Wow, where to begin?
First of all, to start with the hard stuff--Daniel is picking up Italian but not at the rate I anticipated. Everyone told me before I came, and I reasured myself in the same fashion, that "kids are sponges" and learn foreign languages very easily. However, I have to report after 6 weeks here, that Daniel is speaking only single words here and there and understands almost nothing in sentence form, beyond basic greetings such as "Come stai?" (how are you), "Come ti chiami?" (what is your name) and "Quanti anni hai?" (how old are you). I guess I was naive in my belief that children have a magical, natural assimilation of another language, and admittedly, his ear is better than mine was at the beginning of my study of Italian, but the process is MUCH, MUCH slower than I thought. However, he is happy and not stressed out and begs to stay in Italy--more about that later.
What about the Montessori School? Again, where do I begin? The entire philosophy and mode of instruction is completely different than anything else I have experienced, but I have a limited view since I have not been in his classroom during "school time." However, I can tell you that the Montessori School in Perugia is much more personal and warm than what I have encountered in the United States with my three children. For example, Daniel's class has 13 children (yes, 13, not 23, not 33) and there is a main teacher, Paola who he is VERY attached to and who has a true concern for him, and a couple of other teachers in the classroom at all times. The other classes are larger in the school (my friend Caterina has about 24 in her class, but she says this is because she is very experienced; she is too modest to say that she is a brava professoressa) and the justification for Daniel's small class size is that there is one child with autism in his class. However, Daniel has always had at least one child (or two) with autism in his class in the States as well as a multitude of other problems, including Asperger's Syndrome, Attention Deficit Disorder, Learning Disabilities, etc, etc, etc. and the class size has still been around 24 kids.
In addition, what I love about the Montessori School is that the children move at their own pace in some of the subjects, from what I can gather. For example, there appear to be math modules (groups of material) in which the kids work at their own pace. As I said earlier, Daniel was learning his multiplication facts right at the beginning of the year. But, one problem, is that a lot of the Montessori math involves specific types of teaching which the teacher cannot offer until he becomes competent in Italian; therefore, I have resorted to basically homeschooling him in math until his language skills develop a little further (and all of my friends know how I said I would NEVER homeschool one of my children :)).
In addition, I have always had an unwritten rule that I would NEVER send one of my children to an afterschool program, as no one could possibly care for and love my child as much as me (which I still believe to be true, ferocious mamma that I am). But, I have to eat my words and admit that the afterschool program at the Montessori School isn't bad. I have to leave Daniel there until 5 pm one day a week and 3 pm two other days per week (school only goes from 8:15 am until 1:15 pm which is a real pain in the ass for working parents, but it eliminates a lot of wasted instructional time as lunch, recess, computer, etc, etc are not done during class hours). So, three days per week, Daniel goes to afterschool. One of the directors of the program, Alessandra, was VERY reassuring to me, saying that she would look out for Daniel and help him with his Italian homework. In addition, she secured a babysitter for me one day a week to walk him home from school since I don't get out of literature class until 6 pm on Fridays (and she did this with one day notice, taking it on as her own personal imperative when the Universita' per Stranieri gave us one day notice of what our schedule would be). Daniel actually likes going to the afterschool program as the afternoon goes like this: lunch for about an hour which consists of several courses: pasta served with either a red/other sauce or olive oil, a "secondo" meat dish along with a "contorno" (usually a vegetable, which he refuses, arrrgh!), "pane" (bread) and fruit for dessert. This is followed by gym in which the kids play a very active (sounds somewhat vicious actually in that they try to "kill" each other with a ball, but he loves it!) round of what Daniel thinks is a version of sharks and minnows and then, his least favorite, homework time.
