One of the parts of my ESC volunteering I look forward to most is school visits. Walking into a classroom and sharing the culture and history of Armenia with young people who have never encountered it before is something that never gets old. But among all the visits I've done so far, one stands out, and I want to tell you about it.
The moment I walked into the classroom at a primary school on Rejtana Street in Rzeszów, something in the atmosphere felt right. I started the way I always do: maps, photos, personal stories, anything that helps students actually picture a place rather than just hear about it. I took them through Armenia's history, its landscapes, its traditions passed down through generations, its food, its music, its dances. The students were quiet in the best possible way, the kind of quiet that means people are actually listening.
Then came the questions, and that's where the visit really came alive. They wanted to know what Armenian children do for fun, what our holidays look like, how daily life works. When I mentioned that Armenia has its own unique alphabet with 39 letters, the reaction in the room was immediate. Surprise, then curiosity, then the inevitable: can you teach us some words? So I did. "Barev" for hello, "shnorhakalutyun" for thank you, and then something that turned into one of the best moments of the whole visit: showing them how to write their own names in Armenian script.
Watching a group of kids see their names appear in a completely different alphabet, and then immediately trying to copy it themselves, is genuinely one of those moments that reminds you why this kind of work matters. The excitement in the room was real and completely unforced.
What made the conversation richer than usual was how naturally it moved in both directions. I wasn't just presenting Armenia, I was learning about Poland too. We talked about Christmas and Easter traditions, about how our school systems differ, about what we eat for breakfast. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, a room full of children from Rzeszów and a volunteer from Armenia found more common ground than anyone expected. Family, food, tradition, the things that feel specific to one culture until you realise they're not specific at all.
The teacher deserves a special mention. She was fully engaged throughout, helping guide the discussion in a way that made students feel confident enough to ask whatever came to mind. That kind of support changes the whole energy of a visit. It stops being a presentation and starts being a real exchange.
I left that classroom full of energy. That doesn't always happen after a school day, but it happened then. Moments like that one are exactly why I love volunteering, and exactly what cultural exchange is supposed to feel like.