Introduction: From Gravel Roads to City Blocks

When you grow up in a small town, you get used to waving at every car that passes, hearing crickets at night, knowing exactly how long it takes to walk from the grocery store to the library, and knowing exactly what everyone’s up to. Cities? They feel like another planet.

And yet, this homeschool road life keeps throwing me into the heart of one city after another.

Seattle’s skyline rises up like it has something to prove. San Francisco is a real-life rollercoaster with hills that could qualify as hikes. And then there’s St. Augustine—a city, yes, but one that felt like it borrowed its soul from a storybook.

At first, I thought city stops would just be places to sleep before our next hike or National Park. But I’ve learned they carry their own kind of lessons. I’m learning in everyday moments—in crowded sidewalks, museum corners, and coffee shops filled with voices and accents I don’t recognize.

Every city has shaped me a little. Some were loud and chaotic. Some, oddly peaceful. But each one reminded me that homeschooling doesn’t always look like a quiet desk in a sunlit room. Sometimes it looks like rush-hour traffic, crumpled maps, or taking notes in a noisy café with a view of a bridge you can’t pronounce.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I also wouldn't trade the flexibility at NCC for anything either. It has made all the difference in my homeschool journey. Stay with me, I’ll share more soon.

Seattle: A Tale of Two Cities

Seattle felt like two totally different places.

First, there was the city part—downtown and Pike Place Market. Everyone talks about it like it’s a must-see, but honestly? It felt a little overrated. Sure, the fish-tossing guys were fun for a second, but the crowd, the noise, the parking nightmare—it all made me want to crawl back into the RV and drive somewhere quieter.

But then… we got out of the city center.

We drove along the Puget Sound, and everything changed. Water stretched out for miles. We found a quiet place to sit, watch the clouds, and eat the best fish fry of the trip. It felt like Washington was finally showing us what made it special. And on a clear day, seeing Mount Rainier rise above the skyline? That view did something to my heart (Sidenote: There’s a song by an artist that I like called Monsters of the North that was written about Seattle. It’s by The National Parks, go give it a listen!).

This stop taught me something I never learned in a textbook: not every place is for everyone—but every place has something to teach you. Even the "meh" moments matter. I learned how to be patient, how to spot beauty when it’s not obvious, and how to shake off a rough start. Seattle was a lesson in staying open and curious—two things that matter way more than liking every stop on the map.

San Francisco: Beauty That Catches You Off Guard

San Francisco felt like a painting I accidentally walked into. From the moment we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, everything popped. The water, the sky, even the rooftops looked brighter. After Seattle’s cloudy vibe, the sunshine here felt like a personal gift.

We started exploring neighborhoods first—the steep hills, pastel houses, and winding roads made it feel like a movie. I didn’t even mind walking uphill, because every time we turned around, the view got better. One of my favorite moments was just standing still and letting the wind whip my hair while the city buzzed below.

And let’s talk landscape—San Francisco is wild in the best way. The city rises and falls like a wave, and somehow, it all works. There’s ocean on one side, giant trees in the parks, and painted homes lined up like they’re waiting to be admired. The whole place felt like it had something to say, without needing to shout.

San Francisco reminded me that your surroundings really do shape your thoughts. Just walking around made me feel more awake—like I was tuned in to things I usually overlook. I ended the day with tired legs and a full heart.

St. Augustine: A Small Town Wrapped in Big Stories

I didn’t expect to love St. Augustine as much as I did. It’s one of those places that sneaks up on you—in the best way. At first glance, it just looked like another Florida stop with some history signs and a lot of tourists. But once we stepped onto the old streets, something shifted.

St. Augustine calls itself the oldest city in America, and you can feel it. Cobblestone roads. Spanish-style buildings, and weathered churches that have stood through centuries of change. We didn’t rush through it. We walked slowly, reading signs, ducking into little shops, and soaking in the details that most people probably miss when they’re in a hurry.

