Wedding Research Weekend

This weekend kicked off our spring break vacation and Justin and I decided to start doing some preliminary wedding venue scouting and research. Our destination: Otavalo, an indigenous rural countryside marked by rolling green hills, cloud-shrouded volcanoes and the immense lake, Lago San Pablo. Otavalo is an easy 2 hour car ride out of Quito. It is an agricultural area, checkered with dairy pastures and corn fields. The neighboring town of Cayambe (named after one of the massive volcanoes in the area) is known as the world’s largest exporter of roses.

Drive to Otavalo

The drive out of a town is a pleasurable one as you leave behind the smog, dust, concrete and car horns and are gradually enveloped in green fields and soaring mountains. Justin and I both remarked several times to one another, now THIS is Ecuador. This is what we came to see. Our weekend research/retreat had four destinations: Cabanas del Lago, Hosteria de PuertoLago, (2 lakeside accommodations) Hacienda La Compania, (the estate home of a rose plantation) and a private family estate, Hacienda Pichona which all be described below.

We only experienced one small complication on our ride – a traffic stop. We’ve been told these are routine on Friday afternoons and evenings and are sometimes a way for the policia to take cash bribes in exchange for not issuing tickets. We’ve also been told that, similar to how they deal with power bills for example, they don’t play around. Driving during Pico Y Placa? Straight to jail. Driving without a license? Straight to jail. We both felt a pang of worry when we realized that all the other cars were being waved through, but the policeman had flagged down our car to stop. He asked for Justin’s license. Justin handed over his license. Phew! So far so good. Those 2 miserable days spent in purgatory at the DMV now seemed so worth it. Next he asked for matricula (registration). Now this might be a problem. If you’ve been following our car updates, you’ll know that we still don’t have the car in our name. We do have the registration but it’s under the prior owner’s name. In the US, this would clearly warrant further questioning. Justin hands over the matricula. Moment of truth. The policeman glances at it and hands it back. He asks Justin if the tint on the windows is new or original. Justin tells him it’s original. He nods and waves us on our way. YAY!! No locked up abroad today!

1^st stop: Cabanas del Lago

Cabanas del Lago

Open air restaurant at Cabanas

After driving through a poor, run down barrio we arrive at the entrance to the property.  It is stunning. The property consists of 27 separate cabins, each complete with their own front porch and fireplace. The landscaping is absolutely beautiful and the chirping of birds and clicking of frogs is everywhere. The main building houses a reception area, and a restaurant that overlooks the lake and nearby mountains Mojanda and Imbabura. A section of the restaurant is only walled on three sides by glass, the fourth wall being completely open the water. On the far side of the property is a mini marina featuring jet skis, kayaks, and other deportes del agua. Ducks swim by the dock as we eat dinner.

After dinner, an employee stops by each cabin and lights up the fireplace. It is incredibly peaceful. The next morning over breakfast, our waitress Paulina invites us to stay at her house next time we visit. She takes my email address. When she hears we are planning a wedding in the area she is overjoyed. She kisses us both and asks Justin if she can have a dance with him at the reception. He happily agrees.

2^nd stop: Hosteria de Puertolago

Cabins at Puertolago

Again, a very humble drive to the entrance of this property, located on the same lake, several kilometers away. This property is described as a country inn and the cabins are much more rustic looking. Each room also comes with a wood fireplace and all balconies and porches face the water. The view from this side of the lake is even more breathtaking. The enormous mountain Imbabura looms directly in front of the property, it’s base looks like a quilt of different shades of green and it’s top is hidden somewhere up in the distant clouds. It is unreal. The landscaping here is much more

View from the balcony at Puertolago

modern and manicured, giving it an almost Disney-like feel. Nestled under the overhang of the roof above our cabin sits a mourning dove protecting her modest nest. She doesn’t move from the nest the whole time we are there. There is also a waterside restaurant here and though it lacks the open air section of the first place, it compensates with a well-equipped billiard room. The owner of the property is an English-speaking ex-Miamian Cuban who explains he left Miami because there were too many Cubans. We share with him some details of the wedding we are planning. He does not ask Justin for a dance at the reception.

