Category: Uncategorized

Ceiba Farrell-Sultan
United World College USA
Las Vegas, New Mexico

Heads or tails. The toss of a coin. That’s the parlor game I played in the back of my head every time I walked into a picture-perfect American grocery store, aisles lined with Kraft mac and cheese and Wonder Bread. Should I be Mexican or American today? Should I put on concealer to hide my tan, tuck away my accent, my mom’s tamale recipes, my weekends filled with family, and slip into the version of me that blends in? Just another face at a football game, the version of me that’s the most comfortable for others. Or should I risk the stares, the jokes, the questions that made me want to shrink?

This summer in Spain, surrounded by the history of convivencia, where Christians, Muslims, and Jews built a society not by erasing differences but by letting them coexist, I found my answer. I didn’t have to choose between the two, I never did.

In Toledo, I stood in a synagogue that had once been a mosque, that had once been a church, and I thought about how identity isn’t something you pick once and never change, identity is something that shifts, expands, and carries every story that came before it. Walking through those narrow streets, I stopped feeling like my two cultures were at war with each other. I saw them instead as layers, like the tiles on the Alhambra, intricate and whole only when they are all in place. Being Mexican and American didn’t make me less of either, it made me more of both.

For the first time, I stopped apologizing for myself in my own head. In Spain, I was surrounded by people who understood, who, like me, had grown up balancing two worlds and two languages. Having had fluency in Spanish as a requirement for the program, every one of us carried pieces of Latin America woven into our childhood, abuelas who made pan dulce on Sundays, parents who switched from English to Spanish mid-scold, names that teachers stumbled over on the first day of school. With them, I didn’t have to translate myself or shrink my answers down for others to feel more comfortable. We laughed about the same inside jokes, theme songs from the same old cable cartoons, and shared the same quiet ache of feeling “too much” or “not enough.” And, for the first time, I felt like my reflection matched the person I’d always been inside.

The summer ended, but its lesson lingered, a quiet strength and new realization I could draw on whenever I needed it. The grocery store aisles didn’t feel like a coin toss anymore. I didn’t flinch when someone mispronounced my name or asked why I spoke Spanish “so well.”  Instead, I opened the book of who I was and read every page aloud, no longer erasing the parts I thought others wouldn’t understand. Instead of seeing my Mexican and American sides as halves pulling me in opposite directions, I started seeing them as a bridge, one that’s a gift instead of a curse, letting me move between worlds with ease, one that lets me belong in more than one place at once.

Now, I know that my voice is strongest when I speak from that bridge, when I let both cultures shape how I see, how I listen, and how I lead. SDC taught me that my identity isn’t a coin to be flipped, it’s a mosaic, and every piece not only belongs but shapes.

Lloyd Mensah
East Orange STEM Academy
East Orange, New Jersey

This summer, the best thing that happened to me was my trip to Spain, where I gained many meaningful relationships. While traveling through the beautiful cities of Madrid, Bilbao, and Vitoria, and even France, I got to know families, scholars, guides, and my group leader. It allowed me to discover that the most valuable part of friendship is the ability to learn from one another, and I did just that. I improved my Spanish, explored the history of Spain, and picked up life skills that led me to grow. I learned to be confident, to be myself, and to live with purpose.

Confidence shapes nearly everything we do, and I saw how it could change my own experience. As my journey began I was extremely nervous, it almost led to me being that “awkward kid on the side”. Then a group member approached me, filled with interest and enthusiasm towards us all. From there, we became friends and she mentioned she was also nervous but chose to step outside of her comfort zone. That moment showed me that being uncomfortable is not a weakness, it’s an opportunity to be courageous. Another member lived by the saying “YOLO,” and it reminded me not to get caught up in small worries, but to enjoy life fully. That taught me that confidence isn’t about pretending to be fearless, it’s about choosing to act even when you’re afraid.

I also learned the importance of decision-making and being true to myself. Many young people, including myself, struggle with making independent decisions or following the crowd because it’s easier but from that, we limit ourselves. I was constantly called out by my roommates in private because there were many times I made the wrong decisions. This taught me to own my decisions and learn from my mistakes. Aside from decision-making, SDC has encouraged me to reflect deeply on who I am, starting from the application process to now. I’ve been able to uncover a lot about myself and as to what makes me unique.

This trip reminded me that we all have a purpose in life and that we always have a why. At first, I thought I was in Spain to simply have fun, relax, and explore. But I quickly realized my experience was bigger than me. As an SDC participant, I represented my school, my community, and my family. I was there to learn and bring back what I’ve learned to my community. Then it came to my attention that you go through experiences so that others can learn from it. The homestay families showed me what true generosity was. They gave so much love and care, volunteered their time, efforts, just to give strangers an opportunity to learn from their daily experiences the easy way. My host mom taught me the basics of swimming, I went to the gym with some of the other host families, we celebrated birthdays where I learned you get to pull the ear of the birthday boy or girl of their new age, we learned to play traditional sports of the Basque country such as Pelota, strength sports such as Sokatira, Lasto altxatzea, Txinga eramatea, played basketball and soccer with local kids, and more. None of this was required of them, yet they did it freely. I want to be a person to give back to the community, do more than expected, show love and care, as what was done for me. I believe that’s my purpose.

