20 questions

A scene from my game of twenty questions with my fourth year students today:
[A boy approaches the front of the classroom, as he has just guessed Bangladesh correctly and now it's his turn to think of something. He chooses jobs.]
E (aside to me): What do you call a man who makes pizza?
R: Let's say, pizza maker.
E (to class): Ok, I've thought of it.
Class: Do you work with other people?
E: Uh, sometimes.
[He sits down at the teacher's desk (I'm always on my feet) and leans back.]
E: I'm tired.
Class: Is it a manual job?
E: Uh, yes, I suppose.
Class: Do you earn a lot of money?
E: Sometimes.
Class (growing indignant): What does it mean, sometimes?
E: Some people who do this job have a big salary but not always.
R: Most of the time no.
[Class grumbles.]
Class: Do you work outside?
E: No.
Class: Can you do this job in Milan?
E: Yes.
Class: Do you work in a hospital?
E: Ehh no. Ok, maybe in a really big hospital. Maybe in the United States hospital.
Class: Are you a lawyer?
E: No.
R to E: Maybe you should give them a hint.
E: Okay, it's someone who gives people happiness.
[Class mumbles.]
Class: Is it a clown?
E: No.
A girl: Un attore comico! Non so chiedere in inglese...
A boy: Is it a comic actor?
Same girl: Sarà il suo spacciatore! Fai soldi un po' si un po' no, qualche volta lavori con altra gente...
Class: Is it a pusher?
R: Drug dealer.
E: No.
[Class grumbles.]
A boy: Do you give massages?
[Some of class makes confused noises and I explain what "massage" means.]
E: Sometimes.
[Class is becoming truly confused.]
R, reminding: He said that you can do the job in Milan. What kinds of jobs are especially Italian?
Class: Do you work in the evening?
E: Yes.
A boy: Is it a prostitute?
E: No.
R: You guys are leaving out a big industry.
[The bell rings.]
Class: What is it?
E: A pizza maker!
[Collective moans and loud complaints. "Makes you happy?! Massages?! Macché!" E trundles back to his desk, a victorious smile on his face.]

culture shock

While waiting to check out the supermarket, I had a moment of that special culture shock that I haven't experienced in a while. Because I saw this:...cioè, baby food made of horse meat (40%, the company proudly declares).

And I thought Italy couldn't surprise me anymore.

once upon a time

"Once upon a time in the land of Parma, famous over the world for its delicious Parma ham, lived a stupid little prince in a gray and lonely castle. The prince wanted even better ham. He had been told that the best ham in the world was the ham from a magic pig that lived in the woods of his kingdom. The problem was that nobody was able to capture it. The prince looked for a killer of magic pigs on Facebook. This famous killer lived in Africa, and the prince was willing to pay a lot of gold if he could bring him the magic pig. So the killer accepted the prince's offer.
After a long journey, the killer arrived at the castle and the same day started the hunt. During the night, the killer finally found the magic pig and tried to capture him, but the little pig became a lion and started to fight with the killer. The little pig didn't know that the killer was African and he was an expert hunter of lions. The poor little pig ended up in the killer's sack. It was taken to the castle.
When the prince saw the little pig, he was so happy that he started to dance, singing, "I'll have the best ham in the world!" When the little pig heard these words, he transformed the prince into a little donkey so that he could eat only grass and no longer ham.
Soon after the princess came into the room, found the magic little pig so cute, and thought that such a beautiful animal should not be hunted. From that day hunting pigs, whether magic or not, was forbidden.
Everybody lived happily ever after, especially the little pigs."

-a story by V, a studentessa in my 5th year class at Zappa. They had to use the words (chosen by them) "killer, Facebook, Parma ham, stupid, magic pig, castle, prince, to dance, Africa" and to be "super duper creative" (me).

super 8 film festival

Last weekend under the infinite rain cloud of fall, we discovered Milan's International Super8 Film Festival, which relieved our need to be outside of the house but protected from the downpour. It was held in a little musty theater next to a church, filled with a few damp enthusiasts and a few professionals, some of them sort of famous. Outside under the shelter was a little mercatino where you could buy your very own Super8 camera and projector. Being a little fascinated by old machines that make good noises, I was tempted, but my almost total lack of knowledge held me back.

During the question and answer sessions with a couple directors, one of a much lauded music video for Baustelle and the other of a short film with the Italian actor Sergio Castellito, the problems plaguing Italy kept resurfacing. I think it's a favorite topic of intellectuals here, and why not? They brought up the difficulty of seeing a movie in its original language, everything is dubbed, there's very little funding for independent projects, a mafia of cinema that determines what is appropriate for the public...When asked what advice he had for an aspiring filmmaker, one director replied, "Di andarsene via da qui appena possibile." To get out of this place as soon as possibile.

My favorite short was a Colombian film called "La Fabula del Negro Bautista" but being beautiful no one put it on youtube. So enjoy some of the other super8 films from the festival and contemplate stagnation.

The famous music video for Baustelle's "Piangi Roma"


Music video by Blackie and the Oohoos, a Belgian band

Blackie & the Oohoos - Love Boy from robin vandenbergh on Vimeo.

"The Birthday Cat"by Freya Elliot from the UK, I think

what goes on between classes...

Just another exemplary student at my high school sprecando some extra energy.

the apocalypse? no, just soccer in Europe

(Inter flag we found in the street waving proudly on my balcony. Bonus: Milan sun!)
Y'all in America may or may not have been paying attention to the European Champions League, where the best soccer clubs in Europe compete for several months to become the campioni. Inter, one of Milan's two teams (and a little bit the Yankees of Italy), beat such teams as Chelsea and Barcelona to reach the finals against Bayern, Munich. And guess what...
They won! For the first time in 38 years or something crazy like that. Not Real Madrid, not Manchester, but Inter! Want to see?

