Many have tired eyes this morning from yesterday’s party. And anxious because they fear a debt in September or worse the rejection. I secretly reread the page of Cuore, which invites you to love your teachers
And already in the distance the roofs of the longer huts smoke, the shadows descend from the tops of the mountains. Thus ends the first eclogue of the famous Rural from Virgil and thus ends a school year today: while the shepherds in their arcadian landscape remember the night of a long day that slowly dies, today the end of school, with the arrival of the dazzling light of summer, heralds carefree holidays. Today a ritual is celebrated that all of us adults remember: This morning, many students and many students will ask teachers for confirmation, in all concern, if they will debt in September, capable of ruining two months, to consolidate the learning considered insufficient for admission to the next class. This is how we express ourselves in the jargon of the school bureaucrat. Judgment postponed, in short, like this day where everyone feels like it’s going fast, like a long shadow that gets shorter when you climb the mountain, called school. Aside from metaphors, there are those who have struggled a lot this school year and do not immediately want the coveted promotion; and some parents have already begun to fear that the mobile phone will ring where the school number will be displayed, in a few days, after the vote, by the coordinator to publish the verdict, or rejected! Today is also the last day of interrogations, which is the last resort to save the year.
If we actually pass between the classes that have the door open to ventilate the Milanese heat, we have the proof that teachers and colleagues are good: There are still students sitting near the desk. Or else, the last day of school is spent together: we play, we talk, we plan the holidays, a cheerful shout, no more mumbling, for a year held back by reverent silence while listening to the teaching of mathematics and Latin. The last day of school in Italy is not the same everywhere: a colleague and friend from the south actually tells me that school has been over for some time and the sea has taken over. Today, many young people’s eyes are tired because they have coped with the night: they have driven out the end of a year together by going to discos, full of fun. A little observation, which arouses a tenderness movement, to go to the break, which today has the magic of extending beyond the limit of the usual hours, if one is lucky enough to have an understanding teacher, in the first year of high school. , where it just blossomed adolescence: partying with junk food that stomachs of fully developed bodies can swallow: chips, biscuits, drinks, pizzas. A kind of Bengodi land in the modernist sense and in teenage format: Maso replied that most of them were in the Berlin zone, the land of the Basques, in a district called Bengodi, where vineyards are connected with sausages … and it was a whole mountain of grated parmesan cheese … near ran a stream of Vernaccia, the best you’ve ever drunk, without dripping water inside. Then he says Boccaccio in a famous short story.
But school also ends for those on the other side of the fence, or in the chair, but not immediately. For the majority of teachers, the most indigestible but very basic part begins, that is bureaucracywhich does not relate to the ballot papers, but consists in the fulfillment of the final requirements, which mutatis mutandis could wrongfully be compared with the closure of a corporate budget, where at the top there is a leader who is less and less an educational leader in the school pedagogical, as it must be.
I take a small personal ceremony, as an apotropic sign of the school year ending and the new coming. I reread in secret, as if ashamed of words so far away, of a world now historically completed and already idealized, a page in the book. Heart: Love your teacher because he belongs to the large family of fifty thousand primary school teachers, spread all over Italy, who are like the intellectual fathers of the millions of children who grow up with you.; poorly recognized and poorly rewarded workers who prepare a better people for our country than the present. It is, of course, necessary to reinforce the category of teachers and the number of those working in the school world; for the rest of the considerations that Edmondo de Amicis addressed to a hypothetical school child from late nineteenth-century Italy are still valid. The summer holidays are therefore almost upon us: first you need to consult the infamous scoreboards, though with the electronic register, the magic of the crowd of students gathered to find their names on myriads of hanging sheets has been a bit lost. But everything has its time: today is the last day of school, and the rest can wait.
*Professor of Italian and Latin at the Liceo Scientifico Leonardo da Vinci in Milan and lecturer at the University of Milan
8 June 2022 (amendment 8 June 2022 | 10.04)
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