Arrivederci Italia!

My last week in Italy was spent in another suburb of Milan (near Lodi). It was a large camp with six other tutors. I had a class of 7 eight year-olds... the second youngest class I've had. Luckily, my camp director was incredible and such a nice change from the previous one! The tutors really worked well together and I feel like we got especially close and formed a great team. Although I loved the camp, I had a few problem children (*sigh*). I learned first-hand how difficult it is to effectively discipline a child who doesn't care.

I had a boy named Luca who was horribly malicious and had no respect for anyone. After one of his many trouble-makings, I yelled at him in front of the class, jerked him out to the hallway and gave him a very stern talking-to. But I could tell from his face that it didn't mean anything to him. i sent him to talk to the camp director, but nothing helped. He just didn't care that others were upset with him... it didn't bother him in the least. Due to the relatively non-severe consequences that a summer camp can have, he was just impossible to teach. I appreciated the experience in a way, though, because it opened my eyes to one of the many challenges of being an educator. It was so frustrating to try to teach someone who was completely uninterested in learning, and wanting a child to behave who had no sense of guilt or respect. If nothing else, it gave me the opportunity to try to apply what I've learned in my psychology courses and think about how to best handle a situation like that in the future.

On the other side of the spectrum, I had a boy named Luigi. Luigi was extremely kind and caring and wanted nothing more than to please the tutors. Unfortunately, he was one of the least intelligent students I had the entire summer. A typical conversation with him would go something like this: One day he asked me if he could go to the bathroom in Italian. I replied that he must ask in English (after we've spent all week reviewing 'Can I go to the toilet, please?'). He couldn't do it so i was attempting to just get him to repeat it a few words at a time.

Taylor: 'Say Can I'

Luigi: 'Say Can I'

Taylor: 'No repeat: Can I'

Luigi: 'No repeat: Can I'

Taylor: (Thinking 'Oh for God's sake... I need to get on with class!') 'Vai a bano, ma piu veloce!' (Go to the bathroom, but fast!)

Luigi: 'Grazie Maestro'

Taylor: as he runs out the door: 'In ENGLISH!!!! Say THANK YOU!!!'

The host family that I stayed with was unbelievably kind and so happy that I was there. They constantly talked to me about intellectual things like an adult, and they really showed me how similar people can be despite coming from two completely different places. They had two children, an eleven year-old boy and a five year-old boy. The five year old didn't know any English, but he still loved being around me and trying to teach me Italian (one night he tried to teach me the names of all the different toes... SOOO cute!). And approximately four times a day he would strip down to his socks and pants, slide across the hardwood floor towards me, and sing James Brown's "I feel good". I suppose it helped him feel connected to me to show-off the only English he knew. It was pretty much the funniest thing I've ever seen... I wish I would have filmed it!

I was sad to leave the family (and Italy!), but I was anxious to return home to see my family and friends. The morning I left, the mother cried when she kissed me goodbye and told me that she had trouble sleeping the night before... but that she felt better knowing how happy my real mom must be that I was going home.

The journey home was unbearably long. I took one train and two metros all before 8am. Then it was 10 hours from Milan to Atlanta, 1.5 hours from Atlanta to St. Louis, then a 4 hour drive home. And the whole time, I had my entire cash salary (including a hefty bonus--WOOHOO!!) from the entire summer in an envelope in my pocket. I would have slept with a knife, but I wouldn't have gotten through airport security with one.

Now that I have been home for about five days, my entire experience in Italy seems so distant... almost like a dream... like it didn't actually happen. I guess that's because it was completely separate and disconnected from the rest of my life. Regardless, I can't put into words how much I learned and grew from my experience teaching there. It was amazing in every sense of the word. I realize how fortunate I am to be able to have opportunities like this, and I am so glad that I have taken advantage of them. I have now lived in and seen a beautiful country from several different angles, made countless new friends from across the globe, and have been impacted by the kindness of so many foreign children and their families. I will never forget them.
The Italian people are so warm and hospitable, and they truly care for the well-being of others. I have found that they have a deep appreciation of their own culture, but also of education about other cultures. They are so eager to just live life, love others, and eat vast amounts of delicious food.