This summer changed me. It increased my desire to continue to grow, to step outside of my comfort zone, and to approach life with confidence and curiosity. I am forever grateful for this opportunity. It reminded me to show unconditional love and care even when it can’t be reciprocated back. I now have the confidence to take risks, independence to make my own decisions, openness to learning from others, and the drive to give back to my community. I am forever grateful. Thank you.

Lianny Rodriguez
William M. Davies Career and Technical High School
Onward We Learn
Pawtucket, Rhode Island

Reflections on Humanities, Art, and the Need for Empathy in Today’s World

This summer, I had the privilege of traveling to Spain, where I explored the intersection of social justice and art history. During my travels through Andalusia, I visited various landmarks, museums, and cathedrals, each with its own rich history. As I admired the stunning architecture, my professor shared the stories of religious and racial persecution that minorities had suffered in these very spaces. I realized that while it’s easy to admire art and architecture, it’s often more difficult to fully comprehend the history and significance behind them. Understanding the past is important, but seeing its effects with your own eyes makes all the difference.

Art, throughout history, has always been political. Artists have long used their work to comment on the world around them—whether in support of or in protest against their governments. Today, this can be seen in music, with lyrics that clearly express political views. Historically, though, artists had to be more subtle, often creating works that were indirect but nonetheless powerful. Pablo Picasso, one of the most famous artists in history, was known for his bold political statements in art. One of the most impactful pieces he created was Guernica, a large black-and-white painting that depicts the horrors of the Spanish Civil War. The painting, commissioned for the 1937 Paris World’s Fair, is still considered one of the most powerful anti-war symbols in the world. Picasso’s intention was simple: to make viewers feel the suffering that war brings, regardless of language or nationality.

As a student at a technical school, I see firsthand how heavily the focus is placed on STEM subjects. This made my summer course on art and humanities even more meaningful. The trip opened my eyes to a history that isn’t often taught in schools, showing me that, in many ways, our world has not changed much since the 1940s. The current political climate mirrors the fascist periods of history more than we would like to admit. But if I could ask global leaders one question, it would be: “Where would our world be if we focused more on empathy and less on calculation? What if we saw people as human beings rather than numbers on a chart?”

While technological advancements have helped society progress, we still witness devastating conflicts. No one should endure the suffering that Palestinians in Gaza or Ukrainians in their ongoing conflict with Russia are experiencing. This trip reminded me that we have the potential for progress—if the people in power start thinking more with their hearts than their heads.

Through my travels and experiences, I’ve learned that our world would be so much better if we embraced empathy and compassion. Art, history, and the humanities provide the lens through which we can understand our shared humanity and build a more peaceful future.

Carolina Ceja
Basalt High School
The Buddy Program
Silt, Colorado

These are the Moments

The best part of my summer was exploring an extraordinary part of Mexico—a journey that felt like uncovering a hidden treasure. Each day brought something new: a chance to immerse myself in Mayan history, discover breathtaking landscapes, and experience the warmth of Mexican hospitality.

One of the most unforgettable moments was swimming in the Sacred Cenotes. These crystal-clear pools held deep cultural meaning for the Mayans, and being there felt magical. I remember laughing while trying to catch fish with my hands, a simple but joyful moment that made the experience even more special.

Staying with a host family in Valladolid was another highlight. I was nervous at first, but they immediately welcomed me with open arms—and even greeted me with a balloon that read “Bienvenida Carolina.” Every day, they shared their world with me: taking me to local churches, nearby cenotes, and parks where we enjoyed ice cream together. I’ll never forget the smell of fresh food in the mornings, or walking to the neighborhood Oxxo for snacks while chatting with my host sisters. Saying goodbye was heartbreaking—we had become like family, and tears flowed as I boarded the bus. I know I’ll return one day.

Mexico also gave me lifelong friendships. I bonded with fellow travelers like Chloe, who always seemed to know what I needed without words, and Daniela, with whom I shared endless late-night conversations. We came from different parts of the country, but the connections we built in Mexico felt unshakable.

This journey left a lasting mark on me. Exploring the Yucatán Peninsula opened my eyes to the beauty of Mexico’s culture, history, and geography—and to the joy of shared experiences. I will always carry these memories: swimming in sacred waters, walking through vibrant towns, laughing with new friends, and feeling at home in a family far from my own.

I may never be eighteen in Mexico with this same group again, but those moments will stay with me forever. They are the kind of memories that remind me how exciting, meaningful, and life-changing travel can be.

Sadman Sami
Hillside Arts & Letters Academy
The Opportunity Network
Jamaica, New York

A Journey of Architectural Marvels and Personal Growth

When embarking on a journey to explore the architectural wonders that defined the Venetian Empire, I anticipated that I would be fascinated by grandeur and historical significance. Little did I know that this adventure would lead me to a deeper appreciation of cultural diversity, an evolution of my perspective, and an unwavering commitment to embrace the transformative power of knowledge.