3^rd stop: Hacienda La Compania and Rose Plantation

Hacienda La Compania

Rose Fountain at La Compania

This is a private family residence/museum where the owners of the rose plantation down the road live. We had made an appointment for a Sunday morning breakfast in the grand dining room. We are served warm bizcochos and queso (the traditional biscuit of the region), humita (steamed cornmeal served in a corn leaf), ham and cheese, croissants, fresh papaya, watermelon and pineapple, coffee, and three different types of fresh-squeezed fruit juices.  The matriarch of the family joins us at our table. We are her only guests, apart from her daughters, son in law and grandchildren who all eat their breakfast at a nearby table. After breakfast she gives us a tour of the property including an original 17^th century Jesuit chapel, and an old granary-turned-showroom for all the 70 varieties of roses grown at the plantation. And though it is a cold and rainy morning, it is a

pleasant visit. We finish our tour with a private visit to the rose plantation where we get to walk through rows and rows of roses varying in color and height, some plants even taller than Justin.  One greenhouse is filled solely with red roses. The guide explains this is their Valentines greenhouse.

4^th and final stop: Hacienda Pichona

Hacienda Pichona

This is another private residence that serves as the family’s weekend home. It is a combination of a 5-bedroom estate, complete with its own chapel, and stables for its horses, rabbits, chickens, and llama. The front courtyard is made of round, grey stones with grass and algae growing in between the cracks, it makes the place look like a modern-day castle. I think it would make a beautiful backdrop for wedding photos. We hear birds chirping and a rooster crowing in the distance. Other than the sounds of nature it is incredibly quiet and tranquil. And the massive living room and fireplace would make an intimate setting for our wedding party to socialize.

I’d say our weekend scouting trip was a huge success and we feel we are getting closer to making some decisions. And to our future wedding guests I will say this, you are all in for an amazing, beautiful time!

Grilled Tea and Other Non-Electric Delicacies

Ecuador may be considered a country that is still developing modern conveniences. One of these conveniences is the platform for online bill pay. Most people still pay their bills here in cash and in person. Heading down to the ServiPagos office once a month to pay your electricity and phone bill is common practice and a standard service offered by messengers and empleadas. But this is not convenient because even just withdrawing your own cash out of an ATM to give to the messenger to pay your bills is at times a multi-step process. You are only allowed to withdraw $100 at a time from an ATM, and the government imposes a daily limit of $200 cash withdraws. So for these reasons I’ve attempted to pay most of our bills online. This is handled directly through our bank account, which is already connected to basic service providers.

However, when our bank remodeled their website a couple weeks ago, things went awry. I attempted several times to pay our electric bill online, and I kept receiving an error message that the balance paid had to be greater than zero. “Huh,” I thought to myself, “I guess I already paid it and just forgot to write it down.” Wrong. This error message was due to the website not being compatible with Google Chrome (a fact I figured out later) and the bill had not, in fact been paid.

Imagine my confusion when I got home from work on Thursday night to a dark house. I angrily blamed the construction crews working across the street day in and day out. They must have cut a line or downed a transformer. What nerve! Never had I imagined that the power had actually been shut off. After all, the due date was a mere three days prior. Of course they couldn’t shut it off that quickly. In the US, you can go months without paying your electric before they shut it off. The electric company can’t have people freezing to death on them, now can they?

Lesson learned: Ecuador does not play around with prissy little “grace periods.” You pay your bills, or you get shut down. Like, immediately. Now I know.

I was taken back to our first weeks in Ecuador when we had no hot water and had to take cold sponge baths and then scurry into bed into layers of blankets, teeth chattering. As the sun began to quickly set, I rounded up all the candles I could find and put on an extra pair of sweat pants and thick socks to brace for the arctic 60 below temps. “Justin,” I squeaked under blankets and with a scratchy voice, as I was right in the middle of a nasty chest cold. “I think I didn’t pay the power bill.” “Okay” he said. “I tried to do it a couple of times online and it just kept giving me an error message and then I just forgot about it,” I explained. “And we can’t get online to pay it now because our Wi-Fi is out and we have no saldo and also both our cell phones are almost dead,” he added. I nodded pathetically.

