Winding down

[Some time ago] you had a few not very clear ideas. Now you have lots, but they’re confused, which is a good sign. If Italy doesn’t leave you bewildered, it means it has conned you.

-Bepe Severgnini, La Bella Figura

I cannot believe I’ve come to the end of this adventure. This day has been coming for so long, I started to think it would never actually arrive, but here we are; my bags are (relatively) packed, San Luca and the tower have been climbed one final time, and some goodbyes have been said. I don’t think I can adequately express this year (The food? The scenery? The dark winter? The vibrant spring? The wonderful highs and hilarious lows of teaching? Being homeless? Finding a home? Learning the medieval back streets?), but no matter what I start to think about, the story ends with people.

I could talk about my favorite classes, full of game, funny, and smart students. I could talk about my least favorite classes, full of sullen not-quite-human teenagers. I could tell funny stories about miscommunications, the occasional figura de merde, late nights out, early mornings on the move, stories lost in translation, or stories that speak across languages or culture. I could talk about old friends, like my dear roommate Anna, without whom I never would have taken this leap- her patience and friendship have been beyond calculation. I could talk about new friends both American (where would I be without Tiffany’s charity, Tamami’s irrepressible laugh, Maria’s “book club,” a Guinness with Johnny, Christina’s “stalking,” Adam’s good humor, and the general support of the teachers at Anglo-American?) and Italian (like “Ricky,” whose antics ensured that I seldom missed having a little brother around, or Alessandra who took me in from the very beginning, or Giulio who opend his home and heart to wayward Americans for our hoildays and every day inbetween). I could talk about our kind “friends,” the baristas and regulars where we buy our coffee and have a beer to wind down. I’ll always be grateful that they spoke Italian back to me, even if their English may be better than mine!

Essentially, this year has been one of friendship and support from both sides of the ocean. People have reacted with amazement or comment on my “bravery” when I tell them that I decided to move to another country without a job, knowledge of the language, or concrete plans. I am usually amazed right back at them- with the friends and family I find at my side, how could it be difficult? I will always be grateful to the people around me who made this adventure possible, for seeing in me more potential than I could hope to fulfill in ten lifetimes.

How lucky am I? Thanks and Grazie, team.

“L’inverno, l’estate…”

… so said the owner of the bar near the school. He’s an old and curmudgeonly guy, clearly full of wisdom, and was absolutely correct on that one- we moved directly from winter to summer with a stop in springtime so imperceptible it is barely worth mentioning. Almost overnight the entire city changed; I could feel it building for a while, a sort of reawakening in my soul as the days grew longer, coupled with indignant confusion every time I saw an Italian wearing a wool coat with a scarf in late April… (APRIL!! I ask of you…). Walking home at night I feel a warm satisfaction seeing the Piazzas full of life and noise again- couples nuzzling on the stairs of San Petronio, buskers playing to crowds, and people finally walking through the streets with their heads up, awake to the rest of the world without the need to burrow chins into scarves for survival.

The end of winter has also precipitated the end of other things. I have bought my return ticket (July 16th) and am starting to look forward to going home and seeing my familiy and “the homeland,” again. We said farewell to Kevin, who went home early this morning, though Bologna may not have seen the last of him. I’m also starting to say goodbye to my classes- last night was the final lesson of my Fundamentals 2 class, one of the first classes I ever taught. I had been excited to reclaim that chunk of my evenings, but looking around at them, I realized that I’m really going to miss that group. One of my students gave me a giant (I do mean giant) book of cat pictures, in remembrance of my many tales about our trials and tribulations with TheBear (who, in an unfortunate change of pace, now merely deigns to share HIS bed with ME… not sure how that happened.). I was even more pleased that, while they all did well on their final, the two that I’d had for both sessions did the best in the class (and were the only ones to get a perfect score on their extra credit… the class had a ridiculous amount of animal vocabulary, so I gave them a page of matching… but ran out of time to print pictures of the animals, so had to draw them… below is Laura’s- I didn’t have room for the parrot, but she drew one for me.

See why I’ll miss these guys?). Laura asked me if I was absolutely sure that I didn’t want to stay in Italy, come back to teach more, maybe marry an Italian (at which point the younger girls in the class shouted “NO!” in unison…), and while I was sad to disappoint, I had to acknowledge that it is time for me to move on to the next chapter in my life.

Today was also the last day with my Good Teeangers (the group of kids already on their way towards humanity… I had a good time teaching them). Other classes are winding down, finals are approaching, and I am coming to the sad realization that it may be the last time I’ll ever see some (if not most) of these people who have been a large part of my world for this past year. While I’ve taught them a great deal, it has certainly been a two-way street.