The Venetian Empire, with its vast history and artistry, unfolded before me as I traced its legacy across Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, and the Vatican State. Each inspiring structure, whether it was the Colosseum’s imposing amphitheater or the intricate mosaics of St. Peter’s Basilica, carried the whispers of an empire that once reigned. These sites were not just monuments; they were living testaments to the creativity and ingenuity of human endeavor across centuries.

However, my journey was not confined to architectural marvels alone. The profound impact of my time with a host family in Trieste cannot be overstated. Immersed in their everyday lives, I confronted the challenges of cultural etiquette and language barriers head on. These interactions often challenged me, compelling me to navigate through unfamiliar customs and find common ground through shared experiences. As I stumbled through conversations, embraced local cuisine, and witnessed the daily rhythms of life, I discovered the beauty of human connection that transcends language. Bonds were formed that surpassed cultural differences, and in those moments, I understood the essence of global unity.

This cultural immersion was not just about understanding differences; it was a catalyst for personal growth. My experience in Trieste taught me the power of empathy and humility. The patience my host family extended as I fumbled through conversations and the genuine warmth with which they welcomed me into their home were a lesson in acceptance. These lessons resonate deeply with me, urging me to be more open-minded and compassionate in my interactions, regardless of cultural or linguistic differences.

The journey didn’t just transform my interactions; it also transformed me. I emerged from this experience with a renewed sense of purpose and a commitment to knowledge as a force for positive change. This trip wasn’t just about admiring architecture; it was about cultivating an understanding of the world’s rich tapestry and my place within it. It was about recognizing the power of diverse perspectives and how they enrich our lives.

As I reflect on those transformative weeks, I am reminded of the countless conversations that expanded my horizons. Just as the architecture of the Venetian Empire is built on intricate details, so too is our collective human experience. Every interaction, every shared story, every connection we make contributes to the mosaic of our existence. As I step forward into the future, I carry with me not only memories of Venetian architecture but also the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared meals, and the depth of human connection. My journey was a reminder that in a world often divided, we have the power to build bridges that span cultures, languages, and backgrounds. It is with this realization that I am inspired to champion openness, understanding, and compassion, wherever my path may lead.

Gabriela Alonso
Middlesex School
Prep for Prep
Corona, New York

Learning from Italy: The Power of Sustainable Food

“Welcome to Italy!” flashed across my phone as I stepped off the plane, leaving behind my comfort zone and stepping into an entirely new world. For many, Italy brings to mind pasta, gelato, and picture-perfect Instagram posts captioned “Ciao.” But for me, Italy came to mean something much deeper: growth and community.

These words took root in my mind after meeting Julia, an instructor at the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Pollenzo. On our first day, she asked each of us to choose a card with an image. I picked one that showed fruits and vegetables surrounding a calculator—an image that immediately made me think about food accessibility.

The card reminded me of home, where inflation after the pandemic made fresh produce harder to afford, and organic food often costs even more. In low-income communities, these barriers push families toward cheap fast food, creating long-term health consequences. When I shared this perspective, Julia listened closely, her eyes widening as my peers nodded in agreement. In that moment, I realized how deeply food systems—local and global—shape our lives, and I knew I needed to bring change back home.

Traveling outside the United States for the first time opened my eyes to the connection between sustainability and health. In Italy, plastic use is restricted, waste is carefully sorted, and families often grow their own produce or buy directly from local farmers. Back home, I’m left questioning whether fruits and vegetables at the grocery store have been chemically treated or shipped across oceans. Thanks to Julia’s guidance, my family now shops differently—seeking seasonal produce, asking about farming practices, and supporting local growers whenever possible.

What struck me most was how everyday choices can reshape entire communities. At the university dining hall, waste was separated into five categories—plastic, glass, paper, compost, and general trash. Returning to New York, I noticed my building had five bins as well—but mostly duplicates of plastic and trash. Inspired by Italy, I asked my landlord to add compost and glass bins instead. Within a week, the change spread not only through my building but into neighboring ones, proving that small shifts can create ripple effects.

Spending five weeks in Italy showed me how culture, sustainability, and community are interconnected. It also gave me a vision of what my own community could become: a place where healthy, sustainably sourced food is accessible, and where waste is treated as a shared responsibility. Traveling abroad was a privilege, but it came with a responsibility—to bring back knowledge, spark conversations, and inspire action.

Change begins with small steps. And in a city as vast as New York, even small steps can multiply into a powerful movement. My experience in Italy affirmed my commitment to helping create a healthier, more sustainable future—not just for myself, but for the community I call home.

Subah Habib
Transit Tech Career and Technical Education High School
SEO Scholars Program
Brooklyn, New York

Where Independence Met Belonging

Growing up in New York City all my life, I always felt like I was surrounded by
possibilities, but also held back by routines and expectations. Living in an immigrant Brown
household, the city was always seen as the “American Dream,” a place where success seemed
possible—but I hadn’t really felt what independence could be. Coming into my junior year
summer, I wanted an experience that would push me out of my comfort zone, where I could
explore on my own and see what I was truly capable of. SDC’s Canada: Glaciers to the Sea
ended up being exactly that.