So in typical hero fashion, Justin dashed up to the school to logon to their computers and try to get our bill paid. Fortunately, the school pays their electric bill regularly. And though he was able to finally get a successful transaction, we were still without power for the rest of the night and the next morning. Justin arrived back from basketball a couple hours later to a dark house and me straining to read by candlelight. I told him I was dying for a cup of hot tea but since the stove couldn’t function without electric either I was out of luck.  “I can grill it!” he said, “The grill is gas; I can put it on the grill.” I thought this was hilarious and a bit ridiculous but was desperately wanting some hot liquids. So sure enough, Justin went out onto the porch in the pitch black night and without the glow of his cell phone to light his way, he fixed me a kettle of piping hot tea on the gas grill. And he never once gave me a hard time about forgetting to pay the electric. That my friends, is love.

Rice

I feel a common theme in this blog has been depicting many of the differences that Shannon and I are experiencing while living in Ecuador. A few times, we have touched on the socioeconomic differences that we have encountered. While it’s always fun to write about ziplining and hiking up volcanoes, I would be remiss not to tell whoever decides to read this of some of the more difficult conditions many people in Ecuador live in; things that are in our face every day.

We have detailed in previous posts the shanty towns comprised of homes made with spare plywood and sticks. We have shown pictures of crumbling cement structures with graffiti on them that resemble bombed out Dresden that serve as some of the “nice” places people here live in.

We have spoken a little bit about the children no older than 3 or 4 being forced to sell candy or vegetables at intersections instead of going to school just so they can help contribute a few handfuls of change to the family’s meal that evening.  

Something that I saw this morning while walking Howie the dog broke my heart. We frequently see people digging through trash to find recyclable bottles that they can turn in for a few cents. Today, I saw two women doing that while a little girl no older than 2 years old sat quietly behind them. She was covered in dirt and soot and wore a shirt that was stained and torn and probably also found in the trash. She looked at me as I passed without any expression.

When the two women she was with pulled out a styrofoam carton with some rice and vegetables in it, they gave it to her to eat and continued their search for old beer bottles. Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. There’s no telling how long this child had gone without a meal, or how long she would go before her next but in this moment cold dirty old rice in a carton covered in grease and coffee grounds made her day.

I’m not one to preach to other people. I’m not one to pretend that one short experience can define a person. I may forget about this girl two weeks from now. I hope not. I guess I’m just writing this as a way to show people who aren’t here what it can be like to live in a country where many citizens are forgotten. I suppose that isn’t a very unique story among many countries in the world but it was a unique experience for me. I guess I’m writing it for the same reason I write everything on this blog, so I don’t forget. The whole thing was over in less than 8 seconds but in that right now, in this moment, it has made a profound impact on me and I hope it’s something that I never forget. I’ve lived a very good life. I have never been in a situation where a cup of dirty trash rice made my day. I want to remember that for as long as I remember anything. 

Back of a Cop Car in Ecuador

Thank you Mr. Officer

This is the story about how a day at a spa ended up with Shannon and I in the back of a cop car on a rural mountain road with no cell phone signal and no way out. Every word of that last statement is true. However, at the same time it is also misleading. Let me explain.

After working very hard to get settled in, coaching sports, and fitting in to new job roles at school Shannon and I were really looking forward to a nice vacation over spring break. Or to be more accurate, a few smaller vacations spread out over spring break. Everything was booked and when Friday afternoon rolled around we were out of school before the kids.

Our first vacation was a short weekend trip up into the mountains of Otavalo, which I believe Shannon is writing about so I will leave that story to her. We arrived back at home on a Sunday afternoon with plans to spend all day Monday at Termas de Papallachta. Papallachta is an area that is well traveled by tourists and locals alike. It is an amazing layout of natural thermal hot springs with a spa and resort built around it. We have been hearing about it for about four months and wanted to check it out. We set out yesterday morning with a plan to spend the day in some hot springs in the mountains, get some lunch, and maybe even a nice massage. It was a nice day trip planned out for us and a nice way to let off some steam.

We left at about 7 in the morning and drove out of Quito and up winding mountain roads. The view was incredible at every turn. Ecuador is truly one of the coolest places to drive in terms of fun winding roads and gorgeous views.

After driving for about an hour we heard a quiet and subtle clicking from our car. It worried me a little bit since we had been driving it all weekend and it was an automatic going up mountain roads. Shortly after, the car drifted to a stop on the side of the road. It was overheated and at least temporarily dead. I looked at our GPS and realized that we were ten minutes away from the spa, a phone signal, and civilization in general. Of course we were. When I opened the hood I heard the coolant boiling and after letting it cool for a few minutes figured that if we could get the engine to cool down, we could make it up to Papallachta and call a mechanic. We were without any way of calling anyone since we were up in the mountains in an off the beaten path area with no cell signal I resolved to get the car there and figure it out later. After a few minutes I lifted the cap to the coolant canister and boiling hot coolant flew up into the sky like a child’s volcano project. It coated my face, hands, the hood of the car, and parts of the overheated engine; which of course led to tons of coolant burning smoke.