Of course, everything isn't ideal. The building is old, as is everything else in Italy, but the classroom is very large (about twice the size of his in the US) and has large windows and little specific drawers for each child's materials; apparently, self-organization and self-care is a big concept in the Montessori school. "Extras" such as computer, PE and music aren't as developed as in the US; for example, Daniel says they have PE only once a week and it consists of mainly throwing a ball wildly around in the the converted lunchroom. There are no computers (but most of my friends know what I think about the use of computers with small children--basically, that they are useless at best and mind-numbing and creativity-killing in reality). In music, the kids are learning to play a plastic "flauto", which he wouldn't have gotten until fifth grade in the US; however, we aren't able to do violin lessons here, so I guess that's a trade off. The other problem is that he can't really participate in sports here as I have no car and all of the gyms, soccer lessons, etc. are a considerable distance away (about 30 minutes by foot or bus) and I really don't have the time to deal with it with my class schedule. The upside is that we are spending a LOT MORE time together, just he and I, talking, taking long walks in an amazing park with beautiful trails through a wild olive grove at the end of the Mini Metro line, in a more non-frenetic way in the US. Basically, it's me and Daniel in our own little world, outside of my time at the university and his time at school.
So, in the long run, I hope that he will look back on this experience in Perugia as a special time with his mom and an opportunity to experience another culture, way of life, and (what's really important) some ass-kicking food :)!
But, I have to deal with reality, and the school in Virginia quasi-threatened me before I left that Daniel "may not be promoted" to fourth grade if he attends school in Italy for the entire school year. So, what I have decided is to keep him here through spring break in April and then send him home with his father to finish April and May in his school in the States, followed by 13 days of summer school. The school still says that this isn't a guarantee that he will pass third grade but I guess I have confidence in the intelligence of my children and also that there are other things that he is learning in Perugia for which there exists no equivalent in Yorktown, Virginia. It will be excruciatingly difficult for me to remain here for three months without him (as my program won't finish until the end of June), as I have never been away from any of my children for more than thirteen days at a time. But, hopefully, he will survive and will still pass third grade and will always have a sense of Perugia and Italia in his soul.
I would appreciate any comments on this, but please, not in a public forum.
You could send them to me via email at: carlacornettebriscoe@gmail.com.
Thank you.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Is this the turning point?
Ciao a tutti,
I have had a couple of concerned emails from my daughter, my sister and a couple of really good girlfriends (thanks for caring!) about my seeming discouragement on the last post about my disappointment in regards to the slowness of my language acquisition. I'M OKAY, EVERYBODY!
You guys know I am an effusive type, both of the good things and bad things, and I am going to be honest about what is going on. Perhaps I have disillusioned some of you since I'm not writing glowing, touristy pieces about all the traveling Daniel and I are doing or the wonderful, creamy and frothy cappuccini I am drinking every morning, or the spiritual connection I have felt sitting in an incredibly old and beautiful cathedral (although all of those things are happening!), but, those of you who know me know this year in Italy is just as much about figuring out who I am and what I want to do when I grow up as well as enjoying my amazing adopted country. That said . . .
I have had a couple of really positive experiences during the last week that I am hoping is a signal of a turning point in my facility in Italian.
1. Daniel and I spent last weekend hiking in the Cinque Terre (my favorite place in the world!) and were in the train station at La Spezia when a desperate, middle-aged American woman rushed up to the employee in the tabaccheria pleading for help. She had left her passport in the hotel in Vernazza, had a Eurostar train that was leaving for Rome in less than 30 minutes and was returning to the States in 1 1/2 days. She didn't know how to use the Italian pay phone and wasn't sure anyway that she could describe her problem in Italian. Even though our train was leaving in 15 minutes, I took mercy on her (see, I can be nice sometimes :)) and told her that I had a telefonino (cell phone) and would make the call for her. It was actually quite simple, just explaining to the proprietor the situation, giving them the address of the hotel in room and explaining her flight plans. She was tearful, hugged me profusely and called me her "guardian angel" (she was from Texas, perhaps explaining this :)). My Italian friends won't think much of this, and neither did I initially, but on the train home I had time to reflect that there is no way in hell I would have been able to make even such a simple phone call two months ago. In fact, that was a problem I had last spring when I was trying to make arrangements to get Daniel enrolled in the Montessori School here in Perugia. I had to draft a list of questions ahead of time, and when the responses weren't exactly what I expected, I had a difficult time configuring a response spontaneously. After a couple of embarrassingly humiliating phone calls, I gave up. In fact, if I hadn't met Caterina, my friend and teacher at the Montessori School, Daniel would probably not have the opportunity to be there now. Of course, I still make plenty of mistakes on the phone but generally can make a simple call now. This also demonstrates to me how much we rely on facial expression and those amazing Italian gestures for communication; all of that is unavailable on the phone and I am just now able to muddle through it, "muddle" being the key word. However small, it is a measurable step forward for me.
