Autogestione (self-management)

No matter how many times the profs half-explain it to me, I still don't fully get it. This is the week of autogestione, which means the kids run their own lessons. Or study by themselves. Or don't run their own lessons and hang out in the hall, buying packaged snacks and shots of espresso from the vending machines and drawing hearts on each other's faces. Either way, if they want they can kick out the teacher and take over class themselves.

BUT don't think that you can hang out at home, or godforbid explore the city, do something adventurous. You must be at school. Maybe the kids will want you, maybe they will decide to have lessons. You never know. I waited a little bit with Ms. R because she wasn't sure whether the kids in her 2G class would decide to autogestire or not. Probably not, she said, because she had heard they wanted to paint their classroom instead. Still, we waited until a little before the class started when we could see the registro, which had the records of the previous lessons that day. Sure enough, autogestione. No class.

It was nice to have a bit of a break, however. I hung out in the teacher's lounge all morning, figuring out my schedule for the next few weeks, planning tutoring for this afternoon, reading Absalom, Absalom! (I gave it as a gift to Fabbro, then realized that I didn't remember it at all and better re-read it).

The profs were feeling gregarious. Ms. R came up to me to ask me what I was reading. Then later, while I was at the computer, she asked me to borrow it. Then she asked what I was doing on the internet (finding photos for story prompting). Then she came and sat by me while she read so she could ask me about words she didn't know.

Ms. S also came to talk to me while I was at the computer, which delighted me because even though she always has lovely ideas for our classes together, sometimes she is a little cold towards me. She told me about a K-12 creative writing organization called 826 Valencia in San Francisco, as well as other organizations whose newsletters she subscribes to. She talked about the city with such a longing, I hadn't known she had lived there. We agreed to do something with creative writing in our next classes together. She seemed very happy, excited.

Every conversation seems to start with an almost-accusatory "What are you doing?" What is that American up to now? They're just curious.

Ok, now I know: Autogestione = bonding with profs