Italian Brats

A survey cited by Zoomata says “a recent poll of 2,500 travel-industry professionals voted Italian kids the most obnoxious and unruly in the EU. … according to UNICEF, only 50% of parents [in Italy] reprimand their kids.”

I’d have to agree that many Italian parents are over-indulgent with their kids, and many young Italian children noticeably lack discipline and common courtesy. At my daughter’s riding school, I waged a never-ending battle to keep other people’s kids from running amok and scaring the horses during lessons. (Horses scare easily, and when they do, their riders often fall.)

This led to some surprising run-ins with small children. One three-year-old not only would not stop making noise, but gave me lip when I asked him to:

Me: “Stop that. You’ll scare the horses and someone could fall.”

Him: “I don’t care.”

Me: “Someone could get hurt!”

Him: “I don’t care. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to fall.”

Me: “Oh, yes, it does. Want me to show you?”

Another child, when I asked him to be quieter, said “No.”

I asked: “Where’s your mother?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

So I tucked him under my arm and carried him off to find her, to general astonishment. At least I resisted the very strong urge to spank him!

The teacher in my daughter’s elementary school put up with far worse. One boy called her a whore. She pretended not to hear, which surprised me. I’ve attended many schools, and in every one of them, that would have got the kid sent to the principal’s office, or suspended.

Raising a Bilingual Child

Our daughter is bilingual in English and Italian, and some people have asked “how we did it.” There really wasn’t much to it. While I was pregnant, I read the only book  I could find on the subject (The Sun is Feminine Amazon UK | US), which happened to be written (in English) by a German linguist married to an Italian. She suggested following the “one parent, one language” rule: each parent should speak only one language (preferably his or her native one) with the child, right from birth, so that the child is able to identify each language with a specific person, and thereby learns to keep the languages separate.

So that’s what we did. For the first 15 months of her life, Ross was mostly in the US, from then on she was mostly in Italy, but, wherever we were, I addressed her only in English, Enrico only in Italian. Enrico and I communicated in English, as a matter of habit – I didn’t speak Italian when I first met him! But when we were with Italian speakers I spoke Italian, and Ross heard me doing it. So by age three she decided that, while she could understand English perfectly well, there was no need for her to go to the effort of speaking it, since it was obvious that everybody understood Italian. I would always speak English to her, and she’d always reply in Italian. Heads would turn on the street as people tried to understand what was going on.

The summer she turned four, we took her on a trip to other parts of Europe, visiting various friends. One couple were English and German, raising their own bilingual kids in Germany. Rossella realized that she had to speak English to be understood by these adults, but for some reason she remained convinced that all children spoke Italian. My friend’s son, the same age, was similarly convinced that all kids must speak German. They struggled for days to communicate, until Ross finally said to him, in great frustration: Ma tu devi parlare inglese! (“But you have to speak English!”)

We didn’t have a TV for the first couple of years we were in Milan; we got one around Ross’ third year so that she could hear more English, on videotape. We got a multistandard VCR so we could watch films imported from the US, and built up an impressive collection of Disney movies. (Fortunately, Enrico and I liked them, too.)

If Ross were growing up in the US, it would probably be difficult to get her to speak Italian. Many American schoolkids don’t value the ability to speak a foreign language, and of course no child wants to be observed doing something uncool or different. But, in Italy, she gets lots of positive reinforcement for being bilingual. When she was in elementary school, her friends’ parents used to say: “Go play with Rossella and learn some English!” And everyone tells her how lucky she is to speak it so well.

We know several other multilingual families, and it’s interesting to observe which language the kids will drop into, depending on environment or what they’re talking about. In one family we know, she’s a multilingual Italian (speaks Italian, English, French, and Spanish fluently), he’s German. Between them they communicate in English, the only language they have in common. He speaks only German to the kids, she only Italian. So they hired an English-speaking nanny, and the kids are trilingual. Another couple are Americans whose kids were born in Italy, attended Italian schools, and spoke English at home. The parents sometimes spoke French as their “secret” language when they wanted the kids not to understand something, which motivated the kids to learn French! (Ross has been taking French in school; many schools offer English and a choice of French or German.)

