As I write this, I'm sitting in Athens, Greece. That sentence still feels surreal. Not because I never dreamed of traveling, but because this city has meant something to me for much longer than I've actually been here.
Growing up, I heard stories about Athens long before I ever imagined I would see it for myself. My father served in the Marines, and Greece was one of the places he visited during his service. He often talked about Athens, the Acropolis, the ancient temples, and the history that surrounded the city. It became one of his favorite cities in the world.
As a little girl, I listened to those stories and imagined what those places must look like. At the time, they felt impossibly far away. This past Sunday, I stood in front of the Acropolis for the first time. And in that moment, I wasn't thinking about grants, fellowships, or professional development.
I wasn't a classroom teacher. I was simply the little girl who grew up hearing stories from her father. Standing there, looking up at a place that had lived in my imagination for years, I realized something powerful: sometimes the places that shape us begin shaping us long before we ever arrive. That's one of the reasons I wanted the first episode of The Traveling Teacher to begin here.
Because this moment captures exactly what this podcast is about. The Opportunity I Almost Didn't Pursue. When educators hear about fellowships, grants, institutes, and international travel opportunities, it's easy to assume those experiences are meant for someone else.
Someone more accomplished.
Someone more connected.
Someone more qualified.
I know because I used to think that too. When I applied for my first educator travel opportunity in 2018, the Colonial Williamsburg Teacher Institute, I didn't think I would get accepted. I almost convinced myself not to apply. Thankfully, I submitted the application anyway. That single decision changed everything.
One opportunity led to another. Experiences I never imagined became realities. What began with one application eventually led me to opportunities in places like Iceland, Italy, and now Greece. More importantly, those experiences changed the way I think about teaching, learning, and leadership. One thing I've learned is that teacher travel is not a vacation. It's professional learning in its most authentic form. It's standing where history happened. It's engaging with cultures you've spent years teaching about. It's making connections between places, people, and stories that textbooks alone can never fully capture.
When educators travel, they bring those experiences back to their students, to their colleagues. They return with new perspectives, richer context, and stories that make learning more meaningful for students. But there's another benefit we don't talk about enough. Travel reminds educators that they are learners too. We spend so much time helping students grow that we sometimes forget we're allowed to continue growing ourselves. Some of the most significant professional growth I've experienced has happened thousands of miles away from home.
Not because I was escaping education. Because I was experiencing it in a completely different way. The idea for The Traveling Teacher came from a simple observation. Every time I shared an educator travel experience, someone would ask:
How did you find that opportunity?
Who funded it?
How did you get selected?
Can teachers really do things like this?
The questions kept coming. And eventually, I realized there were countless educators who wanted these experiences but never applied. Not because they weren't qualified. Not because they weren't deserving. Because they didn't believe they had a chance.
This podcast exists for those educators. The ones who are curious. The ones who are hesitant. The ones who assume opportunities like these are for someone else. Because I know what it feels like to think that. And I know how much can change when you decide to apply anyway.
What Has Travel Taught Me? Travel has taught me that stories matter. The stories we teach. The stories our students tell. The stories our families pass down to us. And the stories we tell ourselves about what is and isn't possible.
For years, Athens was a story my father told. Today, it's a place I've experienced for myself.
For years, educator travel opportunities felt like something other people did. Today, they've become part of my own story.
That transformation didn't happen because I was uniquely qualified. It happened because I took a chance on an application. Then another. Then another.
What's Ahead?
In future episodes of The Traveling Teacher, you'll hear from educators who have participated in fellowships, institutes, study tours, and grant-funded travel experiences.
You'll hear from organizations that make these opportunities possible. You'll learn about the application process and discover practical ways to pursue opportunities of your own. Most importantly, you'll hear stories from people who once believed these experiences weren't meant for them. Because that's often where every journey begins.
One Final Thought
If you're reading this and thinking, "That could never be me," I'd encourage you to challenge that assumption. The biggest barrier for many educators isn't the application process. It's deciding they're worthy of applying in the first place. Years ago, I almost talked myself out of submitting an application to a teacher institute. Today, I'm writing this from Athens, Greece. A city I first discovered through my father's stories. A city that reminded me that learning never stops. And a city that feels like the perfect place to begin this journey.