From the moment we landed in Vancouver, I felt both nervous and excited. Living on
UBC’s campus, exploring the city, walking the seawall, biking around, and visiting museums
gave me small glimpses of independence. I loved learning about First Nations culture at the
Museum of Anthropology, and celebrating Canada Day was such a unique experience. Even
simple moments, like wandering Granville Island or laughing with my group over ice cream,
reminded me that I could navigate new spaces on my own—and enjoy it.

The program really shifted when we traveled north to Cheakamus Centre and Squamish.
Living in a traditional longhouse, learning indigenous skills like weaving and cooking, rafting,
rock climbing, and camping pushed me in ways I didn’t expect. I had to rely on myself and my
group, from pitching tents to building fires, and every success felt meaningful. These experiences
didn’t just teach me survival skills—they taught me patience, teamwork, and trust, not just in
others but in myself.

The three-day hiking and camping expedition in Garibaldi Provincial Park was by far the
toughest but most rewarding part of the trip. Hiking over 40 kilometers, sleeping in tents, sliding
down snowy slopes, and swimming in icy glacial water pushed me physically and mentally. I
remember laughing and screaming at the same time while sliding down the alpine snow—it was
terrifying and thrilling all at once. Waking up next to glacial lakes, surrounded by mountains and
birds, made me feel alive in a way the city never could. I left that part of the program feeling
proud of what I could do, and more confident in myself than ever before.

Along the way, I learned so much about climate and the environment, which tied directly
into my interest in climate justice. Seeing the glaciers, rivers, and forests up close gave me a real
sense of why protecting these spaces matters. It also made me reflect on the bigger picture—how
our actions affect the world, and how I want to be part of creating change.

The friendships I made on this trip are something I’ll never forget. Late-night talks,
joking while setting up tents, cheering each other on during hikes—we became a family. These
were people I probably wouldn’t have met otherwise, but the bond we formed was immediate
and real. Sharing those highs, lows, and laughs made the experience even more meaningful, and I
know these connections will last a lifetime.

Looking back, this program gave me so much more than I expected. I came hoping to
challenge myself and explore independence, and I left with confidence, lifelong friendships,
unforgettable memories, and a deeper understanding of the world. SDC Canada taught me what
it really feels like to step out of my comfort zone, trust myself, and grow in ways I didn’t know I
could. It’s an experience I’ll carry with me forever.

Lucia Niemeyer-Lowe
Ann Richards School For Young Women Leaders
Austin, Texas 

Alaska: A Journey That Changed My Life

When I applied to the Student Diplomacy Corps (SDC) program, I never imagined I would be selected—and I definitely didn’t expect a month-long trip to Alaska to give me some of the most meaningful memories and friendships of my life.

Before this summer, I had never been away from home for more than two weeks. With such a close family, I knew leaving for a whole month—especially to a place as far away as Alaska—would be challenging. But I also knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I was eager to see what I might learn about myself along the way.

Finding Friendship and Family

At first, I was nervous. Would anyone want to be my friend? Would I fit in? But within days of arriving in Juneau, my worries faded. Surrounded by other students of color with similar life experiences, I felt truly seen in ways I never had back home in Texas. By the middle of the trip, our group felt like family. Together, we went sea kayaking, camping, chopping wood, and even spotted bears in the wild. I not only overcame homesickness—I thrived. Along the way, I also found my best friend, someone I can’t imagine my life without now.

Learning from Alaska Native Communities

One of the most powerful parts of the trip was learning about Alaska Native culture. Coming from Texas, where Latino traditions are strong but Native cultures are less visible, this was eye-opening. We visited museums, learned about the significance of totem poles and folklore, and explored the central role of traditional foods in Tlingit life. A highlight was visiting Klukwan, a Native village, where we were welcomed by an elder who shared stories, traditions, and their deep connection to the environment. I even learned how to butcher and cook salmon in the traditional way.

Inspiring a Future in Environmental Advocacy

This trip didn’t just broaden my cultural understanding—it also deepened my commitment to the environment. Learning about the impacts of climate change and fossil fuel use in Alaska made me realize how urgently we need to protect our natural resources. I now know that I want to pursue environmental science in college and become involved in environmental advocacy, so I can play a role in building a more sustainable future.

A Life-Changing Opportunity

I’m so grateful I took the leap to apply—and that SDC took a chance on me. This program taught me who I am: as an individual, as a student, as a person of color, and as a guardian of the environment. It gave me lasting friendships, unforgettable memories, and a clear vision for the future.

Traveling to Alaska truly changed my life. It’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Thank you, SDC, for this incredible opportunity.

Andrea Diaz
Ethical Culture Fieldston School
Prep for Prep
Clifton, New Jersey

I used to believe the only place I could truly be seen was on stage under a spotlight, facing a crowd, with every eye fixed on me. Since I was a kid, dance was my language. I would dream of performing in front of thousands, every movement choreographed, rehearsed, and perfected. On stage, everything mattered: the angles, the energy, the emotion. The stage became my sanctuary, the one place where I felt free, expressive, and understood.

So when I quit dancing, I thought I lost all of that. I believed I had walked away from the only space where I could ever matter. Without a stage, who am I?

