Shared during All-School by Head of School, Megan Harlan

This summer I was driving and listening to my Spotify Daily Drive when a random podcast that an algorithm chose for me came on — it was an interview with Rick Steves on the importance of travel. I so loved the message and, on that hot August day, I thought I wanted to share his ideas with all of you before you leave for Interim. And so here we are, five days before Interim.

Mr. Steves doesn’t talk about travel as a vacation. He talks about it as a classroom — one without walls. That idea feels especially fitting here, because that was likely the spirit behind the very first Interim some 50 years ago.

Mr. Steves calls travel a political act. What he means is simple: when you step into someone else’s country, or state, or culture, or language, or daily life, you get to choose curiosity over fear. You get to choose understanding over assumption. You are choosing to see the world as it is — not as it is filtered through your news feed or social media. 

What I have always loved about travel is that it forces you to pay attention. You notice how long people linger over meals. You notice how they greet one another. You notice different smells, different lighting, different sounds. You notice what others value, what they build, what they protect. You realize that your way is not the only way — and that realization is not threatening. It’s liberating.

You all are about to leave the comfort of what you know: your rooms, your routines, your friends, your predictable schedule. And that is exactly the point.

Our upcoming Interims will disrupt our lives in the best possible way — they are an interruption of the algorithm of our lives. They break our habits. They challenge our certainty. They expose our blind spots. And if you allow it, they build humility. I also feel that Interims have the ability to teach us resilience. Your flight might be delayed. The food might not be what you expected. You might miss home. It might snow at the Mountain Campus. And to all of this, I say: good. Because that discomfort is growth. When things don’t go according to plan, you adapt. You become more flexible, more patient, more resilient.

Heading out on Interim can be a bit scary. Mr. Steves commented that fear of travel is for people who don’t get out very much. That’s a little harsh, but it’s true. When you actually get out and meet people — when you sit across from them at a table, when you try to speak their language, when you get lost and have to ask for help — you discover something I think is so powerful: most people, all over the world, are kind. Most people want to help you. Most people are proud of where they are from and eager to share it.

Interim, therefore, is not about collecting photos. It’s not about posting the perfect picture. It’s not about saying you’ve “done” a city or a country. It’s about listening more than you speak. It’s about asking good questions. It’s about noticing the ordinary details of daily life.

So I urge you all, whether you are in Morocco, Hawaii, Costa Rica, Tennessee, or here in Colorado, to become “temporary locals.” That means don’t stand apart and judge. Step in and try to understand. Try the food. Learn a few phrases in a different language. Follow local customs, even when they feel unfamiliar. Respect what you don’t yet understand.

And when it is all said and done — here’s the deeper truth: Interim will not just show you parts of the world. It shows you yourself.

You will learn what frustrates you.
You will learn what delights you.
You will learn how you handle stress.
You will learn how you treat people when you are tired.

Pay attention to that. Journal about that. For self-knowledge is as valuable as anything you will see.

When you return, I hope you are slightly changed. I hope you are harder to stereotype. I hope you are slower to judge. I hope you are more comfortable with complexity. I hope you carry a wider lens on the world and that you have let your experiences stretch you.

As I wrap up, the common phrase many might say is “Safe travels.” It sounds kind. We use it all the time. But that phrase centers travel as something to be feared. It assumes danger. It assumes that something terrible might happen and that you need wishes of safety. The phrase frames the world — and frames adventure — as something to survive rather than something to embrace.

So instead of “safe travels,” maybe it should be:

Have wonderful travels.
Have courageous travels.
Have outrageous travels.

Or maybe the French have it right —

Bon voyage.