We went to the Piazza del Duomo to see the game on the big screen with the crazies. Here is a video of its last moments and when the crowd realizes that Intern has won. For the first minute, everyone has their hands in the air and says "OOOOOOO," and then the crowd erupts with joy, the sky with fireworks, the piazza with crazy.

It's a little Blair Witchy, but you get the idea.

And then for hours afterwards (including bonus shot of our bikes and me terrified about leaving them with the crazies):


So I guess you could call this my first European Football Experience. Pretty intense, and all the noise and smoke and flares made me think on some level that the Rapture/Word War III might be occurring. Do these kinds of things happen in the U.S.? I missed the images of the streets of New Orleans after the Super Bowl. Maybe I do not care enough about American sports.

In the end, all was well, the only casualty was the mudguard of F's bike.

A selection of chants heard that night:

Josè Mourihnoooo dadadadadada (ode to the coach sung to the tune of "I can't take my eyes of you")

Juventino pezzo di merda!

Siamo noi
Siamo noi
I campioni d'Europa siamo noi!

for rachel!

To walk from Zappa to Cremona you have to pass the basketball court and track, which frequently host all sorts of sports. I had run over to Cremona to make a photocopy and was returning to Zappa, and I found my students of last round's fourth year class playing soccer. They saw me and said, "Hi Rachel! Hi Rachel!"
The ball rolled my way, I kicked it back (despite pencil skirt), "Grande Rachel!"
And as I passed, one of the boys pulled away from the others, ball shooting out before him, and raced to the goal, yelling, "For Rachel! For Rachel!" And scored.
I was moved.

gli ormoni

The students of my FCE Prep class at fancyshamncy high school Parini have been dropping like flies. Maybe it's the sunshine or the proximity of their spring break, but only about 12 people out of 30 showed up today. And this with the teacher who hired me begging me to teach another course because my feedback is so good.

When I arrived at the school, I noticed two students making out by the motorini, and I also noticed the girl, G, was in my class. I stopped looking and gave them a wide berth, kind of adorable, none of my business, and when I started class I had forgotten.

Anyways, the small number of kids meant that I could be more chatty with them, and after we finished going over the practice exam, we chatted about the novità in our lives. I asked G what was new, and she blushed, smiled, and said, "Nothing." Three other girls burst out laughing.

"Nothing?" I asked. No one gets off with "nothing". "What will you do for vacation?"
"I will...go to the mountains," she replied, setting off another set of snickers. I said it would be good to get some fresh air.

I then asked A what was new in her life, and she said, "I am happy. I am happy for G, because she has finally got a boyfriend!"

G's face turned from a red into a deep crimson, and all the girls, G included, giggled until they were snorting. I said, "Ah, oh, that's why she's now the color of her shirt." I felt a little bit of their excitement and embarrassment and almost turned red myself. I felt the urge to tell her that despite what everyone seems to believe, having a boyfriend isn't really so important, that you can do wonderfully without one, maybe even be more yourself, and make sure you don't let him affect how you feel about yourself or tell you want to do. But I held my tongue and let her be happy. It was time for excitement, not old Smithie lectures.

Relationships are a funny thing here. Scratch that, everywhere. But talking about them seems to be an especially favorite pastime here. Everyone has a great interest in your personal life, and in sharing theirs. I've had a teacher complain to me about her yearly French tryst, who never puts in enough effort. I've overheard teachers discussing the relationships of students (How can S be dating him? He is such a pig! I was very surprised). Once Elena explained to me that she knew a boy was doing better in English because his girlfriend of one year was making him study. Students kiss in the hallways.

Also, I made the (possible) mistake of telling Ms. R that I am involved with someone here, and she immediately assumed that 1) we were engaged, 2) we were living together and 3) that I was going to remain in Italy forever and now she and I can meet for tea every now and then. I replied that I had to leave in June, and she was horrified. "What will happen to your relationship?" she asked. I shrugged hopefully.

It's the brutal truth: the one entity that doesn't care about you and your boyfriend is the Italian immigration police.

Zucchini

Rounding the corner to enter a classroom, I noticed a commotion near the trashcan by the door. A boy had darted towards it to throw something away, then moved away quickly. The kids were making casino, laughing and joking in Italian, and the prof, Fabrizio, was giggling.
I came in the class and asked, "Hi guys, what's up? What's the story?" They just pointed to the trashcan. Under it lay a big green zucchini clothed only in a purple condom.
"Oh, look at that, a zucchini" I said, attempting to minimize the condom part. Fabrizio just shrugged. We started class.

The next week, we only had a half-hour lesson, so I decided to play 20 questions with them. A guessed my animal, which was an elephant, so she came up to the front to have the kids ask her about her type of food. After remonstrating them for asking in Italian ("I don't speak Italian. I only speak English, please"), she answered some questions (Is it Italian? Sometimes. Is it a vegetable? Yes. Is it long? Sometimes.). Someone guessed zucchini. Fabrizio turned to me and said, "They really like zucchini."

My adorable students...

I was looking up the website of Cremona when I found this video made by some of my students. They're singing "Domani 21.04.09,″ a "We Are the World"-esque tribute by around 50 Italian artists to the victims of the Abruzzo earthquake. I'm not entirely sure what their idea was behind it (tribute, saptastic joke, così?), but it's a pretty cool little window into my school...



And if you're interested in the original...