Category Archives: Italian education

Another Rite of Passage Completed

Italian Middle School Exams

The Italian education system is big on exams. Ross did pass her middle school exam, with a grade of Buono (on a scale of Ottimo, Distinto, Buono, Sufficiente, Insufficiente – outstanding, distinguished, good, sufficient, insufficient). This was better than I’d expected, since most of her grades this year have been merely sufficiente. But she worked the system brilliantly.

Her results on the written tests were a mix. The test of written Italian was simply to write an essay, which Ross does well (even better when she takes a little time to concentrate on her spelling and punctuation). Math she only did half of, and probably that half badly; English was a joke for her, and French seems to have gone well. On average, a passing grade, I guess (we were not given the individual test grades).

Then she had about ten days to study for the oral. I was in a panic; I’d been told that the panel of teachers could ask almost anything that had been covered throughout the year. But her math tutor advised her to go and watch some of her friends’ orals. This she did, and also talked with some other kids. One told her he had prepared mini-essays on the specific topics he wanted to talk about, and the teachers seemed pleased to be given these before he started. Then he gave his prepared presentations, and managed to steer the exam to the topics where he felt best prepared.

While watching her friends, Ross observed that her beloved music teacher was slumped in his chair, feeling left out. After all the major subjects had been covered, he would forlornly ask a question or two, and be met with blank looks. “Did you even bring your music notebook?” he would ask in desperation. No one had.

So Ross sat down and wrote an essay about jazz, specifically on swing music during WWII (inspired by Jazz : A Film By Ken Burns – the accompanying booklet came in very handy). She chose her topics in other subjects to match: WWII for history, the atomic bomb for science. She also took in advice from her (very supportive) art teacher: “Talk about your artwork, and for god’s sake, don’t burst into tears! I expect better from you.” Not that Ross was likely to do so, but several of her classmates had sobbed through their orals.

When Ross’ exam began, she handed out her essays, then the teachers asked her what she wanted to talk about first. “I’d like to talk about jazz,” she said. The French teacher elbowed the music teacher: “Hey! It’s your subject!” He sat up and got very enthusiastic, and they had a long conversation about jazz. Then Ross spoke about the other subjects, except the atomic bomb – many kids had already talked about this, and the math/science teacher was bored of hearing it. So she picked a topic that Ross hadn’t studied and didn’t remember much about. Oh, well.

Ross had put her art pieces into a presentation binder, and spoke about each one, explaining what famous painting it was inspired by (or copied from), with some biography of the original artist. She came home quite confident that she had passed; we all heaved a sigh of relief.

Part of the exam ritual is to go and see the grades as soon as they are posted outside the school, for all to see. Ross and I were pleasantly surprised by the buono, which put her at or above the average for the class. Her Italian teacher came by on her way to a meeting, and we thanked her for the year’s work. I said I was pleased with the exam result. “There was some negotiation over that,” she replied, with a significant lift of the eyebrow. Ah, yes, the math teacher, who didn’t like Ross’ attitude or lack of math ability (“How is it possible when your father’s a math professor…?” Poor Ross has been hearing that all her life.)

I just smiled; I had a pretty good idea who had negotiated vigorously on Ross’ behalf. Half an hour later, I was standing in line to pick up Ross’ exit papers, and the music teacher ran by, late for the staff meeting. He saw me, and gave me a huge grin.


As I also mentioned earlier, cheating is widespread in Italian schools. I was writing that piece while Ross was doing her English written exam, which for her was simple and soon over.

She came home and said casually: “I’ve found a way to earn some money: I wrote Martino’s English test for him.” We were, of course, aghast. He hadn’t actually paid her, had simply asked her to do it – and, much to my disgust, she did.

After half an hour of hearing from two very angry parents a host of reasons as to why this wasn’t a good thing, she probably won’t be doing it again… or at least next time she won’t tell us!