I have a very limited knowledge of cars. It was very apparent to me at that moment when I wiped the coolant off of my face and saw the warning on the canister saying DO NOT OPEN CAP IF CAR IS OVERHEATED. Oh well, I was still determined to get the car to civilization and to a place where we could call for help. After all, it was only 9am and we could still salvage this day! Or so I thought..

After getting the car to cool down we were able to start it back up and continue our journey. Only…it got us around a corner and no more than 3 minutes of driving time before dying again. In my head I thought that if we could repeat this process three more times we’d be there. We were so close! But after allowing it to cool down some more, and realizing that we were still without cell service I tried to start it again and it would not turn. We were stranded.

Let me paint you a word picture. We are up in the mountains on a rural road where we see one car every seven minutes or so, and that car is a supply truck full of cement blocks or rocks or other such things that a child would envision as they played with their newest Tonka. It starts to rain which helps with the car overheating but does not help our internal temperature as it is about 45-50 degrees with a strong wind. We are within a few minutes of driving to the destination where massages, good food, and soothing hot water await, yet we are too far to walk. We are parked uphill just around a bend on a highway that causes close calls every time a car rounds the corner and sees us. We are without a cell signal. We are without any food. We are in a country where we are passable but not fluent in the language.

Sitting in the back of the cop car, clearly
amused at what the day has thrown our way

So after realizing what we are up against, we sit dejected on the curb out in the elements as to minimize any chance of being smashed to bits when a cement hauling grown up Tonka truck winds the bend and obliterates our car, which by the way we still don’t have all of our final paperwork to. Yes we purchased it December 19 and paid in full at purchase time.

After waiting for about twenty minutes and having no luck turning the car over a nice man named Jhonny pulled over and began trying to tinker with the car to help us out. We were fortunately parked near a stream so we filled some water bottles and poured it in with the coolant with the hopes we could cool the car and get it running to a place where we had cell service. Jhonny spent about twenty hard working minutes with us which unfortunately led to no progress. He vowed to call 911 as soon as he had cell service and get us some help and was on his way. There we sat again hoping to see a tow truck passing by or some other sign of refuge as we thought of the massages that might have been.

Coppers standing guard

About  a half hour after that, two police officers showed up and asked us what was wrong. They had received a call from Jhonny and came to investigate. After looking at the engine with raised eyebrows, it became apparent to me that they knew as much about repairing a car as we did and they suggested we go with them to find a place where they had a signal so we could call a tow truck. We tried persuading them to go by themselves to make the call but the cops insisted that we talk to the tow truck driver to negotiate a price. They were extremely persistent. We tried sending one person with the cops and leaving one with the car due to the fact that we were in a country where stuff gets jacked all of the time. They again rebuffed our requests and demanded we both go.

This is how we ended up in the back of a police car in rural mountain Ecuador instead of at a spa. They drove us up the mountain and called a friend of theirs who was a tow truck driver and then turned back around and let us out. No negotiating was to happen. They drove us back down the mountain and to our cars and said the tow truck driver would be there in an hour. In what is either the most chivalrous mountain act I have ever seen or sheer laziness, they both sat in their cop car and dozed off watched over us while we waited.   

Pepe finally decided to show up

One hour turned to two. Two turned to two and a half or three and eventually a 3 foot 11 inch man named Pepe came and strapped our car up to his truck. He drove us back to Quito while speaking and laughing like a tiny Hispanic version of the Joker for an hour and a half. We stopped to say hello to his cousin. We stopped for gas. He orchestrated a cocaine sale on one of his three cell phones. Our car alarm went off every 90-120 seconds or so due to the bumpy roads, even when we turned it off. He invited us to his house for fried fish. Then he charged us $150 and dropped us off.

Pepe completing his drug deal

When we were dropped off we told the story to our mechanic. He told us a story of a couple who broke down in almost the same spot a month or so earlier. When two good samaritans pulled over to help they politely declined, explaining a tow truck was on the way. Then the good samaritans pulled out a gun and cleaned out the couple. Amid all of the other carnage to our day, we hadn’t realized that this wasn’t only a possibility but a likelihood in the area we were broken down. We were very lucky that our police escort decided to take a nap watch over us while we waited.

