Seven Summers of Learning Together

In August, for three days, the rooms of the Petre Dulfu County Library in Baia Mare, Romania, filled once again with children and teachers, books and colourful sheets of paper, conversations, questions and all the small signs that something was happening. It was the seventh edition of the MERITO Maramureș Summer School, and once again I had that familiar feeling: after months of plans, lists, messages and meetings, everything we had prepared on paper was finally becoming real.

Seven editions already feel like quite a journey. There are people who have stayed close to us, people who return year after year and people we meet for the first time. This summer, around 85 children and teenagers and 30 teachers joined us. Some of the teachers came from Maramureș, others travelled from different parts of Romania, and colleagues from the MERITO Community volunteered their time and experience to make these days possible.

What I have always loved about our Summer School is that children and teachers learn at the same time. In one room, teachers talk about their classrooms, about relationships with students, trust, motivation, what worked during the school year and what they are still trying to understand or change. A few doors away, children sit on the floor around sheets of paper, write, build, play, discuss, sometimes disagree and start again. I like this closeness between the two worlds. Perhaps they are not so different after all.

The Summer School is free for both teachers and students, and this has mattered to us from the beginning. Making that possible takes months of preparation, many conversations and messages, a team willing to give its time and partners who choose to support us. But when the first morning comes and I see people entering the rooms, I remember all those lists and tables we worked on for months. Suddenly, they are no longer lists. There are people in their place.

On the last day, we made more room for conversation. We wanted to hear what teachers had tried in their classrooms, what had worked, what they had changed along the way, and what questions they were still carrying with them. We also talked about ourselves, about what we could do differently or better next time. I like these moments because we don't always need to have all the answers. We can also say when something didn't work, ask questions and think together about what comes next.

Meanwhile, the children's workshops continued in the other rooms. And then, as always, the three days seemed to end much faster than the months we had spent preparing them. There were certificates, messages, hugs and the inevitable group photo.

When I think about these seven summers, however, the photographs are not the first thing that comes to mind. I think about the people who came back. About the teachers who arrived carrying their own questions and experiences. About the children who filled the rooms with their curiosity, noise and energy. About colleagues who travelled across Romania to share what they know. And about all those conversations between workshops, in hallways or around a table, which could never have been written into any programme.

Maybe this is what seven editions have taught me: a school can also be something people choose to return to.