Author: Shawnette Brown

One of the highlights of my time in Washington, D.C., was visiting the National Building Museum. Even before stepping inside, I was impressed by the grandeur of the building itself. Its massive interior, soaring ceilings, and beautiful architectural details immediately captured my attention.

During a guided tour, I learned that the building was originally budgeted at approximately $250,000 but ultimately cost considerably more to complete. Our guide shared fascinating stories about the construction process, including engineering challenges involving the roof and ceiling that delayed the project’s completion. One of the most interesting facts I learned was that the enormous columns, which appear to be carved from marble, are actually made of brick covered with plaster and painted to create the illusion of marble. It was an incredible example of craftsmanship and architectural ingenuity.

Unfortunately, I ran out of time during my first visit, but even the summer heat couldn’t keep me away. I returned later because there was simply too much left to explore.

One exhibit that I found especially meaningful focused on the Tuskegee Chapel and the remarkable partnership between Booker T. Washington and Julius Rosenwald. Learning how they worked together to help build thousands of schools for African American children throughout the South was both inspiring and educational. Their collaboration demonstrated the power of education, philanthropy, and community investment in creating opportunities for future generations.

One of my favorite exhibits was Brick City. As the advisor for a LEGO Club at my school, I was absolutely fascinated. The detailed LEGO models of famous buildings and cities from around the world were incredible works of art and engineering. I found myself taking as many pictures as I could to share with my students this fall. I know they’re going to love seeing how something as familiar as LEGO bricks can be transformed into breathtaking architectural masterpieces.

Another exhibit invited visitors to think about the meaning of “home.” Rather than simply focusing on the physical structure of a house, it encouraged us to reflect on what truly makes a place feel like home. It was a thoughtful reminder that home is shaped by people, memories, culture, and community as much as by bricks and mortar.

I also spent time exploring an exhibit that featured drone footage of major cities during the COVID-19 pandemic. Seeing normally bustling cities nearly empty was both fascinating and sobering. I was especially excited to see Philadelphia included among the featured cities, providing a unique perspective on how communities experienced an unprecedented moment in history.

One of the most enjoyable parts of the museum was simply watching children play in the museum’s interactive spaces. Seeing their creativity come alive as they designed, built, experimented, and imagined with bricks reminded me that play is one of the most powerful forms of learning. It was wonderful to watch curiosity, collaboration, and problem-solving unfold right before my eyes.

As an educator, I left the National Building Museum with countless ideas for my classroom. The museum beautifully connects architecture, engineering, history, mathematics, art, design, and storytelling, demonstrating how learning becomes even more meaningful when subjects are integrated.

If you’re planning a visit to Washington, D.C., I highly recommend adding the National Building Museum to your itinerary. Whether you’re interested in architecture, history, engineering, education, or simply enjoy discovering unique museums, there is truly something here for everyone. I know I’ll be back again, because one visit simply wasn’t enough.

One of the unexpected highlights of my travels was having the opportunity to visit two different Chinatowns in less than a week. After exploring Chinatown in Chicago, I found myself walking through Chinatown in Washington, D.C., as I was staying a ten minute walk from there. While both communities celebrate Chinese culture and heritage, each has its own unique character and story.

There is something special about visiting a Chinatown. Beyond the restaurants and shops lies a rich history of immigrants who came to the United States seeking opportunity while working hard to preserve their language, traditions, and culture. These neighborhoods represent generations of perseverance, entrepreneurship, and community. Visiting these communities reminds me that history is not only found in museums—it is also found in the neighborhoods where people have built lives, businesses, and lasting legacies.

One of my favorite things is seeing signs written in both Mandarin and English. It serves as a beautiful reminder that two cultures can exist side by side, honoring heritage while welcoming visitors from around the world. And, of course, no visit to Chinatown feels complete without stopping to take a picture beneath the iconic Chinatown gate.

During my visit, I wandered into a neighborhood Chinese market that quickly became one of my favorite stops. The store was filled with everything from teas, vitamins, dried foods, and beautiful tea sets to cookware, chopsticks, decorations, and everyday household items. It wasn’t designed as a tourist attraction—it was clearly a place where members of the community came to shop for daily life. I found that authentic experience fascinating because it offered a glimpse into the rhythms of the neighborhood and the traditions that continue to be passed from one generation to the next.

As someone who loves learning about different cultures, I find experiences like this incredibly meaningful. Every opportunity I have to learn more about Chinese culture, community, and heritage is one that I gladly embrace. Each visit adds another layer of understanding and appreciation. As an educator, these experiences help me become more culturally responsive and better equipped to help my students appreciate the diverse histories, traditions, and contributions of the communities around them.

Travel continues to remind me that learning doesn’t only happen in museums or classrooms. Sometimes it happens while walking through a neighborhood, browsing the shelves of a local market, listening to different languages, or simply taking the time to observe and appreciate the stories that have shaped a community for generations. Those are often the experiences that stay with me the longest.

One of the unexpected highlights of my travels was having the opportunity to visit two different Chinatowns in less than a week. After exploring Chinatown in Chicago, I found myself walking through Chinatown in Washington, D.C. While both communities celebrate Chinese culture and heritage, each has its own unique character and story.

There is something special about visiting a Chinatown. Beyond the restaurants and shops lies a rich history of immigrants who came to the United States seeking opportunity while working hard to preserve their language, traditions, and culture. These neighborhoods represent generations of perseverance, entrepreneurship, and community.
One of my favorite things is seeing signs written in both Mandarin and English. It serves as a beautiful reminder that two cultures can exist side by side, honoring heritage while welcoming visitors from around the world. And of course, no visit to Chinatown feels complete without stopping to take a picture by the iconic Chinatown gate.
During my visit, I wandered into a neighborhood Chinese market that quickly became one of my favorite stops. The store was filled with everything from teas, vitamins, dried foods, and beautiful tea sets to cookware, chopsticks, decorations, and everyday household items. It wasn’t designed as a tourist attraction, but it was clearly a place where members of the community came to shop for daily life. I found that authentic experience fascinating because it offered a glimpse into the rhythms of the neighborhood and the traditions that continue to be passed from one generation to the next.
Every opportunity I have to learn more about Chinese culture, community, and heritage is one that I gladly embrace. Each visit adds another layer of understanding and appreciation. As an educator, I believe experiences like these help me become more culturally responsive and better equipped to help my students appreciate the diverse histories and traditions that make up our communities.
Travel reminds me that learning doesn’t only happen in museums or classrooms. Sometimes it happens while walking through a neighborhood, browsing the shelves of a local market, or simply taking the time to observe, listen, and appreciate the stories that have shaped a community for generations.

Last summer was absolutely jam-packed, and I simply couldn’t fit everything into my schedule. I’m so grateful that I was able to attend the American Society of Landscape Architects (ASLA) Design Academy for educators in Washington, D.C.

If you’ve followed my professional journey, you’ve probably heard me say this before, but it’s true: professional development continues to open my eyes to new ways of thinking and learning. It challenges me to step outside my comfort zone, try things I might never have considered, and ultimately become a better educator for my students.

I’ve always appreciated beautiful landscapes, botanical gardens, and architecture. Years ago, when I taught fourth grade in the West Chester Area School District, I remember taking my students on a walking tour of historic West Chester. We learned to look up, to notice the dates carved into buildings, the decorative metalwork, rooflines, and architectural details that reveal a building’s history. That experience taught me to slow down and truly observe my surroundings.

I’ve also enjoyed visiting botanical gardens throughout the years. One of my favorites is Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. Every visit offers something different as the flowers, colors, and seasonal displays change throughout the year. I’ve always admired the artistry behind those spaces, but this professional development helped me understand the incredible planning, science, creativity, and collaboration required to design them.

One of the greatest strengths of the Design Academy was learning alongside teachers from many different grade levels and subject areas. Together, we explored the role of landscape architects and discovered how their work extends far beyond planting flowers or designing parks.

I learned that while architects design the buildings themselves, landscape architects carefully design everything surrounding those buildings—the parks, playgrounds, gardens, plazas, and outdoor spaces where people gather, play, reflect, and build community.

What impressed me most was learning about the design process itself. We explored how children interact with outdoor spaces through curiosity, imagination, movement, and play. Rather than creating rigid environments, landscape architects intentionally design flexible spaces that encourage creativity and allow children to discover new ways to engage with the world around them.

I also gained a new appreciation for the tremendous collaboration required in this profession. Every project involves communication with community members, local officials, engineers, environmental specialists, and many other stakeholders. Building trust, navigating regulations, understanding zoning requirements, and balancing the needs of an entire community all play an important role in creating spaces that will serve people for generations.

One of the highlights of the week was visiting an integrated dedign firm. Walking through the offices, seeing projects in development, and even experiencing a rooftop green space designed by the firm brought everything we had learned to life. Standing inside spaces that had been intentionally designed by the very people explaining the process was an unforgettable experience.

The Design Academy itself was exceptionally well organized. Despite the July heat in Washington, D.C., the organizers made sure teachers were comfortable throughout the week. We enjoyed wonderful meals, stayed well hydrated, and appreciated the thoughtful pacing of the sessions, complete with regular breaks.

I left with a much deeper respect for landscape architects and the lasting impact of their work. Every thoughtfully designed playground, park, schoolyard, memorial, or public garden tells a story. More importantly, each one has the power to shape how people connect with nature, with one another, and with their communities.

As an elementary teacher, I returned inspired to help my students see the world differently—to look up, look around, ask questions, and recognize that every space has been intentionally designed by someone hoping to make life just a little bit better for everyone who uses it. summer was jammed pack and I couldnt do it all.  I am glad I was able to attend this ASLA PD for educators.

One of the highlights of my time at the ASLA Design Academy was hearing Philadelphia-based landscape architect David Rubin share the story behind the redesign of Franklin Park in Washington, D.C. What made the experience even more meaningful was that after his presentation, we walked across the street to the park itself, where he guided us through the spaces he had just described.

There’s something incredibly powerful about hearing the vision directly from the person who designed a place and then immediately experiencing that vision firsthand.

One of my favorite design features was the fountain. Mr. Rubin explained that it was elevated so visitors can see it from almost anywhere in the park, making it a visual centerpiece that connects the entire landscape. I also appreciated the beautiful stonework, the graceful curved pathways and steps, and the welcoming playground designed to be inclusive for children of all abilities.

Another feature that stood out to me was the integration of poetry throughout the park, including words by Phyllis Wheatley. As an educator and someone who loves literacy, I appreciated how literature was woven into the landscape, creating opportunities for visitors to pause, reflect, and connect with history.

One of the biggest surprises of the day was discovering the park’s connection to Commodore John Barry. Franklin Park includes a tribute to Commodore Barry, the same individual for whom Commodore John Barry Elementary School in Philadelphia is named. That school holds special meaning for me because it is where I completed my student teaching while attending Eastern University. It was amazing to realize how many personal connections I already had to this park before I even knew its story.

I also learned that I had unknowingly attended Franklin Park’s grand reopening years ago. I had already fallen in love with the park long before this professional development experience, but hearing the story behind its transformation gave me an entirely new appreciation for the space.

Perhaps what impressed me most was Mr. Rubin’s passion for his work. He shared how carefully every tree, shrub, flower, and landscape feature was selected. Even today, he still returns to Franklin Park, sometimes bringing plants from his own garden to add to the flower beds and checking on how the landscape is growing. That level of personal care says so much about his commitment to creating spaces that thrive long after construction is complete.

Listening to him made me realize the lasting impact landscape architects have on our communities. Parks are living spaces that continue to grow and evolve for decades. The trees mature, gardens change with the seasons, children grow up playing there, and families continue making memories year after year. Landscape architects have the unique opportunity to leave a legacy that future generations will continue to enjoy.

Another thoughtful feature of the park is its accessible public restroom, designed with individual private stalls and an inviting entrance that helps visitors feel comfortable using the facility. Mr. Rubin also shared that a café with outdoor seating will soon open, making Franklin Park an even more welcoming place for the community to gather.

As an educator, I left inspired by the collaborative process behind the park’s design. Landscape architects, engineers, horticulturists, historians, artists, and community members all worked together to create a space that is beautiful, functional, and welcoming.

Meeting David Rubin transformed the way I see public parks. I no longer see only beautiful landscapes, but I see years of thoughtful planning, collaboration, creativity, and care.

The experience reminded me that great landscape architecture doesn’t simply create beautiful places. It creates places where people gather, children play, history is honored, nature is celebrated, and memories are made for generations to come.

One of my favorite places to visit whenever I’m in Washington, D.C., is the National Portrait Gallery. No matter how many times I visit, I always discover something new, and every visit leaves me inspired.

This visit was especially meaningful because I had the opportunity to see the Nick Cave exhibition. Just a few days earlier, while visiting Chicago, I saw his monumental artwork, Amalgam (Origin), at the Obama Presidential Center construction site. Seeing another collection of his work here in Washington, D.C., gave me an even greater appreciation for his creativity and the powerful messages he communicates through his art.

The museum itself is simply beautiful. Every floor offers something unique that captures my attention and invites me to slow down, observe, and reflect. This time, I decided to experience the museum a little differently. Instead of starting on the first floor, I began on the third floor and worked my way down to the second and then the first. I really enjoyed exploring the museum in reverse because it gave me a fresh perspective and encouraged me to take my time with each gallery.

One of the things I appreciate most about the National Portrait Gallery is that it tells the story of America through people. Presidents, activists, artists, scientists, athletes, and changemakers all come together to create a visual timeline of our nation’s history. Every portrait tells a story, reminding us that history is ultimately about people and the impact they leave on the world.

As an educator, I always leave thinking about ways to bring these experiences back to my students. Portraits are incredible primary sources. They encourage students to observe closely, ask thoughtful questions, and make inferences about a person’s life, character, and contributions before ever reading the accompanying information.

If you’re planning a trip to Washington, D.C., I highly recommend making time to visit the National Portrait Gallery. Whether it’s your first visit or your tenth, there’s always something new to discover. It’s one of those museums that continues to inspire curiosity, reflection, and meaningful conversations every time I walk through its doors.