So now I’m approaching the end of this road, perching my feet on the railing of my open window, listening to an unlikely but nostalgia-inducing live concert down the road (“Sweet Home Alabama,” “Take me Home Country Roads,” “Put Me In Coach”…), and savoring the final weeks of this adventure (I can’t believe it can be measured in weeks!). I’ll be heading back to Atlanta soon enough (and likely DC shortly after for law school), but until then I have some more grammar to teach, people to meet, and adventures to live. While this has been a more meditative post than usual, I’ll keep you posted on the hilarity that is generally my life!

(PS: Coming attractions include pictures from the Palio in Ferrara, cat news (because I know you care), and the story of how my violent cleaning habits broke the kitchen floor…)

A Brief Update!

All is well in Bologna! There hasn’t been much crazy new stuff to report (Easter break was delightfully uneventful, but sadly hit that bittersweet spot of being long enough to be relaxing, but not long enough to be boring… Anna and I did hike to San Luca at one point… only to find the gate locked… so I persuaded her to trot along the road to find a perch for the sunset. Those who know me know my determination with respect to finding a good view…). This past Friday saw the last class of the little devilbimbi (the 8 year olds), at least until the summer camp in June… pray for me. We’ve been enjoying the advent of spring… well, to be more specific, I’ve been dressing like the balmy April it is while resisting the urge to shake some sense into the Italians who persist in bundling (with scarves and gloves! I ask you…). Sadly, my bare legs basically scream “AMERICAN!!!” (or “WITCH!!”), but I am willing to endure because… dude… it’s warm.
The cat persists in his cuddling (though his pointyness is tragic for our clothing… and my bedspread), but also his shedding. It’s been a long road, but he’s become quite the amusing personality.
On the “future” front, I’m still waiting to hear from a few law schools, but at this moment, it looks D.C. ish!
And, for the record, I am so lucky to find such tremendously good friends wherever in the world I go. In short, life is good, I’m keeping busy, and visitors are still welcome in Bologna!

Victory!

I seem to have trained the cat to sleep on my feet… he is finally earning his keep!

On the other hand, I seem to have caught a cold from a student… drat!

So I’m Old…

On Tuesday, while teaching some new vocabulary about different music genres to the SoulSuckingTeenagers, we came across grunge. “So what’s grunge?” I ask. I am rewarded with blankly expectant looks.
“You know, grunge? Like Nirvana? Wait… what year were you guys born?” (blank stares) One girl finally responds “1994.”
“Oh… that’s the year Kurt Cobain killed himself. Interesting. I have solid memories of the year 1994. I’m… old. That’s… cool.”
Flash to today with the GoodButQuietTeenagers (who I THOUGHT were 16+ years old…). I’m still vaguely gobsmacked (yeah, I’m bringing that word back) by the age thing (I know, I know, wait until I’m REALLY old… but I’m a DECADE older than these kids! There’s a word I can use to avoid using numerals! It’s that much time!). We covered the difference between the present perfect and the simple past (and I made them laugh! Like out loud! Multiple times! I should take this act on the road!), and in their homework they are required to write stories about things that “have happened” since certain points in their lives. One girl then points out the problem with question number one (“What significant changes have happened in your life since you were thirteen.”)- “We’re only fourteen… sooo…?”
Gob. Smacked. “Well, do the best you can, I suppose… ‘nothing has happened since I was thirteen?’” Moving on, I relate the story of the SoulSuckers and 1994… at which point the girls point out that they, too, were born in 1994… and I feel awkward and old. Also inept at math, but that is nothing new.

The good news is that this answers some questions I’ve been kicking around my head about the material I want to use with them (NO to rap lyrics, NO to the “American Apparel” article with direct quotes from the “too sexy for this tank top and your sexual harassment lawsuits” CEO, and NO to TV shows/ Movies that 16 or 17 year olds could handle, but that I will not endure the phone calls for if I show them to 14-15 year olds.), so that’s good.

In other news, I have wonderful friends on both sides of the Atlantic, my favorite earrings are still MIA after a thorough apartment cleaning, I tallied up my time sheet for the month and will be a high roller on pay day (relatively speaking), and am doing my best to discourage the back spasm that is threatening my lower back. Tomorrow is Thursday, which means the day without teenagers (or children, apparently) and thus, a day without stories… unless the cat does something!

In Which Natalie is Buffeted by the Universe…

Ouch.
So I know I said I wanted more letters… but when I said that, I did not envision my Tuesday like this:

8:00 AM- Wake up braced to deal with “difficult” student for 1.5 hours in Casaleccio… check email… see rejection from UVA before my contact lenses can clear up. Ouch.

8:33 AM- Full bus. No seats.

8:34 AM- Oh. A still HEATED full buss. With no seats. Or open windows. Begin panting.

10:00 AM- Confounded by crossword puzzle while student does listening exercise. Blast.

11:00 AM- Student pats me on the shoulder, I think only because he missed the top of my head… I know my hair was a little wild, but do I look like a spaniel to you buddy?

12:00- Enjoy soothing bath and lunch. Perk self up with catchy music and by listening to the awesome violinist who was visiting accordionist neighbor.

1:45 PM- Have newly perked-up soul crushed when unable to find favorite earrings. Harbor suspicions about the cat.

2:00 PM- Leave apartment to go to work- see envelope in mail box.

2:00:10 PM- Have heart attack when unable to unlock box while balancing bag of dirty cat litter I am taking to the trash.

2:00:15 PM-Succeed in unlocking box.

2:00:17 PM-Have another heart attack upon retrieving not one, but THREE small envelopes… plus the gas bill…

2:00:20 PM- Ponder a word strong enough for something that sucks with quadruple strength.  (The Dyson of suckage? Event horizon of suckage?)

2:01 PM- Am rejected by NYU. Confirm need to make a stronger phrase than “Dude, this SUCKS.”

2:02 PM- Am rejected by GW. Ouch.

2:03 PM- Am slightly heartened that the Cardozo envelope is a little fatter…

2:03:15 PM- Wait listed.

2:03: 20 PM- Decide that there are not adjectives strong enough for “quadruple suck.” We need a new word.

3:20 PM- Student arrives early. I hate when they do that.

3:30 PM- Establish that said student is curious to the point of hostility about the details of English grammar (“BUT WHY do we use the an THERE and not HERE?! WHY!!”).

3:31 PM- Begin watching the clock.

4:30 PM- Bid farewell to student (until class at 6:00), retreat to teacher’s lounge.

4:33 PM- Eric: “Looks like you have a pretty tough crowd in there [re: soulsucking teenagers who are congregating]. I opened the bathroom door and they all turned around FROWNING at me like they are waiting for you…”
Me: “Welcome to my Tuesday, Eric.”

4:45 PM- Me to teenagers: “Hey team! How are you all? [silence] Did everyone have a good week? [silence] Is anyone alive? [silence] Does anyone understand me? [silence] Oook. So you had homework…”

5:15 PM- Decide that today the teenagers are going to do a lot of silent reading and working on exercises.

6:00 PM- Low level class… so many questions… so many problems…

7:15 PM- Maria has chocolate!

7:30 PM- Classroom in the hinterlands has no CD player…

7:32 PM- Retrieve CD player from mainland.

7:33 PM- Trapped in courtyard. Begin knocking on window hoping a student will buzz me in.

7: 36 PM- Knuckles hurt. Buzzed in.

7:40 PM- Intern arrives. Am scolded for leaving doors open.

7:45 PM- Good class, but unsettling to have intern present.

8:50 PM- Maria has more chocolate!

9:00 PM- Time to start the last class of the day!!

9:02 PM- Write on boob of beloved shirt with white board marker. Heroically avoid hysteria.
9:45 PM- Do a listening about St. Patrick’s day.

9:46 PM- Realize that listening includes unfortunate line about leprechauns and “pinching on the behind.” Begin praying nobody will want that explained.

9:50 PM- Required to explain “pinching on the behind.”

10:15 PM- Please. For the love of God. Choose your vocabulary words so we can leave this place!

10:40 PM- Lock up and begin the trek home with Maria.

10:45 PM- See apartment on fire (or smoking). Gain perspective.

11:00 PM- Walk in door and feel so very very happy to finish this extraordinarily long  day.

The Cat. And Life.

Well, the cat is now a cuddle monster. I attribute this largely to his discovery of my fleece blanket (he may be impervious to actual catnip, but the allure of fleece is universal.), which means he is frequently curled up on my bed, sleeping, grooming himself with slrupy vigor (seriously, slurpy.), staring at me balefully, and depositing his hair on my bed. This has given me (and the outside world) the chance to observe a couple things about him:
1) He has a protruding tooth a la Bucky from the Get Fuzzy cartoon… oddly his personality mirrors the cartoon character as well.

2) One can tell the cat is awake, even if his eyes are closed, because he is purring. Or hissing. Or both (turns out they can do that).

3) If he is asleep, one can tell because he is snoring. Snoring, I might add, with the vigor one would expect from a much larger animal… like… a dormitory of sumo wrestlers after a long day in the ring.

4) He likes having his belly rubbed. Hand to God, he loves it.

And now, for some non-cat talk tidbits.

1) Still no more news from law schools. I saw a small envelope in the mail box today and was thrilled despite its size (“THANK HEAVENS! I CAN CROSS SOMETHING OFF THE CURSED LIST!!”)… but it was just the FastWeb bill. That was a double suck. I’m about to become the annoyingly clingy applicant that we always rolled our eyes at in the Admissions office back in my college days.

2) Anna is in Dublin this week at a wedding (Irish wedding in Dublin on St. Patrick’s day- now if that doesn’t sound like a good time, I don’t know what does!), so I’ve picked up two of her classes (and, random, one of her private students for the week) to substitute. This week is madness.

3) I had a delicious salad for dinner. This isn’t really important, but it made me happy and I occasionally like to reassure mom that she raised me to eat green things and not to get scurvy.

3a) You may be scoffing about the scurvy thing, but a friend of a friend got scurvy! Naturally, she was mocked for apparently having been press-ganged into the British Navy circa 1774… and if she was not mocked by her own friends, she is now being mocked anonymously and by somebody she does not know. Ahh internet.

4) I had a rather alarming hour or so when I thought I may have locked my student into the school after our lesson this morning (don’t ask). Luckily, the missed call from the school was only about substituting.

5) I’d like to go somewhere warm for Easter break… I don’t need to swim, I just need to expose my legs to sunshine (it has literally been months since they have felt the light of day and they are quickly phasing from “transparent” to “electroluminescent”). Maybe someplace volcanic. The good news is that I am a train ride away from several places meeting those criteria. Also hot springs. And old rocks.

6) After watching “Vicky Christina Barcelona” (good tip, mom) I have an urge to go to Spain at some point. Also the urge to drink red wine out of a ridiculously breakable wine glass (did anybody else notice how much red wine was consumed in that movie? And how breakable those glasses looked? Maybe I just noticed how breakable they looked after presiding over the funerals of every wine glass in our set of six.).

7) I’m currently reading Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco- it’s much more tolerable/ enjoyable on the second try. Also, in the interest of truth, after some “Lost” references, I was curious. That show is like crack for your eyeballs, no joke.

And on that note, it’s time for me to hit the hay!  I’ll be teaching for about 8 hours tomorrow… 6.5 of them back to back. Wish me luck… or, at the very least, survival!

And A Moment of Materialism…

Every time I leave my apartment I fall in love… deep, violent, passionate, gut-twisting love… with at least eight different shoes, bags, or outfits. I walk past D&G (twice), Hermes, Gucci, LV (French, I know, but…), Furla… and those are just the big boys- countless boutiques with charming displays and brightly colored (SPRING!) leather goods sing their siren songs from ever corner.
On the plus side, these love affairs are fleeting and, happily for my purse (both in its contents and in its lack of a replacement…), unrequited. I like to think that yearning for unattainable things is good to do every now and then- building up the Recession Mentality In These Trying Times and all that. But mostly I just tell myself that because that beautiful, beautiful, beautiful bag in the window costs more than my rent… and Anna’s rent… for two months. Soooo there’s that.

And I hope you don’t think less of me but at least I warned you that this would be a materialistic indulgence post! I blame the teenagers (who were EXTRA soul-sucky today… I don’t even know how that is possible but…). I promise to write about social justice or the nature of Truth next time! However, until then, shoes are pretty, shiny, and plentiful!

An Open Letter to Pizza Guys…

To Whom It May Concern,

It has recently come to my attention that, in order to enter a building and distribute your free menus offering delicious pizzas (and a free soda “in omaggio”) delivered to my doorstep, you must ring the bell and be buzzed in. Now, I am more than happy to let strangers into my building, but at the moment I am anticipating letters, both fat and small, from law schools. So when you ring the bell to leave the brightly colored tree carcasses in my mailbox, please understand that the moments of anticipation and anxiety that you cause in my delicate nervous system are slowly shaving decades off my life. If you are not a FedEx delivery person, please, for the love of all that you hold to be holy and decent, slide the menu under the door… or at least ring the bell of the guy who lives below me.

Warmly,
Natalie

PS: You took my favorite pizza off the menu…

So Let’s Talk Bambini.

I wouldn’t say that I’m against the concept of children as a rule, in fact, I often find myself grinning at passing ankle-biters in the street (like the one that was being walked by his father on a leash as he chased pigeons in the piazza the other day… comedy gold!). However, teaching children of a range of ages has helped me hone my philosophy about children and, more specifically, my interaction with them. Basically, I have a mental scale of affection for kids ranging from a 10 (“The cold hard cockles of my heart are gooey and warm”) to a 1 (“I am so horrified by these creatures that I am two seconds away from MacGuyver-style self-tube-tying with whatever implements are on hand”). This week has been, shall we say, on the colder cockles end.

The Monday bimbi (DevilBimbi) were in RARE form- even by their admirably bad standards. This is a group who, on a good day, can put me at a 8-9 on my scale. Our most recent lesson, however, made me think that Skinner boxes were a fine place for humanity to grow up until the age of, say, 20. There was throwing of erasers and pencils (sharp! bad!). There was standing on furniture (danger! and a non-count noun!). They made me break out not one, not two, but THREE of those hackneyed old teacher phrases that you always rolled your eyes at when they were directed at you ( 1) Seriously, how old ARE you? 2) I am counting to five… 3) If you do not want to be here to learn, you can walk out that door right this instant. I am going to teach this material and if you cannot stop distracting the students who want to learn you can spend the rest of class in the office.) Guess who finished class 10 minutes early on Monday?
The Tuesday kids (Soul-Sucking Teenagers) weren’t terribly bad- there were only two, (but more on their attendance later) but apparently a new student is being added. She is a) 2 years older than the oldest student in the class, b) apparently has severe dyslexia c) has apparently failed out of a year of school. Ok, a challenge, but I can totally work with that as long as she doesn’t throw things. One girl who was present yesterday is actually OK at the grammar… she’s a little shy, but usually gets the answers right when it’s her turn. The other girl is the one who gives me a “you are making up this language and are you freaking kidding me with this shit?” look when I ask such questions as “How are you?” Part of that is the fact that they are 15 (the world and all of its angst is heavy on their little shoulders), and part of it is the fact that it’s Tuesday afternoon, they’ve been in school all day, and they didn’t sign up for this. Which brings me to student 3… let’s call her Skipper (not very Italian, but apt).

The school has a general policy that, after a student misses a couple classes in a row, you need to call them and see what’s up. Now, I don’t always do this with my adult students because they are grown ups and they have other things in their lives. This is also seldom an issue with the kids, mostly because we only meet once a week, so if they are sick or on holiday, they generally return after a couple absences, no harm, no foul. Now our good friend Skipper started vanishing around the Christmas holiday… it’s a generally crazy time, we canceled a class, and the ItalianDeathFlu was starting to circulate, so I leave it be. She does not return after the holiday and I think maybe she’s dropped the class. Let’s flash forward to this morning when my phone rings at 10:00. This is one of my few sleep-in days, so I don’t answer it (I have learned the hard way that answering calls from the school in the morning generally result in accepting unwanted tasks). The phone rings again at noon, and this time I answer it to hear Francesca tell me that “we have a very big problem with your student, Skipper.” It takes me a moment to rattle through my students to realize who this kid is. Then came that horrible “brick in my belly” feeling and I know I am in for a hard core scolding. It turns out our friend Skipper had NOT, in fact, dropped the course/ moved to Berundi/  come down with mono but was skipping the classes. We know this because her mother who, presumably checking up on everything after discovering the sneakiness of the fruit of her loins, called the school who looked at my register and found that it had been a while since little Skipper had darkened our door. Welllll crap- I’ve dropped the ball and I know it. So we end the call with my being told that this is a problem and that we will need to talk about this further… after which I spend my afternoon anticipating what I am sure will be my imminent termination.

Our story has a happy ending, despite my afternoon of self-flagellation and theraputic dish washing. When I went in to the office (after soothing words of wisdom from Tamami, as well as a coffee), Nicoletta and Eric were there and they didn’t so much as scold as re-remind me about the error of my ways and inform me that Skipper and I are going to have 4 private lessons to make up for her truancy. Between you and me, Skipper has a dark future of English grammar ahead of her…

I finished the day with what I like to call my “hours of angst,” my advanced teenagers followed by my private lesson with the 16 year old girl. They were ok, a little un-responsive, but I managed to get a couple chuckles out of them, so I’ll chalk that one into the victory column.
Tomorrow is Thursday, and while that means a particularly nasty and early morning, it also means no students under the age of 22. If that isn’t relief, I don’t know what is. Of course, Friday is the day of the 8 year olds- another group of kids who can be absolutely adorable, but can also make me think that, even though children are the future, why must they be bad in my present?

On an utterly unrelated note, Anna and I got cheap Chinese take out from the restaurant around the corner and it was deliciously and sublimely good. It’s the little things in life, no?