We are now awaiting a quote for whatever in the world happened to our car and it appears the rest of our vacation is destined to be spent on the couch at home instead of in the Amazon Rainforest as our previously booked reservations would have suggested. Everything here is an adventure.

Nice to Meat you Brazil

I have spoken many times about some of the benefits and drawbacks of working in an international school community and living abroad. There are a lot of things that I miss about the good ole US of A but there are some truly great career opportunities that I would have never been afforded the opportunity to have if I had stayed in the states.

One such opportunity took place last week. Early in the year, I was approached by my principal and he asked me if I would like to go to a conference on the school’s dime. He said it would be a great chance to network, see another school, and learn about some of the new and innovating things that were being done around the world with regards to educational technology and innovating teaching practices. He had me at “on the school’s dime.” I had been to conferences before as both an attendee and a presenter and I have enjoyed most of them quite a bit. When I found out that they were going to send me to Brazil for this conference, I had to bite my lip from screaming with excitement like a Hunger Games fan girl at the sight of Jennifer Lawrence.

Hello Cotopaxi, my old friend

When the time to leave, we got picked up from the school and taken to the airport. The ride there was relatively uneventful with the exception of seeing my good friend Cotopaxi (Neck of the Moon) Volcano out of the plane window. I was about eye level with its snowcapped peak so that was pretty sweet.

When we got there we were immediately whisked away in a van to our hotel. The next day we took a shuttle to the school hosting the conference and boy was the campus fantastic. If that school in Sao Paolo ever wants two great educators, we are there. It was flushed with green space (a rare commodity in Quito), fantastic passionate teachers and beautiful buildings.

Now rather than go into this post in a chronological way, I’ll go about it in a thematic way. I want to discuss the city briefly before my rant which you’ll see in a minute.

Sao Paolo is one of the most beautiful big city I’ve ever seen. There are huge parks, great restaurants, friendly people, and fantastic food. The city has its share of logistical problems, but what city of 20+ million doesn’t?

Not a bad campus

Our first full day was chock full of sessions and a lot of learning. We networked with teachers and

Brazilian BBQ, in Brazil

administrators from Brazil, Peru, India, Dubai, Scotland, and anywhere else you can think of. At the end of our first day we all went out to a Churascaria. For those of you who don’t know, it’s pretty much the best place on earth. The concept of a churascaria is you are given a plate and a small cardboard disk. If you place it green side up it means please bring me more meat. If you have it red side up, it’s effectively a sign of surrender. Waiters come around carrying large spits of meat that resemble swords and slice you off cuts of any size you want. There is lamb, beef, chicken, pork…so much pork to be had and if you’re going to one of these you need to bring a loose belt. We spent about two hours there and after consuming the best selection and quality of meat I have ever had in my life, the group of 13 split. The first group went back to the hotel, and the second group realized that we were in Brazil for a short while and we should explore the nightlife.

Some learning took place too

We ended up at a hole in the wall bar/club that was absolutely packed but a ton of fun. After about an hour there, MTV (is that still a thing?) camera crews came in to do a special on nightlife and bars in Sao Paolo so that was cool. It’s truly a unique and fun experience that galvanizes a group when you look around you and realize that even if you tried, not one person in the whole city could possibly communicate with you. It creates a very US vs. THEM team building thing and was a great experience.

The next night after conferences, we all went to a great restaurant that had Brazilian Hibachi, for a lack of a better term. They brought out plates of thinly sliced beef and a large hotplate and you cooked your own meat on a scalding slab of iron. After yet another example of Brazilian meat which nearly brought me to tears of joy, we sauntered back to our hotel and got some rest.

Great music

The last full night we were there, our whole crew went out to a Brazilian Jazz club. This was one of the most unique experiences I’ve ever had. I’ve been to jazz clubs in New Orleans, New York, Philadelphia, and Miami but never before have I seen a scene like this. The music itself was what made it unique. Brazilian Jazz (or at least this band) is unlike anything else I’ve ever heard. It’s hard to describe and when I do I won’t do it justice, but it was like a combination of jazz, rock, blues, Turkish music, and maybe a little blue grass. On our way out of the club I bought a CD of the band for 30 reales (about $3) and went on my way.

