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Today is Sunday, which means it’s been almost a full week since I’ve returned to Buffalo. Being home is so bittersweet. I’m not going to lie, being able to sleep in my own bed has felt like heaven, despite the fact that the jetlag is so real! It feels good to eat familiar food and drive my car and even clean my room. However, I am so grateful for the experiences I had in Italy, and I miss it dearly.
While I was there I learned so many things about teaching, traveling, culture, and myself. I think the most important lesson I took from the trip is how to just chill out. That sounds funny, but I’m so serious. I’m such a neurotic person all of the time, and I always have to have my days planned out otherwise I’ll go mad. But if the trip has taught me anything, it’s that Italian people don’t plan anything, and if they do, they don’t stick to them. As an American, it would seem like that’s a negative trait. In this country, we plan and we show up early to being early, and we hate when people are flakey. But in Italy, there’s never any rush. You get there when you get there, and everyone else will have to deal with it. And when everyone around you runs by the same model, you realize that maybe it’s the better way to live. Being on time, or planning every minute of your day isn’t the most important thing in life. What is important is creating bonds with those around you, and spending quality time with people. That lesson was difficult for me to learn because I, like so many Americans have been raised with a “go, go, go!” mentality, and I’m always thinking about the next task. It never would have occurred to me that closing down the entire town for lunch and a nap would be a beneficial thing. But let me tell you, a nice mid-day nap is the perfect cure for jet-lag and homesickness. And being able to have several hours per day just to hang out with the people from my cohort allowed me to form lasting bonds. It was truly a blessing in disguise. In my future, I hope to employ many ideals that I have absorbed on this trip both in my everyday life and classroom. I hope to encourage more collaboration in my class, and allow all students to share ideas freely. I hope to demonstrate patience for each and every question that they have. I hope to take time out of my day, everyday, to spend with those closest to me. I hope to eat more real food, and drink real coffee! I hope to treat each meal as a time to bond, and not just to eat. And finally, I hope to appreciate the beauty in the world around me. As I sit here in my bed with my cat, it’s hard to feel like I ever want to leave it again. But realistically I loved every moment of my time in Italy, despite it’s struggles, and because of my experiences there I hope to pursue further traveling in my future to broaden my cultural knowledge, and educational depth. I am so thankful for Buffalo State, and everyone in the International Education department for making this trip a reality.
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That’s all folks! Today was the final day in Torremaggiore, and wow is it a bittersweet feeling. We were invited to the Mayor’s office early this morning to take pictures, and thank him for the hospitality from him and the town. In his office were signs and plaques signifying a sister city agreement between Buffalo and Torremaggiore. How cool it was to know that something from our hometown hangs on his wall everyday! He had so many nice words to say about our visit. He told us how much he respects our chosen careers as teachers, and how grateful the student’s parents were for us coming to work with them. It is such a gratifying feeling to have your work validated, and let me say, coming from a Mayor, it was even more meaningful. We left the Mayor’s office and headed up to the school for one last goodbye. For me, it was a somber walk because I knew it would be my last, and that school has given me so much in such a short time. Once again, we were ushered into the Principal’s office, though this time we were not given snacks. Instead we were given tee-shirts and hats to commemorate our visit. Their generosity during this trip has been so beyond any of my expectations, and I could never begin to express my gratitude to them. For one final time, we stepped back out into the courtyard of the school, and once more were met with cheers, pom-poms, songs and excitement. I heard children screaming my name from the crowd, and that alone touched me because I knew I had at least made an impression on some of them. As a group, we fumbled through singing Amazing Grace for them, as a final goodbye, and almost immediately after we finished I was ambushed. From all sides I was being hugged, touched and essentially tackled. There were so many of them hugging me I literally almost fell to the ground. Soon after I broke free from the crowd of them, they began approaching me again and kissing my cheek. I can honestly say I have never been kissed so much in such short amount of time. It felt like every student in that school had kissed me but, in time they had stopped approaching me and I had a moment to breathe. I noticed in the crowd the little boy I had worked with a few days prior. When we locked eyes, he ran over and gave me the most memorable hug I have ever, and will ever have. We took a picture before