We Learn Culture by Living It: By Plaxides Namutami.

I arrived in Italy expecting to teach English. I didn’t expect everyday life to become my greatest teacher.

When I accepted the opportunity to spend part of my summer teaching English in Italy, I imagined the experience would challenge me professionally. I expected to facilitate lessons, support children from different backgrounds, and continue growing as someone studying Intercultural Management.

What I didn’t expect was that some of the biggest lessons would happen outside the classroom.

This time felt different from many of the transitions I had experienced before. Instead of constantly worrying about what would come next, I allowed myself to be present. I wasn’t thinking about my next career move every minute or trying to solve every challenge waiting for me back home. I gave myself permission to simply live.

Looking back, I think that made all the difference.

Before Italy, I thought learning about culture meant studying traditions, history, languages, or famous landmarks. Those things certainly matter. But after spending several weeks living there, travelling through different cities, working with international colleagues, and staying with a local host family, I realized that culture reveals itself most clearly through ordinary moments.

Not in museums.

Not in monuments.

Not in stereotypes.

But in the quiet routines that people repeat every single day.

The lessons around the dinner table

One of the things that stayed with me most wasn’t something anyone deliberately taught me.

It was watching families.

I noticed how often they made time to eat together. Breakfast wasn’t simply grabbing something before rushing out the door. Dinner wasn’t just another task to complete before going to bed. Meals became moments to reconnect, share conversations, laugh, and simply be together.

Parents showed up for their children’s activities even when life seemed busy. There was a sense of presence that I deeply admired.

It made me reflect on something we often overlook.

Our values are rarely communicated through speeches.

They’re communicated through habits.

The way we spend our evenings.

The conversations we make time for.

The people we consistently choose to show up for.

That, too, is culture.

Leadership is culture too

The classroom became another place where I found myself learning.

Throughout the summer, I worked under different supervisors, each with their own leadership style.

Some created space for creativity and trusted us to make decisions. Others preferred a more structured approach, following the program closely with little room for flexibility.

At first, I found myself resisting some of these differences. I naturally enjoy bringing my own ideas to the table, so adapting to more rigid leadership wasn’t always easy.

But over time I realized something important.

Leadership creates culture.

Long before we notice organizational policies or workplace values, we experience culture through the people who lead us.

The way leaders communicate.

The way they correct mistakes.

The trust they extend.

The freedom they allow.

Every leadership style creates an environment, and every environment shapes how people contribute within it.

As someone studying intercultural management, that was one of the most valuable lessons I brought home.

Sometimes, the students become the teachers

Of course, one of the biggest parts of my summer was working with the children themselves.

While I travelled between Ravenna, Gatteo, and Padova, I had the privilege of staying with different host families and teaching children from a variety of backgrounds. Every family welcomed me with warmth, and every child left me with a lesson of their own.

Although each household was different, , one thing remained constant: a genuine sense of togetherness. Whether it was sharing breakfast before the day began, sitting down for dinner in the evening, or simply making time for one another despite busy schedules, family wasn’t treated as an afterthought — it was simply part of everyday life. That quiet sense of unity stayed with me long after I left.

The children reminded me that no two learners are the same. Some were energetic and expressive, while others were naturally quiet and observant. I also worked with children who had different learning needs, including ADHD and other challenges, and the experience taught me that teaching isn’t about expecting everyone to learn in the same way. It’s about meeting each child where they are — with patience, empathy, and a willingness to adapt.

One thing that surprised me was how naturally music became our common language. Even when English wasn’t enough, singing together, sharing songs, and laughing over familiar melodies helped us build connections that went far beyond words. It reminded me that communication isn’t always about speaking the same language; sometimes it’s about creating a shared experience where everyone feels included.

There are a few children I’ll always remember. In Ravenna, I met a young girl who was incredibly kind and gentle. She often helped me without being asked, yet I could sense the pressure she placed on herself to be perfect. She admired classmates who could play musical instruments and quietly wondered whether she was talented enough. Yet when I saw her drawings, I realized she already had a gift — she simply couldn’t see it herself. That moment reminded me how easily we compare ourselves to the strengths of others while overlooking our own.

In Padova, I stayed with a vegetarian host family whose way of living was different from what I was used to. What stayed with me wasn’t simply their lifestyle, but the kindness, respect, and support they showed one another every day. Each family I stayed with was different, yet they all shared the same commitment to being present for one another. That consistency taught me more about Italian culture than any guidebook ever could.

Perhaps the children taught me one final lesson without even realizing it. Watching them step outside their comfort zones to learn English made me reflect on my own journey of learning French and German. If they could make mistakes without giving up, ask questions without fear, and keep trying despite not knowing all the answers, then I could do the same.

I arrived in Italy believing I was there to teach. I left realizing that some of my greatest lessons had come from the very people I thought I was teaching.

Sometimes, the people we think we’re teaching end up teaching us just as much.

The habits I didn’t expect to bring back

Some lessons were much smaller.

Yet somehow they have stayed with me the longest.

Breakfast became a non-negotiable part of my day.

Meals were often accompanied by water rather than sugary drinks.

Fresh fruit appeared naturally throughout the day.

Snacks have become a part of my day to day.

And yes — I discovered an entirely new appreciation for cheese.

These might seem like insignificant observations.

But they reminded me that culture quietly shapes wellbeing.

Sometimes transformation doesn’t arrive through dramatic life changes.

Sometimes it begins with ordinary habits that slowly become part of who we are.

I didn’t come home speaking fluent Italian.

I came home living a little differently.

Finding space for myself

Even while teaching, I still found myself thinking about my own business, future projects, and the goals I continue working towards.

There were moments when I wanted to squeeze everything into one day — work, exercise, personal projects, networking, and planning for the future.

Eventually, I realized I couldn’t do everything all at once.

And maybe I wasn’t supposed to.

Living in Italy reminded me that consistency isn’t about controlling every hour of the day. It’s about protecting the things that matter most while accepting that some seasons require flexibility.

I also realized that living well isn’t separate from building a meaningful career.

The two shape one another.

Coming home with more than memories

When I returned to Dijon, I found myself rebuilding my routines once again.

The familiar challenge of returning after travel was still there.

But this time, something felt different.

I wasn’t simply returning with photographs or stories.

I was returning with a different perspective on people, work, health, leadership, and community.

Italy didn’t change who I am.

It helped me notice parts of myself that were already there, while quietly introducing new ways of living that I hope to carry forward.

As I continue studying intercultural management, I’ve come to realize that cultural competence isn’t built only through textbooks or lectures.

It’s built by sharing meals with families.

By adapting to different leadership styles.

By walking unfamiliar streets.

By listening more than speaking.

By allowing yourself to experience life before trying to analyse it.

Perhaps that’s the greatest lesson this summer gave me.

Before, I believed we learned about culture by observing it.

Now, I believe we learn culture by living it.

And sometimes, the most meaningful lessons aren’t the ones we set out to learn.

They’re the ones waiting quietly in the ordinary moments we almost overlook. We learn culture by living it, and we learn as much from the people around us as they learn from us.