2. Last week I was in "our" pasticceria, purchasing Daniel's usual cannollo al cioccolato for breakfast (yeah, yeah, I know, what happened to the homemade blueberry pancakes with sausage, eggs and fruit I used to make for him in the States? Some things have just had to go here). The usual "pastry lady" had actually been somewhat cold to me up to this point, for what reason I'm not sure; I usually meet and converse with almost anyone quite easily, but she remained formal and on guard, continuing to address me in the "Lei" (formal way) even after 6 weeks of seeing me every morning. This evening was different: when I entered the bakery, she rushed over to me and said, "Aiutami" (help me). It seems that there were two Austrian gentlemen trying to buy tiramisu' for 36 people and she only had one available that would serve 10. She was quite frustrated, trying to explain to them she couldn't whip up another three cakes in 30 minutes (the men obviously had ZERO experience in baking--but don't get me started on fixed sex roles, one of my pet peeves :)), but she had plenty of other "salami" (roll type cakes that are amazingly yummy, filled with fruit, cream and other sinful stuff) to offer them. Obviously, there was a huge communication gap and both parties were getting frustrated but she didn't want to lose such a big sell. I felt very useful, acting as the go-between, figuring out what they wanted and for what purpose in English, then translating it into Italian for the pastry lady, taking her parameters and offerings in Italian, and translating it into English for the Austrian gentlemen. In the end, they bought a shitload of cakes, about 70 Euro worth! For my bilingual and trilingual friends, I'm sure this must seem a pitiful and simple example, but for me, it showed that I am starting to be able to utilize my Italian in a novel, unplanned, out-of-the-textbook situation and, for that, I am proud. She actually hugged me and kissed me when I left, and now, everyday, when Daniel and I go to the pasticceria, she says "Ecco la mia traduttrice" (there's my translator)!
3. People aren't automatically speaking to me in English anymore. The first month here, I got funny looks everytime I tried to interact with someone, even in the grocery store or in a coffee bar. Most people thought I was French, I have no idea why, and started speaking to me in French or English. It is very humbling to think that you "know" a language (again, the difference between textbook learning and having to live somewhere) and having everyone look at you like you are an idiot, deducting 50 points from your Intelligence Quotient. In fact, that is something else I have learned from this experience--while I may be considered "intelligent" in the United States, I cannot expect that same esteem everywhere in the world, in fact, nowhere else. This has been humbling and underlines our American way of assuming superiority, even though I definitely don't consider myself Americo-centric (is that a word?). There is a huge market in Perugia this week, celebrating Day of the Dead, Ogni Morto, and there are vendors from all over Europe selling cool stuff like linens and soaps from Provence (my daughter knows my fetish for fragrance soaps!!!), sausages and cheeses and wines from Sardegna and Puglia, olives of every flavor imaginable from all over Italy, and artwork ranging from really beautiful stuff to the truly tacky (as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but does anyone really want a limegreen, hand-carved wax gnome that smells like cinnamon?!). I haven't really bought anything (okay, I admit to a couple of soaps :)), but it has been fun to talk to the vendors and ask about their products (wine and food are other passions). And, after a few such conversations, I noticed that there is still the look of recognition in their eyes that I am a "straniera" (foreigner) but I guess I am not so awful that they revert to French or English, but humor me by continuing to speak to me in Italian. A small triumph, I admit, but I claim it anyway!
4. Most importantly, I am feeling more relaxed in class now. I had a really bad week two weeks ago, making an ass out of myself in one class when I froze up and answered a question on emigration from Italy in a very simplistic, halted fashion, even stumbling on how to say "in the 1920s, blah, blah, blah" (and the professor had called on me, I think, because she thought I would be reliable in being able to give a half-way intelligible response :)). Then, my phonetics professor has criticized me from day one, picking apart my "accento americano", which, by the way, is true; however, last week she said, "Even our americana has correct pronunciation today". And, this week, I was able to dissect an article on the role of the amygdala and its role in pessimism (much to the boredom of my classmates :)) and how that impedes responding positively in a crisis (really, the article wasn't as complicated as it sounds; it was from a popular magazine, hence, the inaccuracy of the information)--even though I made mistakes, I was able to discuss the shortcomings and oversimplification of the (quasi)neuroscience in the article.
Anyway, perhaps next week will be a different story (and, admittedly, I still struggle when the conversation is about material that I don't have the vocabulary to discuss), but I will savor
the two good weeks that I have had!
Baci e abbraci,
Carla
I have had a couple of concerned emails from my daughter, my sister and a couple of really good girlfriends (thanks for caring!) about my seeming discouragement on the last post about my disappointment in regards to the slowness of my language acquisition. I'M OKAY, EVERYBODY!
You guys know I am an effusive type, both of the good things and bad things, and I am going to be honest about what is going on. Perhaps I have disillusioned some of you since I'm not writing glowing, touristy pieces about all the traveling Daniel and I are doing or the wonderful, creamy and frothy cappuccini I am drinking every morning, or the spiritual connection I have felt sitting in an incredibly old and beautiful cathedral (although all of those things are happening!), but, those of you who know me know this year in Italy is just as much about figuring out who I am and what I want to do when I grow up as well as enjoying my amazing adopted country. That said . . .
I have had a couple of really positive experiences during the last week that I am hoping is a signal of a turning point in my facility in Italian.
1. Daniel and I spent last weekend hiking in the Cinque Terre (my favorite place in the world!) and were in the train station at La Spezia when a desperate, middle-aged American woman rushed up to the employee in the tabaccheria pleading for help. She had left her passport in the hotel in Vernazza, had a Eurostar train that was leaving for Rome in less than 30 minutes and was returning to the States in 1 1/2 days. She didn't know how to use the Italian pay phone and wasn't sure anyway that she could describe her problem in Italian. Even though our train was leaving in 15 minutes, I took mercy on her (see, I can be nice sometimes :)) and told her that I had a telefonino (cell phone) and would make the call for her. It was actually quite simple, just explaining to the proprietor the situation, giving them the address of the hotel in room and explaining her flight plans. She was tearful, hugged me profusely and called me her "guardian angel" (she was from Texas, perhaps explaining this :)). My Italian friends won't think much of this, and neither did I initially, but on the train home I had time to reflect that there is no way in hell I would have been able to make even such a simple phone call two months ago. In fact, that was a problem I had last spring when I was trying to make arrangements to get Daniel enrolled in the Montessori School here in Perugia. I had to draft a list of questions ahead of time, and when the responses weren't exactly what I expected, I had a difficult time configuring a response spontaneously. After a couple of embarrassingly humiliating phone calls, I gave up. In fact, if I hadn't met Caterina, my friend and teacher at the Montessori School, Daniel would probably not have the opportunity to be there now. Of course, I still make plenty of mistakes on the phone but generally can make a simple call now. This also demonstrates to me how much we rely on facial expression and those amazing Italian gestures for communication; all of that is unavailable on the phone and I am just now able to muddle through it, "muddle" being the key word. However small, it is a measurable step forward for me.
