultural diffusion’ didn’t often come up in conversation, yet sitting in my best friend’s kitchen eating her favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream from Ben and Jerry’s was sort of the same thing. That same summer, another friend introduced ‘Pringles’ potato chips into our bunk at sleep away camp.