Teacher Trainer Adventure in the mountains

 After three weeks in Sierra de la Ventana, Argentina, I have been reminded how powerful a change of scene can be. Spending time surrounded by nature, away from the usual routines, creates the kind of mental space that allows for both rest and reflection. The slower rhythm of the days, the quiet, and the landscape all invite a different way of thinking—one that is calmer, clearer, and often more creative.

This time in the mountains has been more than a pause; it has been an opportunity to reconnect with the deeper purpose behind training, teaching, and materials writing. Distance from the everyday rush has made it easier to reflect on what really matters in my work: what genuinely supports teachers, what helps learners progress, and what makes classroom practice meaningful.

Even in this peaceful setting, work has continued. Last Saturday I taught the final module of the fourth edition of the formative assessment course for APPI. There was something especially meaningful about reaching the end of this course while being in a place that naturally encourages reflection. Final sessions often bring a sense of closure, but they also open the door to new questions—about teaching, learning, and the ways teachers continue to grow.

As we explored the principles of formative assessment, I was reminded again that assessment is not simply about measuring what students have learned. It is an essential part of the learning process itself. It guides decisions, shapes next steps, and gives both teachers and learners valuable insight. Perhaps because of the environment I am in, I found myself approaching this final session with even more intention—allowing more space for reflection, asking more open-ended questions, and valuing pauses rather than rushing to fill them. Interestingly, these are the same practices we encourage teachers to use with their own learners.

This period has also included a deeply personal milestone. I travelled to Punta Alta to present my first book of poems in Spanish. Sharing that moment with family, friends, former students, and colleagues made it especially meaningful. It was an emotional event—one that brought together different stages of my life and reminded me of how long this creative journey has been unfolding in parallel with my professional one.

That experience has stayed with me in unexpected ways. Writing poetry and working with language in the classroom are not separate worlds; they inform each other constantly. My interest in rhythm, voice, and meaning, which finds expression in poetry, is the same curiosity I bring into my work with teachers and learners. It is also at the heart of the workshops I have been developing on using literature—and poetry in particular—in the ELT classroom.

In fact, presenting the book has strengthened my belief that poetry can play a valuable role in language learning. It offers learners a different kind of engagement with language: more personal, more interpretative, and often more memorable. For teenage students especially, poetry can open up spaces for self-expression while also developing sensitivity to language.

Some practical ways this can translate into the classroom include:

• using short, accessible poems as a springboard for discussion rather than comprehension testing
• inviting students to respond creatively—through a line, an image, or a personal connection—rather than focusing only on analysis
• offering optional extension tasks where more confident students experiment with writing their own verses, while others work with adapting or reshaping a model
• building in brief reflection stages where students consider not just what a text means, but how it makes them feel and why

Alongside the training sessions, I have also been working on teaching materials, revisiting activities, and refining ideas for future courses. Here, with time to think more deeply, the writing feels less mechanical and more purposeful. I have been simplifying tasks, clarifying reflection stages, and considering how to support different learners more effectively.

This process has brought me back, again and again, to the realities of the classroom. In every activity I design, I ask whether it will truly work—whether it will engage a tired group of teenagers, whether it will support those who need more guidance while still challenging those who are ready for more. These are the questions that shape useful materials, and having the time to reflect on them has been invaluable.

This period in Sierra de la Ventana has shown me once again that stepping away from routine can deepen professional understanding. Time spent in quiet reflection not only restores energy but also sharpens purpose. It allows ideas to develop more naturally and reveals connections that are often missed in the rush of everyday work.

As this course came to an end, I feel both a sense of accomplishment and a renewed sense of direction. Sometimes the most meaningful professional growth happens not in busy schedules or crowded calendars, but in moments of stillness—in places where there is enough space to think, reflect, and return to the work with greater clarity.

In that sense, these weeks have offered more than rest. They have offered perspective—personal and professional, closely intertwined. And that perspective, perhaps, is one of the most valuable things any teacher trainer can bring back to the work.