Evy Ryan is an alumna 
of the Fulbright English Teaching Assistant Program. During the past academic year, she taught English at Stojanovo gymnázium in Velehrad. While most Fulbright ETAs are placed in medium-sized or smaller towns by U.S. standards, Velehrad, with just over 1,100 inhabitants, is among the smallest host communities in the program. The school is located within the grounds of a former Cistercian monastery, part of one of the Czech Republic's most significant historical and cultural landmarks. With approximately 270 students, many of whom live in the school's dormitories during the week and return home on weekends, the school offers a close-knit community unlike most educational settings. Evy also lived on the school campus throughout her grant, allowing her to experience daily life in Velehrad far beyond the classroom. Over time, she discovered that the most memorable lessons of her Fulbright year did not come from teaching alone, but from the generosity and acceptance she encountered in the community around her.
The story that best embodies the wonderfulness of my entire Fulbright experience happened on a Tuesday, at an elevation of 2,700 feet up the side of the steepest mountain I’ve ever climbed. I was 12 kilometers into what was supposed to be an 8-kilometer hike with the third-year students from my placement school, Stojanovo Gymnazium Velehrad. We were on our end-of-school “sports week” trip in Bovec, Slovenia - five beautiful days of hiking, white-water rafting, ziplining, and canyoning to usher in the end of the school year and the beginning of summer.
My co-teacher, Irena, had told me at the start of our hike that it would be a tough one - 700 meters of elevation gain - but much shorter than the trek we had done the previous day. The students separated into three groups - fast, middle, and slow. I would consider myself an athletic person, so I went in the middle group with Irena, and we started our trek upwards.
Photo: My coworker and friend Irena and I on a hike in Slovenia, June 2026.
3 hours, 7 kilometers, and 2 false ‘this must be the top of the mountain!’s later, my legs felt like jelly, my entire body was soaked in sweat, and we were still climbing at what felt like a 75-degree angle. We finally came out into a clearing overlooking the most beautiful view I had ever seen in my life, and I felt like I could relax. We had done it! Now, I just had to make it back down.
Irena gets a call, listens intently for a few minutes, and relays the message to me in English: “We just have one more part to go before we are at the top of the hike. It’s the steepest, most difficult part yet. Do you suffer from vertigo?” The path she pointed out for me to start up would have been challenging for even an experienced mountain goat. The hill was so steep that we were climbing on our hands and knees, and each step displaced loose gravel that rained down on the people behind us. I was grabbing at exposed roots to keep my balance, which soon covered my hands in sticky sap. The relief I felt when we finally, at long last, made it to the highest point in our hike was euphoric.
Photo: View from the top of our hike, in Tarvisio, Italy. Worth it! June 2026
As we slowly made our winding way back down the mountain toward the bus that would take us back to the camp, I thought about the things that I had noticed my students doing on this rigorous journey. Carrying each other’s heavy bags so their friends could have a short rest. Sharing their water bottles so nobody was thirsty. Climbing or walking behind a slower friend to reassure them that they wouldn’t fall. Pointing out tripping hazards to avoid and where the less muddy sections of trail were. Keeping their spirits high by singing songs or making jokes. Checking in with each other, and lending encouragement when it was needed - in Czech to their friends, and in English to me. I realized that their behavior on our hike was a small snapshot of what I had been experiencing and benefiting from all year via my students, coworkers, and Czech acquaintances - an all-encompassing thoughtfulness and generosity towards others.
I am no stranger to generous people. I am lucky to have been raised by a family generous with not only material things but also their time, energy, and love. But the generosity I felt from the people that I interacted with in the Czech Republic struck a different chord. I was a complete foreigner, someone who couldn’t speak their language, who knew next to nothing about their customs and culture, and yet I was treated with a kindness and consideration that I will remember for the rest of my life.
Photo: Spending time with Irena’s family and friends at a local cafe, October 2025.
My coworkers Irena, Sabina, and Viktor welcomed me into their lives and homes, even letting me spend time with their families and children. They purposefully and happily included me in events where my lack of knowledge of Czech would place an obligation on them as translators. They found me rides to and from special occasions; recommended helpful apps, restaurants, and grocery products; and patiently explained jokes and funny stories told around the lunch table by my Czech coworkers who didn’t speak English. I was introduced and welcomed into their friend groups, invited to cafes and on hikes and to church.
Photo: My coworker Sabina and I after one of her folklore performances.
Photo: My Fulbright mentor Viktor, who patiently answered all my questions and made my transitions as smooth as possible, August 2025.
It felt like this spirit of generosity came from all the people I met throughout my time in Velehrad. The bus drivers who patiently waited while I spoke my broken Czech and gestured wildly, helping me get where I needed to go. My students, who were curious about my experiences and willing to tell me about their own traditions or invite me to folklore festivals that they were performing in. Fellow passengers riding on trains who heard my English and tried (with greater or lesser success) to have a conversation with me that always started with, “So… where are you from?”
There are many lessons from living and teaching in Czechia that I hope to take back with me to my future in the United States, but the main one is this: give as much as you can, as often as you can, to others. I had come into my Fulbright year excited about all that I could bring to my school and students, but I quickly realized how much more I was gaining from the people around me.
When I received my school placement in June of 2025, my Fulbright coordinator Kristyna explained that the school I’d be teaching at was a Catholic school. I didn’t quite know what to expect given that the Czech Republic is rather secular, but I am Catholic, and I'd gone to a Catholic university in the U.S., so I wasn’t too worried. What I found upon my arrival and every day that I was there was a community of students and teachers who truly embody what I see as the main tenet of Christianity: welcome the stranger in your midst.
Photo: My first day of teaching at SGV, September 2025.
On one of the walls at Loyola Maryland, my alma mater, there are a few lines from St. Ignatius’s Prayer for Generosity: “Lord, teach me to be generous… to give, and not to count the cost.” The words have always made sense to me, but I can’t say that I really understood them until my time in the Czech Republic.