Category Archives: bio

Private School in Italy

It’s been a while since I wrote about the Italian education system, specifically as relates to my daughter. Last year, her second at the liceo artistico, was a disaster. She started the year with three academic “debits” – courses she had failed the year before, and was expected to study over the summer and be tested on in the fall. She and others in her situation were given extra tutoring by the same teacher who had done such a poor job of teaching them math and physics the previous year. Needless to say, it did not do them a lot of good, especially as they were at the same time trying to keep up with all the new material being introduced in class (by the same poorly-organized teacher*). They were given two chances at the make-up exams; Ross flunked all of them.

We were puzzled as to her status at that point. The head teacher (of her class’ group of teachers) explained that she would carry forward the academic debits, which would be taken into consideration when determining her status at the end of the second year. If she passed the second year, the debits would simply be erased and forgotten. This seemed odd, since failing to pass the tests meant that she had never properly assimilated the first-year material, and now would never have another opportunity to do so.

In any case , Ross had fallen into a vicious cycle of assuming that she would fail tests, and then fulfilling that promise; none of us was surprised to be told that she would have to repeat the second year (along with a number of her classmates). Local headlines said that it was a record year for flunking in Lecco, with students at one school even contemplating a lawsuit (on what grounds I don’t know).

Although she partly (and with some justice) blamed herself, Ross was bitter, and did not look forward to repeating the year at the same school. We couldn’t think of any workable alternative, except to try the “traditional” four-year curriculum at the same liceo artistico, which would involve more hours of studio art, and no math or physics after the second year. None of us was sure this was a great idea, since the traditional program had the reputation of being a parking lot for kids who had failed repeatedly and were simply waiting to be old enough to leave school for good. But we gritted our teeth and hoped for the best.

As we got closer to September, Ross increasingly dreaded returning to school, and was thoroughly depressed by the time it started on the 12th. The first day confirmed her worst fears: her new classmates were all demotivated rejects from other schools and classes. Liceo artistico tradizionale was not the answer.

But Ross quickly found her own solution. Many of her friends attend, and recommend, a local private school. So Enrico visited the place on Tuesday, Ross and I had a look on Wednesday, we enrolled her Thursday, and she started Monday morning. Ever since we made this decision, Ross has been motivated and enthusiastic about school as I haven’t seen her in years – which is wonderful!

One irony lies in the curriculum. This school offers two indirizzi (tracks), liceo linguistico Europeo (European linguistic) and liceo della communicazione. Ross can’t do the linguistico now, having missed a year of Latin and German – too much material to catch up. The curriculum that best fits the work she’s already done and the subjects she’s interested in is communications, with a subspecialty in technology, leading to a maturita’ (national school-leaving exam) in science. This is the same exam she would have done if she had gone to liceo scientifico, an option she would never have considered! In this curriculum she’ll have extra math (five hours a week total), plus physics and chemistry, as well as IT courses. And, so far, she’s perfectly tranquil about this choice. Maybe she got her father’s math gene after all.

So, after years of pain, things are looking hopeful on the educational front. I’m sure it won’t be an entirely smooth ride, but, hell, it couldn’t get much worse than what we’ve already been through!

Tuesday: Two days in the new school – so far, so good…

* We later learned that this teacher was trying to cope at home with a husband dying of cancer… In the circumstances, it would have been in everybody’s best interest – especially the students’ – to give her a paid leave of absence.

next: school year abroad?

Crawling to Conclusions

I mentioned that I was going to be on TV, part of the audience on the Italian political talk show L’Infedele hosted by Gad Lerner.

Lerner showed far more political bias than he had in the previous show I attended (partly about Microsoft, partly about taxes – two inevitabilities of modern life?). My friend David Callahan and I were flattered to be specially shown to seats in the second row, stage right, until we realized that they had put us on the side of the cattivi (bad guys), as Lerner jokingly remarked. I was seated behind Gianni de Michelis, a long-time bastion of the Italian Socialist Party (abundantly disgraced by the Clean Hands anti-corruption investigations years ago), who had been Italy’s foreign minister for years during his heyday. Staring at the back of his greasy head for hours was not particularly edifying, his political opinions even less so.

