A School Year Abroad

In my encounters with fellow alumni of Woodstock School, many naturally ask me if and when my own daughter will attend. The answer is: with a great deal of luck, she will start in August, 2007, for an exchange year which will be her fourth/senior year at Woodstock, but only her penultimate year of Italian high school.

The application process has not been easy. Not surprisingly, the application forms and process for SAGE (Studies Abroad in Global Education, the US-based outfit that runs Woodstock’s exchange program) are slanted towards US students. There are differences between Italian and US school systems and cultures that could cause an Italian applicant to look “weak”.

American private schools and universities are fond of “well-rounded” applicants, expecting students to be doing sports, public service, paid work, arts, etc., in addition to lots of schoolwork (apparently, no one is allowed time to just be a kid anymore).

Almost none of this is likely or even possible for Italian kids.

Italian Students Are Not “Well-Rounded” – Here’s Why

There are no extra-curricular activities in Italian public schools (I assume for lack of funding). The only sport is PE. There is no music, no school newspaper or yearbook, rarely drama, no clubs. There is student government (mandated by law), but only two class representatives (plus two for the whole school) are elected per year, and they don’t do much. There are occasional special events that students can volunteer to participate in (Ross is usually the photographer). Ross’ current private school does try to get their kids to do volunteer work, in a very limited way (Ross tutors a younger girl in English).

Some kids do after-school sports or dance, a few competing very seriously, but participation at that level is expensive and takes a lot of time. Otherwise, Italian kids don’t have opportunities for awards or recognition. Volunteerism exists in Italy only on a small scale, and few kids are encouraged to participate. Almost none but the truly needy work after school or during summers – it was unusual that Ross did an internship last summer, at the company where I worked.

Italian kids simply don’t have time or opportunity to do much of anything outside of school and homework. One effect of this is that kids who are not good at academics may never get a chance to shine at anything, nor to realize that they may have non-academic skills that are useful and valued in society. This can’t be good for their self-esteem. No wonder so many seem to be drifting and unmotivated.

The SAGE application asks about a “guidance counselor,” a role which doesn’t exist in the Italian system. No guidance is offered about university entrance or careers – kids figure these things out together with their parents, which may be part of the reason that many university students seem profoundly uninterested in the degrees for which they are studying.

Some high schools used to have part-time psychological counsellors available, but those positions have disappeared from public schools with recent cuts in education funding.

There is no tracking in Italian schools, no honors levels or anything of that sort: everyone does exactly the same classes as their classmates, sink or swim. If you fail three or more subjects in a year, you repeat the year, and the failure rates are astonishing. In Ross’ first year of high school, six or seven of the 25 kids in her class failed. The same thing happened again in her second year (which was when Ross herself failed). I’m not crazy about the American practice of “social promotion,” either, but there’s got to be a happy medium somewhere!

Italian grading is a mystery to me. In high school, students are graded on a scale of 1-10, with 6 being a pass, but grades above 7 don’t seem to be assigned at all routinely. Given that, and the high rate at which students fail classes and entire grade levels, I was amazed to learn last year that 97% of students pass the maturità (school leaving exam) on their first try, with some high proportion getting very good marks. Perhaps the teachers grade harshly throughout high school to keep them humble. In discussion about this on the Expats in Italy forum, one Italian participant opined that some high school teachers grade punitively to enhance their own sense of power. (Hey, she said it, not me!)

The SAGE application further asks: “Smoking, use of alcoholic beverages and drug abuse are unacceptable at SAGE schools. Does the applicant have a history of using any of these?”

My answer: “In Italy, it was until a few months ago perfectly legal for 16-year-olds to buy and consume alcohol. A new law says 18 [I’m not even sure this passed], but it’s doubtful that this will survive as law, let alone be applied in real life. Most Italian kids drink wine at home with their families from age 12 or even younger – this is a cultural norm. Smoking is legal from age 16, and many kids (unfortunately) smoke. Light drugs such as marijuana are treated lightly by the law. (Ross drinks, but she knows the rules, and will abide by them at Woodstock.)”

Anticipating a Difficult Re-Entry

A huge question mark over this whole exchange idea is what happens when the student returns. The Italian government encourages students to go on exchange programs during both high school and university, and increasing numbers are doing so, usually to English-speaking countries so that they can become fluent in English. But their re-entry into the Italian system is difficult.