It’s no longer necessary to maintain linguistic purity for Ross’ sake, so our family language has become an idiosyncratic mix that still causes heads to turn. I was wondering recently why people stare at Ross and me in the subway when we speak English; English speakers are not rare in Milan. Then I realized that they’re probably staring because we’re not speaking pure English; we blend it freely with Italian, especially when talking about activities that take place in Italian, such as riding or school.

Being bilingual has disadvantages. I sometimes realize after the fact that I’ve said or written something that was far too literal a translation from one language or the other. An American friend, who’s been in Italy even longer than I, once said to me: “I’ll make a jump at the new house on my way back.” This sounded weird in a way that I couldn’t immediately put my finger on. Then I realized that she had translated literally the Italian “Faro’ un salto;” Italians use “make a jump” the way English speakers use “stop by.” That’s what she meant and what I, being fluent in both languages, heard. Anyone who wasn’t bilingual in English and Italian would have been thoroughly confused.

That Vampire Thing: Story of an Obsession

I had a thing about vampires long before Buffy the Vampire Slayer came along. It began in the summer of 1978, when I traveled to the US with my folks on home leave. The hit Broadway production of “Dracula” had been made into a movie, with Frank Langella reprising his title role. I was 15 years old, and for the first time in my life got a crush on a movie star. (Of course it’s entirely accidental that the man who later became my husband looked like him!) I saw the movie two or three times, and read the movie tie-in edition of Bram Stoker’s original book. By the time I returned to school, I was hooked on all things vampiric.

When I got to college, I began collecting vampire books. I’ve kept only the best ones over the years, including a complete set of Chelsea Quinn Yarbro’s Saint-Germain series. Saint-Germain is a very sympathetic vampire, who has lived for about four thousand years. This gives Yarbro plenty of scope for the deep historical research she clearly loves; the books are richly detailed snapshots of certain times and places in history, in which the “bloodsucking fiend” is usually the most humane creature around, striving to save those he loves from the cruelty of other humans. I should also mention that Yarbro is a VERY good writer.

Laurell K. Hamilton’s series Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter is also worth a look. I read the first few thanks to a friend from St. Louis, who had them because the writer is from St. Louis and sets her books there. The writing was rough at first, but Ms. Hamilton has improved at her craft over the course of 12 books or so (and a new, different series just started), and the premise is fun: vampires, werewolves, etc., really exist, and have been granted civil rights by the US government – so long as they behave themselves. When they don’t (which is often), bounty hunters like Anita Blake step in to take them out. (2006 – Recent books in the series have become a strange sort of horror-porn – fun, but not exactly high literature… )

I was a big Anne Rice fan, at least for the first three Louis/Lestat books, and was thrilled when “Interview with the Vampire” was made into a movie. Which had its flaws; couldn’t they have gotten anyone but Brad Pitt to play Louis? But Tom Cruise was excellent as Lestat, and one of my favorite film scenes of all time is the final one, with Lestat speeding across the Golden Gate Bridge in a convertible (at night, of course) with “Sympathy for the Devil” blaring out of the radio. I actually never saw the movie til I got it on video. Rossella was young then, and I figured it wasn’t suitable for her, so I watched it when she wasn’t around. But she saw it on the shelf and got curious, and when she was 9 or 10 I let her watch it. Then she got into vampires. I dunno, maybe it’s genetic?

Soon after that I heard about “Buffy.” I only knew vaguely that it was about some sort of female teenage superhero, but I spotted a magazine about the show in the UK, and bought it for Ross. We were both skeptical: we like vampires; would we like a show that seemed, by its title, to be all about killing them? Still, I was curious enough to take up my friend Adrian on his offer to send us the videotapes (then commercially available in the UK, but not the US). As I mentioned, we were hooked within the first five minutes. I’ll spoil things for you a bit by explaining how.

Joss Whedon, the show’s creator, has said that he came up with the vampire slayer concept because he was tired of the many horror movies where a ditzy blonde wanders into a dark alley, is followed by some sort of fiend, and winds up messily dead (okay, I’m paraphrasing). He thought it would be fun to turn the tables, and have the blonde beat up the monster.