parting ways for the last time. Part of me was so happy to see him for a final time, but the other part of me wishes I didn’t notice him at all because it’s so hard saying goodbye to someone you know you’ll literally never see again. The same feelings arose later in the day when we said goodbye to our gracious hosts Mr. Grassi and his wife. They have taken such good care of us during our stay from cooking us breakfast and a three-course meal every night, calling until Brittany finally got her luggage delivered, and even going out late on a Sunday night to the Pharmacist’s home to get supplies for me when I spilled boiling water on my legs (I purposefully left that story out of the blogs. Not fun!). After our last dinner he came out with two bottles of Champagne and toasted to us, and our journeys. He gave us a card that said that he hoped we had an enjoyable stay and made lasting memories, and told us that it was his pleasure hosting us for two weeks. Several of us cried as the note ended with him saying that he hoped he made us feel like family. After two weeks of putting up with a gaggling group of loud Americans, he was giving us a card of appreciation. I’ll never be able to put into words the innate kindness that so many Italians seem to have, and it is my hope that through time, Americans will grow to demonstrate more compassion and affection for others. The only way I see that as a possibility is through travel, which is why I think it is so important for us to be here and be experiencing new ways of living to bring back with us upon our return. I just want to take a moment to do some reflecting on my time here before closing out this blog. I have conflicting thoughts in many ways. It has been so hard for me as an individual to be on this trip in general. As a person who is a self-proclaimed homebody, with psychiatrist-proclaimed anxiety, I can say that being here has been one of the biggest struggles of my life. Being away from what is comfortable for me has been such a challenge, and with the culture being the way it is here, the lack of organization and planning for most events has made me very uneasy most of the trip. Being who I am as a person, I have struggled with taking time for myself and staying back from some group activities, and then feeling like I’m missing out on experiences. Even as I write this, most of the group is out having final drinks at the Saloon, but I am sitting in my pj’s in bed. However, having now gotten through most of this trip, I can say that though it has been a challenge, it has also been such a pleasure to prove to myself that I am strong, and I am capable of handling things that life throws at me. I capable of walking into a classroom and reading Italian to fifty students without warning. I am capable of assisting in teaching a music lesson, despite having no rhythm. I am capable of navigating my way through foreign cities (albeit, with the help of my iPhone). I am proud of the personal growth I have experienced on this trip, and I could not be more grateful to have had this opportunity. Tomorrow we leave for more adventures in cities completely new to me, and though that frightens me in some ways, I am ready for what lies ahead A few days ago we took the bus out to San Severo to the high school over there. The plan was to get a tour of the school and then sit in on some classes to get the chance to observe how lessons differ from Elementary to High School. When we got there it was clear that there wasn’t exactly a set plan, and I don’t think many of the teachers knew we were coming, although like most Italians, they were very receptive and accommodating. We split off into groups and so I began the first part of my day with a tour of the art portion of the school, which I have to say was the most impressive part. From what I could understand from the students who were leading us, in high school the students choose a focus, much like we do in college. The students who focus on art spend most of their day in art classes, but they also have core classes such as mathematics and science as well. They said they average about 3 hours a day in art related classes, with the other 1 ½ to 2 hours being dedicated to other work. The daily time and effort they put into their art showed. The entire wing of the school was adorned in beautiful paintings, sketches that looked like they could be photographs, tile mosaics, and architecture models. I was in awe of the precision of their work, and I couldn’t believe that young high school students had created such beautiful pieces. During the tour I found myself lamenting at the fact that American high schools lacked so much emphasis on the arts. Though I never took art in high school myself, I remember my friends always panicking at the end of the year as they studied for the 10 page long art exam which was essentially just a history exam with questions about artists, dates and paintings. Somehow even something as creative and freeing as art has been turned into regimented academia by the U.S. I wish that students were given more freedom of expression at home, and even further, I wish that the arts in general were more greatly valued. I have seen students and peers falter in academics, but thrive in other subjects, and I think it’s so beautiful to see a country where not only are the arts encouraged, but they’re praised.
