My life as a traveling teacher.

rst day of sailing is just turning out to be not so great a thing thus far aboard the SS Sorlandet. Though we extended our stay in Portugal by a day to avoid being caught in a storm that was just two notches shy of being a hurricane, the remnants of it were most definitely still felt 24 hours later. Not long after our departure, the several meter high waves that are tossing us about make “I hate the sea!”, “Why do we have to sail so much?”, and “Can we turn back to Portugal?” the most heard sentences of the day. The half-day of scheduled classes is cancelled, and most students retreat to their bunks, or to the funnels of shame. I am happy to report that I…and motion sickness meds… conquered seasickness this time. Victory! Chantalle (sponsored by Gravol): 1 Seasickness: A trillion billion. Although most on board want to give the ocean a good punch in the face on this first day of sailing from Western Europe, she soon redeems herself. The über calmness of the Atlantic Ocean the followin

One of the first reactions noticed as I told people I was about to go teach whilst sailing was “Whoa… like Breaker High!”. Sort of… except our school in on a sailing vessel, not a cruise ship…and Ryan Gosling isn’t on board. Second on the list was “But, how do you teach on board? How does it work?”. While the Concordia was equipped with classrooms, the Sorlandet is not, and so we make the best of the space available. This means that our classrooms are also dining rooms, common areas, and at night, sleeping areas. As my friend Kristine pointed out “Ew, you eat on a teenager’s bed!”. Yes, but really, it’s not as unsanitary as it sounds. The kids must take down their bunks, sheets and sleeping bags every morning to make room for the dining area, which is then transformed into a classroom. White boards are secured with ropes to the ceiling, and are taken down during class time. There is no Internet at sea (gasp!), and no photocopier (double gasp!) and so we resort to books, USB transfers,