Mid-Program Reflection from 🇮🇹
Somewhere between jet lag and gelato, the blur of arrival has settled into a rhythm. We are officially halfway through our time in Italy, and the learning has taken on a life of its own. It is happening beyond the classroom and far beyond the syllabus, as it should.
At this point, I have watched our students shift from observers to participants. The early comments like “The food is so good,” “Everyone walks so much,” and “Who has Wi-Fi?” have given way to more layered insights. They are noticing things like healthcare structures, communication norms, and the unwritten rules of daily life. They are not just “in Italy” anymore. They are beginning to understand a different culture.
Several themes have come up in our group reflections.
The need for connection. Through the people we have met, including guest lecturers, locals, and our savior Umberto, students are seeing how much human connection is embedded into Italian life. One student said, “We eat so fast in the U.S.” They are right. Here, meals are about presence. Sitting, talking, and digesting more than just food, and with a limoncello as a bonus digestif. Maybe it is about culture or the absence of a tip-based service model. Whatever the reason, the effect is clear. Conversations last longer when no one is rushing to turn a table.
Healthcare as a window into values. Our students are future rural primary care physicians, physical therapists, and surgeons. They were energized during our first lecture on Italy’s healthcare system. Several said they wanted to move here for the free healthcare. That mix of curiosity and “low-key” envy opened the door to meaningful conversations about capitalism, access, and ethics. They are beginning to understand how national systems reflect societal values and how those values affect people’s lives, including their future patients. If they do not all move to Italy, this perspective may shape how they practice medicine in the U.S.
The art of slowing down. Nearly everyone has commented on the pace. They have noticed how quickly we tend to eat, speak, and move through our days back home. There is something nourishing about having an espresso at a counter with a stranger and lingering there. Humans need that kind of interaction. It feeds us. Whether the difference stems from labor models or cultural norms, the takeaway is the same. Time feels different, less rushed.
Walking as a lifestyle, and what it reveals. Unless you live in a big city in the U.S., walking is not a major part of daily life. Our students have noticed this, and yes, occasionally they complain about it. They have experienced public transportation, climbed more stairs than they wanted to, and learned that reaching class in Sorrento is often a full-body workout.
There is something deeper worth noticing here. These beautiful cities, with their winding stone streets, cliffside views, and historic architecture, are not built with accessibility in mind. Steep inclines, uneven pavement, few elevators, and narrow passageways make daily movement difficult for anyone with mobility issues. It has become clear that what feels quaint or picturesque to one person can be inaccessible to another.
Students have started to think about what that means for aging populations, for wheelchair users, for people recovering from injuries, or for anyone with chronic illness. In the U.S., we often take for granted the presence of ramps, elevators, curb cuts, and ADA compliance. While Italy has its own standards and accessibility requirements, the physical infrastructure in older cities often predates any of those considerations and retrofits are difficult (there are even places in Oxford where preservation trumps access).
For pre-health students, this is an important and very physical lesson. Accessibility is not only about buildings but about public health, independence, equity, and dignity. Being in a place where accessibility is limited has helped us reflect on how design choices signal who belongs. They inform not only how students see international travel but also how they might design their future clinics, advocate for patients, or even consider policies in their own communities.
Self-Reflection
We are always learning. If I’m not learning, I’m dead. I have had some realizations of my own. For one, many students (and administrators) come in with assumptions based on how “well-traveled” they believe they are. That does not always mean they are prepared for a new place. Things like expectations about hotels, transit, group living, and the structure of a European city can still catch them off guard. These are areas we can address more deliberately in pre-departure preparation.
Faculty also need more tools to support students. We provide a handbook, have group orientation, and rely on past experience. Each study abroad experience is never the same so faculty must be nimble and thoughtful in new situations that arise - we know we can’t cover every possible scenario. But we can do more. Faculty are also asked to manage group dynamics, resolve conflicts, and maintain emotional equilibrium for others while trying to do the same for themselves. These are not minor responsibilities and need additional training. Each group brings its own rhythm, personalities, and stress points.
On a personal note, I have remembered how much I love our young people. Their questions, their wonder, and their openness are what keep me loving this work. It took them about a day to warm up to the random lady on the program, but I’m so grateful for their openness and honesty. I’ve heard their struggles as humans, their joys, their family dynamics, and am witnessing their evolving values, and I’m thankful that they have let me in. I’m also learning a lot of new vocabulary.
There are still moments when I want a little silence, when I feel stretched or need a big coffee to walk around with like an American. But those moments are also when I see the most growth, in myself, in the students, in the way we’re learning to be flexible, observant, and humble in another culture.
As we head into the second half of the program, I am curious what will shift next. What questions will we ask as we move into Rome and Florence, with their very different paces? What assumptions will we unpack? And how might this experience change the way we understand home, not as a place, but as a way of being in the world?