In a coastal town near Barcelona, it was pouring down rain. The trail that led to Pep’s farm–the site of our morning activity–became a muddy stream. The LITA students made the most of the treacherous, frigid walk. They took off their raincoats and soaked shirts and chased each other around the empty road in their bathing suits. It was clear, at this point, that the “agricultural activity” we had planned was not going to happen.
But the group was having a ball. It was a moment of adaptation–a cheerful acceptance of nasty weather, and with it, unforeseen circumstances–that reflects the spirit of LITA. Just as the students had transformed a rainstorm into a playground, in the four weeks prior, they had transformed countless moments of discomfort into opportunities for growth, joy, and connection.
Often, the discomfort that comes with culture shock is more emotional–and harder to resolve–than the squishy feeling of wet clothes. I was a LITA student in 2019, and the discomfort I felt during my first night with my host family has stuck with me. Though the warmth, kindness, and enthusiasm of the family signaled better days to come, this prediction didn’t make me feel any less out of place. I forced myself to ask them questions and listen carefully, smile often and appear engaged. By day two, my curiosity, enthusiasm, and appetite were back online.
Still, moments of unease persisted: I felt lost in group conversations, I ordered at restaurants without knowing what I had asked for, I laughed at jokes I didn’t understand, and I was getting tired of mayonnaise. But small victories eclipsed these challenges, and actually made me crave the discomfort I resisted at first. I made my host dad laugh, I followed my host sister’s instructions to a card game, I had a fluid conversation with my host aunt, and I sensed the beginnings of fluency. I was speaking without planning and understanding without translating.
With little more preparation than a few years of Spanish, I was thrown into a radically unfamiliar environment. And it worked. Discomfort propelled growth; the more I challenged myself, the more I learned. It’s a simple idea, but one that few programs emphasize. LITA is as challenging as it is fun. The program operates on the principle that radical change comes with rapid growth. LITA takes its students seriously, treating them with compassion but no condescension. Students have the opportunity to take charge of their own learning and growth.
It's amazing what LITA students can achieve under these conditions. Their growth is not just academic but also personal. Language acquisition can model–and even facilitate–the process of becoming more comfortable with oneself. This was certainly the case for me, and as a group leader this past summer, I observed this evolution from the outside. During our host stay, a soccer game with the host families coincided with a host sibling’s birthday. Bruno was turning twelve. After the match, we handed him a cake and sang “feliz cumpleaños.” His host brother, along with other LITA students, came up to him to ruffle his hair and offer high fives and hugs. They interacted with Bruno like old friends, or actual family. Host families accept LITA students as more of their own. Those offering Bruno gestures of love and friendship had taken note and were returning the favor. Their initiative reflected heightened comfort–in a foreign language and culture, but also, in their own skin.
When we arrived at Pep’s farm, Pep’s wife Montse led the girls upstairs to change and dry our clothes. We exchanged fresh socks, dry bathing suits, and hairbrushes. Several girls were modeling an eclectic collection of shirts Montse lent us. Others dried their clothes with a hairdryer. In the room next door, old books lined the walls, and a window overlooked green plots of land, a pool, and a little further, the ocean. Several students, relatively dry, sat in a circle. One of them was between giggles and tears. “This is the best day of my life,” she said, laughing at her own emotions. We all laughed with her. It was a ridiculous situation, but the absurd blend of feelings was familiar. It took me right back to a moment I shared with my host family, on an outing to a neighboring town.
We were on a tourist bus, turning the corner past an outlook of olive groves, then the local university, and a church. A recording explaining the town’s history, pamphlet-style, played on the bus speaker. It was a cheesy but no less breathtaking excursion, and I was euphoric. Things were going as perfectly as they could. This sense stemmed just as much from discomfort and awkwardness as it did from satisfaction and cheer. It’s this transformation–from tension to ease, distance to connection, and in lucky moments, mechanical translation to fluid speech–that makes LITA singular.
Ceci, Former LITA Student & Group Leader 2024