The topic of the evening had been changed from “George Bush and Iraq” to “Are we winning the war [on terrorism]?” More broadly, should the war in Iraq ever have been started and have we (the Coalition) won it? There were several videomontages of recent violent events, with disingenuous voiceover narration. And, as I had expected, Giuliana Sgrena took part, remotely from a studio in Rome.

Someone had told me she wasn’t likely to participate, as she hadn’t given any interviews since her disastrous exit from Iraq, and was still recovering from being shot by American troops at a blockade as she was being carried away from her kidnappers (the Italian secret service officer who had secured her release was killed outright). But there she was, and, after so long a silence, she had plenty to say. As did everyone else, though few said anything sensible or surprising. This, too, was disappointing. Lerner picks intelligent guests from both sides of his topics, but these two groups were each entrenched in their own positions, and nobody was listening to anybody else.

The show was being broadcast live, with commercial breaks every 20 minutes. As break time approached, a young producer would hold up a sign for all of us to see: 4 minuti. 2 minuti. 60 secondi. Pubblicita’. These were largely ignored by whoever had the floor at the time, in spite of Lerner’s efforts (more determined in some cases than others) to shut them up. We missed one break by at least 10 minutes. Even on a TV schedule, Italians will be Italians… The show ran overtime by about 15 minutes, as is common for many live shows in Italy. Tivo would have a hard time working correctly here.

The one distinguished guest I felt any sympathy with was Anna Prause, seated on the “good guys” side. She had gone to Iraq with the Red Cross, then was hired by the Iraqi government to help set up the new Ministry of Health. As the situation for foreigners in Iraq deteriorated, she was eventually advised to leave, advice which she took only reluctantly.

When she finally got the floor, she exploded, saying that, while things in Iraq are still bad, and more dangerous than they were before, things are also better in many ways that are not understood or mentioned by the press. She gave an example: one of her tasks for the Ministry of Health had been to set up a new headquarters, planning everything right down to office fixtures and furniture. A year ago, she could not get her Iraqi colleagues to make a decision on anything even as minor as the color of the office furniture. Not because they were stupid or had no opinions, but because they were accustomed to watching carefully to see what opinions they were supposed to have, so that they could parrot those back to their political masters.

A year on, they not only had opinions, but were very happy to argue about them. This, she said, demonstrated an important change for the better in everyday Iraqi life, in spite of the ongoing violence. Is security more important than liberty? That’s a fundamental question which almost every country faces today. Personally, I come down on the side of liberty, but I’d like to hear from Iraqis themselves how they feel about it.

That evening forced me to confront and clarify my own very mixed feelings about what’s going on Iraq and how it all went down.

I always knew (who didn’t?) that Saddam was very bad news for the world and especially for his own people. He was a monster, partly of American creation, so the US had some responsibility to clean him up. The sanctions imposed after the first Gulf War caused tremendous suffering among the Iraqi people, without adversely affecting their “leaders”. I have mentioned my schoolmate who was married to an Iraqi and lived in Baghdad -through two wars – until her death from cancer last year. When I met Shahnaz and Achmed in 1996, Achmed’s salary as a schoolteacher was 3000 dinars a month: just about enough to buy a pack of cigarettes. Of course they couldn’t survive on that; their extended family, like everyone else in Iraq, was scraping along by selling off valuables and assets, and getting poorer all the time.

Yet Saddam seemed to have accomplished a sort of brainwashing (not surprising – as absolute dictator, he controlled all the media). People didn’t like him but, as Shahnaz insisted, “In Iraq we have a saying: better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

Post facto, it’s clear that most Iraqis didn’t feel that way, and are relieved to have got rid of the devil they knew for so long. So I can’t regret that the US military went in and removed him. I am, however, furious at how Bush & Co. lied, cheated, and manipulated the American people into agreeing to this, and then managed it so badly. There are plenty of other reasons to be angry at the Bush administration, but on this issue I may come out feeling much as I did about Reagan: I hated his methods and attitudes, but must, however grudgingly, applaud some of his results.