On our way to the cab we were all (including our bosses) accosted by some “Lady-Boy” prostitutes as our cab driver Jackson described them. They were…very different. That’s all I’ll say about that.

On our last afternoon we were in Brazil, before we left for the airport, a few of us took a cab to the bohemian part of town to look at some of the famous street art. Apparently it’s a big deal in Sao Paolo, which I hadn’t heard before. As we were walking we came across some truly amazing work that you couldn’t help but be in awe of. The detail and creativity that went into pieces as small as a sheet of paper or as large as a 7 story building was awe-inspiring.

Brazilian street art was something else...

All in all, the food, music, night life, layout of the city, and art made the city truly remarkable.

As far as the conference went, that was tremendous as well. The presentations were well organized and thoroughly researched and the school fed us very well. They even brought in a local street artist to do graffiti with us and an instrument-less band to do a demonstration. Yes I said instrument-less band. I guess I can’t really describe it well but the gist is lots of varied clapping, whooping, and stomping. It was pretty cool.

Anyway, we went session by session and heard all about some of the technology focused on education as well as new ways people were approaching the concept of education. As I write this I reflect back on the first posts we made about why we wanted to pursue international education. Both Shannon and I felt that the constant testing and boxing in of teachers by micro-managing bureaucrats was getting to a point where it was going to break the education system. I truly believe education will improve worldwide and also in the public sector of the United States. However, I also believe it’s going to get worse before it gets better. It was a stifling and uncreative environment and she and I had about enough of it. The environment for teachers to be learners and to be innovative and try new things was not there. I don’t mean that as a slight to my administration because I loved both principals I worked for in the states. (Shout out to DS and DJ) Rather, my frustrations came from passionate and visionary administrators who could see the education system broken, being simultaneously hamstrung by requirements and enforcement of the WRONG practices. Nothing teachers or administrators or even school boards do with regards to education is meant to damage students. I truly believe that all recent education change comes from a place of good intentions but at the same time the things that are being done are the wrong things.

Throughout the year so far, I have gone out of my way to avoid doing a compare and contrast post about teaching and schools in private international schools and US public schools. They aren’t the same thing at all and to compare them would be to do a disservice to the people I work with now, the people I have worked with in the past, and my own personal struggles, ideas, and time spent on improving my practice. They are not the same thing. That doesn’t make one better or worse than the other; they are just different.

The reason I am saying this is to briefly touch on the point that while I came to international teaching as a method to escape some of the struggles I listed above. I ran into my own struggles at my new school and they left me a bit frustrated as well. I suppose it was foolish to attempt to escape one problem and expect to not find different ones.

Again, I am rambling but there is a point. While I was at this conference, I found myself and my enthusiasm for the institution of education renewed. The mere fact that I was surrounded by teachers and school administrators who were trying to make meaningful change filled me with hope. Schools around the world are not only researching and pushing for new theories and educational practices, they are implementing them. Funding, school board, lobbyist initiative, textbook/testing money be damned!

I heard from teachers and schools who were not bound by the same broken restrictions that frustrated me to no end in the US and forced me to seek professional asylum on a new continent. I heard from teachers and administrators who effectively said “Screw it, if literally tearing down all of our walls and rebuilding them in the name of concept with some potential MIGHT make a difference in student learning, we’re going to do it!” I heard from teachers and administrators who had the bravery and creative minds to toy with the idea of saying “F----- you college administrators and your expected standardized test requirements, we have intelligent students and we’re going to challenge them in the way we want to challenge them because it is the best thing for the student and the person. You’re going to take them anyway.” And they did.  

I am usually not one for hyperbole and I try to focus on the pragmatic and logical approach to everything I do, but being at that conference felt like being at the forefront of a revolution. I felt like hope was not lost in the name of restrictions or funding. People were are making changes. They may work, they may not, but they are trying. They are experimenting. They are empowered to do that by other supportive and innovative educators. I want to be a part of that and while my current school and international teaching in general harbors some unique difficulties and problems, this is where the battle is being waged. The battle for education reform began in the US in small pockets of independently funded charter and private schools and is now taking place in international schools that have the bravery to shun conventional wisdom and the flexibility to pursue the OTHER for better or worse. I want to be a part of it. We aren’t there yet but we’re going to get there. 

Rant over...