Water and ice.

As a child, I was late in learning to read but once I was given that gift I consumed books and dreamed of a world far beyond the little hollow of I Davis Creek in West Virginia, where I lived. I wanted to see that world. And, to a large extent, I have.

Dreams led to effort and effort led to opportunities, and those opportunities have allowed me to travel to the ends of the earth. One of my recent trips took me there literally. I went to the bottom of the world, Antarctica, a place that lives in imagination but is largely inaccessible.

I wanted to go there because it would be my seventh continent, but I got more than I expected. As with most of my travels, I learned things I didn't expect to learn. Once again I learned a lot about what I do back home and a little about the place I visited. It is a shame that so many Americans have a limited experience with travel. Travel has made me more humble, less arrogant and more open to the mysteries of the world and the people in it. I have come to understand there are lots of ways to be and each must be honored.

Breathtaking Sights

In the case of Antarctica, I have to admit there weren't a lot of people there to learn from or honor and the lessons were more spiritual. When people learned I was planning to go, they usually had just one question: Why? I found my interest and curiosity were rarely matched by others. I heard a lot of, "Who in his right might mind would want to visit such a desolate and Godforsaken place?" "Isn't it freezing?" and "What's to see? There isn't anything there."

Oh, what you missed! Yes, it was a bit chilly, but you can only visit there in the Antarctic "summer," which I must admit does broaden my definition of summer to the stretching point. It is cold, but no worse that much of the winters most of us experience here. And what is there to see? Nothing? Everything.

I have seen a lot of the world at this point and experienced many places of great beauty, but I have never seen anyplace more breathtakingly beautiful than the mountains, glaciers and icebergs of Antarctica. The mountains soar up above the ocean thousands of feet in shapes that may be seen on the moon but not many places on this earth. The glaciers are thousands of feet thick and so numerous they bear no names. Some are at water level and, in the Antarctic summer, they calve off into the water creating icebergs. Sadly, with the earth's surface getting warmer, that process has speeded up and more bergs are not a good thing.

Far from being God-forsaken, Antarctica is a place that is more like God made it than any other spot I have ever seen. It is the way the earth was before humans came along and mucked it up. The icebergs, some as big as cities, are each carved into unique shapes and some were so deep blue it requires a new word to describe it. The water is so clear you can look to the bottom of the ocean, and the animals there live in a harmony we humans could learn from. And there is a serenity there that demands attention be paid to what is being seen. I found my usual frenetic Washington busyness being slowed to a near stop as I spent hours just being.

One evening we sailed through what the crew called "Iceberg Alley" and saw a parade of thousands of bergs, each spectacular and unique. They were God's ice carvings. One looked like Snoopy, another like the Sydney Opera House and on and on. Here we were, a bunch of adults running from side to side of the ship like excited school children, but awed into silence with what we were seeing. The exception came when someone discovered a berg looked like something--much as we did as children looking at clouds in the sky. Often we would pass bergs with dozens of penguins on them--just "chilling" in the most literal sense.

Worthy Effort

But one of the greatest lessons was not found there. It was gained by the trip there and back.

For the sake of honesty I have to admit that getting to Antarctica was a challenge. It wasn't so much the long flight to Buenos Aires and then another long flight to Ushuaia, which is the southernmost city in the world and sits at the end of Tierra del Fuego. The flights were child's play. It was the two-day cruise each way across the Drake Passage that was most memorable.

Quite simply, the Drake Passage is the roughest water in the world. Imagine a two-day cruise in a washing machine--set on high. To say you are tossed around is like saying that having a tooth pulled is a bit uncomfortable. One night I was literally tossed out of bed and awoke as I slid down the wall to the floor. Several folks were injured by slamming doors and by tumbling furniture. But once there, the trip was worth it.

That struck me as the real lesson--anything worth having or experiencing is worth the effort. And the harder the effort, the greater the worth.

Our work could be a lot like this trip. We experience the best of God's creations by serving children. Sometimes they are awesome to behold; sometimes they seem a little scary. But getting them to where they need to be maybe a tough trip but one that is worth the effort. And like the ice that is created from frozen water, the transformation of children from what they bring with them to unique works of art is the beauty of our work.

Paul Houston is AASA executive director. E-mail: [e-mail]