In my previous post, I wrote that the Gelmini Reform included a new rule about Italian language proficiency. In fact, this is just a government proposal, which has yet to pass. The Gelmini Reform itself, which officially passed yesterday, includes the following two main points:
1.) Reducing the number of teachers by 87,000 over three years
2.) Returning the Italian elementary schools to a "one teacher" system, which means that every student will have the same teacher for the entirety of his or her time in elementary school
The reform includes several other measures, but these are the two that seem to spark the most controversy.
Just wanted to clear that up.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Mamma Mia and school reform
Musical films in their original languages are strange enough. The characters are talking, your disbelief is suspended, and then, suddenly, the camera angle changes and a young, tight-panted John Travolta starts singing “Greased Lightning.” Okay. Fine. Not my favorite genre, and certainly not the most faithful to cinematic realism, but I can get into it when the mood is right.
When you add a second language to the mix, things get crazy. As my best (only) example, I give you Mamma Mia, which I saw this past weekend. Pierce Brosnan will be on screen, and you’ll be looking at him, expecting to hear James Bond. Or the boyfriend from Ms. Doubtfire. Or the geologist from Dante’s Peak. Instead, he starts talking, and he is Italian. After a few minutes, this begins to feel normal, but then the camera angle changes and he’s singing Abba songs, in English. This constant back-and-forth from Italian, to English, to Italian makes the movie watching experience a linguistic rollercoaster, of sorts – bizarre, but entirely enjoyable, when the mood is right.
On a less musical note, the Italian government has recently decided to implement a very unpopular school reform, sparking protests and strikes across the country. The Minister of Education, Mariastella Gelmini – whom many people consider a puppet of Prime Minister Burlusconi – has decided to fire 87,000 teachers over the course of the next three academic years, citing as her motive widespread inefficiency and teacher laziness. In addition, she has demanded that all students who don’t meet a certain level of Italian language proficiency – in other words, immigrants – be put in separate, segregated classes.
I’m not sure if this story is receiving any international media attention (I’d imagine that the election, the financial crisis, and Tom Brady’s knee are a bit closer to the current American spotlight), but in Italy, it’s all anybody is talking about. Tomorrow, my school is participating in a national one-day teacher’s strike, so many of my classes may be cancelled, depending on whether the teachers I work with choose to strike. (Just because the school has sanctioned the strike does not mean that every teacher has to participate in it.) It’s an interesting time to be in Italy.
Today, it’s raining heavily. When I walked into my first class, I asked the students how they were doing. Most of them said that they were doing badly, due to the weather. One of them, however, said she was great. When I asked her why she was in such a good mood, she said it was because she loved the rain. "Why do you love the rain?" I asked. Her response: "Because when it rains, I can sing 'It’s Raining Men.'" I thought this was hilarious.
Off to catch a train. I've got more photos to add, however, so check back soon.
Thanks for reading, and be well,
Nate
When you add a second language to the mix, things get crazy. As my best (only) example, I give you Mamma Mia, which I saw this past weekend. Pierce Brosnan will be on screen, and you’ll be looking at him, expecting to hear James Bond. Or the boyfriend from Ms. Doubtfire. Or the geologist from Dante’s Peak. Instead, he starts talking, and he is Italian. After a few minutes, this begins to feel normal, but then the camera angle changes and he’s singing Abba songs, in English. This constant back-and-forth from Italian, to English, to Italian makes the movie watching experience a linguistic rollercoaster, of sorts – bizarre, but entirely enjoyable, when the mood is right.
On a less musical note, the Italian government has recently decided to implement a very unpopular school reform, sparking protests and strikes across the country. The Minister of Education, Mariastella Gelmini – whom many people consider a puppet of Prime Minister Burlusconi – has decided to fire 87,000 teachers over the course of the next three academic years, citing as her motive widespread inefficiency and teacher laziness. In addition, she has demanded that all students who don’t meet a certain level of Italian language proficiency – in other words, immigrants – be put in separate, segregated classes.
I’m not sure if this story is receiving any international media attention (I’d imagine that the election, the financial crisis, and Tom Brady’s knee are a bit closer to the current American spotlight), but in Italy, it’s all anybody is talking about. Tomorrow, my school is participating in a national one-day teacher’s strike, so many of my classes may be cancelled, depending on whether the teachers I work with choose to strike. (Just because the school has sanctioned the strike does not mean that every teacher has to participate in it.) It’s an interesting time to be in Italy.
Today, it’s raining heavily. When I walked into my first class, I asked the students how they were doing. Most of them said that they were doing badly, due to the weather. One of them, however, said she was great. When I asked her why she was in such a good mood, she said it was because she loved the rain. "Why do you love the rain?" I asked. Her response: "Because when it rains, I can sing 'It’s Raining Men.'" I thought this was hilarious.
Off to catch a train. I've got more photos to add, however, so check back soon.
Thanks for reading, and be well,
Nate
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Good morning, Prof.!
A wise friend recently told me that if she didn’t know any better, she would think that all I do here is travel, eat gelato, party with the local middle-aged mothers, and bathe. Thus, approaching the conclusion of my third full week in Italy, I suppose it’s time to explain what, exactly, my daily life entails.
Monday through Friday, I wake up early, hop on my bike, try not to get hit by any mopeds, and then catch either the 7:17, the 7:42, or the 8:30 train from Castelleone to Crema, depending on when my first class starts. My train ride lasts for precisely 11 minutes, after which I join the mass of students and workers walking from the station in Crema into the historical center, where most of the schools and businesses are located. From door to door, my commute takes about 40 minutes, and in the course of this journey, I pass no fewer than 20 coffee bars, all of which I hope to try out at least once before leaving.
Once at school, I teach between one and four classes a day. So far, I’ve been teaching Math, Geography, and Film History; starting next week I’ll add on Economics and Natural Sciences. All of these, I teach in English. My school is big into a teaching methodology called CLIL, or Content and Language Integrated Learning – the idea that students should learn a foreign language through content, as opposed to just through grammar exercises, vocabulary, readings, etc. It’s hard, given that the kids need to learn two things – language and subject matter – at the same time, but I like it. Moments ago I just experienced my first ever, class-wide “ooooooohh… I get it!” moment as a teacher, which was heart-warming.
Outside of school, my most exciting pursuit so far has been practicing with a local soccer team. The level of play is far higher than anything I’ve ever participated in, so it can be a bit too humbling, at times, but I plan on sticking with it. Not only is it great exercise, but I also, finally, get to use a real shower after practice! Plus, the practices are at night, which means we play underneath the lights. Which is thrilling.
Living in Castelleone, where public transportation closes at about 9:00pm, I don’t have much of a midweek night life. With the exception of soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I generally spend me weeknights studying, hanging out with my hilarious host mother, wandering around, and, more recently, exploring my host family’s vast movie collection. Italy has a very successful dubbing industry, which makes Hollywood films just as popular here as they are in the United States. It can be disconcerting seeing one of your favorite actors speaking with a different voice, in a different language – try to imagine Morgan Freeman sounding like Roberto Benigni – but you get used to it. Interestingly enough, each famous American actor has a dubber who always does that actor’s films. As a result, dubber’s of the most famous actors – from Woody Allen to Adam Sandler – actually become quite famous themselves.
Two random notes:
1.) Despite that SIGG water bottles – those tall, narrow, metal water bottles that are becoming increasingly popular in the States – claim to be made in Switzerland, the country only 100 km north of where I’m living, not one Italian I’ve met has ever seen one before. Every time, therefore, that I pull my water bottle out on a train, or in the teacher’s lounge at school, or on the street, or in the soccer locker room, somebody asks me what I’m drinking. Every. Single. Time. Before I can answer, they usually ask me, grinning: “Whiskey?” They think this is hilarious.
2.) Italian students generally go to school Monday through Saturday. However, school generally gets out no later than 1:00pm. What this means is that most Italian students have rarely had English class in the afternoon. What this, then, means is that most Italian students think that you can use the expression “good morning” synonymously with “hello,” because for the entirety of their English careers, their professors have walked into the room, said “good morning,” and then begun the lesson.
My school, unlike most schools, does not have class on Saturday. As a result, we meet more often in the afternoon, which means that I often see my students in the hallways in the afternoon. Being diligent students of the English language, my students want to say hello to me in English. So they say what they think is normal: “Good morning, prof.!” When this happens, I usually smile very nicely and then say, in English, “you mean, good afternoon!” They look at me with huge, blank expressions. I then explain, in Italian, that it is afternoon, and that they should use the expression “good afternoon” instead. They usually smile politely, nod, and then walk on. This, too, happens every day.
This weekend, I'm hoping to go to Florence, so if that happens, I'll be sure to keep you posted. (Hah.) For now, time to walk across the street to my favorite panino place and get lunch. Thanks for reading, and be well.
Nate
Monday through Friday, I wake up early, hop on my bike, try not to get hit by any mopeds, and then catch either the 7:17, the 7:42, or the 8:30 train from Castelleone to Crema, depending on when my first class starts. My train ride lasts for precisely 11 minutes, after which I join the mass of students and workers walking from the station in Crema into the historical center, where most of the schools and businesses are located. From door to door, my commute takes about 40 minutes, and in the course of this journey, I pass no fewer than 20 coffee bars, all of which I hope to try out at least once before leaving.
Once at school, I teach between one and four classes a day. So far, I’ve been teaching Math, Geography, and Film History; starting next week I’ll add on Economics and Natural Sciences. All of these, I teach in English. My school is big into a teaching methodology called CLIL, or Content and Language Integrated Learning – the idea that students should learn a foreign language through content, as opposed to just through grammar exercises, vocabulary, readings, etc. It’s hard, given that the kids need to learn two things – language and subject matter – at the same time, but I like it. Moments ago I just experienced my first ever, class-wide “ooooooohh… I get it!” moment as a teacher, which was heart-warming.
Outside of school, my most exciting pursuit so far has been practicing with a local soccer team. The level of play is far higher than anything I’ve ever participated in, so it can be a bit too humbling, at times, but I plan on sticking with it. Not only is it great exercise, but I also, finally, get to use a real shower after practice! Plus, the practices are at night, which means we play underneath the lights. Which is thrilling.
Living in Castelleone, where public transportation closes at about 9:00pm, I don’t have much of a midweek night life. With the exception of soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I generally spend me weeknights studying, hanging out with my hilarious host mother, wandering around, and, more recently, exploring my host family’s vast movie collection. Italy has a very successful dubbing industry, which makes Hollywood films just as popular here as they are in the United States. It can be disconcerting seeing one of your favorite actors speaking with a different voice, in a different language – try to imagine Morgan Freeman sounding like Roberto Benigni – but you get used to it. Interestingly enough, each famous American actor has a dubber who always does that actor’s films. As a result, dubber’s of the most famous actors – from Woody Allen to Adam Sandler – actually become quite famous themselves.
Two random notes:
1.) Despite that SIGG water bottles – those tall, narrow, metal water bottles that are becoming increasingly popular in the States – claim to be made in Switzerland, the country only 100 km north of where I’m living, not one Italian I’ve met has ever seen one before. Every time, therefore, that I pull my water bottle out on a train, or in the teacher’s lounge at school, or on the street, or in the soccer locker room, somebody asks me what I’m drinking. Every. Single. Time. Before I can answer, they usually ask me, grinning: “Whiskey?” They think this is hilarious.
2.) Italian students generally go to school Monday through Saturday. However, school generally gets out no later than 1:00pm. What this means is that most Italian students have rarely had English class in the afternoon. What this, then, means is that most Italian students think that you can use the expression “good morning” synonymously with “hello,” because for the entirety of their English careers, their professors have walked into the room, said “good morning,” and then begun the lesson.
My school, unlike most schools, does not have class on Saturday. As a result, we meet more often in the afternoon, which means that I often see my students in the hallways in the afternoon. Being diligent students of the English language, my students want to say hello to me in English. So they say what they think is normal: “Good morning, prof.!” When this happens, I usually smile very nicely and then say, in English, “you mean, good afternoon!” They look at me with huge, blank expressions. I then explain, in Italian, that it is afternoon, and that they should use the expression “good afternoon” instead. They usually smile politely, nod, and then walk on. This, too, happens every day.
This weekend, I'm hoping to go to Florence, so if that happens, I'll be sure to keep you posted. (Hah.) For now, time to walk across the street to my favorite panino place and get lunch. Thanks for reading, and be well.
Nate
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
My president, my bike, and my gelato
Last night, my host mother said something that stuck with me. We were talking about my absentee ballot, and then about the American election in general, and she said -- jokingly, but only so much -- that it doesn't seem fair that only U.S. citizens get to vote for the next U.S. president. Rather, she thinks that the whole world should get to vote for our president, given that the actions of our country so-dramatically affect the whole world.
I couldn't really disagree.
Some more photos:
My home, in Castelleone. Unusually large, in fact, for an Italian house.
My morning commute through downtown Crema.
My bike.
The rear wheel of my bike. (Note the seamless blending of design complexity with aesthetic perfection.)
My curtain-less shower.
The giant mirror directly across from my curtain-less shower.
Lombardian hay fields somewhere between Crema and Cremona.
Typical graffiti that covers most Italian trains.
A castle in Mantova.
A sculpture in Mantova, which I loved. (Sadly, I didn't take note of the sculptor or name.)
My first experience with real Italian gelato -- one of the many culinary delights contributing to by body's increasing softness.
"Abba lives!" I've seen this particular tag twice, now.
Initially, I thought it was funny because I thought it referred to the Swedish pop group, but I've since learned that Abba was the nickname of Abdul William Guibre, a black Italian beaten to death in September by two white bar owners. As more people immigrate into Italy, racism is becoming increasingly prevalent. See the link, below, for an interesting article on the matter:
I couldn't really disagree.
Some more photos:
My home, in Castelleone. Unusually large, in fact, for an Italian house.
My morning commute through downtown Crema.
My bike.
The rear wheel of my bike. (Note the seamless blending of design complexity with aesthetic perfection.)
My curtain-less shower.
The giant mirror directly across from my curtain-less shower.
Lombardian hay fields somewhere between Crema and Cremona.
Typical graffiti that covers most Italian trains.
A castle in Mantova.
A sculpture in Mantova, which I loved. (Sadly, I didn't take note of the sculptor or name.)
My first experience with real Italian gelato -- one of the many culinary delights contributing to by body's increasing softness.
"Abba lives!" I've seen this particular tag twice, now.
Initially, I thought it was funny because I thought it referred to the Swedish pop group, but I've since learned that Abba was the nickname of Abdul William Guibre, a black Italian beaten to death in September by two white bar owners. As more people immigrate into Italy, racism is becoming increasingly prevalent. See the link, below, for an interesting article on the matter:
http://www.italia-nuova.org/2008/10/italys-attacks-on-migrants-fuel-debate.html
Sunday, October 5, 2008
La Sagra
Last weekend, from Friday afternoon until Monday evening, the neighboring town of Corte Madama celebrated their "Sagra," a bi-annual feast/fundraiser for the local church. Not wanting to put to waste the skills I learned working as a waiter and dishwasher for Middlebury College Dining Services, I decided to help out as one of the servers.
Here are my stats:
People served: 37
Food-related words and expressions learned: 62
Mothers who demanded that I speak with their daughters in English: 4
Grandmothers who insisted that I speak with their daughters (who were mothers) in English: 1
Angry Italian men who swore at me because I was too slow of a waiter: 2
All in all, I'd say I did well.
Some photos:
Marta (host sister) in the middle, with her friends, Paolo and Chiara.
Torta fritta -- essentially fried dough, but with meat instead of brown sugar/cinnamon.
Me and some of the cooks.
From left to right, Anna and Loretta -- host sister and host mother, respectively.
Gianluigi (host father) and his prized chair.
Street performers outside the Sagra.
Yesterday, I went to Mantova and Cremona, two of the bigger cities in Lombardia, so expect more photos of that trip to come soon.
Nate
p.s. I decided there was no good way to take a picture of myself in the shower without getting kicked off of Google for publishing illicit photographs, so for now, you'll have to use your imagination.
Here are my stats:
People served: 37
Food-related words and expressions learned: 62
Mothers who demanded that I speak with their daughters in English: 4
Grandmothers who insisted that I speak with their daughters (who were mothers) in English: 1
Angry Italian men who swore at me because I was too slow of a waiter: 2
All in all, I'd say I did well.
Some photos:
Marta (host sister) in the middle, with her friends, Paolo and Chiara.
Torta fritta -- essentially fried dough, but with meat instead of brown sugar/cinnamon.
Me and some of the cooks.
From left to right, Anna and Loretta -- host sister and host mother, respectively.
Gianluigi (host father) and his prized chair.
Street performers outside the Sagra.
Yesterday, I went to Mantova and Cremona, two of the bigger cities in Lombardia, so expect more photos of that trip to come soon.
Nate
p.s. I decided there was no good way to take a picture of myself in the shower without getting kicked off of Google for publishing illicit photographs, so for now, you'll have to use your imagination.
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