I didn’t know that when I saw the first episode. It begins with a small blonde, dressed in a pleated skirt like a Catholic school girl, and a slightly older-looking guy, breaking a window to get into a school at night. Science classroom skeletons and scary music create atmosphere. The girl is nervous. “We’re just gonna get in trouble,” she says. Big macho guy reassures her: Everything’s cool, no one will see them. “I heard a noise,” she says tremulously, looking away, down the dark hall. Scarier music. (And I’m practically hiding under the sofa – I am easily freaked out by horror movies.) The guy leers evilly behind her. “No one here,” he says. The music swells. “Okay,” says the girl. She whips around to face him, and is suddenly transformed, with fangs and yellow eyes. She sinks her teeth into the guy’s neck.

I knew right then, before Buffy herself was anywhere in the picture, that this was a great show. Oh, and it’s still okay to like the vampires. There are some good ones in “Buffy,” and they don’t get slayed. Slain. Whatever.

Martin Baynes as Renfield and Mike Nicklin as Dracula, Jakarta 1984

^ Martin Baynes as Renfield and Mike Nicklin as Dracula, Jakarta 1984

Nov 18, 2003

When I wrote the above, I clean forgot to mention one of the biggest vampire events in my life. In 1984, a brief visit to my dad in Indonesia turned into an extended visit when I couldn’t get a visa to study in India as originally planned. Although Jakarta is a big, bustling city, there wasn’t all that much for foreigners to do there in those days, so the expatriate community had to work to keep itself entertained. One means was amateur theatre, in which my dad and his friend Donna were enthusiastic participants.

While I was stuck in Jakarta, my friend Sue came for an extended visit from the US, and we were both happy to get involved in the Jakarta Players production of “Dracula.” The group was using the script by Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston, originally produced in the 1930s. This play had been revived in the 1970s, starring Frank Langella on Broadway, in the production which was then adapted into a film in 1979.

Indonesia had never signed the International Copyright Convention, so the Jakarta Players… took some liberties with the script, adding entr’acte vignettes more or less taken from the Frank Langella movie, along with a generally more sexy and romantic atmosphere. We even retitled it “Dracula, a Love Story.”

As you can see in the photo above, we stole the set design from Edward Gorey’s sets for the Broadway show, done in his characteristic macabre cartoon style. We also used music from John Williams’ score for the film for mood-enhancing background, and choreographed a dance for the big seduction scene.

Dracula poster, Jakarta Players, 1984

Sue and I helped out during many weeks of rehearsal, taking the opportunity to flirt with two cast members we liked (one was the British local head of an airline, the other a Scottish engineer working for an oil company). Sue was eventually appointed stage manager, and I was put in charge of sound effects, which I pulled off pretty well except for that one time when the wolves howling got swapped with the screaming loonies … Our friend Julie played the maid, which so thoroughly infected her with the theater bug that she now works at the Kennedy Center in DC.

A team built the 40-foot-high flats for the set, which were supposed to be painted black, white, and grey, just like the Gorey drawings. When we raised the flats on the Jakarta International School stage, however, they were brown and grey. The woman put in charge of set painting had gone to a shop in Jakarta which happened to be out of black paint; the shopkeeper there told her there was none to be had anywhere, here, have some nice brown instead. And she believed him. We all looked at the brown, and it looked pretty stupid. So Sue and I volunteered to repaint the entire set in the week we had left before opening night.

This wasn’t too difficult for the first six feet going up. Then we started standing on furniture and ladders. Then we had to pile things on other things, building up increasingly tall and rickety “scaffolding” so we could paint higher and higher up the set. When we got near the top, there was nothing else we could safely pile up. So the light bars were lowered down to the stage, we sat on them, and were raised 40 feet up so we could paint the top of the set. This was a supreme effort for me, because I am terribly afraid of heights. But we finally got it all done, and it looked good.

The show came together well, and was warmly received by the expatriate and Indonesian audiences. Best of all, it kept us all very happily busy for months. Jakarta Players went on to do still more ambitious productions, including “Cabaret,” “Pajama Game,” and “Greater Tuna.”

Vampire Stuff at Amazon

Saint-German books: Amazon US | UK

Dracula: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by John Williams (excellent, romantic score)

Anita Blake books: US | UK

Anne Rice’s Louis/Lestat books: US | UK

Interview with the Vampire on DVD: US | UK

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.

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