Thank you for being here at the start of it.
Years ago, Athens, much like Italy, was a story my father told me. Today, it's a place I'm experiencing for myself. And that reminds me why this podcast exists: because one story, one teacher, or one opportunity can take us places we never imagined we'd go.
I'll see you in the next episode, from Colonial Williamsburg. You’re going to want to stay for this.
Tomorrow, before the sun comes up, I'll be heading to the airport to begin an incredible journey to Athens, Greece, through my Fund for Teachers fellowship. My bags are packed, my flights are checked in, and now comes the exciting part: stepping into a learning experience that has been months in the making. During my time in Greece, I'll be exploring approaches to supporting students with ADHD and Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), as well as inclusive teaching practices. I'm excited to learn from educators and experts abroad, gain new perspectives, and bring back ideas that can positively impact students.
Be sure to keep an eye out for the launch of The Traveling Teacher podcast on June 23, featuring an episode recorded right from Athens. And the adventure doesn't stop there! Immediately after returning from Greece, I'll be heading to the Colonial Williamsburg Teacher Institute, one of my favorite places in the United States—to learn alongside educators from across the country. While there, I'll also be recording interviews with Lindsey Horner, Manager of Educator Outreach and Engagement at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, and Joe Schmidt, Executive Director of The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation and current National Council for the Social Studies President. It's shaping up to be an unforgettable summer of professional learning, and I can't wait to share the journey, insights, and stories along the way.
The trailer for The Traveling Teacher Podcast is now live.
In just a few minutes, the trailer introduces the vision behind the podcast and the reason this project exists: to explore how travel can transform teaching, learning, and personal growth.
As educators, we spend our careers helping students discover the world. Yet some of the most meaningful learning experiences happen when we step outside our own classrooms and become learners ourselves.
Whether through fellowships, study tours, cultural exchanges, professional development programs, or personal travel experiences, educators gain new perspectives when they engage directly with different places, histories, and cultures. Those experiences often shape how we teach, lead, and connect with our students.
The Traveling Teacher was created to share those stories.
Through conversations with teachers, librarians, educational leaders, fellowship recipients, and organizations that support educational travel, this podcast will explore the lessons that can only be learned by experiencing the world firsthand.
The trailer offers a preview of what's ahead, including:
Stories from educators who have traveled the world
Information about fellowships, grants, and travel opportunities
Conversations about culture, history, and global learning
Practical insights for educators interested in educational travel
Reflections on how travel can enrich both professional and personal growth
The first season will feature guests from a variety of educational backgrounds, each bringing unique experiences and perspectives on the value of travel and lifelong learning.
For me, this project is deeply personal. Some of the most impactful professional learning experiences of my career have happened outside traditional professional development settings. Travel has challenged my assumptions, expanded my perspective, and reminded me that learning happens everywhere.
My hope is that this podcast encourages educators to seek out their own opportunities for exploration, whether close to home or across the globe.
If you haven't listened yet, I invite you to start with the trailer and learn what The Traveling Teacher is all about.
This is just the beginning of the journey.
Listen to the trailer today and subscribe so you don't miss upcoming episodes.
Teach. Travel. Learn. Repeat.
Listen to The Traveling Teacher on your favorite platform.
In just 15 days, I'll board a plane for Athens, Greece, as part of my Fund for Teachers Fellowship.
To say I'm excited would be an understatement. I'm excited, nervous, grateful, and more than ready to begin this journey. After months of planning, researching, and preparing, the trip is finally becoming real.
I haven't actually packed yet, but everything is ready to go. I'm traveling with only a carry-on, and I've already mixed and matched all of my clothes and shoes to make sure I can travel light. My camera is ready, my journal is waiting, my laptop is charged, and every charging cord I could need is accounted for.
I'll be staying in a hostel, exploring the city on foot and public transportation, and immersing myself in the history, culture, and learning opportunities that brought me to Greece in the first place. I'm looking forward to tasting authentic Greek food, meeting people from around the world, and experiencing the places I've only read about in books and seen through my father's eyes.