Part of the reason I wanted this job was to explore my passion for education. Although I knew from the beginning that I would not want to teach young children for a career, I wanted to know what it felt like to have a classroom and to teach other people. It gave me such a rush and it felt incredible. Maybe I will be some kind of teacher one day. Maybe I won't. But whatever the case may be, at least I now have a tiny bit of insight into what it could be like. And although I don't think I would ever want to work with small children on a permanent basis, I discovered that I really do like children quite a bit more than I used to think.

Well, with all of that said, I think this blog is finished and complete. Thanks to everyone who has followed this blog throughout the summer. I hope it has provided you with a bit of humor, or boredom-relief, or possibly even insight into education and people in Italy. If you are interested in seeing my pictures, they are finally all posted on facebook.

VIVA ITALIA!!!

-Taylor Martin



"To teach, you need a degree; but to educate, you only need to be yourself."

Lurago d'Erba

It's been over a week since my last entry, but it feels as if it were yesterday... the time just flies by! It's starting to hit me that I only have one more week left in Italy. Although I will be sad to leave such a wonderful program in such a beautiful place, I think I will be ready to return home. I am growing anxious to see my family and friends, and I need to prepare for RA training. (FYI: I will be home by the 27th, and I will be moving into WashU on August 5th or 6th.)

This week has certainly not been my favourite week, but I have survived. On one hand, the camp director was the most controlling person I've ever met. This was her first year with ACLE and she didn't understand that it is the tutors' job to organize the camp, determine what activities should be done and when. She would propose something unsuitable or in a time frame that is impossible for 50 kids to do.... We would kindly suggest an alternative and explain why it would be better... She would nod her head and say okay... Then, next thing we know, she's hauling the kids out of our classes to do her original bad idea. It was extremely frustrating! On the other hand, my host family was incredible and I really enjoyed my time with them a lot! I guess regardless of the quality of the camp, I'm still in Italy pursuing a passion... so I shouldn't complain!

I had a class of 13 five to seven year-olds. This was my first time having such a young class... and it was definitely eye-opening. One of my students was born in 2004; (I was in high school in 2004)... I've never felt so old. It was kind of fun to have to act overly excited and constantly animated about everything. On day one I created a 'quiet bunny' mask and whenever I put it on, all the students had to show me their 'quiet bunnies' by putting their hands on their heads like rabbit ears and stop talking. It worked pretty well until Thursday afternoon... I guess they started to realize that it's a lot more fun to talk than to pretend you're a bunny.

I also had two kids that were absolutely rotten: Diego and Maxim. They were like Bonnie and Clyde. They were always feeding off eachothers' antics and running around screaming thier heads off, stealing stuff off my desk (including the 'quiet bunny' mask that I worked so hard on!). I learned from my father how to yell with a tone of voice that could scare pretty much anything... needless to say, it came in quite handy this week.

Because my students were at such a low level, I wrote a very simple show for them. We performed The Frog Prince, with a princess asking all these different animals if they are frogs. They respond that they aren't frogs, they are_____. Then she asks the frog, he says yes and asks her to kiss him. She kisses him, he turns into a prince, and they all sing a short song about kissing the frog. It was cute, but not my finest work. I accidentally made my princess cry yesterday because she didn't have her lines memorized. I leaned down to eye level and spoke to her in broken Italian (as I often had to do with this class because their English vocabulary is so limited), saying "Desiree, I gave you the paper on Tuesday and there are only four words! Why aren't they in your memory!?" I guess I'm a little harsh during the show rehearsals because I want it to be good, but I'm learning.

As far as my home stay, it has been really great. I have my own apartment within the house where the grandparents lived before they passed away, so I have plenty of privacy and a huge bed. The father makes belts at a factory and speaks no English. And the mother stays home to tend to the house and their twelve year-old daughter. I'm not really sure how they can afford to live in a house this big, but I've noticed that low-paying 'less-respected' jobs in America are perfectly normal and well-paying jobs in Italy (including waiters, pizza chefs, taxi drivers). The mother knows a fair amount of English but she discovered that I knew some Italian, so she's started speaking to me in Italian instead. Although I appreciate being able to practice a foreign language, I think they assume that I know more than I do. I just pick out words that I know in the sentences and try to piece together what they're saying to me. Sometimes I can... sometimes I can't.

They took me to Lake Como last night, which was beautiful. The lake is at the bottom of these tall green mountains, which have fancy villas scattered along the sides. Apparently George Clooney has a villa there. The water was so clear despite it being such a crowded tourist destination.

I only had one awkward moment with this family, but it was horribly embarrassing for me. On television and in movies, they always show that the most horrible thing that can happen to a visitor while staying at a host's house is to have a problem with the toilet... well, that poor guy you've laughed at on TV is now me. On Tuesday night, we went out for gelato and returned home pretty late. I said goodnight and went downstairs. They said goodnight and that they were going straight to bed. I still needed to make my lesson plan for the next day, so I stayed up for a while longer. After finishing, I needed to go pee before I went to bed. So I go pee... so far, so good. Then I push the little button that makes the toilet flush... still good. Then while washing my hands, I realize that the toilet has been flushing for longer than normal. I look over and the button is still pushed inside the wall. I try to pull it out, but to no avail. I get tweezers out of my bag, and use them as pliers to try to pull the button out... it won't budge. By this point, I'm getting a little concerned and beads of nervous sweat are forming on my forehead. I try twisting it a little bit... it moves... YAY... thinking logically, I twist a little more... BAD IDEA! Water starts leaking out of the flusher hole. Now I know I'm in over my head and need to wake up the family. I look in the mirror for a few moments; long enough to shake my head at myself, chuckle at the misfortune that I thought only occurred in films, and gather enough courage to go upstairs. I climb the stairs louder than usual, reasoning that it would be better if they heard me coming instead of just shocking them to death in the middle of the night. I meekly shout for Elena (the mother). She comes out of her room looking confused. Knowing that her English isn't good enough to understand what I needed to say, and that my Italian isn't good enough to explain that I may or may not have broken her deceased mother's toilet, I just said the word 'problem' in Italian and motioned for her to follow me downstairs. She sees the toilet, shouts "Mamma Mia!" and turns the water off from under the sink. Then she shouts for Orlando to wake up and come fix it. Half an hour later, the toilet is fixed, I am completely mortified, and everyone is up later than they want to be.

I suppose my summer in Italy wouldn't be complete without a good disaster story to laugh about later!

Pieve di Cento

So much to say... where to begin?!

Last week, I lived in a modern downtown apartment flat in the middle of B0logna's centre with a very new-age, urban family. This week, I live in a farm house in the middle of nowhere, between corn fields and pear orchards, with a Jehovah's Witness family. I'm very pleased that I am getting the chance to experience the wide range of lifestyles that Italy has to offer. Although I miss being in a bustling city, the countryside is so beautiful here, and I have an entire guesthouse to myself. I'm able to watch television for the first time, but I don't have the internet there. (Watching the Michael Jackson Memorial was very irritating because I couldn't here the English over the Italian translator!)

Oh, and just a tiny detail I forgot to mention about the family: None of them speak a word of English. Luckily, I've picked up enough Italian to understand most of what they say to me, but I feel bad when I talk to them, because I'm sure I'm slaughtering their verbs. Having studied Spanish helps a biut, but it also confuses a lot of things too. Things that I am sure would be the same in both languages are not, etc. However, it's really kind of exhilerating to communicate with them despite the language barrier. I feel like I'm learning Italian and creating my own dialect of sign language all at the same time!