As the tour continued our group was passing by the classroom of another group of us, and my friends were seated in the front of the classroom speaking with the class through Google translate. I was quickly summoned into the front of the room and asked to join in. During this class, I had an absolute blast. We projected American karaoke songs and lyrics on the front board and had an awesome jam session with the class. It was a wonderful thing to look out onto a cluster of high schoolers and see them all looking back in admiration, and singing the same words in perfect unison, not to mention perfect English. Music truly is a universal language. I spent about 20 minutes in their room before students arrived at the door and quickly ushered us out, begging for us to go into their classrooms. Once more, we split off into groups and followed the students into their respective classrooms. What I thought would be a day of observation had turned into me standing at the front of five or six classrooms, being bombarded with questions about American culture, Buffalo, all of my favorite things, and my thoughts on Italy. Though I value and appreciate any opportunity to speak with people from cultures other than mine, during this visit I began to feel like an insignificant little person amongst a sea of questions. In every classroom I was pulled into, the students yelled over each other, yelled over me, and all spoke at once. Never did I hear a teacher ask the students to quiet down, or to stop yelling. In the moment, I felt like an animal in a cage, expected to perform and entertain a group of students who I had never met prior. At one point I even had a student mocking the way I was talking from the back of the room, and the students around him were laughing. Though this may sound harsh, I feel it is my duty to be as honest as possible about every feeling and emotion I have on their trip, and I would be doing a disservice to myself and fellow members of the cohort if I sugar coated my experience. I do not regret my having this experience at the high school, because I believe that every experience is a valuable one, however I was reminded that impressionable children are where my passion lies, and not with rowdy teenagers. Luckily, this morning I had an experience that more than made up for my time at the San Severo high school. We went back into the elementary school early in the morning, and I had the opportunity to observe and participate in a music lesson with primary students, who ranged from 3 to 5 years old. The students were given different dried legumes and grains such as rice, navy beans, chickpeas, and lentils. They were also given two plastic cups, and instructed to choose only one type of substance to fill their cup with. Once they had filled it, the teacher came by and taped the cups on top of each other to mimic a music shaker. Then, she had them shake their instrument in groups based on what was inside them. She asked them to notice the difference that the different beans made, and implored them to think about why that was. Then, without warning, she was jumping up and down, shaking her own shaker and leading the children in a full on dance party. This teacher had to have been at least 55 years old, but please believe me when I tell you, I have never in my life seen a teacher exert more energy during a lesson than she. She practically flew through the air in her efforts to engage her students, and she never faltered in her excitement nor her singing. She even led a chant of “Let’s Go Buffalo!” as she guided her students in a chain around the room. I can truly say that watching this woman teach and engage her students was the highlight of my day. She inspired me and reminded me that when it comes to students, it’s okay to make a fool of yourself; they’ll love you all the more for it. "I felt so overwhelmed by the kindness of my peers and professors that I couldn't help but cry"1/14/2018 Four days have passed since I last wrote, and so much has happened that I don’t even know where to start. It’s been a chaotic and exciting few days, and now that I have a minute to sit down and reflect on them, I feel several emotions including overwhelming joy, pride, frustration, homesickness, excitement, comfort and anxiety. It’s hard to make sense of these feelings, so I’ll do my best to explain.
On the 11th we didn’t go to the school to attend classes. Instead we took a trip down to the town castle (yes, a literal castle), which is centrally located, and only a two-minute walk from our B&B. 90 fifth grade students met us their with their teachers, and the plan was for the Music Education Majors to plan a lesson for the students in the castle. Those of us who are not music majors attended the lesson to observe how the students responded to the lesson. I found myself being more moved by the members of our group teaching the lesson than the children in the end. Although the students appeared to enjoy the lesson (even swarming us after for autographs), I had never seen any of my music peers teach before, and I was so impressed by their ease in front of so many children who didn’t have the capacity to communicate with them. Their lesson was taught by using physical cues and gestures, and they used modeling often to show the students what to do. Having learned in the schools that music is not an integral part of he education system here, it was almost bittersweet watching them sing with the students because it’s clear to me that music is such an easy way to break down social barriers and allow children and adults to express their creativity. The following day was January 12th, which was actually my 21st birthday. I immediately woke up feeling very melancholy. As happy as I am to be in such an amazing place, I have never been away from my family on my birthday before, and I felt sad that such a momentous day in my life would pass without being surrounded by those I love. In the morning we returned to the elementary school. My partner and I specifically wanted to observe for the day, so Dr. Ceprano set us up to observe a math lesson. The students were working on counting money. The lesson was fascinating to watch because it was all collaborative. The teacher began by reviewing what each denomination of the coins and bills were, but as the lesson progressed, many students began shouting out questions, answers, thoughts and ideas about the topic, and not once did she ever silence them. She answered their questions, and validated their comments, and she allowed her students to talk to each other about what was going on. At one point she split them up into groups and they were able to work together even further by using a given set of coins and trying to add them up to certain denominations such as two or five euros. In every classroom I have ever been a part of or observed back at home, the teacher does their best to control the students as tightly as possible. Talking out of turn is not allowed, and strict hand raising is always enforced. Seeing this kind of