Coming into the SDXCO Massachusetts program this summer, I didn’t expect much. Still, I counted down the days, rewatched highlight reels, refreshed the website, and imagined waking up in my dorm, heading to class with a notebook and a sense of purpose. That simple, structured routine was all I thought I needed to leave the program satisfied. I was ready to quietly blend in and get what I came for.

But what I didn’t predict were the moments in between.

I didn’t expect the laughter that left me breathless, or the warmth of being seen by people who didn’t know me but somehow understood me. I didn’t expect the SLAs who looked beyond my surface, or the friends who made space for my weirdness without question. And I definitely didn’t expect to feel so at home in a place I’d never been before.

Still, one moment stands out not because it was big or dramatic, but because it was so small, so quiet, and yet it changed something in me.

At home, I’ve always been told I’m too loud, too talkative. English isn’t my first language, and I often mispronounce things. People love to correct me, sometimes kindly, sometimes not. I laugh it off, but the sting always lingers.

One evening after class, I was drained. My self-confidence had taken a hit for no particular reason. I walked down to dinner in my Hello Kitty pajamas, ready to eat quickly and disappear. But I ran into a classmate, and we ended up talking. I wasn’t in the mood, but I stayed. We chatted, we laughed, and just before parting ways, they turned to me and said:

“Thank you for always being happy. I love your smile. I really appreciate it.”

Just like that. No stage. No spotlight. No performance.

And just like that, the joy I thought I’d left on stage found its way back to me.

No one had ever told me that before, not about my smile, or the way I carry joy, or the sound of my voice. That small comment cracked something open. It healed a part of me I didn’t know was still hurting something buried beneath years of silence and self-doubt.

I had no idea how much I wanted to hear that.

Maybe it was just a passing comment to them. But to me, it meant a lot more. It was proof that I didn’t need to be on stage or in front of an audience to matter. Maybe I had never needed those things to begin with.

This summer reminded me that being seen isn’t always about being center stage. Sometimes, it’s a late-night laugh in the dorms. Sometimes, it’s the quiet trust of your roommate who accepts your tangled thoughts and messy bed. Sometimes, it’s the courage to speak up, even when your voice shakes.

I came to SDXCO for a few college credits.

I left with something far greater: the realization that I don’t have to earn belonging through perfection.

I belong just as I am.

Isabelle Harry
The Field School / A Better Chance
Washington DC

Beyond Borders: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Connection on the Baja Peninsula

From the moment I was born, my twin sister has been my constant companion. Through every school, every move, and every transition, she has been my unwavering support. As I stood alone at the gate, ready to board my flight to San Diego International Airport, I felt a profound sense of separation. The idea of venturing so far from her side for the first time was both exhilarating and daunting. This opportunity with the Student Diplomacy Corps represented more than just a trip—it was a chance to discover my own identity apart from the close bond we’ve always shared. The anticipation of flying independently was a mix of excitement and apprehension. The thought of navigating a new city and engaging with unfamiliar faces on my own stirred a blend of emotions. It was a pivotal moment, a step toward personal growth that came with its own set of uncertainties. As I boarded the plane, I felt a heightened awareness of the weight of this journey and the significance it held in my quest for self-discovery. Upon landing in San Diego, the city greeted me with a mix of excitement and overwhelming newness. The airport, a bustling hive of activity, seemed to mirror the jumble of emotions I was experiencing. The initial pang of loneliness was palpable; for the first time, I was truly on my own. The familiar comfort of my twin’s presence was absent, and I had to navigate the unfamiliar terrain of an independent adventure.

Making my way to baggage claim felt like stepping into a new world. The crowd was a blur of faces, and I was uncertain about who to look for or where to go. The sense of isolation was real, but it was also a moment of personal challenge and growth. Then, amidst the sea of travelers, Sydney appeared. With her large duffel bag in hand, she looked just as lost as I felt. I assumed she was part of the same program, and our shared uncertainty quickly sparked a connection. Waiting together, Sydney andI struck up a conversation that became a lifeline amidst the unfamiliarity. Our mutual apprehension turned into a shared experience, and as we talked, the initial loneliness began to fade. When the rest of the group arrived, the feeling of being part of something bigger than myself began to settle in. Meeting new people and starting to build relationships provided a sense of belonging that was both reassuring and exciting.

When I first encountered everyone, I was immediately struck by the incredible diversity within our small group of nine. They were from all over the world, whether it was just an hour’s flight away from me in New York or a ten-hour journey from Spain. Each person brought their own unique background, perspectives, and personalities to the table.

Our group leaders, Victor, Breeze, and Ashley, were a huge part of what made our journey so special. Victor was always at the forefront of our adventures, encouraging us to step out of our comfort zones and try new things. He had a way of pushing us just enough, like the time he got us to try cow brains—an experience that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. Victor’s constant drive to explore the unknown taught me that real growth happens when you’re willing to take on challenges, even if they seem a bit scary at first. Breeze, who everyone fondly called “Tarzan,” was the ultimate adventurer. He brought so much energy and excitement to our group, whether we were swimming in the ocean or hiking through tough landscapes like San Lino. Breeze had this knack for making every moment feel like part of a grand adventure with his fun facts and interesting perspective, but he also knew how to be a comforting presence when things got tough. He showed us that it’s possible to embrace the wild side of life while still feeling safe and supported. Ashley, on the other hand, brought a different vibe to the group. With her sharp wit and infectious humor, she could make any situation lighter and more enjoyable. Ashley was so easy to talk to, which made it comfortable for everyone to open up and share their thoughts. Her jokes weren’t just about getting laughs—they really helped us bond and connect on a deeper level. Ashley’s down-to-earth nature and genuine interest in everyone made her a key part of turning our group of strangers into a close-knit community.