The classes they take as high school seniors in average American public schools are far behind the levels at which their Italian peers study in the fourth year. Unless they had excellent grades when they left (which is difficult – see above), upon return to Italy most face the unappetizing prospect of studying (alone) all summer to make up the deficit, then trying to pass comprehensive exams before the new school year starts in fall, so that they can rejoin their peers in the fifth year. If they choose not to do this, or fail too many of the tests, they must repeat the fourth year.

Some of this process would be easier if we had signed Ross up to one of the several established exchange programs in Italy, but these give you no control over where you end up and for Ross, who doesn’t need to learn English, going to some random school in the US is not particularly appetizing. For the sake of future Italian students who may wish to attend Woodstock (which likes to be as international as possible), I may eventually talk to some of these agencies and see what the prospects are for working together, but they would not move in time to help Ross for next year (one I wrote to months ago never responded to my email).

So we’re doing this on our own. Because Woodstock has much higher standards than most American public schools, I am hoping that Ross will be able to avoid some re-entry hassles if we carefully match what she studies there (e.g., in math, physics, and science) with what she’ll be missing here. Some subjects, such as Dante, she will certainly have to do on her own.

Assuming that she’s even accepted to Woodstock in the first place. With Ross’ long history of being a misfit in the Italian school system, her grades are disastrous. But the prospect of going to Woodstock seems to be a powerful motivator: now, when it’s almost too late, she is throwing herself into her studies, and starting to see results. It’s not easy for her, and probably never will be, but she’s trying hard. Let’s hope it achieves the results she desires.

what Ross wrote about it

Further Addendum from D

Mar 4, 2007

In the flurry of gathering papers and filling in forms, I forgot to mention perhaps the most important result I’d like to see for Ross if she attends Woodstock: friendships. Not that she lacks for friends here, but there’s something qualitatively different about the friendships one makes in a situation like Woodstock. My classmates, staff, and other friends from Woodstock are my family: the people I can rely on to understand me deeply and be there for me, as I am for them.

And this doesn’t just apply to the people who happened to be there when I was there. With the shared bond of this very unique (okay, weird!) experience, superficial differences like nationality or religious belief simply fall away. I can meet any Woodstocker, anywhere in the world, and, no matter whether I’ve met them before or they’re twenty (or more!) years older or younger than me, I know that, at the very least, I can look forward to a good conversation.

Addendum: Rossella was accepted into Woodstock School. Now we have a lot to do.

Pilgrimage

original

Indian man on a pilgrimage [title of the photo, which Ross took during our trip to India in 2005]

Pilgrimage: a voyage of devotion and penitence towards the sacred places of every religion.

Sitting for hours in front of the computer.

I’m waiting for a great idea for some logical thread or thesis to follow, to write an excellent admissions essay, to arrive from this sad, gray sky.

For months I have decided to hide, at least from the fotolog community, my intention, if circumstances permit, to do a school year out of the country, and I have never explained my reasons for “wanting to participate in this program and attend an international, multicultural and multireligions school in India” – which I need to [explain] by tomorrow and, of course, I have waited right up to the deadline to do it.

So, why go?

Why leave a decidedly comfortable life which gives me, with little or no effort on my part, everything I need and many things I could just as well do without, but still leaves me unsatisfied, with a constant sensation of incompleteness?

Why say goodbye – for a not-short time – to the friends I depend upon, the lifestyle I’m used to, my habits, vices, tastes, caprices, constructive pains, infinite gossip, hysterical laughter, frustrated crying, and the long list of unconnected things that come to mind when I think about HOW I LIVE.

The harder list to make, however, is the things I will have to get used to if I go, and the list of what I hope and expect to gain:

I wouldn’t have the same freedom, but – freedom to do what, anyway?

I would have to learn to be independent in a very different way from how I am now. This would no longer mean coming home when I feel like it Saturday night, feeling adult because I got drunk and went to the disco.

I would have to live with habits and customs completely different from those of Lecco, substituting rice for pasta, H&M with the local tailor, and things like that.

It will no longer be an option to leave all my clothes on the floor until they form a mountain that takes on a life of its own and becomes an independent being (seriously, my clothes will soon open their own fotolog: fotolog.com/wevebeenonthefloorforayear).

[Many other things] will no longer be an option (alcohol, smoking, immoral sex – what “immoral” means I don’t yet know!)