practice here both impressed me, but also annoyed me. I think that their ability to connect with each other and the teacher about their lessons is such a positive thing for their cognitive and academic development because it allows them to share ideas freely, but also I think that allowing students to shout out openly whenever they want doesn’t teach them any kind of self control which is a necessary attribute for real life scenarios. Even thinking about it now, I can’t say whether or not I preferred this kind of teaching or not, however I was happy to have gotten the chance to observe it. After the teacher’s math lesson, one of our students designed an activity for the class. The only reason I think this is worth mentioning is because during this time I was able to work closely with a troublesome student, and this touched me greatly, and I have been thinking about it for days. My peers and I immediately identified a little boy front in center of the room as the troublemaker almost as soon as the math lesson began. He talked a lot and was standing up out of his seat, often looking around the room and ignoring the teacher. When we looked around and observed him, every time the teacher would give a direction he would be so distracted that it would take him twice as long to complete the task. During my peers lesson, one of her directions was to have students write down their favorite gift from Christmas. I was walking around looking at the students draw and copy the English words from the board and noticed that he was seriously slacking behind them, and not following directions well. I walked over and stood above him and pointed to his paper. He looked up and me and giggled and started rushing to catch up. I ended up kneeling down in front of his desk and helping him stay on task. I drew him a few rough sketches of pictures, and he filled them in with colors. With each marker he pulled out, I said the English word for the color and he repeated it happily. When I had his one on one attention he was engaged, excited and fully willing to cooperate with directions. I’ve been thinking of him for days now, and although I am not an experienced physician, I believe he had some sort of hyperactive disorder, and based on his excitement from my one on one instruction, I wonder if he gets the kind of attention he needs at home. I feel sad and discouraged when I think of him because based on the way I saw the teacher regard him, it was clear that she saw him as troublesome and disruptive, whereas I saw him as kind and sweet, and in need of more help than a typical student. Just like in America, I think there are many students here who are not getting the kind of help they need in school, whether it is academic help or just extra support. Some children are disregarded early in life as being too difficult, and their teachers may give up on them, and to me that is such a shame because every child deserves to be given every opportunity to live up to their potential. After leaving the school a few of us went to the local café for a cappuccino and a pastry, which is a favorite activity of mine back at home so I was feeling a little better than I had originally when I woke up. Then we went back to the B&B for lunch. It was described as being “fish” but it should have been called a seafood lunch, because we ended up being served mussels, a pasta with whole shrimp in it (Yes, there were heads and eyeballs and shells), and octopus. My Nana would be so proud of me because every year on Christmas Eve she has tried to get me to eat octopus, and I always have been vehemently opposed, but I promised myself I would try everything I was served on this trip, and that’s exactly what I did. To my surprise, it tasted a little bit like ham. I wouldn’t eat it again, but I’m glad I tried it. After our final course, our host Mr. Grassi came over to me and told me to sit at the head of the table because he wanted to take a picture with me (???????). We took a picture together and he went back to the kitchen and moments later returned with a birthday cake. Everyone started singing and I was immediately in tears. I had been missing home so much all day, and in that moment I felt so overwhelmed by the kindness of my peers and professors that I couldn’t help but cry. It was one of the nicest things that has ever happened to me. The only moment that could possibly top that one happened later in the night. We were told we were going to a wine cellar to taste wine and hear music. That was pretty much the bulk of the information we had, so we showed up to the buses not really knowing what to expect. We pulled up to this unassuming building in the adjoining town of San Severo and were ushered in, and then down the stairs by a tour guide. She walked us through the cellar and told us the history of the place, and how they make their wine. Then she told us the tour was over and it was time to eat. She brought us up a couple of steps and into this huge room within the cellar. It had a huge arched ceiling, many tables all set for dinner, and a stage with instruments front and center. There was easily 70 people already there, drinking wine and hanging out. We didn’t know this until later but it wasn’t just an event thrown by the wine distillers, it was an event thrown by the teachers from the Elementary School and the High School teachers with the express purpose to meet and mingle with us. They served us a five-course meal with all the wine we could drink, and after the band played music. We were forced to dance by the teachers, but it ended up being so much fun. At the end of the night, one of the teachers who had helped organized the event approached me and told me to come up front of the stage. I followed her and as we started walking, people started clapping. I stopped dead in my tracks. I knew I was about to be so embarrassed in front of all these people. Suddenly the ‘Happy Birthday’ song started playing from the stage, and I was brought to the front of the room. A server in a white apron came through the crowd carrying a Panetonè, which is a big Italian dessert bread. In the middle was a lit candlestick. This in itself meant so much to me because it has always been a running joke in my family that every year Nana forgets to buy actual birthday candles, and she ends up putting a big candlestick in our cakes. I made a wish and blew out the candle, thanking the girl. I thought that was the end of it, but I could not have been more wrong. After I blew out the candle I was whisked on stage and was exuberantly sang to by the band. I was so embarrassed, but so grateful. I couldn’t believe that this room of people I didn’t know were singing to me, and celebrating me. It was truly the best thing I have ever experienced. After, I was gifted a bottle of wine that was made in the cellar, which I hope to smuggle home as a memory of the best birthday of my life. Being in Italy has already been such an emotional journey. Every single day I miss my home, I miss my family, and most importantly, I miss my cats! