Folkehøjskole. Try pronouncing that. Between orientations at Georgetown and arriving in Copenhagen, one hears many variations on how to pronounce this word correctly. The “ø” is notoriously hard—many Danes suggest pretending as if you had a potato in your throat.
A folkehøjskole, or folk high school, is an institution forming an alternative education system in Denmark and some other Scandinavian countries. The idea finds it origins in Nikolaj Grundtvig, a Danish pastor influenced by the European Enlightenment. High school graduates (about 18 years old) and older can choose to spend however long living at a folk high school and studying subject matters of their choice, all while receiving no grades! The emphasis Grundtvig put on the folk high school was learning for the sake of learning and then working as educated individuals for the greater good of society.
Academics aside though, what does it mean to live at a folkehøjskole? I was lucky to be one of the few Americans living at Grundtvigs Folkehøjskole. Along with 10 other American students, we have been accompanied by and lived along side 70 Danish students coming from many walks of life. We live together, we eat together, we even do dishes and cook together. From the first meal, there exists a sense of community and interest in one another. International students from Japan, Syria, and Iran convey their cultural memories through food or presentations. Danish students share the differences between being born in Copenhagen and being born in rural Denmark.
Students and teachers interact constantly, forming relationships centered on mutual respect. Teachers are called by their first names. They eat with students and sometimes even drink with students. While this habit shocked many of the Americans at first, it makes much more sense now knowing that teachers see students as their equals and as peers. Winter months are spent having snowball fights interspersed with intense games of foosball and indoor soccer (futsal). Crossfit features twice a week where people who have always been athletic have fun exercising (Yes! Fun!) with people who are trying intensive exercise for the first time. I have witnessed collaboration on grand projects, where many students work together to create music festivals and organize large charity events to raise money for Syrian refugees. After the Paris terrorist attacks, students at the højskole came together to raise money and honor the memory of those who perished.
So what is daily life like at a folkehøjskole? This question is somewhat of a misnomer because there is one theme that recurs everyday: people trying to make the ordinary into the extraordinary. Students here turn a drab rainy day into a time to sit around a cozy fire and have magnificent discussions on physics or film. A musician and a photographer will come together to create an art exhibit that expresses an athlete’s views on work ethic. Crossword enthusiasts turn solving the puzzle of the day into a 30-person game of charades. The daily activities that happen are anything but ordinary. At a folkehøjskole, one takes what is given and transforms it and discovers something new.
I leave in less than a week from now, and I find myself constantly searching to identify how best to spend these last few days in the company of people I have come to call friends and companions. Do I watch a Danish movie, or do I help in the kitchen? Do I help photography students with lighting, or do I listen to stories told by my new friends on a giant bed composed of six mattresses? The biggest problem is that I cannot find one activity I want to dedicate the rest of my time here to. In that sense the concept of the folkehøjskole, to find a passion or a skill, has been lost on me. And yet, precisely because I have found so many new interests and new skills, I believe that I have learned as much as I could have from this experience.