The primary purpose of this fellowship is professional learning. While in Athens, I will be participating in coursework through the Europass Teacher Academy, where I will be learning more about inclusive educational practices and strategies to better support students with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). As an educator, I'm excited to bring back new ideas, practical tools, and global perspectives that can help create more inclusive learning environments for all students.
Of course, there is one place above all others that I'm eager to see: the Acropolis.
Growing up, my father told me countless stories about Greece and Greek mythology. As a Marine, he visited Greece and often spoke about Athens, the Acropolis, and the Greek Isles. Those stories sparked my imagination long before I ever considered traveling there myself.
In fifteen days, I'll finally get to see it with my own eyes. I'll stand where my father once stood and experience the food and music he experienced. In many ways, this journey is about more than professional learning or travel. It's about connecting the stories I heard growing up with the places that inspired them.
The countdown is officially on, and I can't wait to see where it leads. Learn more about Fund for Teachers.
In 2011, I added something to my bucket list that felt almost impossible at the time: walk the Camino de Santiago. Not drive it. Not tour it. Walk it.
For years, the Camino de Santiago sat quietly in the back of my mind, one of those dreams you revisit during busy seasons of life and promise yourself you’ll do “someday.” But someday has a way of slipping further away when careers, responsibilities, deadlines, and everyday survival take over.
Then last summer, after more than a decade of waiting, I finally did it. And somehow, the experience became even more meaningful because I didn’t walk it alone. I walked from Porto to Santiago de Compostela with my daughter.
My daughter, Glory, is a librarian, which somehow made the entire experience feel even more fitting. Librarians understand stories differently. They know that journeys are rarely just about destinations. They pay attention to details, symbols, history, and the quiet moments most people rush past. Along the Camino, she noticed things I might have missed: inscriptions on ancient churches, hidden bookshops, conversations with pilgrims from around the world, and the layers of history woven into every village we crossed.
What I thought would simply be a physical journey became something much deeper. The Camino has a way of stripping life down to essentials. Every day became simple: wake up, walk, carry what you need, keep moving forward. There’s clarity in that simplicity. No endless distractions. No constant noise. Just the road, your thoughts, your conversations, and your next step.
And there were hard moments.
Blisters. Injuries. Exhaustion. Heat. Long stretches where our legs hurt and our energy disappeared. Moments where we questioned how much farther we could go that day. But what stood out most was learning how we faced challenges together. Travel has always brought our family closer, but the Camino revealed something different. It showed us how we support one another when things become uncomfortable. Sometimes perseverance looked like encouragement. Sometimes it looked like silence and simply walking side by side. Sometimes it meant slowing down instead of pushing harder.
That lesson matters far beyond Spain and Portugal. In life, we often celebrate achievement while ignoring endurance. We admire the finish line but overlook the discipline required to keep going when things become difficult. The Camino reminded me that perseverance is rarely dramatic. Most of the time, it is quiet. It is choosing to continue despite discomfort. It is trusting that progress is still progress, even when the destination feels far away.
But the Camino was not only about perseverance. It was also about reflection. There is something powerful about having hours each day to think without interruption. Walking gave me space to reflect not only on faith, but also on purpose, who I am becoming, what truly matters, and how I want to spend the years ahead. Somewhere between Porto and Santiago, I realized that purpose is not usually discovered in one lightning-bolt moment. More often, it reveals itself slowly through movement, challenge, connection, and reflection.
The Camino teaches you that growth happens step by step. Not instantly. Not perfectly. Step by step.
Reaching Santiago de Compostela was emotional in a way I did not fully expect. After years of carrying this dream, we had finally arrived. But like many meaningful journeys, the greatest gift was not the ending. It was everything the road taught us along the way.
I started this journey because it had been on my bucket list since 2011. I finished it with something far more valuable than crossing off a goal. I left with deeper faith, renewed clarity, and an even stronger bond with my daughter, proof that some journeys change you not because of how far you travel, but because of who walks beside you.
As meaningful as that first Camino was, something unexpected happened after I returned home: I started thinking about the next one. This time, I’m planning to walk from Sarria to Santiago de Compostela, and this journey will be different because I’ll be doing it alone. That decision surprises some people. After such a powerful shared experience with my daughter, why walk the Camino solo?