My initial feelings of nervousness quickly gave way to a deep sense of connection as I began to appreciate just how remarkable this group of people was. The bonds we formed were strong and genuine, and even though our daily interactions have become less frequent, those nine individuals have carved out an irreplaceable space in my heart. The memories and friendships we built together are truly special and will remain cherished for years to come.

As our group traveled from San Diego to Mexico, I felt a mix of anticipation and excitement. Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of the DMV area, with its fast-paced rhythm and urban environment, I was eager to immerse myself in the vibrant contrasts that awaited us in Mexico. The transition was striking—from the organized grid of neighborhoods and modern landmarks of Washington, DC, to the dynamic streets of Mexico, alive with a burst of colors, sounds, and smells that were both exhilarating and unfamiliar. The slower, more rhythmic pace of life in Mexico, combined with the warmth and hospitality of the people, offered a unique perspective that was both challenging and inspiring. As we journeyed further into the Baja Peninsula, the dramatic landscapes, pristine beaches, and vibrant marine life provided the perfect backdrop for our expedition.

Our time in Kino, a small coastal town where we stayed at Prescott College’s Kino Bay Center, was one of the most memorable parts of our trip. The center plays a crucial role in sea turtle conservation. For just one day, our group participated in a project that involved tagging and measuring sea turtles, a critical part of monitoring these endangered species. Early in the morning, we headed to the beach, where marine biologists briefed us on the tagging process. As I carefully handled the turtles, I felt a deep connection to the natural world and a sense of responsibility to protect it. This hands-on involvement in conservation efforts not only solidified my interest in marine biology but also highlighted the importance of research and data collection in preserving endangered species.

While the turtles were a highlight, the rest of our time in Kino was equally enriching. We spent several days immersed in marine biology, with a mix of lectures, fieldwork, and hands-on activities. One of the most thrilling aspects of this was scuba diving, which allowed us to explore the underwater world firsthand. Diving into the crystal-clear waters of the Baja Peninsula was like entering a new world. The vibrant coral reefs were teeming with life—schools of neon-colored fish darted between corals, while larger creatures like sharks and rays glided gracefully in the distance. Through these dives, we were able to observe the intricate relationships between species and the delicate balance of marine ecosystems.

In addition to diving, we visited several islands, each with its own unique ecosystem. These excursions provided further insight into the diversity of marine life in the region and the importance of preserving these habitats. Whether it was studying the behavior of marine mammals or exploring tide pools teeming with life, each activity deepened my understanding of marine biology and fueled my passion for the subject.

Beyond the scientific aspects of our trip, the cultural immersion we experienced was equally impactful. Traveling through the Baja Peninsula, we engaged with local communities, learning about their traditions, customs, and ways of life. The people of the region have a deep connection to the land and sea, and their knowledge and practices have been passed down through generations. Our journey also included visits to historical sites and natural landmarks, such as a cardon forest in Sanora with the biggest cactuses I’ve ever seen. These experiences further enriched our understanding of Mexico’s history and the deep cultural ties that bind the people to the land.

Our time in Kino also taught me some unexpected lessons, particularly about the value of water. Unlike at home, where clean, running water is something I rarely think twice about, Kino had a limited supply, and that scarcity was a daily reality for the local community. We had to be extremely careful with every drop, whether it was rationing water for drinking, using it sparingly for washing, or simply being mindful of how much we used for basic tasks. This was a stark contrast to my usual habits, where I might leave the tap running without a second thought. Living in a place where water was so precious really opened my eyes to how much we often take this resource for granted. It wasn’t just about cutting back; it was about understanding that in some parts of the world, people live with this kind of scarcity every day. The experience made me more aware of my own water usage and the impact it has on the environment. I found myself thinking more critically about how much water I actually need versus how much I typically use out of convenience. This shift in perspective was profound, making me realize that conservation isn’t just an abstract concept—it’s a necessity for many people, and it should be treated with the seriousness it deserves.

I left Kino with a much deeper appreciation for water as a vital resource, understanding that it’s not something we should ever take for granted. This experience has stayed with me, influencing how I think about water use in my daily life, from taking shorter showers to turning off the tap while brushing my teeth. It’s a small change but one that I believe can make a significant difference when adopted more broadly. The lessons I learned in Kino continue to remind me of the importance of being mindful of the resources we have and the responsibility we all share in protecting them.

In Loreto, staying with a local family presented a unique set of challenges and rewards. Initially, the fact that none of my host family members spoke English felt intimidating. It was a reminder of how reliant we often are on language for connection. However, this barrier quickly turned into one of the most enriching aspects of my trip.

Communicating through gestures, shared laughter, and the occasional use of a translation app became an adventure in itself. I discovered that the essence of communication extends far beyond spoken words. We navigated our interactions with creativity, often using visual aids or context to bridge the gaps. This process of finding new ways to connect was both humbling and empowering. One of the most touching moments of my stay was when my host dad, with a sincere smile, said in Spanish, “Mi casa es tu casa. Si alguna vez necesitas algo, estamos aquí para ti,” which translates to, “My house is yours. If you ever need anything, we’re here for you.” This simple but heartfelt offer of support was deeply moving. It wasn’t just about providing a place to stay; it was an open invitation to be part of their lives. The sentiment behind his words spoke volumes about their generosity and the genuine care they had for me as a guest.

Despite our limited verbal communication, my host sister and I formed a surprisingly deep bond. We shared stories about our lives, with each of us using our native languages and relying on the help of translation apps when needed. Our conversations might have been a bit fragmented, but the emotional connection we built was profound. We exchanged cultural insights and learned new phrases from each other, turning our differences into points of connection. My host family’s openness extended beyond just words. They included me in family activities, shared their local customs and traditions, and made sure I felt comfortable and at home. This level of hospitality went beyond mere courtesy; it was a true reflection of their warmth and the strong sense of family they fostered. This experience reminded me of the universal nature of kindness and the ways in which love and support can transcend cultural and linguistic differences. The host family’s generosity left a lasting impression on me and added a deeply personal layer to my journey in Mexico. Their warmth made the trip not just memorable but profoundly meaningful, illustrating how genuine human connection can bridge any gap.

This journey has been more than a geographical adventure; it has been a profound personal exploration. From the initial separation from my twin sister to the intimate connections I formed with new friends and a host family, every moment contributed to my growth. The challenges I faced—navigating a new city alone, adapting to a different culture, and understanding the value of precious resources—have all taught me the importance of resilience, adaptability, and empathy. As I look back, I realize this trip has not only broadened my horizons but also deepened my appreciation for the world around me. The friendships, lessons, and experiences I’ve gained will continue to influence my journey ahead, reminding me of the beauty of embracing new challenges and the strength found in human connection. This adventure has underscored that while stepping out of my comfort zone can be disconcerting, it is precisely through these experiences that we grow and discover our truest selves.

Ricky Barnes
University Academy
Kansas City, Missouri

Visiting Japan this summer changed my life for the better. I had no idea how much peace I would find in what I first assumed were just plain old drums. My summer abroad centered on spreading peace through Japan using the traditional practice of Taiko drumming. I explored many parts of the country and made memories I will never forget. In this essay, I will reflect on how this pivotal experience—filled with joy, challenge, and deep cultural immersion—enriched my personal growth and expanded my understanding of international unity.

The first week on Sado Island was intense. I felt excitement, nervousness, and homesickness all at once. I tried new foods, slept on a traditional futon, and spent hours in nature that looked nothing like home. We learned Taiko drumming, a deeply powerful form of music meant to foster peace and healing. We spent eight hours over two days learning a song we would later perform across Japan. It was difficult, but collaborating withmy group strengthened my resilience and teamwork—skills that will support me in future school projects. At the end of the week, we sat in silence to reflect on our time on the island. I became emotional and cried because the beauty of Sado and the warmth of its people moved me so deeply. We also visited schools, performed Taiko for Japanese students, and taught them American games. Their smiles reminded me how connection can bridge differences. I learned about the Ainu people and their fight to preserve their culture, which resonated with my own community’s struggles to be recognized. These moments affirmed that every culture is unique, valuable, and deserving of appreciation.

One of the greatest highlights of my trip was my host family, who embraced me immediately and made me feel like I belonged. One evening, I cooked chicken alfredo for them. Finding the ingredients in Japan was challenging, but seeing how much they enjoyed it made me proud. We spent evenings talking about our lives, families, and traditions, including my host mother’s fascination with Black hairstyles and how she has kept hers stylish over the years. Saying goodbye at the farewell party was emotional; I nearly cried while reading my thank-you letter because their kindness touched me so deeply. They showed me that kindness is universal—a lesson leaders everywhere could use to strengthen unity.

This summer truly transformed me. I learned to embrace new experiences and discovered that kind people exist everywhere. As I move through high school and eventually college, I will apply these lessons to build friendships and face challenges such as group projects with confidence and openness. The SDC program and my host family taught me that our differences can unite us. I am deeply grateful for Japan and the friendships I formed, and I will carry these memories with me as I strive to spread kindness wherever I go.

 

Jose Ramos
Cristo Rey Jesuit School
Houston, Texas

A Life-Changing Journey: Discovering Italy

Traveling to Italy through the SDC Mare Splendente program was a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity that left an indelible impact on my perspective, my appreciation for different cultures,
and my understanding of the world. Being accepted into the program was one of the most
exciting moments of my life. I had never imagined that I would be given the chance to immerse
myself so deeply in the rich culture, art, and history of such a magnificent country. The
experience was nothing short of transformative.

From the moment my SDC group arrived in Italy, I noticed stark contrasts between Italian life
and the life I was used to in the United States. Italy is stunning in every sense of the word—from
its breathtaking landscapes to its elegant architecture and historic monuments. I could not recall
a single unpleasant view; everywhere I turned, there was beauty. This visual richness set the
tone for a month filled with curiosity, gratitude, and awe. I made a conscious effort to maintain a
positive mindset throughout the journey, aware that this was an extraordinary opportunity not
everyone gets to experience.

One of the initial challenges I faced was the language barrier. I didn’t speak Italian, which made
me nervous at first. However, as a native Spanish speaker, I quickly realized that I could
navigate conversations with a little effort. The similarities between Spanish and Italian helped
me communicate with locals, order food, and ask for directions. With focus and attention to
pronunciation, I found myself feeling more confident each day. It was empowering to discover
how language connections can bridge cultural divides and create deeper human connections.

Staying with a host family in Reggio Calabria was one of the most enriching aspects. Through
them, I experienced daily life in southern Italy and saw firsthand the rhythm and traditions that
define the region. Their lifestyle stood in contrast to mine back in the United States. Life in
Reggio Calabria felt more peaceful, more connected to community and nature. There was a
sense of calm and security that struck me deeply—one that I often find missing in American
cities where violence and conflict are more prevalent. If I had the opportunity to speak publicly in
the United States, I would share what I learned about the importance of cleanliness, respect,
and community—values I observed so clearly in Italy.

One of the most powerful moments came when I watched the film Io Capitano, which tells the
harrowing story of a young African migrant who embarks on a dangerous journey to Europe with
his cousin. The film captures the horrors of human trafficking, desert crossings, and separation
from family. What made the experience even more impactful was the chance to meet the real
person behind the story. Hearing his testimony and understanding the resilience it took to
survive such a journey opened my eyes to global struggles and made me appreciate the
privileges and opportunities in my own life. It also made me realize that for many, Europe
represents hope, opportunity, and the chance to build a better future, even though the path is
often difficult and painful.

This summer journey would not have been possible without the support of my mother. Knowing
how much she worries about me, especially with this experience being international travel, I am
incredibly grateful that she allowed me to take part in this month-long program. Her courage and
trust gave me the freedom to grow, to explore, and to create unforgettable memories that I will
carry with me forever. I look forward to sharing these stories with my family and friends, not just
as memories, but as life lessons that will continue to shape who I am.

In the end, Italy gave me much more than beautiful views and delicious food—it gave me
insight, perspective, and a renewed sense of purpose. I came back with a broader
understanding of the world, a deep appreciation for different ways of life, and a strong desire to
advocate for positive change in my own community. This experience was not only educational, it
was transformational, and I will always be grateful for the opportunity to be a part of the SDC
Mare Splendente program.

Iysis DaSilva
School One
Providence, Rhode Island

As a child, my mother softly sang “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to me. I would gaze up at the dim holes in the sky at night. Despite their faintness, they were beautiful. Growing up in the city, the stars would, both literally and metaphorically, go over my head. Distracted by the bright signs and lights connected to the ground, I never looked up. Who needed stars when you had beautiful city lights?

I loved the city. I had grown up in it, and it offered so many opportunities to do things and meet people. However, I occasionally dipped my toes into nature. I had gone on a couple of hikes and enjoyed being in the forest. Therefore, when I was nominated for SDC, I wanted to challenge myself. I signed up for one of the most remote trips SDC offered: Canada – How to Get to Haida Gwaii.

I had to leave the comfort of my small town, in the smallest state, to fly across the continent to British Columbia. I was terrified. However, I knew I needed this experience and opportunity. I was pushing myself out of my small town and meeting people I had never even passed in my life. This would prepare me for what my life after high school would look like.

In the first week, I was introduced to the people I would spend the next month with. We did icebreakers and tried to get to know each other. Our group bonded unusually quickly, becoming good friends within the first week. The following week, we faced a challenge: going to the remote island, Spring Island in Kyuquot Sounds. There, we would have no phone service for a week. This was almost everyone’s first time without phone service for a prolonged period. Little did we know, this would be crucial for our bonding.

On the first day in Kyuquot, I got used to the island. We slept in tents, relying on sleeping bags to keep us warm through the freezing nights. We used open outhouses and our kitchen was unconventional, but we would all eat together by a campfire, trying to escape the mosquitoes. Despite all this discomfort, the first night was a moment I would never forget.

It was the first night I was blinded by lights—not by city lights, but by the twinkle of the stars. I was sitting on the sand, listening to the waves roll in and out, my breath matching the sea. I asked aloud, “Wait, do stars actually twinkle?” It sounds humorous, but it was a genuine question. I had never seen the stars twinkle before; I thought it was just a description of their brightness. This realization hit me hard.

There is so much more to life. There is so much more beyond Rhode Island, the East Coast, and my country. I grew up pretty poor. As a child, I was in a shelter. Ever since I was in school, I have tried my best to show my family that there’s more to life. Most of my family hasn’t left New England. SDC helped me show my family that through hard work and branching out, anyone can find great opportunities and get out of their normal.

Learning that stars twinkle was just the beginning of my understanding that I have so much more to experience and explore.