Read by Matilda Longbottom

If there’s one thing I truly took away from high school—besides an appreciation for patience, persistence, and the occasional cow pie—it’s the unforgettable memories I made in the countryside.

Now, I know what you might be thinking: High school? Countryside? In what century? Well, let me reassure you, this wasn’t a “Little House on the Prairie” reenactment. I studied at a very real, very present-day agrotechnical semi-boarding school. Yes, they still exist. Yes, there was livestock. And yes, there was a fair amount of itchiness.

One of my favorite school memories comes from a chemistry assignment we had on distilled oils and alcohols. Someone thought it would be a great idea to collect plants and distill our own extracts as a hands-on learning experience. With our school plopped right in the middle of nowhere—surrounded by wild fields, abandoned houses, and plenty of overgrown nature—plant hunting was not a problem. Getting a bunch of teenagers to focus on the actual science, however, was another story.

We split into groups and set off into the fields, trying to gather as many different species as possible. My group drew the short straw: we were tasked with collecting ivy. If you’ve never had the pleasure, ivy is like a botanical prankster—loaded with tiny splinters and just enough itch to make you question your life choices. I tried to extract a plant carefully, root and all, while doing my best not to touch the stem. Nearby, I could hear the unmistakable nasal whisper of a classmate we affectionately called “The Devil.” His nickname wasn’t ironic—he really was bad at everything.

And then came the scream.

We all turned to see one of our classmates jumping around in a frenzy, slapping at his backside and trying to yank ivy leaves out of his pants. A few meters away, The Devil himself was waving his hand like it was on fire, trying to rid himself of ivy splinters—while denying he had anything to do with it. Classic Devil.

Soon, chaos erupted. The itchy classmate grabbed another nearby kid with one hand, scratched furiously with the other, and took off in hot pursuit of The Devil, who ran until—of course—he tripped and face-planted directly into a pile of cow poop. And I mean directly.

Before The Devil could regain his dignity, the itchy pursuer seized the moment and slapped an ivy leaf right onto his back. You know, to return the favor.

By the time our teacher arrived on the scene, she was laughing so hard she didn’t even try to discipline us. Sometimes, the best learning moments have nothing to do with textbooks—or in our case, chemistry.

That day, we all came away with more than a few welts and a reminder that nature can itch back. But it was also a day that reminded me why I loved being there: no phones, no screens, just us, the outdoors, and a moment of pure, ridiculous joy. ❖

About the Author: Máxima Franco spent seven unforgettable years studying at a semi-boarding agricultural school tucked away in the Argentine countryside (C.E.P.T. of Hunter, Rojas). There, she learned not only how to work the land but how to grow patience, humor, and lifelong friendships. She writes to preserve those memories and remind others of the magic in muddy boots, itchy plants, and laughter without Wi-Fi.