Dec, 2006 – No, never mind. Removing Saddam was never worth what’s happening now.

International Broadcasting Conference 2005

above: This sign outside IBC will be funny to Firefly fans, and no one else.

I’m just back from IBC, the International Broadcasting Conference (at least I assume that’s what it stands for), in Amsterdam. It’s all about technology for television – from cameras and lights to satellites and set-top boxes. Most of the equipment and software are far beyond the reach or needs of a video beginner like me. But that’s what we would have said about video cameras not that long ago, so I amused myself in speculation about how soon some of these tools would move into the hands of “prosumers,” and then rank amateurs. And I formulated some ideas about how I could help that happen.

The biggest stand was Sony’s, demonstrating HD (high definition) TV. They and several others had sets crammed with intricate objects and, in several cases, live people, so that you could truly appreciate the fine resolution of the HD videocameras there for testing. Three of these displays had women getting made up by professional makeup artists. Actually, one of them was getting full body paint, which might have been interesting if I’d felt like standing around to watch it. The point was to look through the cameras at the level of detail that could be achieved. I noted that one camera had been left zoomed in on the model’s rear end – not a lot of detail there.

Sony also had a huge screen to display the output of its HD cameras, with a beautifully shot and skillfully edited sequence of breathtaking images. After their own ten-minute ad, they ran a teaser for a film, also presumably shot in HD, called “Mystic India.” I don’t go in for that whole mystic India shtick, but the footage was so amazing that I’ll have to track down and buy this film.

Show tchotchkes (give-aways) are not what they used to be – mostly cheap pens, and it seemed as if every stand was offering a drawing for an iPod, as a way to get your business card. I did get a logo-printed stopwatch from some company, advertising the speed of its processors. The only company giving t-shirts was Adobe, so I now have a nice Adobe t-shirt (black) with the IBC logo on the back. And, perhaps even better, they gave me a two-DVD set with trial software and video tutorials on how to use it. I was entranced by the demos of their professional film and audio editing software. (Down, girl! You don’t have time to play that hard.) But I stayed away from the Apple booths – drooling over computers is so unattractive.

One of the coolest things I saw was fuel cell camera batteries, from a company called Jadoo – which must have been founded by an Indian, because jadoo means “magic” in Hindi. And magic it is: battery packs for professional camera operators, no bigger or heavier or more expensive than the traditional rechargeables, but with longer shooting times, and environmentally friendly: just attach a small cylinder of hydrogen to the recharging unit, and the only emission is a bit of water vapor.

I overload quickly at hyperkinetic events like this; when you’ve got an attention surplus, an environment in which everything is moving and talking and visually extremely attractive is a constant assault on the senses. And it’s physically tiring standing or ambling around hall after hall. Everyone at these shows soon becomes miserable, and will listen to any sales pitch, if they can sit down in the meantime.

As for Amsterdam itself, I barely saw it. The first night we ended up going back to our hotel (way the hell out somewhere – everything in town was booked) for a very mediocre meal. Saturday night we had dinner at an authentic Dutch restaurant (a student hangout, really). A bit too authentic. I was surprised to find that the Netherlands are behind Italy in one sign of civilization: smoking is still allowed in restaurants, and there isn’t even a separate smoking section. So the restaurant was very smoky, and I’m paying for it now with lung and sinus congestion. The dinner, at least, was excellent: the best liver I’ve ever eaten, sliced thin and very tender, topped with fried onions and bacon. And some pretty decent fries. With mayonnaise, of course.

On Sunday, I met up with Jan and Joel, two American vloggers in town for this week’s VlogEurope meet-up. It’s always fun to meet face-to-face with people you’ve met through email or video; you sort of know each other, but there’s plenty left to discover. After that I got together with Woodstock alumnae, two of whom I hadn’t seen since schooldays, and another I’d never met at all. This was the opposite of the earlier meeting: these were people with whom I had had little or no contact in 25 years, yet we still (and always will) have a great deal in common at the most fundamental level.