This camp is certainly not my favorite, but it's almost time to move again, so that's good. The camp was two weeks long, but I entered only for the second week. When the director picked me up from the train station, she told me that the current tutors are not getting along at all and I needed to be the peace-maker and the bridge over troubled water (ps: that's a great song!). Then she tells me that half of my class is elementary students and half are media (middle school) students. So I am having to teach two different levels in the same classroom. To top it all off, I've never had such an unintelligent class. I don't mean to sound cross, but they really are stupid. Here are a few examples from there work books to prove my point. (Keep in mind this is AFTER I have taught the lesson and done two or three games with them enforcing the lesson.):

>What's in front of the computer?
---"No, there isn't."
>Describe ACTIVITIES you don't enjoy.
---I don't enjoy "kiwi".
>What's in the box?
----"In the box what's dog."

And here's one that made me laugh for a while!
>Comparatives: A ___ is better than a ___.
---- A "cat" is better than a "boy".

>Then, as the camp assistant walks us around the square, she points to a statue of a naked man and says "He has a very nice... how do you say? ....library!"
Then the director says: "No, no, not a library... the word is ass!"
I feel bad making fun of someone who speaks more languages than I do, but of all things to get mixed up, it must take a very special person to confuse those two words.

In addition to not being very bright, they are also very ornery. I assumed that the child I lived with (who is also in my class) would be no trouble at all since he is being raised in a Jehovah's Witness family... WRONG! He is one of the least Christ-like children I have ever encountered. On top of annoying me every second, never listening, and not memorizing his lines for the show, which I unfortunately take too seriously (This week I'm doing The Jonas Sisters.), he got me wet today. If you know me well, you know that I really hate getting wet without wearing the proper getting-wet attire. Today we played water games with the kids, and they thought it would be really funny to dump water all over me. -*Sigh*- I guess I should expect to get wet when I play water games with ten year-olds. But a boy can have hope, cant't he?!?!

As far as being the peace-maker, that was a piece of cake. We all went to Venice on Sunday and had plenty of bonding time. It was one of the best days since I've been in Italy. That city is so incredible... it really feels like you've been dropped into a different world. We bought the most horribly cheesy tourist hats we could find, toured the city on a gondola (€120 for 45 minutes), ate the cheapest food the city has to offer, and just had the time of our lives!!! We went home exhausted and pennyless (quite literally: I had to scrounge around for 5 cent coins until I had enough to buy a departure train ticket). It was also one of the most ironic days I've ever experienced... really of double-irony, if you will.

On the two hour train ride to Venice we were having a very intense conversation about irony, and how most people say things are ironic when they really aren't, instead of using words like coincidental or bad luck. (My Welsh friend Alex also wants me to include in my blog that all of the examples of ironic situations in Alanis Morisset's (spelling?) song titled "Ironic" are not actually ironic at all.) ANYWAY, we came to the conclusion that ironic situations are much more rare than usually assumed, and that they are truly special occurences.

Fast forward to the end of the day (makes zooming noise in head)....

As we approach the train station to return home, we hear the beating of a drum coming from around the corner. When we walk around the corner, we see this huge crowd of people gathered around these Native Americans who were in full tribal dress, playing music and dancing. So there I am, an American boy from the Mid-West, who has traveled all the way to the other hemisphere of the world to indulge in Italian culture, and I'm watching Native Americans (most likely from the Mid-West) who have traveled all the way to the other hemisphere of the world to indulge Italians in American culture. IRONY

Then we board the train, and we're about an hour away from our stop. Paul repeats a question word for word that I had asked Jordan about two minutes earlier. We tease him about not paying attention, and he starts telling us that he can be really ditzy sometimes. Then Alex admits that she's ditzy a lot too and has no common sense at all. Then I explain that I think I have a lot of common sense, but that my brother always tells me that I don't... so I'm a little bit self-conscious about it. This of course leads to about a hundred and one hilarious stories from all four of us about our ditziest moments. About an hour and ten minutes wizzes by... I look at my watch and say "Shouldn't we be home already."
...And at that moment the four of us start laughing uncontrollably at how absurd it is that while we were sitting there talking about ditziness, we missed our stop. IRONY

And because of the fact that we had discussed in the morning that ironic situations are so rare and don't occur as much as most people think, it became the day of double irony! Which Alex and I decided to shorten to DIRONY.