Because the first Camino taught me that there are some lessons you discover together, and others you can only discover when you are alone with your own thoughts.
Walking from Porto to Santiago showed me the strength of connection, partnership, and shared perseverance. It reminded me how deeply meaningful it is to have someone beside you through difficult moments. But it also awakened something else in me: the need for solitude, reflection, and personal challenge.
There’s something intimidating about setting out alone on a journey like this. No familiar conversation during the long stretches. No one to help carry the emotional weight of difficult days. Just me, the road, and whatever thoughts surface along the way.
And maybe that’s exactly the point.
The Camino is often described as a pilgrimage, but I’ve come to believe it is also a mirror. It reveals what distracts us, what grounds us, what we avoid, and what we truly need. My first Camino strengthened the bond between my daughter and me. I have no doubt this second Camino will challenge me in entirely different ways.
But that is why I’m going.
Not because it will be easy.
Not because it looks inspiring in photos.
But because growth rarely happens inside comfort.
Somewhere between Sarria and Santiago, I know there will be moments of exhaustion, silence, doubt, gratitude, clarity, and reflection. And just like the first journey, I suspect the most important part will not be arriving in Santiago de Compostela itself.
It will be who I become on the road getting there. Check out some of the best moments of our Camino here.
One of the most impactful professional learning opportunities I have experienced has been through Fund for Teachers. Unlike traditional professional development, Fund for Teachers empowers educators to design their own learning experiences based on their passions, goals, and the needs of their students. Through the fellowship application process, educators create a proposal for a self-designed learning experience that can take place anywhere in the world. The goal is simple but powerful: support teachers in pursuing meaningful experiences that ultimately bring richer learning back to their schools and communities. For me, Fund for Teachers has opened doors far beyond what I ever imagined. It has allowed me not only to grow professionally, but also to connect with incredible educators, museum experts, historians, storytellers, and community leaders from around the world.
One unforgettable experience took me to Húsavík, where I learned firsthand about environmental conservation efforts led by NGOs, as well as cultural and heritage preservation initiatives. Being able to engage directly with experts and organizations working to protect both natural environments and cultural history gave me a deeper understanding of how education, storytelling, and preservation are all connected.
This summer, my journey continues as I head to Greece to study best practices in special education and inclusion. I’ll be exploring ways schools and organizations support autistic and ADHD students while learning strategies that can help create more inclusive, supportive learning environments back home. Alongside this work, I’ll also be immersing myself in Greek culture, history, and mythology, experiences that will further enrich both my professional and personal learning.
What I love most about Fund for Teachers is that it recognizes educators as learners, researchers, and innovators. It gives teachers the freedom to pursue experiences that are authentic, meaningful, and transformative.
If you are an educator with a passion, idea, or dream for professional learning, I strongly encourage you to explore the fellowship opportunity. The application for Fund for Teachers typically opens in the fall, and it truly has the potential to change not only your teaching, but your entire perspective on learning and the world.
Learn more about Fund for Teachers.
Travel has shaped who I am, just as much as my work in education. I’ve been fortunate to visit places like Italy, France, the Netherlands, Poland, Spain, Morocco, Portugal, England, Denmark, Austria, Sweden, Estonia, St. Petersburg, the Czech Republic, Mexico, Canada, Iceland, Ireland, and I’m soon heading to Greece. Along the way, I’ve also explored the Caribbean: Aruba, Barbados, St. Kitts, St. Lucia, Turks and Caicos, Curaçao, St. Maarten, Dominica, and Antigua.
And every single place has taught me something different.
Travel has a way of humbling you in the best way. It reminds you pretty quickly that there isn’t just one way to do things, one way to live, or one way to see the world. That’s something I carry with me into my classroom every day. My students come with their own stories, cultures, and experiences, and I try to meet them with the same openness I’ve learned to travel with.
It’s also made me more patient and more curious. When you’re trying to figure out a train system in a different language, ordering food you can’t quite pronounce, or just getting intentionally “lost” in a new city, you learn to slow down and pay attention. I try to bring that same energy into learning, where it’s okay not to have all the answers right away, and where questions matter just as much as outcomes.