“What Do You Do?” Not Defining Oneself in Terms of Work in Italy

“All societies throughout history have had work right at their center; but ours – particularly America’s – is the first to suggest that it could be something other than a punishment or penance. Ours is the first to imply that a sane human being would want to work even if he wasn’t under financial pressure to do so. We are unique, too, in allowing our choice of work to define who we are, so that the central question we ask of new acquaintances is not where they come from or who their parents are but, rather, what it is they do – as though only this could effectively reveal what gives a human life its distinctive timbre.”

Alain de Botton “Workers of the World, Relax”- New York Times, September 6, 2004

An American meeting another American for the first time usually asks: “What do you do [for a living]?” As Botton suggests, this may be because, to an American, what you do for a living is a choice that reveals much about who you are. The question may also (consciously or un-) be intended to establish relative economic status. Personally, I like to know what people do simply to find some connection on which to hang a conversation.

In Italy, the question is so unusual that I’ve stopped asking. For most Italians, most of the time, there’s simply no need to ask: you hang out mostly with your paesani (hometown folks), about whom you already know everything. When you do meet new people, it’s often in the context of work, so again there’s no need to ask.

Italians more often define themselves in terms of where they come from (paese) and who their family is. No one has a choice about these things, but many Italians don’t have much choice about their work, either. They may choose their field of study, but even that is often strongly influenced by the family. When seeking a job, most are heavily constrained by the tight job market and their need, both economic and psychological, to stay close to home – job satisfaction is a very secondary consideration.

The Soul of a School

Woodstock School was founded in 1854, for the daughters of American Protestant missionaries and of British civil and military personnel in India. Like most British and American schools of its time, it was founded on a strongly Christian ethic and tradition, aiming to instill Christian values and knowledge in its pupils. Woodstock girls were trained to become good wives and mothers, teachers, and missionaries. Given the context and the times, no one thought this objectionable.

The school has always been Christian, but it also has a long history of welcoming children of every race and creed, a tradition which has been vigorously defended by some of its most influential administrators.

In my day (1977-81), Woodstock had just begun a fundamental shift, still not entirely played out today, from “Christian” to “International Christian.” This was the solution determined by Bob Alter (principal, and himself a Woodstock grad, missionary, and a Presbyterian minister) to the rapid decline in the numbers of missionaries in India. Woodstock’s “natural” student body was disappearing, and, for the school to survive, new types of students had to be recruited. My own class of ’81 was 1/3 North American (mostly “mish kids” – missionaries’ childen), 1/3 Indian, and 1/3 “other.”

The staff, however, were still primarily mission-supported. Woodstock salaries were so miserable that, for an American, British, New Zealand, etc. family to be able to come, they needed other funding. Various missions paid travel and moving expenses, and sometimes topped up salaries. A later innovation was for money to be put into a fund back home against the family’s return, so that they’d have some hope of being able to afford college for their own children in their native countries.

To come to Woodstock to teach was therefore a huge commitment and, indeed, leap of faith. A few made the leap because they wanted to “convert the heathen,” but most, while they actively sought a Christian and/or international environment, were primarily interested in the teaching. They were highly motivated and effective teachers (they had to be), and it’s a rare alumnus who does not remember with affection and gratitude at least one special teacher. The staff, in turn, seem to feel amply rewarded: many have said that Woodstock students were the best they ever taught (and not just academically).

Still, there was a mismatch between the almost entirely Christian staff and the not-so-Christian-anymore student body. There were religious tensions in the school in my time, as there had been before and perhaps always will be. Speaking for myself, I arrived at the school a raving atheist, and nothing in four years of being preached at changed my mind. Very few students have been converted to Christianity during their Woodstock years; if proselytizing was ever the aim, it has failed miserably. But I don’t think conversion was ever anyone’s primary goal at Woodstock, nor, in spite of occasional staff excesses, was it ever on the school’s agenda.

