Mrs. Leslie Rhinehart
Polk County

”My name is Leslie Rhinehart, and I am one of two incredibly fortunate teachers from Polk County Middle School selected to participate in one of the most extraordinary professional learning experiences available to educators. I am especially grateful that my Burroughs Wellcome Career Award for STEM Teachers made it possible to fund this unforgettable journey. 

Every day has provided meaningful opportunities to learn, grow, and discover new ways to inspire my students, but today was truly unforgettable.

Like the days before it, the morning began with an early wake-up call, breakfast with fellow educators, and boarding the bus in eager anticipation of another incredible adventure. Our destination was the Elephant Café, located within Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park in Livingstone, Zambia, where we would experience something I had only dreamed about, meeting African elephants up close in a protected sanctuary.

Watching the elephant caretakers call these magnificent animals from the surrounding bush was a magical moment. Soon, four of the sanctuary’s six elephants emerged, calmly making their way toward us for treats and gentle interaction. To stand just inches away from such powerful yet graceful creatures was both humbling and awe-inspiring. Feeding them by hand, stroking their rough skin, and observing their intelligence and gentle nature created memories that will remain with me forever.

One of the most meaningful moments of the day was presenting the sanctuary with a small monetary donation collected by the students of Polk County Middle School. Knowing that my students played a role in supporting the care and protection of these incredible animals made the experience even more special. Animal welfare has always been one of my greatest passions, and contributing to conservation efforts on another continent filled my heart with gratitude and hope. This experience will become a powerful teaching tool as I help my students understand the importance of stewardship, wildlife conservation, and our shared responsibility to protect the natural world, whether in our own communities or halfway around the globe.

Leaving Zambia brought a mixture of excitement and sadness as we navigated the bustling border crossing into Zimbabwe. The journey included negotiating with local vendors for meaningful keepsakes, passing through customs, and saying goodbye to the wonderful people we had met throughout our travels. Each interaction reminded me that travel is about far more than seeing new places; it is about building connections, embracing different cultures, and developing a deeper appreciation for our shared humanity.

For our final afternoon in Africa, each group chose how they wanted to spend their remaining hours. I chose to stay near our beautiful hotel, quietly taking in the sights and sounds that had become so familiar over the past several days. Watching wildlife wander nearby while listening to the rippling water around us provided the perfect opportunity to reflect on this remarkable journey.

The evening concluded at the breathtaking Lookout Café, perched high above the Zambezi River, where I shared my last African experience with an incredible group of educators from across North Carolina. We laughed, reflected on our favorite experiences, shared desserts, and celebrated the friendships we had formed along the way. 

As I prepare to return home, I carry with me countless memories, fresh perspectives, and renewed enthusiasm for bringing these experiences into my classroom. My deepest thanks go to Global NC, our outstanding leaders Rachel Page and Grant Hairston, and our exceptional guide, Keith Holshausen, for creating an experience that will inspire both me and my students for years to come.”

Mrs. Michelle Lee
Pender County

“Most trips leave you with great pictures and good memories. Every now and then, though, you experience something that quietly changes the way you see the world. My time in Southern Africa gave me several of those moments. I had the opportunity to experience a place in ways that books and photographs never could. My day, which began in Zambia and ended in Zimbabwe, left me thinking about conservation in a way I never had before. More than anything, it reminded me that some of life’s greatest lessons come from the people willing to share their stories.

Our day began at The Elephant Café on the banks of the upper Zambezi River in Livingstone, Zambia, inside Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park, home to an elephant sanctuary near Victoria Falls. Standing just a few feet away from these magnificent animals was exciting and unlike anything I had ever experienced. We had the rare opportunity to observe, feed, and gently touch the elephants. Feeling the rough texture of an elephant’s trunk and watching one carefully take food from my hand is something I will never forget. It’s hard to describe how gentle they were. Standing that close to such a powerful animal is an experience I’ll always remember.

This sanctuary provides lifelong care for orphaned and injured elephants that could not survive in the wild because of poaching, drought, habitat loss, or human conflict. The sanctuary focuses on giving these elephants a good life while educating visitors about the importance of protecting wildlife. As we learned each elephant’s story, it became impossible to see them as “just elephants.” Each one had survived something most of us will never experience.

One unexpected highlight came after we finished feeding the elephants. Baboons had moved closer, waiting for the opportunity to collect any pieces of food that had fallen to the ground. They kept their distance while we interacted with the elephants, but the moment we stepped away, they quickly moved in to search for leftovers. It made me smile and reminded me that even the smallest moments reveal how connected nature really is.