And honestly, some of the best learning I’ve ever done hasn’t come from museums or monuments, it’s come from small moments. Conversations with people, shared meals, watching everyday life unfold in a place completely different from my own. That’s the part I try to recreate in my teaching: connection, humanity, and real-world relevance.
Travel keeps reminding me that education isn’t just about content. It’s about helping students see beyond their world while also valuing the one they already bring with them.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as an educator, it’s that big ideas don’t always need big budgets, they need the right support. Over the years, grants have opened doors for me that I never thought possible, from international travel to deeply meaningful classroom projects. If you’re a teacher with ideas you just haven’t had the funding for yet, these are five grants worth knowing about. Always have someone proofread your application before you submit it.
Fund for Teachers
https://fundforteachers.org
This one is personal. Fund for Teachers allows educators to design their own professional learning experiences anywhere in the world. I’ve used this grant to explore learning through travel and cultural immersion, and it truly changes how you see both teaching and learning. It’s not just funding—it’s freedom to grow as an educator in a way that’s completely self-designed.
Lilly Endowment Teacher Creativity Fellowship (Indiana)
https://lillyendowment.org
As an Indiana educator, this is one of the most meaningful opportunities available. The Lilly Teacher Creativity Fellowship supports teachers in pursuing personal and professional renewal projects—anything from travel and research to creative exploration. It’s about stepping outside the day-to-day and reconnecting with why you teach in the first place. I'm applying this year!
NEA Foundation Learning & Leadership Grants
https://www.neafoundation.org
These grants support professional development and classroom innovation for public school teachers. Whether it’s attending a conference, designing a new learning experience, or collaborating with colleagues, NEA helps bring ideas to life that directly impact students. We will be interviewing a previsou recipient on The Traveling Teacher podcast. Stay tuned!
DonorsChoose
https://www.donorschoose.org
Most teachers already know this one, but it’s still one of the most powerful tools out there. You post a classroom project, and donors help make it happen. It’s simple, flexible, and often the fastest way to get resources directly into students’ hands. They cover a fixed amount of lodging, travel, and food for conferences. This is how I was able to attend ASCD in Boston.
NEH Summer Programs for Teachers (National Endowment for the Humanities)
https://www.neh.gov
These are immersive, content-rich summer institutes across the country (and sometimes abroad) that allow teachers to study history, literature, and culture in depth with scholars and peers. I love these because they remind you what it feels like to be a learner again. They have tons of programs every summer, the list usually comes out late fall and applications close early in the spring.
Grants aren’t just about funding—they’re about possibility. They’re about taking the ideas you’ve been carrying around in your head and finally saying, yes, let’s do this.
There’s this idea that teachers are supposed to always be in “giving mode”, pouring into students, showing up prepared, holding everything together. And don’t get me wrong, we do that every day. But somewhere in there, I’ve learned something I don’t think gets talked about enough: teachers need adventure too.
For me, adventure has looked like travel. It’s been standing in places like Italy, Iceland, Morocco, Spain, and Greece and realizing how small, and how connected, the world really is. It’s been getting a little lost in new cities, trying food I can’t pronounce, and figuring things out as I go. And honestly, it’s been some of the best professional development I’ve ever had.
Because adventure changes how you see everything.
It reminds you that learning doesn’t only happen inside a classroom. It happens in conversations with strangers, in museums, in train stations, in quiet moments where you’re just taking everything in. And when you bring that back to teaching, something shifts. You become more flexible. More curious. More willing to let students explore instead of just follow directions.
Adventure also has a way of restoring you. Teaching is heart work, and if we’re not careful, we can run on empty. Getting out into the world, whether that’s a big international trip or a simple weekend road trip with my family and our dog, fills that space back up. It gives you stories. It gives you perspective. It reminds you who you are outside of your role.
And I think that matters more than we admit.
Because when teachers live fully, students feel that. They feel the energy, the curiosity, the stories, and the joy that comes from a life that isn’t only defined by work. I want my students to know that learning is everywhere, and I also want them to see that their teacher is still learning, still exploring, still becoming.
So yes, teachers need lesson plans. We need data. We need structure. But we also need adventure. Not as a luxury, but as part of staying inspired in the work we do every day.