In response to that original article, an Italian friend wrote me that, during an exam in electronics technical school, his whole class cheated together, with the assistance of their teacher. This was because one of the exam questions was on something so obscure and bizarre that you would never do it in real life, and it required the cooperation of the whole group searching through the library to find the answer. I guess the question succeeded brilliantly as a test of teamwork.

next: high school

Rites of Passage: Italian School Exams

The Italian education system is big on big exams. At the end of elementary, middle, and high school, everyone has to take an exam, with both written and oral components. When it came time for Ross’ 5th grade exam, I was terrified on her behalf; the teachers had made such a big deal of it, saying months ahead of time: “This will be on the exam, you have to start studying now.”

So I assumed that her exam results would be of interest to the middle school she’d be going on to, and asked the teachers when I should come to collect a report.

The teachers seemed surprised. “You don’t have to pick up the results.”

“Doesn’t the new school need to see them?”

“No.”

“Then who does see them?”

“No one. We put them in a file, and no one ever looks at them again.”

I was dumbfounded. I tried asking some other parents: if no one ever looks at the results, what is the point of this exam, and why does everyone make such a fuss about it?

“It’s traditional, a rite of passage,” was the explanation.

Now Ross is finishing 8th grade, and we’re up against another exam. This time it’s four days of written tests (Italian – an essay, math – ouch, English – a doddle, and French), followed (after ten more days to study) by a twenty-minute oral, in which questions may be asked covering anything she’s studied over the year. They tell me the oral is a test of maturity and presence as much as actual knowledge; if so, Ross should pass with flying colors!

Until a few years ago, schooling was compulsory only until age 14, and I suppose the middle school exam determined what sort of high school you would go to (if any). The type of high school you attended would in turn determine whether you would go on to university, and what sort of course you could do there. Things have loosened up now, so the exact type of high school diploma does not force your university choice (though some types of high school prepare students for university better than others).

So it seems likely that the middle school exam is no longer as important as it was, and again I’m wondering: what’s the point?

I’m foreigner: I ask questions like that. Most Italians wouldn’t. When we were scouting new middle schools last year (having decided that the school Ross had attended for 6th and 7th grade was not right for her), I asked one of the principals about this exam. Her reply was refreshingly honest: “It will probably disappear in a few years, it’s practically meaningless now.” Of course that’s not much comfort to the kids who still have to do this meaningless yet gruelling exam.

But, if you ask the parents, it’s another rite of passage that they all went through, and think their kids should, too. Sometimes I get very frustrated with the Italian attitude that things should continue as they are, simply because they’ve always been that way… (This makes a lot of sense in some fields, such as food and wine, but not in education!)

At any rate, Ross seems to be getting through it without too much agony, and only moderate maternal nagging to study (I’m so busy moving that I’ve hardly been home – I have to nag by cellphone). And we can all look forward to doing it again at the end of high school (which is five years, by the way), when she faces the maturita‘.


Feb 9, 2004

The esame della quinta (elementary school-leaving exam) has been abolished by recent reforms introduced by Education Minister Letizia Moratti. No one mourns it.

Elementary School: An Italian Experience

Rossella’s five years of elementary school took place at Parco Trotter, where she had also done scuola materna (preschool). We had been spoiled by a great scuola materna experience; elementary was… not so great.

I’m reaching the conclusion that the quality of education hinges almost entirely on the quality of teachers. And there’s the rub. Until recently, becoming a teacher in Italy did not require any teaching qualification. To teach middle or high school, you had to have a college degree (laurea) in the subject you would teach; to teach elementary school, you didn’t even need that much! There were no requirements for teacher training classes or actual classroom experience, and apparently little opportunity for teachers to learn any techniques at all, let alone new ones. This has now changed, but there is a large body of teachers still in the system who cannot be dislodged from their jobs or even required to upgrade their professional qualifications. As far as I can tell, what little they know about teaching, they have learned on their own or from colleagues.

Of course, some people manage to be wonderful teachers without formal teacher training, and some are motivated to learn more about their profession even when not required to. But, without some system of professional qualifications in place, individual capability and motivation guarantee nothing: parents can only hope for fate to assign their kids some of those few, great natural teachers.

We had no such luck.

Parco Trotter had four sections of each grade level, with two “fixed” teachers per section for the major subjects: one taught math and science, the other Italian, history, and geography. These two were supposed to remain with the same section of students from first through fifth grade, and parents had no choice about what section their child was in.

