At the end of their term-long Mountain Classroom experience, as the Spring 2025 group worked their way back east, several months of living out of backpacks, campsites, and "Bennie the Bus" began to crystallize into memories. These students discovered that some of the most meaningful moments come not from the destinations visited but the quiet moments when thoughts drift back to the familiar rhythms of home and the deep connections formed with classmates, some of whom started as strangers. As they prepared to return to Proctor's campus and as the school year came to a close, Indira '26 and Will '26 reflected on how Mountain Classroom showed them that home can be both the memories that comfort you under starlit skies and the bonds created with nine other people who became, as Will puts it, like siblings.
Indira '26
During my time on Mountain Classroom, I'm constantly reminded of home. Memories constantly flood my brain; when I don't have schoolwork or sleep to catch up on, my mind will drift back home to the small town of Andover. What was my "normal life" now seems like something so foreign. On this trip, I have constantly connected home with small parts of Mountain, whether it's waking up to the rare smell of bacon on the griddle in the morning, which reminds me of going to JJ's and waiting in the long line after assembly and then having to run to my next class. Or falling asleep to the sounds of peepers after a long day outside, which reminds me of the Proctor pond at night in the summertime, when it's the perfect temperature out and my mom has volun-told me to take the dog out.
Having small reminders of home makes being away from home more familiar and comforting. I love to look at the Big Dipper at night and know exactly where it sits in the sky back at Proctor, above Johnson and the Burbs. The Big Dipper is something I have relied on during Mountain. On a semi-clear night, I can peer through the clouds and see it, and on a clear night, it lights up the sky. Since our river trip on the San Juan, we have started to cowboy camp a lot, and last night at Ledge campsite in Moab, UT, as much as I didn't sleep, I watched the Big Dipper, reminding me of leaving the house late at night with my parents to look for shooting stars, and laying on the turf and looking at the Big Dipper (the only constellation we really knew). The Big Dipper has followed me through my trip and is something I know I will have when I get home.
Since we started our drive back to Proctor, from Utah to Colorado to South Dakota and soon to the Porcupine Mountains in Michigan for our student-led expedition, the constant reminders of my parents play in the speakers of the bus: Bohemian Rhapsody, which is a fan favorite of my dad, and the sprinkle of SZA in some of our playlist reminds me of my mom. These reminders have also made me appreciate small moments, like during our "finals week" in Indian Creek, we had occasional downpours leading up, and we watched as big rain clouds started to cover our campsite yet again. But what comes with rain is memories. And without my phone I have been able to think about my memories a lot more.
The memory that came to my mind was when we sat all bundled up in our rain gear, eating soup with the wind and rain pounding us, and lying in the rain with my friends. Letting the water drench our faces and not having a care in the world. We would get up occasionally with grass all over our legs and backs and dance around. As cold and wet as I was, these memories have changed my experience on Mountain Classroom. During a time when I could've sat there slurping my soup in anger that yet another night I would be going to bed damp and smelly, instead I got up, put my soup down, and danced with Anna just like I had done with my other friends back at home.
No matter where I am or who I'm with, these reminders follow me everywhere. They have made Mountain my new home, and people who were once strangers to me are now some of the people who know me best. These memories will be the ones comforting me when I'm back in Andover.
Will '26
One month ago, as students alone, we started our planning for our final week and a half of Mountain to return to Proctor. Our planning began on one of our few laundry runs by looking at our maps to choose a place to have a student-led backpacking trip. Our original full list of places to choose between was the Gila Forest in New Mexico, the White Mountains in New Hampshire, the Black Hills in South Dakota, the Pisgah in North Carolina, and Painted Rocks or the Porcupine Mountains in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Quickly we cut the Whites and Pisgah due to eight of the ten of us being from the Whites area and ten out of ten of us hating mosquitoes. We then split up into groups to research the remaining four. After some new information from our adjunct instructor Jeffrey on the Upper Peninsula being too cold for black flies or mosquitoes during this time of year, we had our final two, the Porcupine Mountains and the Gila Forest. Then, a few days later, with the consideration of temperatures, we made our final decision of the Porcupine Mountains.
Then came the stressful part: booking. All ten of us gathered around one laptop and one iPad outside of the hogan in Navajo Nation. Some of us worked on our backpacking sites, and the others worked on planning our drive days around it to get back to Proctor. This booking session ended up being the first of many, but after many breaks, we got it done after learning ten people for two devices is not the most efficient way. Two weeks later, while closing in on Michigan, we made our final plans for our cook and tent groups and had a class on lightning position for some imminent lightning storms that were coming during our trip. Then, after a morning of packing bags, we jumped into the bus and headed to the trailhead. But then at the last second we were hit by our blessing in disguise. Some of our classmates were recovering from some health complications, so as a group, we made the decision to turn our backpacking trip into a student camping trip with day hikes.
We quickly bounced back from our change of plans and booked a campsite a quick drive away, just a hundred feet away from a sandy beach of Lake Superior. Once we arrived, we faced something we did not plan for: black flies. After speeding to set up tents we said our final goodbyes to Ted and Emi while choking on flies. We then quickly rushed off to the beach to try and catch a break from the flies. At the beach we had a long night of skipping rocks, making drip castles, and some freezing swimming in the lake. That night on the beach, we realized how close we had all gotten when I said it feels like going to the beach with your siblings. After that, we realized that it would be one of the last times we were together as a group, not doing 10-hour drive days back to Proctor. From then on, we cherished every moment of the weekend, even while having to hide in the bus from pouring rain or walking in clouds of mosquitoes.
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