Symbolic of Woodstock’s commitment to Christianity in my day was weekly chapel attendance, required of all students. I argued and won the point that, as a non-believer, this was a waste of time for me, and I should be allowed to non-disruptively read a book during the service. (I was once told off by a senior for reading “The Passions of the Mind” – he probably thought it was a dirty book!) The services weren’t wholly wasted on me; I enjoyed the singing, especially the least-politically-correct hymn in the book, “Onward, Christian Soldiers” (music by Arthur Sullivan – what’s not to like?).

Services were led by the school chaplain, but, given the variety and intensity of religious feeling among the staff, there was plenty of participation to keep things non-denominational (though strictly Protestant).

Many students largely ignored the content of chapel, seeing it, at best, as an excuse to dress up and be seen, otherwise merely a dull period of time to be passed in whispered conversation (when we could get away with it) or passing notes.

But even chapel was destined for change. During our senior year, our senior privilege of not going to chapel every Sunday was diluted by the fact that chapel became “non-compulsory” for all high school grades, except for one or two required services per semester. Instead, we had brief devotions during the thrice-weekly school assemblies, a tradition which continues to this day.

A further innovation in our time was allowing devout students of other religions to go to temples and mosques in town, especially during important festivals.

Religious education was (and is) required through high school; in 9th grade we studied the Old Testament, in 10th grade the New. All I remember of either is a skit in which Chris, referring to Teeran, said “My brother [Esau] is an hairy man” – which Teeran certainly was! In 11th and 12th grade we could choose more in-depth Bible studies, or World Religions, or Ethics.

Today [2005], the requirements are:

  • Introduction to World Religions (Grade 9; 1 semester, 1/4 credit)
  • The Historical Development of Religious Ideas (Grade 10; 1 semester, 1/4 credit)
  • 11th and 12th Grade Courses (Students are required to take at least one of the following semester-length courses each year. All carry 1/4 credit. Students choose one option from Group A and one from Group B):

    Group A Courses (specifically related to the Bible or Christianity):
    Introduction to Christianity
    The Gospel of John
    Old Testament Survey
    Paul’s Epistles

    Group B Courses (related to religion in a general sense):
    The Search for Meaning in Life
    Religions of Indian Origin
    Religions of Semitic Origin
    Contemporary Social and Ethical Issues


If I were a student at Woodstock today, I would probably argue against having to take any specifically Christian courses at all. However, given that required study of Christianity has been pared down to one semester, I can live with it. Christianity is a large part of many of the world’s cultures today, so it’s valuable for students of all religions to know something about it.

As for daily life among the Christians… I was (and am) a person of strong opinions, and, like most teenagers, I did not keep them to myself. I had it in for the missionaries, especially after some informed me that I was destined for hell if I didn’t believe as they believed. I had a furious argument with the teacher of our 9th grade religion class (who was also the school chaplain) about the unfairness of condemning to hell some hypothetical New Guinean who had never heard of Christ. His response, if I recall correctly, was that this was why it was so important for missionaries to reach every corner of the world with their message. I couldn’t (and can’t) fathom a belief which condemns people who don’t happen to have heard of the “correct” god in time to save themselves.

Some of my mish kid peers, being stubbornly opinionated teens themselves, were more aggressive than any staff member in proselytizing to other students, using well-worn lines imbibed from their parents. I furiously asked one boy why he kept hounding me. “If you found a wonderful fruit in the forest that no one had ever tasted, wouldn’t you want to share it with the world?” he asked. “Sure,” I answered. “But I wouldn’t shove it down their throats!” (He walked right into that one: having religion “shoved down our throats” was a frequent complaint among non-Christian students.)

At the ripe old age of 42, I have not changed my opinions about religious fundamentalism of any stripe: I firmly believe that religion, taken to extremes as it so often is, is one of the world’s great evils, leading only to strife, oppression, and bloodshed. There is much good in most religions, but it’s so often overwhelmed by misuse that all I can see is a net loss to humanity, sadly outweighing the undoubted benefit to many individuals.