I couldn’t help thinking about my students. We already learn about habitats and animal adaptations, but now I have stories to go with those lessons. I can tell them what an elephant’s trunk felt like, how quietly these massive animals moved, and why so many people dedicate their lives to protecting them. Those kinds of stories make science come alive in a way no textbook ever could.

Our next stop was across the border in Zimbabwe at Elephant’s Walk Shopping Village. While there were beautiful shops throughout the village, one of the stops that stayed with me most was the Mopane Snare Wire Jewelry project, an initiative of Children in the Wilderness in partnership with the Jafuta Foundation. The project works with local men and women to transform wire snares collected by anti-poaching teams into handcrafted jewelry, providing education, skills training, and sustainable employment. Every piece represents a snare that will never again injure wildlife. By creating alternative sources of income, the program helps reduce the need for subsistence poaching while supporting both wildlife conservation and local families.

When I held a bracelet made from recycled snare wire, it didn’t feel like just another souvenir. It represented an animal that would never be caught in that snare and a family who had another way to earn a living. I don’t think I’ll ever look at that bracelet the same way again. I cannot wait to share this story with my students as we explore engineering, sustainability, recycling, and creative problem-solving. It is a powerful example of how innovation can solve problems while supporting both people and wildlife.

After leaving Elephant’s Walk, I spent time exploring the nearby open-air market. The market itself was simple, with dirt floors and rows of handcrafted items displayed beneath tents and wooden shelters. Local artisans sold carved animals, woven baskets, paintings, jewelry made from natural resources, clothing, and other handmade goods.

As I wandered through the market, I kept noticing how little seemed to go to waste. Wood, stone, grasses, metal, bone, fabric, and recycled materials were transformed into beautiful works of art. It was impossible not to admire the creativity. Many of the vendors spend long days hoping to earn enough to support their families, yet they greeted us with kindness and genuine pride in their work. One part of the experience took me a little outside my comfort zone. Bartering is expected in the market, but I was hesitant at first because I didn’t want to unintentionally insult a vendor by offering too little. I finally admitted that to one of the vendors, and he smiled and told me to just make any offer as a starting point. That simple conversation put me at ease, and before long I was joining in the friendly back-and-forth. The experience wasn’t just about buying souvenirs—it was about connecting with people, learning their customs, and appreciating the skill and time behind every handcrafted item. 

As a STEM teacher, I couldn’t help but look at the carvings, baskets, and jewelry a little differently. Instead of simply seeing souvenirs, I found myself wondering where the materials came from and how someone had figured out how to transform them into something so beautiful. Sometimes, sustainability is about making the most of what you have. Their creativity showed that innovation doesn’t require endless supplies or expensive equipment; it begins with seeing possibilities in everyday materials. Those are lessons I hope to bring back to my classroom as my students design, build, and solve problems using the resources available to them. 

The final stop of the day brought us to one of Zimbabwe’s oldest living treasures, a huge baobab tree estimated to be nearly 1,200 years old. This remarkable tree, known as the “Big Tree,” was already centuries old before many of the historical events we teach occurred. Knowing that families have gathered beneath its branches for generations to share meals made from the baobab’s fruit reminded me that this extraordinary tree has not only stood the test of time but has also sustained and connected people for centuries. Standing beneath that tree felt like the perfect way to end the day. After everything we had seen, it reminded me that some of the greatest stories don’t need words at all.

On the drive back that evening, I realized I had seen the same theme over and over again. I saw hope in rescued elephants, in dangerous snares transformed into symbols of conservation, and in artisans using creativity to provide for their families. Everywhere we went, there were reminders that resilience isn’t just about surviving. It’s about finding a way to move forward. The elephants, the ancient baobab, and the people we met reminded me that healing is possible, that beauty can grow from brokenness, and that each of us has the ability to make a difference through the choices we make.

I’ll always treasure the photographs I took that day, but they’ll never tell the whole story. What I’ll remember most are the people I met, the conversations we shared, and the reminder that even small acts of care can make a lasting difference. Those are the things I’ll carry home with me to share with my students, friends, and family.