But I still haven’t given my reasons [for wanting to go]:

I’ve already visited India. Thinking about it brings back those sensations that I feel when I watch a documentary or hear ethnic music in the waiting room at the beauty shop: the strumming of the sitar carries me back to the heat, the spicy odor in the air, the brown faces with huge black eyes that I’d like to photograph, one by one, I’m so moved by their beauty. It carries me back to lime water, to the streets full of cars from several epochs ago, side by side with rickshaws magically pedalled by very skinny legs. To how I wanted to cry the first times that the children, seeing white people, surrounded them like ants on a crumb.

It’s difficult if not impossible to explain in words this desire to run away, because in the end it would mean running away in the hopes of finding a better life when I return. It may be that I have it in my blood. I’m resigned to the fact that, even if I had never spoken of India with my mother, the desire to go would have started pulsing in my veins sooner or later.

Writing this essay is like waiting for a flight to board, when with a thousand books and magazines I try to calm myself and hide the fact that I’m jumping out of my skin with curiosity and excitement to go to a land other than my own, and explore it in all its aspects. I am excited about the world because it’s international, multicultural, and multireligious.

Why not take a risk – risk not having everything, not living comfortably, risk seeing sad, ugly things and then crying from the joy of having been so fortunate as to feel an emotion so strong?

Why not say goodbye to the people who love me, knowing that, if they really do love me, distance and time will be irrelevant; to search for different people, perhaps more like myself, who will understand exactly what I’ve gone through, once everything is done and I return home with one more huge suitcase / new “baggage”.

Translating italia.it

The Italian government (just before it fell) launched with great fanfare italia.it, the country’s new tourism portal, along with a logo which:

As for the website… oh, dear god. They reportedly spent 45 MILLION euros for a site that lacks basic features (such as an RSS feed) that we have come to expect from a modern website. It has technical problems which anyone in Italy who knows anything about the web (and that’s a lot of us) is gleefully (and ruefully – our tax euros wasted!) tearing to bits.

Given my own skills and biases, what I first noticed was the English translation. Here’s a sample paragraph which I did not have to look hard to find:

For having more precise vision click on “+”: in this way it will be visualized an historical period in the detail.
For having, instead, one vision of entirety click on “-” and the period will be visualized a large historical period contain more events. The period comes shown in the Timeline to the right of the zoom: the blue bar will increase or decrease the dimension based on your choice.

This kind of laughably bad translation, like the manuals we so often see with Chinese electronics, gives the consumer no reassurance that there is anyone competent standing behind the product (the product, in this case, being Italy).

^ Someone else in need of a good translation service. The title on this clip in YouTube is "Rutelli inglese maccheronico" – Rutelli’s maccaronic English. Maccheronico (maccaroni-like) is the term Italians themselves use for heavily Italianized English (or other language).

Until a few weeks ago, I might have said that my Italian was good enough that I could translate an English text into decent Italian – not quickly, but I could do it, in fact had been asked to do it several times at the office (we have an office full of Italians, why ask me?).

Then we put this supposed skill of mine to the test. Ross is applying to attend Woodstock School next year. The application form includes recommendations to be done by various teachers and other people at her current school, none of whom (except the English teacher) reads or writes comfortably in English. So the form needed to be translated into Italian.

I took a first cut at it, and thought I had done a reasonably creditable job. Then Ross took it in hand, and came out with something completely different. I realized that my translation had been understandable, and grammatically fairly correct, but probably about as funny to a native Italian speaker as the text above is to a native English speaker.

Around the same time, Antonio, one of the delightful people I met at barCamp Roma, commented about me on his blog: Cavolo l’ho sentita zittire e mettere in riga decine di uomini con un italiano corretto, ma inglesissimo! – "Cavolo! I heard her shut up and straighten out dozens of men in very correct – but very English – Italian." Okay, I’m slightly embarassed about the shutting up and straightening out (not exactly my intention, but definitely my character). But the very correct and very English Italian… hmm.

I stand before you now, chastened and humbled: my Italian is good, but I sure as hell don’t speak or write like a native.

And this is a lesson that many Italians have yet to learn. Just because you can read and understand another language well, and maybe even translate well from that into your mother tongue, does not mean that you can translate in the other direction with comparable competence. If you need a text to sound professional and persuasive, leave it to an expert.