However… I have learned to appreciate the non-proselytizing work that is the main focus of most missionaries worldwide. Their motivation may come from something I don’t believe in, but building and staffing schools and hospitals is good work by anyone’s definition, and I can only admire the dedication and courage shown by so many. The best staff at Woodstock were more concerned with living a Christian life themselves than with telling others how to live one. In those people I saw true Christianity at work, and they probably made more converts by example than anyone ever did by preaching. Not converts to Christianity, but to the true Christian spirit of giving and caring and looking out for one’s fellow human beings.

Doris Silver, the girls’ dorm supervisor, was one such. Being in-loco mom to over 100 teenage girls is a full-time job (which she did very well, but that’s another story), and she also had a family of her own. But Mrs. Silver was a trained nurse, and could not bear not to put those skills to good use. She ran a weekly clinic for the school servants and their families, treating minor illnesses and injuries which otherwise might have been left to worsen, and referring major cases to the hospital, where they might not have gone without Mrs. Silver’s urging.

I cared enough about Mrs. Silver’s feelings that I didn’t want to argue religion with her, and she never pushed it on anybody. She made it clear that she loved me no matter what I believed, and her God did, too. “I don’t believe in God,” I said to her once. “That’s all right,” she said. “God believes in you.” Which is probably the most generous statement I have ever heard from a true believer. A god who loves me even if I don’t worship him? I could almost believe in a god like that.

The Christian values demonstrated by Mrs. Silver and others “infected” most of us. My own class was probably less than half practicing Christians, yet many of my classmates, mish kids and non-, have gone on to careers serving humanity in one way or another. Would that have happened at any “typical” school?

After kicking and screaming about religion throughout my high school years, now, with 25 years of hindsight, I don’t regret Woodstock’s Christianity. Despite a few poisoned (and poisonous) apples among staff and students, Christianity has been a good thing for Woodstock students, and can continue to be so if handled correctly.

Woodstock today doesn’t wear its Christianity on its sleeve as much as it used. This is due both to internal policy and to changes in the outside world. I happened to be at the school for “homecoming” weekend in 1998, when new Principal David Jeffery made his first speech to Woodstock alumni. I was pleasantly astonished that he spoke for 40 minutes without once mentioning God. During a 1996 visit, I had been amused to overhear staff saying: “The principal’s back, we’d better show up in chapel this Sunday.” Two years later, it was no longer an issue – staff can go to chapel or not, as they please, without fear of executive disapproval.

There are practical and ethical reasons for Woodstock to be less overtly Christian in modern India, a country which often suffers “communal” (religious) strife and bloodshed. The Indian constitution firmly establishes India as a secular country, and it behooves one of India’s premier schools to uphold this important tenet.

On the other plate of the balance we must place the fact that the school’s land and buildings are largely held in trust by the Church of North India and the United Methodist Church, which could withdraw their support and take back their buildings if Woodstock were to become completely non-Christian.

There is also a delicate balancing act to be performed in staff recruiting. Some staff, especially some who are themselves alumni and former mish kids, are attracted by the idea of teaching in a Christian school. But there aren’t enough of these people to staff the school completely, and modern Woodstock needs a wider range of personnel. As recently as two years ago, staff recruitment materials on the school website showed such a strong Christian bias that some potential applicants were put off. The website now says simply: “All applicants are expected to state their willingness to support the statements of philosophy and purpose expressed in the School’s Mission Statement and to be comfortable with working in a largely Christian environment. As a Christian international school, we especially welcome applications from people with a Christian commitment.”

Summing it all up, I feel that Woodstock is in about the right place as regards its Christian identity and expressions thereof. There is a healthy mix of religions (and everything else) among staff, and all are free to express their religious feelings (or not) as they choose, for example in devotions during Assembly. That some staff are more publicly Christian makes them part of the broad spectrum of humanity that we hope Woodstock students are learning to appreciate and get along with.