I am deeply thankful to the Susan Royster Global Teacher Fellowship for investing in educators like me and making experiences like this possible. Because of that generosity, my students won’t just learn about elephants, conservation, sustainability, and resourcefulness. They’ll hear stories from someone who fed rescued elephants, met the people working to protect them, and witnessed firsthand the remarkable resilience of Zimbabwe and its people. I hope those stories inspire them to look at our own world with a little more curiosity, compassion, and hope.”

Ms. Jessie Odom
Durham County

“Our day started with tea, eggs, toast, and a muffin at the lodge before we headed out at 7:50 a.m. for Thorntree, also known as the Elephant Café, an elephant sanctuary just outside of Livingstone. 

Six elephants live there now, but their story goes back further than I expected. Two of the older ones came from Zimbabwe, rescued as calves during the brutal drought of the 1980s. Local farmers took them in as pets, but elephants don’t stay small. Up until about seven years ago, guests to Thorntree could still ride them. That changed when people spoke up and said, plainly, that it was animal abuse. This advocacy led to a shift in perspective and today the philosophy is different: the elephants roam wherever they want during the day, and the staff just follow behind to keep them safe. “We let them be elephants,” one guide told us. 

There was a harder detail, too, pertaining to how these tamed elephants are conditioned with a gunshot fired into the air, the same sound that sends wild elephants running in the opposite direction. It’s the kind of contrast that sits with you. These elephants think everyone is friendly, but poaching for their prized ivory tusks continues to be a real threat. They can live 65 to 70 years. I stood close enough to look each of them in the eye, seeing their individual eyelashes and emotional expressiveness, and I won’t forget it. 

From there, we crossed the border from Zambia into Zimbabwe, a crossing that’s existed since 1905, and one that’s clearly still a lifeline, judging by the sheer number of cross-border traders and trucks lined up around us to cross a narrow, one-lane bridge. Our guide on the Zimbabwe side gave us the history along the way: after years without word from David Livingstone, Henry Stanley was sent to find him; Livingstone died in 1873. Livingstone so loved Africa that his heart was buried nearby the world-famous falls in a symbolic gesture of his love for the continent, while his body was transported 1500 miles back to Westminster Abbey. 

We arrived at Victoria Falls, a town of about 60,000 people, where the unofficial rule of the road is that animals have the right of way. There’s a quiet geographic joke locals will tell you: Zimbabwe has the view; Zambia owns the falls. Walking through town, the juxtaposition was hard to miss between the luxury lodges within walking distance of daily local life, an Apple store on one corner of the main intersection, and market vendors ready to match wits with any visitor looking to haggle. This town, someone in our group observed, doesn’t really cater to the people who live here, which is why so many walk the border bridge into Livingstone for purchasing their daily household goods. 

By afternoon, we reached the Shongwe Oasis Lookout, part of a three-hotel resort, and it was stunning, drawing an audible “whoa” out of everyone stepping off the bus. It was also our first real stretch of free time since Johannesburg, and the group scattered accordingly: some to the pool, some to the spa for a massage or facial, some to see the falls from the Zimbabwe side, some on a walking safari through the national park, and others to the market for a last round of shopping. Free time, it turns out, works a lot like differentiation in the classroom: same starting point, same amount of time, completely different paths depending on what each person needs.

Being eye to eye with an elephant is not something I can replicate with a worksheet, but the feeling underneath it is something I want my students to have access to anyway: the sense that you are standing next to something enormous, complicated, and worth paying close attention to. The schools and communities we’ve passed through have a fraction of the materials my classroom has, and yet the pride people carry in their schools and their culture is enormous; it radiates off people here in a way that has nothing to do with what they have and everything to do with who they are. Both moments taught me the same thing: presence and pride are never about what you have, but instead are about what you choose to notice, and what you choose to carry. 

Today felt like the trip catching its breath. After the pace of visiting multiple schools a day, the free time at Shongwe Oasis reminded all of us how much we’d been absorbing and how good it felt to simply sit with it for a few hours. But even in the “relaxing” parts of the day, there was no shortage of things to think about, from the ethics of animal tourism to a chaotic border crossing that’s carried people and goods for over a century to a town whose economy is built for tourists more than for its own residents. This program keeps doing that: handing us something beautiful and something complicated in the very same hour, and trusting us to hold both. 

This day, and every day like it, is only possible because of the generosity of the Borchardt Award. Their support is what makes it possible for a Triangle teacher like me to stand eye to eye with an elephant, cross national borders, and come home with stories that will shape my classroom for years. I’m deeply grateful for their investment in educators and in the belief that what we experience, our students experience too.”