Where Stories Live: Travel Ideas for the English Teacher

By Dianne Dunchie-Coley

There are places in the world that live first in our imagination, shaped not by photographs or postcards but by the pages of books and the voices of teachers. For me, travel has always been tied to literature. When I picture where I most want to go, I find myself drawn not only to cities and landmarks but also to the stories that unfolded there, the texts I studied, and the lessons I now teach.

On my vision board are places that have intrigued me since my school days at St Hugh’s High School in Kingston, Jamaica. One such place is Venice. I first encountered Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice as a  Grade Ten student, and I was fascinated not only by the story but also by the idea of a city built on water. Years later, when I taught the play to a spirited group of Grade Nine boys at Kingston College, I found myself imagining how powerful it would be to stand on the Rialto Bridge or wander through the Jewish Ghetto, places that shaped Shakespeare’s world and his characters.

Another destination that has long captured my imagination is Auschwitz-Birkenau, along with other Holocaust memorials across Europe. Like many students, I first learned of these places through The Diary of Anne Frank. Her words offered an intimate glimpse into a life lived in fear but also in hope. As a student, I often wondered what it might feel like to walk through the spaces she wrote about. As a teacher, I recognise how standing in those places could transform the way I approach teaching her diary or Elie Wiesel’s Night. A visit to Auschwitz, with its barracks, gates, and solemn silence, would not be a typical journey. It would be an act of remembrance, and a profound lesson in empathy.

As I write, I cannot help visualising my lecturer, Peter Maxwell, and the way his eyes lit up as he taught. I also see the faces of my batchmates, particularly Juliet Wilson, who listened intently and absorbed every word that fell from his lips. It was in those classes that my fascination with Shakespeare deepened, especially during my years at Shortwood Teachers’ College, where I studied Linguistics and Literature and was introduced to the richness of the Elizabethan world.

Then there is Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre in London. To sit in the Globe and watch a play staged as it might have been four centuries ago feels to me like an essential pilgrimage for any teacher of English. I imagine the immediacy of the performance, the closeness between actor and audience, and the vitality that is so often lost when Shakespeare is confined to a page.

For me, travel is not merely about seeing new places. It is about stepping into history and literature and allowing those experiences to enrich what I bring back to my students. In London, a visit to the Globe could inspire students to stage scenes using minimal props and direct audience engagement. In Venice, photographs of the canals and bridges could anchor discussions of The Merchant of Venice and its themes of justice and prejudice. In Auschwitz, the silence of memorial spaces could inform reflective writing, helping students to understand why remembrance matters and how literature preserves voices that history tried to silence.

These journeys, whether taken in person or imagined, remind us why we teach. Literature is not a static body of text; it is living, rooted in place, and connected to human experience. It belongs as much to the theatres, bridges, and memorials of the world as it does to our classrooms.

In the near future, I will check these destinations off my vision board. When I do, I know I will return not only with photographs but also with renewed insights, stories, and a deeper capacity to show my students that literature is alive, and that it asks us not only to read but to remember, to imagine, and to engage.