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.

Every day, students show up to learn. Whether they’re five years old in a traditional classroom or fifteen in a home school setting - or anywhere in between - there's curiosity, intrigue, and interest somewhere inside them waiting to be entertained and engaged. Some show up craving the excitement of learning, while others are there without any excitement, unless that necessary hook can grab their attention. Long ago, one of my favorite quotes grabbed my attention and hasn’t let go since.

Lately I’ve taken notice of language - the words people choose to use and those that show up time and time again. If you listen, regardless of the situation involved in the discussion, you begin to hear patterns, synonyms, and repetition of emotions wrapped in very specific verbiage. Why do these words appear? Are they always those that are conscious choices, or are there underlying factors at work? Do those factors come from our experiences, our fears, our upbringing, or our lifestyle choices, or do they sneak up out of nowhere and we will never know the ‘why’?

As travelers, we go to many different lands. We cross bridges, we break bread with strangers, we learn languages, and get bombarded by cultural change right and left. There are deliberate choices, those we have no control over. and everything in between. We visit particular places for certain reasons and others because…why not? But, throughout the entire process, there are times that we yearn for home. What is it that ‘home’ really means? When traveling, how do we find home?

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.

Currently an associate professor of English at Tokyo Medical and Dental University, Patrick Foss has been a teacher in Japan for more than 20 years. He is the author of Across Tokyo, an ebook about an “urban hike” through one of the world’s most iconic cities. You can find it on Amazon here.