In Rossella’s year, one section was blessed with the kind of teacher beloved by both kids and parents: enthusiastic, involved, creative, and very energetic, especially considering that he was about 60 years old. His class got to do all sorts of fun and inspiring things. Two other sections had teachers who were at least competent, if not wildly original. Ross’ section, however, got the shaft. For administrative reasons, they had about six teachers in the first three years. This profoundly upset many of the parents, who felt it extremely important for the children to have the same teachers for all five years. However, as one friend pointed out from painful personal experience, having the same teacher for five years is not necessarily a good thing – what if she hates you?

I agreed with him on that point, and in any case wasn’t concerned about stability at school; I feel that stability is the responsibility of the parents. I was more interested in teaching ability, but I, too, was doomed to disappointment. Of the two “fixed” teachers we finally ended up with, for 4th and 5th grade, one was merely competent, the other downright embarrassing.

Ross’ grades were poor. Remembering that I, too, had earned mediocre grades through elementary school, I wondered if her problem might be the same as mine had been: sheer boredom. For middle school we decided to find a far more challenging school, hoping that this would get her interested in learning. The school we chose turned out to be the wrong one, but that’s another story.

…I abandoned this article yesterday morning, not sure how to tie it all together with some other thoughts and observations on Italian schools. We were out for lunch (between various house-related errands in Lecco), and with our post-lunch espresso were given sugar packets printed with quotes from Arturo Graf, a late 19th-century Italian poet, critic, and educator. My packet said: “Great is the teacher who, teaching little, sparks in the student a huge desire to learn.” Amen, brother.

next: elementary school exam

School Trips: An Italian Tradition

^ downtime in Siena during a class trip to Tuscany

It’s traditional in the Italian school system, at least from middle school on, for each class to take a school trip (gita scolastica) most years. Rossella started at age five, during her last year of scuola materna. Though most of them had never been away from home before, the kids were thrilled to go; their parents were absolutely traumatized. We arrived at the school early Monday morning to put the kids on a big bus. They were all laughing and excited; some parents were holding back tears. One mother told me that her big, tough-guy husband had invited their son to sleep in the parental bed the night before, because he “already missed him.”

^ the trip to Malcesine

They went to the shores of Lake Garda, staying in a villa owned and managed by the Comune di Milano (city government) specifically for the use of schools and summer camps. There are similar facilities all over northern Italy: in the mountains, on the beaches, and on the lakes.

children on the beach at Malcesine

^ on the shores of Lake Garda

It’s obvious that Italian schools haven’t experienced the lawsuits so familiar to Americans. We were told in advance that one of the activities would be a boat trip on the lake. I asked about life vests – many of these kids couldn’t swim! – and was met with puzzled looks. The question was not satisfactorily answered, so I refused permission for Ross to go on the boat trip; one other mother followed suit. Ross was angry at being left out, but the teacher who stayed on shore with them bought them ice cream as consolation, so she got over it.

They went on outings in the town, visiting crafts workshops and buying souvenirs. One night there was a disco for them at the villa (they had all brought dressy clothes for the occasion, their first dance!).

They returned safe and sound Friday evening, and every parent was on hand to meet them, weeping with joy. I noticed a woman standing nearby whom I didn’t recognize as a parent. In reply to my inquiring glance, she said: “It’s just so sentimental, I love to watch.”

During Ross’ elementary school years the trips were similar, always staying in facilities run by the Comune. My memory isn’t clear; maybe they only made one or two long trips, and did day trips the other years. Ross also went to summer camps several times; this is another wonderful service provided by the city government, so that kids can get out of the filthy city in July while their parents are still working. Costs are low (and scaled to income), and you can choose from any of the locations where the Comune has facilities; Ross always went to the beach.

In middle school, the trips become more ambitious. After all, these kids are in Italy, with thousands of years of history and art (and stunning natural beauty) available within a few hours’ bus ride, if not on their very doorsteps. In 6th grade, they went to the Trentino region, staying in a hotel (school trips occur mostly in March, off-season for hotels all over Italy). They went on hikes in the mountains, visited a farm to see cheese made, and the Thun factory to see ceramic crafts made, and saw other local sights.

In 7th grade, they spent a week in Tuscany, on a galloping tour of several towns. Ross grew bored of churches, but, for the kids, the barrage of culture isn’t really the point of the trip: the point is being away from home with your friends, staying up all night talking, and getting into mischief. I admire the stamina of the teachers who accompany them!

Many classes take a trip outside of Italy sometime during the middle school years. Ross missed out because she changed schools for 8th grade: her former classmates went to Austria this year, her new classmates had already gone to France last year (they are studying French as their third language). So this week she’s been in Tuscany again. But it’s not a great loss for Ross: she’s already been all over Europe and the US with her parents.

Scuola Materna: Public Preschool in Italy

Scuola materna (kindergarten) is a wonderful thing. In Italy, every parent has the right – though not the obligation – to put their child in preschool, free of charge, for three years, until they begin first grade in their sixth year.

Traditionally, this seems to have been regarded as a way to socialize kids to life outside the family, but the schoolday was kept short, on the assumption that mom was home anyway.

Nowdays, in many families both parents work, so most scuole materne offer full-time hours up to 4 pm, and after-school programs for parents who can’t pick up their kids that early. Essentially, this is very high quality, state-sponsored daycare.

Ross’s scuola materna was part of a loose cooperative of pre-, elementary, and middle schools, all set in a large park, with each grade level occupying its own small building.

The park had originally been a track for trotting races, hence its name, Parco Trotter. In the early 1900s, it was well outside Milan, and sickly children were sent there to breathe clean air and take the sun. There had even been a swimming pool and a tall, airy gymnasium, though these and the dormitories are now ruined past repair. It had been a practical school, where the children tended gardens and raised farm animals as well as (presumably) studying the usual subjects.

Parco Trotter is now engulfed by the city, but remains an island of green among the gray cement; not surprisingly, it has a lower incidence of absences due to illness than any other school in Milan. The preschool kids spent a lot of time outside simply running around, as few kids in Milan are able to.

They weren’t expected to learn to read or write, but they did many pre-reading and pre-math activities, construction and art projects, and more – Montessori methods were very much in evidence!

They could be as messy as they liked outside with sand, flour, dirt, and rocks. The bathroom was designed for water play as well as other uses. They decorated their spaces with trees made of cloth, and their own paintings and other creations.

For one project, parents were asked to show the kids around their workplaces, which included a car repair shop and a bakery. Afterwards, the teachers interviewed the kids about what it meant to work, and wrote down the answers, such as: “Work means sweating a lot.” “No one likes to work, but if you don’t work, you starve.”

As preparation for the passage to elementary school, the kids visited elementary classes to see what the older kids were doing, and afterwards were interviewed about what it means to “get big.”

School Food

At all educational levels, school hours used to be organized so that kids went home at lunchtime. Offices, shops, and factories would also close, so the family would gather around the dining table for a midday meal. Apparently, many Italian parents of my generation grew up this way, and still aren’t entirely comfortable with leaving their children at school for lunch.

But, again, modern life intrudes: many mothers as well as fathers now work full-time, often so far across town as to make the family lunch together impracticable. The city government stepped into the breach with a school lunch program, usually prepared somewhere else and then trucked to the various schools. Parco Trotter is fortunate to have a kitchen on the premises, so the food doesn’t have to travel far. The quality was quite good, though they sometimes served vegetables that no self-respecting child was likely to eat, such as boiled fennel bulbs.

It seemed that many parents were more concerned about this aspect of their child’s education than any other. The teachers would furnish daily reports on how well the child had eaten, and there was a parents’ committee to oversee the kitchen. Several times we were called upon to sign petitions protesting this or that aspect of the kids’ diets. (After four years of legendarily bad food at Woodstock, and seeing that Ross ate more at school than she did at home, I had a hard time taking these seriously.)

Every day when I picked up Ross from school, I’d hear the other mothers greeting their children. Invariably, the first question every mother asked was: “What did you eat today?” Just as invariably, my first question to Rossella was: “What did you do today?” And Ross would promptly tell me – what she had eaten.