6 AM on a Saturday morning, what do I do?!?

 

As a teacher, I often hear my students grumbling about how school is like climbing a mountain. Little did they know, I took that metaphor quite literally last weekend and decided to go on a hiking trip to the mountains. It was supposed to be a relaxing getaway, a chance to clear my mind and forget about grading papers and parent-teacher meetings. What I got instead was a series of misadventures that would make any sitcom scriptwriter jealous.

First, let me set the scene: It’s 6 AM on a Saturday, and I’m standing at the base of the mountain, equipped with a backpack that could double as a small refrigerator and a pair of hiking boots that I swear were designed in the Middle Ages. My fellow teachers, Mr. Johnson and Ms. Smith, look equally out of place. We are the embodiment of “city folks” attempting to blend in with nature.

As we start our ascent, Mr. Johnson, who’s been teaching gym for 20 years, takes off like a mountain goat. Ms. Smith and I exchange a look that says, “We’ll catch up… eventually.” Ten minutes in, we’re already questioning our life choices. Ms. Smith, the math teacher, starts calculating the incline of the slope and the probability of us making it to the top without medical assistance. Spoiler alert: the odds were not in our favor.

An hour into the hike, we encounter our first obstacle: a deceptively small stream. Mr. Johnson, channeling his inner action hero, leaps across with ease. Ms. Smith and I, however, are not as graceful. She tries to solve the problem with a makeshift bridge of sticks and leaves. I, on the other hand, decide to take the direct approach and end up with one foot in the water. So much for dry socks.

As we continue our journey, the conversations get more philosophical. “Why did we choose to become teachers?” “Is there a lesson plan for survival?” “Can we assign the mountain detention for being so steep?” These deep questions are interrupted by the sudden appearance of a squirrel, which sends Mr. Johnson into a panic because he thought it was a bear. We decide not to tell the students about this particular moment of bravery.

Lunchtime comes, and we find a scenic spot with a stunning view. Ms. Smith pulls out a gourmet sandwich that puts my peanut butter and jelly to shame. Mr. Johnson, ever the fitness enthusiast, has a kale smoothie that looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. We sit there, munching away, feeling like the kings and queens of the mountain… until a family with toddlers zooms past us with the speed of professional hikers.

The final stretch to the summit is brutal. Every step feels like a mile, and the air gets thinner. I start using my best motivational quotes, normally reserved for reluctant students, to keep us going. “You can do it! Remember, failure is just success in progress!” Ms. Smith starts laughing so hard she almost rolls back down the mountain, which we decide to take as a good sign.

When we finally reach the top, the view is breathtaking. All the struggles, the slips, and the questionable decisions suddenly seem worth it. We take a moment to enjoy the serenity, snap a few selfies (proof of our adventure), and breathe in the fresh mountain air. It's a rare moment of peace, away from the bustling halls of the school.

As we make our way back down, the sense of accomplishment is overwhelming. We've survived the mountain, and in doing so, we've learned that sometimes, stepping out of our comfort zones can be the best lesson of all. Plus, we now have plenty of stories to entertain (and maybe slightly exaggerate for) our students on Monday.

So here’s to hiking, the unexpected challenges, and the hilarious mishaps that make the journey worthwhile. And next time the kids complain about school being like climbing a mountain, I’ll have a whole new appreciation for that metaphor.