The Spanish architecture made me feel like I was somewhere else entirely. The courtyards, the tiles, the bright flowers climbing up old stone walls—it was history you could walk through. It felt alive. Not just something to study but something to stand in. I even overheard a local talking about how some of the family lines go back to original Spanish settlers. That stopped me. It made me realize how deep stories can go, and how much we miss when we skim past them.

But what really struck me? Even with the crowds, St. Augustine felt small-town. People said hello as they passed. The ice cream shop owner made real conversation. And there was space to breathe and think.

This place taught me that history is personal. It’s not just about dates. It’s about decisions, legacies, and the quiet strength of people who built something meant to last.

How Comp I Helped Me Fall in Love with Writing

If I had to pick a class that quietly changed everything, it would be Composition I. It wasn’t flashy. No concerts or debates or complicated readings—just me, my laptop, and a blank document. But it did something I didn’t expect. It lit the spark.

Traveling through cities while enrolled in Comp I gave me the best material. I didn’t have to imagine scenes from books—I had them in front of me. Street performers in Seattle, the fog curling around San Francisco’s hills, the smell of salt and stone in St. Augustine. I started to see writing not just as schoolwork, but as a way to hold onto these moments.

One assignment asked us to describe a meaningful place. I didn’t even hesitate. I wrote about a tiny café we stumbled into after walking all morning in St. Augustine—wobbly chairs, strong coffee, and the way the light hit the old bricks on the wall. The words came easier than I thought they would.

That class showed me how to turn observations into sentences. How to look closer. And how to find a voice that sounded like me.

Spiritual Reflection: God of the Hills and the Hustle

San Francisco has this rhythm that’s hard to describe. It’s fast, yes—but also layered. The streets rise and fall like waves, and the wind seems to carry stories. One day, we walked for what felt like miles up one of those steep hills. I was out of breath, hair sticking to my face, and honestly kind of grumpy. But when we reached the top, I turned around.

And wow.

There it was—the whole city stretched out beneath us. Fog draped the bay like a soft blanket, and the Golden Gate peeked through like it was trying to say, Look! You made it.

It reminded me of this verse:

“For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also.” – Psalm 95:3–4 (ESV)

Even in a city as packed and busy as San Francisco, God was there—in the climb, in the view, and in the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

It’s funny how cities teach you that stillness doesn’t always mean stopping. Sometimes, it just means noticing. Noticing the sky between buildings, the kindness in a stranger, or the quiet truth that God is guiding every step—even on the crooked streets of San Francisco.

Why NCC Works on the Road

One of the biggest reasons I’ve been able to keep learning while traveling is Northwest Iowa Community College. Their online courses have let me study from anywhere—whether that’s a quiet RV park or a busy library in the middle of a city. The flexibility is real. I can plan my school around hikes, museums, or city walks without falling behind.

The classes are still challenging (trust me, writing about Handel and analyzing deep essays is no joke), but they fit into this unique life I’m living. And the instructors? Super understanding, even when Wi-Fi is spotty or when classwork has to happen from a picnic table.

If you’re a homeschooler, roadschooler, or just someone who wants to learn while exploring, NCC makes that possible.

Closing Thoughts: Lessons from the City Streets

Traveling through cities like Seattle, San Francisco, and St. Augustine taught me more than I expected. I saw the grit and the beauty, the hard and the holy. I learned that not all learning happens at a desk—and not every city is the same.

Seattle reminded me that first impressions can change, especially when you seek out the good. San Francisco showed me that the climb is worth it, even when it’s hot and steep. And St. Augustine gave me a new favorite, small town but big city feel—proof that big lessons can still come from places that feel like home.

Alongside these moments, I kept working through college courses—writing my heart out in Comp I and Comp II, studying composers in Music Appreciation, and realizing that self-guided learning isn’t about doing it alone. It’s about staying interested wherever life takes you.

And that’s what this post is all about: learning in everyday moments, whether you're navigating a crowd, hiking a hill, or finding peace on a bench by the sea.

If you’re looking for a flexible, travel-friendly education like mine, Northwest Iowa Community College might be your next step. Their online classes work around your real life—and help you grow along the way.

👉 Click here to request more information from NCC and start your journey today.