Written by Maksym Panchokha

When I for the first time came to my first L&T session, I was sincerely surprised. In school in Ukraine (I studied in an ordinary public lyceum) the classes always looked the same: the teacher tells us something — we write down; there is a correct answer — there is an incorrect one; about “thinking aloud” or “sharing doubts” there was not even a talk. Therefore, when the L&T instructor began the workshop with the question “What did you notice in the text? What caught your attention?”, I honestly did not know what to say. I for the first time encountered a format where there did not exist a correct way to read the text — there was only my way.

One of the brightest moments became the “free writing.” For me this was absolutely new. They gave us a short prompt, and we simply wrote for 5–10 minutes without stopping, not editing, not thinking about a grade or mistakes. At first I was nervous — in school we were taught to write only “correctly” and “neatly.” But precisely free writing allowed me for the first time to see how a thought is born during the very process of writing. Now, when I study at Bard, this is one of the tools that I use most often — in preparation for seminars, in work on essays, even during internships at the UN or the Ministry of Finance.

I especially remembered the texts with which we worked — excerpts from ancient dramas, contemporary essays, short stories that required very attentive reading. But more important than the texts themselves was the atmosphere: each student had the right to their own view, and each view was a reason for conversation. The strongest feeling for me was equality — regardless of whether you are from a small Ukrainian town or came from another country, everyone began from zero, but with great freedom to think and to search for meaning.

The moment when I for the first time felt confidence to share my ideas was rather ordinary: a usual discussion after free writing. I was not sure that my thought was interesting. But when other students picked it up and began to ask questions, I for the first time felt — my words can be useful, they open something for others. This feeling strongly changed my approach to learning. I stopped being afraid of a “wrong answer.” I began to focus on how I think, and not on whether this corresponds to a “correct interpretation.”

Work in small groups also was absolutely new for me. In school group work most often reduced itself to “someone one person does — everyone receives a grade.” At L&T it was different: the work was truly shared. We created maps of ideas, compared our notes from marginalia, debated in such a way that each phrase became part of a bigger picture. This taught me to listen — not simply to wait until I can say my own, but to truly hear another person.

Outside the academic part there were activities that helped me feel community. We together went to museums, walked in the botanical garden, took part in team games and discussions of films — all this created an atmosphere in which no one felt like a stranger.

For me, as a student who arrived into a completely new environment, this was extraordinarily important. And even after finishing L&T I often recalled this experience: precisely there I learned to be more open in discussions and more confident in my own voice.

If to compare L&T with school lessons in Ukraine, the difference is colossal. In school we mostly work on reproduction of information. In L&T they taught us to work with uncertainty. Not to repeat — but to ask questions. Not to search for one “correct answer” — but to search for ways to think deeper. And I believe that precisely this is often lacking now in Ukrainian education: space for mistakes, creativity, and discussion.

When I began studies at Bard College, I understood how much this summer experience gave me. I was ready for seminars, for the fact that from me they would expect my own position, for the fact that texts need not simply to be “read,” but to be lived through. L&T became for me a bridge between school and university. But even more important — it changed my attitude toward learning. I began to see education not as a process of accumulating facts, but as a way to understand the world, other people, and myself.

And honestly, precisely for this reason I so recommend this program to Ukrainian pupils. It gives that which often is lacking — confidence in one’s own thinking. And this is a skill that stays with you forever.*

Written on Nov. 18, 2025