2. Last week I was in "our" pasticceria, purchasing Daniel's usual cannollo al cioccolato for breakfast (yeah, yeah, I know, what happened to the homemade blueberry pancakes with sausage, eggs and fruit I used to make for him in the States? Some things have just had to go here). The usual "pastry lady" had actually been somewhat cold to me up to this point, for what reason I'm not sure; I usually meet and converse with almost anyone quite easily, but she remained formal and on guard, continuing to address me in the "Lei" (formal way) even after 6 weeks of seeing me every morning. This evening was different: when I entered the bakery, she rushed over to me and said, "Aiutami" (help me). It seems that there were two Austrian gentlemen trying to buy tiramisu' for 36 people and she only had one available that would serve 10. She was quite frustrated, trying to explain to them she couldn't whip up another three cakes in 30 minutes (the men obviously had ZERO experience in baking--but don't get me started on fixed sex roles, one of my pet peeves :)), but she had plenty of other "salami" (roll type cakes that are amazingly yummy, filled with fruit, cream and other sinful stuff) to offer them. Obviously, there was a huge communication gap and both parties were getting frustrated but she didn't want to lose such a big sell. I felt very useful, acting as the go-between, figuring out what they wanted and for what purpose in English, then translating it into Italian for the pastry lady, taking her parameters and offerings in Italian, and translating it into English for the Austrian gentlemen. In the end, they bought a shitload of cakes, about 70 Euro worth! For my bilingual and trilingual friends, I'm sure this must seem a pitiful and simple example, but for me, it showed that I am starting to be able to utilize my Italian in a novel, unplanned, out-of-the-textbook situation and, for that, I am proud. She actually hugged me and kissed me when I left, and now, everyday, when Daniel and I go to the pasticceria, she says "Ecco la mia traduttrice" (there's my translator)!
3. People aren't automatically speaking to me in English anymore. The first month here, I got funny looks everytime I tried to interact with someone, even in the grocery store or in a coffee bar. Most people thought I was French, I have no idea why, and started speaking to me in French or English. It is very humbling to think that you "know" a language (again, the difference between textbook learning and having to live somewhere) and having everyone look at you like you are an idiot, deducting 50 points from your Intelligence Quotient. In fact, that is something else I have learned from this experience--while I may be considered "intelligent" in the United States, I cannot expect that same esteem everywhere in the world, in fact, nowhere else. This has been humbling and underlines our American way of assuming superiority, even though I definitely don't consider myself Americo-centric (is that a word?). There is a huge market in Perugia this week, celebrating Day of the Dead, Ogni Morto, and there are vendors from all over Europe selling cool stuff like linens and soaps from Provence (my daughter knows my fetish for fragrance soaps!!!), sausages and cheeses and wines from Sardegna and Puglia, olives of every flavor imaginable from all over Italy, and artwork ranging from really beautiful stuff to the truly tacky (as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but does anyone really want a limegreen, hand-carved wax gnome that smells like cinnamon?!). I haven't really bought anything (okay, I admit to a couple of soaps :)), but it has been fun to talk to the vendors and ask about their products (wine and food are other passions). And, after a few such conversations, I noticed that there is still the look of recognition in their eyes that I am a "straniera" (foreigner) but I guess I am not so awful that they revert to French or English, but humor me by continuing to speak to me in Italian. A small triumph, I admit, but I claim it anyway!
4. Most importantly, I am feeling more relaxed in class now. I had a really bad week two weeks ago, making an ass out of myself in one class when I froze up and answered a question on emigration from Italy in a very simplistic, halted fashion, even stumbling on how to say "in the 1920s, blah, blah, blah" (and the professor had called on me, I think, because she thought I would be reliable in being able to give a half-way intelligible response :)). Then, my phonetics professor has criticized me from day one, picking apart my "accento americano", which, by the way, is true; however, last week she said, "Even our americana has correct pronunciation today". And, this week, I was able to dissect an article on the role of the amygdala and its role in pessimism (much to the boredom of my classmates :)) and how that impedes responding positively in a crisis (really, the article wasn't as complicated as it sounds; it was from a popular magazine, hence, the inaccuracy of the information)--even though I made mistakes, I was able to discuss the shortcomings and oversimplification of the (quasi)neuroscience in the article.
Anyway, perhaps next week will be a different story (and, admittedly, I still struggle when the conversation is about material that I don't have the vocabulary to discuss), but I will savor
the two good weeks that I have had!
Baci e abbraci,
Carla
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