Introduction: The Misconception of "Foreignness"
Two years ago, a young woman—the daughter of my closest friend and a person I admire deeply—shared her intention to take a semester away from her elite university. She was brilliant, idealistic, and deeply attuned to the social inequities of the world. When she announced her destination was Spain, I found myself, in my most protective "Auntie" tone, reacting with skepticism.
"Are you freaking kidding me?" I asked. Having already spent a summer in Spain working for her uncle, she was returning to a place of comfort. I believed she was squandering a golden opportunity for true intellectual growth by choosing the path of least resistance. I wanted her to be challenged, to be uncomfortable, to venture into the "truly foreign."
Yet, as I reflect on that interaction today, I realize my critique was fundamentally flawed. I was operating under the antiquated assumption that the value of study abroad is measured by the distance from one’s own culture or the difficulty of the terrain. I have learned, through my own recent, unexpected journey to Tuscany, that the true goal of such experiences isn’t just to cross borders; it is to transcend the narrow confines of our own cultural assumptions.
Chronology of a Curated Experience
My shift in perspective did not happen in a classroom, but on the ground in Italy. Exhausted by the relentless pace of academic life, I found myself in Minneapolis earlier this spring, dining with colleagues. Sue Rivera of Macalester College mentioned she and her husband were joining a "familiarization trip" to Tuscany, organized by the Center for Global Education and Experience (CGEE) at Augsburg University.
These trips are not vacations; they are carefully curated pedagogical experiences designed for academic leaders to foster lifelong learning. After some gentle persuasion, I secured a spot. My husband, a culinary professional with a past life working in Italian kitchens, joined me. I entered the trip looking for an easy escape, a respite from the administrative exhaustion of my daily life. I paid my own way, driven by a desperate need for a break and a lack of desire to plan my own itinerary.
However, upon arrival, my cynical "Auntie" instincts flared again. The trip was titled "A Taste of Italy: Food and Faith." Having been raised on the intellectual diet that religion is the "opiate of the people," I was initially cold to the thematic focus. As we traveled from the airport to our castello, Joe Connelly, the program lead, outlined the mission of CGEE. I quickly realized my error: I had expected a standard tourism-heavy itinerary, but CGEE’s DNA is rooted in social justice, experiential learning, and community engagement—typically focused on Central America and Africa.
Initially, I struggled. Tuscany felt "bland" compared to the high-stakes, hands-on social justice work I expected from such an organization. I had failed to read the "syllabus" closely; I wanted a bold, immediate thesis, but the trip was designed to unfold inductively.
The Inductive Path: From Skepticism to Insight
Over the next few days, my resistance began to melt. We spent hours discussing the educational philosophy of Paulo Freire, contemplating the "preferential option for the poor," and grappling with the complexities of migration in a country deeply protective of its borders. We ate kosher food in historic districts, pondering the nuances of religious experience.
The turning point came at the San Miniato al Monte monastery. Padre Bernardo, the Benedictine abbot, spoke of darkness, light, and cosmology—weaving in references to Pink Floyd with the same reverence as ancient scripture. In that moment, the "blandness" I had perceived evaporated. I realized that my focus on the "exotic" had blinded me to the profound, universal human struggle unfolding right in front of me.
Supporting Data: Why "Fit" Matters in Global Education
The data on study abroad has long suggested that the impact of a program is not defined by the destination, but by the intentionality of the curriculum. According to the Forum on Education Abroad, student outcomes—such as global perspective, cultural humility, and adaptability—are significantly higher in programs that emphasize intentional community integration over mere "site-seeing."
The CGEE model is built on the principle of pedagogy of place. By moving beyond the role of the observer and engaging with the realities of daily life—the shopping, the schooling, the local struggles—students begin to "put themselves in the Birkenstocks of others."
This is where my initial assessment of my friend’s daughter was so wrong. She hadn’t gone to Spain to "vacation." She had lived with a family of nine, shared a single shower, cooked for them, and cared for their children. She hadn’t chosen a familiar place to hide; she had chosen a place where she could build deep, meaningful, and difficult relationships. She had mastered the art of "attention"—the ability to see beyond the surface, regardless of the zip code.
Official Perspectives: The Philosophy of Cultural Humility
Educational leaders, including those who participate in CGEE trips, emphasize that the primary barrier to growth is the desire for "mastery." We often enter a new culture wanting to be the expert, the one who can navigate the train system or order the perfect coffee.
However, as the adage goes: "The idea of mastery is the enemy of growth."
True learning requires the humility to be perceived as ignorant. It requires a willingness to ask questions and admit that, in the context of a new culture, you are, in fact, a novice. When I was running through the Tuscan countryside, I saw paths that seemed impossible to navigate. If I had asked a local for directions, I likely would have been told, "You can’t get there from here." This isn’t a sign of local unhelpfulness; it is a recognition of the limits of an outsider’s perspective. We need local guides—not just to find the landmarks, but to find the path to understanding.
Implications for Future Travelers and Students
What does this mean for the future of higher education and international travel?
- Shift the Focus: We must stop judging the value of a study abroad experience by the "foreignness" of the country. A student can learn as much about cultural humility in Florence, Alabama, as they can in Florence, Italy, provided they possess the curiosity to engage with the "other" rather than observing them.
- Prioritize Intentionality: Institutions must prioritize programs that offer structural support for deep, community-based learning. The "who" and the "how" of a trip matter far more than the "where."
- Embrace Discomfort: The goal of global education should be to challenge the student’s own cultural assumptions. If a student is not being forced to question their own worldview, they are not really studying abroad; they are simply traveling.
As our group of ten academics sat for our final session, we were struck by the words of Mary Oliver: "Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it."
My trip to Tuscany did not make me a religious scholar, nor did it solve the global migration crisis. But it did remind me that the "difficulty" of a journey is internal. It is about the willingness to be open, to listen to the abbot, to walk the path, and to admit that the most important lessons often come from the places we thought we already knew. I am still, and will always be, a work in progress—and perhaps that is the most valuable takeaway of all.