So… I’m looking for someone to translate my resumé into Italian…

Learn Italian in Song: Una Donna per Amico

A Woman for a Friend

The late, great Lucio Battisti again, with lyrics by Mogol. This song was played as the Italian athletes entered the stadium during the opening ceremonies of the Torino Winter Olympics.

The title means “A Woman for a Friend,” but you need to pay attention to the subtleties: amico is the masculine form of the noun (a female friend should be amica), so title seems to say that the singer chose a woman rather than a man as his best buddy. The song is about the consequences of that choice.

Continue reading Learn Italian in Song: Una Donna per Amico

Aggiungi un Posto a Tavola: Consolazione

All this God-inspired romance is interrupted by the arrival of a travelling prostitute named Consolazione –

Consolation

– with that name, she could be a denizen of Dogpatch! – who distracts all the men from their wives, apparently because it’s their last chance for an extramarital fling.

Uomini, eccomi! Men, here I am!
E’ arrivata Consolazione Consolation has arrived.
Consolazione di nome e di fatto “Consolation” by name and in fact
Per consolarvi ho certi argomenti I have certain ways to console you
Prova per credere Try it to believe it
Facciamo un patto Let’s make a deal:
Se dopo voi non restate contenti If afterwards you aren’t content,
Sulla parola di Consolazione vi rimborso la consumazione! On the word of Consolation, your money back!
Mando il mondo in visibilio, tutti chiedono di me I cause the world to …, everyone asks for me
L’avventura a domicilio “Adventure at home”
L’ho inventata e sai perché I invented it, and you know why
È una vera vocazione It’s a true vocation
A nessuno dico no I don’t say no to anyone
E se vuoi consolazione and if you want consolation
Me la chiedi You ask me –
Te la do* and I give it.
Se per colpa degli eventi If because of [by fault of] events
sei più triste di un cipresso you are sadder than a cypress
e la sera tu ti senti And in the evening you feel
malinconico e depresso melancholy and depressed
se per questa depressione If because of this depression
il morale tuo sta giù Your morale is down
tu vieni da tu vieni da Consolazione You come to, you come to Consolation
e lei te lo ritira su! And she’ll pull it back up for you!
Un due tre One, two, three
UOMINI Prima a me MEN: Me first!
Quattro cinque sei Four, five, six
UOMINI Comincia da me MEN: Start with me
sei sette otto, chi è senza biglietto Six, seven, eight. Who doesn’t have a ticket?
UOMINI io io io! MEN: Me me me!
Si faccia pure sotto**, sotto sopra in qualsiasi posizione Step right up [it’s done below], below, above, in any position
L’importante è non dire mai di no The important thing is never to say no
E se vuoi Consolazione and if you want Consolation
UOMINI La vogliamo MEN: We want it/her!
Aho ve la do! Oh, and I’ll give it to you!
dialog: Toto’ asks what she’s selling.

“This!” she says, showing her breasts.

“I only see a pair of zinne,” he responds.

“What did you expect me to have – four?”

Mi vuoi esotica o nostrana Do you want me exotic or local
turca greca russa o indù Turk, Greek, Russian or Hindu
Preferisci l’egiziana Do you prefer the Egyptian
Faccio tutto, scegli tu! I do everything, you choose!
E per te Consolazione egiziana diverrà And for you Consolation will become Egyptian
Tutankà tutankà tutankamera veniteme a trovà! Tutan[khamen]… [everything in the room] – come up and see me!
UOMINI Consolazione Consolaziò-ò-ò men: Consolation
Tu sei l’ultima occasione You’re the last chance/last sale
Non possiamo dire no We can’t say no
Voglio la Consolazione I want Consolation!
La volete? You want it?
UOMINI Si! Yes!
Io ve la dooooooooo, siiii I’ll give it to you, yes!
UOMINI
Consolazione consolazione, dammi tutto tutto dammi consolazione!
Consolation, give me everything, give me consolation.

* Te la do – “I’ll give it to you” – to give “it” is used as a euphemism for a woman to give sex.

God, however, has something up his sleeve to take care of this little setback. Toto, the (unmarried) village idiot, has been hanging about the sidelines of this scene, too dense to know what to do with a woman. God suddenly gives him the necessary knowledge, and he shoulders aside the other villagers to reach Consolation, who takes one look at his, er, talents, and closes the door on everyone else, leaving them to go back to their wives.

next: Notte Per Non Dormire 2

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia