Getting around in Hyderabad is always an adventure. From crossing 8 lanes of full-speed traffic to colliding with a motorbike during a late-night auto rickshaw ride, getting from point A to point B often includes moments of mingled terror and excitement. The bus, our most frequently-used form of transportation, is by far the most unpredictable. Sometimes it’s so crowded that you miss your stop because you can’t squeeze your way out. Sometimes a fight breaks out because a man refuses to give up his seat in the section of the bus reserved for women. And very often, people jump into the open doors of moving buses. Recently, I decided to mimic this last behavior. I was headed to class, almost but not quite at the bus stop when I saw the 8A, my ride to school, begin to pull away. In the few seconds of sprinting to close the distance between us, I psyched myself up to do something I had seen so many others before me accomplish. I leapt onto the bus, just barely making it onto the step. My body slammed against the side of the bus and I gripped the railing for dear life. When I finally managed to pull myself inside, I was met with a mix of shocked, confused and concerned faces. But along with a wave of embarrassment and a badly bruised leg came another important lesson about life in India: things won’t always stop for you. Sometimes you just have to jump in.

This is definitely a lesson I’ve had to put into practice in the classroom. Holidays and a collection of unexpected hurdles have made working on schedule for our first project a challenge. But time doesn’t stop to give me another 20 minutes to talk about point of view or another week to get to know my students before I ask them to photograph their hopes, worries and desires. As a class, we’ve had to jump onto this bus already in motion. But unlike the gasps, chuckles, and stares that greeted me on the 8A, our big jump has produced two projects I can’t wait to share, and a level of trust between myself and the students I could not have imagined to find so early.

This new ease with jumping carried beautifully into our plans for this past weekend. The majority of my travel experiences have taken months of planning and preparation. But in this life of objects already in motion, deciding on Sunday to go to Mumbai on Wednesday  seemed perfectly reasonable. And though the overnight bus did stop to allow me, Karis and Dara to climb on safely, the experience still required a leap. The decision to jump is always rewarded, whether by a weekend full of memories, a productive and supportive classroom, or a fun story and battle scar. In all cases, I’m glad I managed to coax my feet off the ground.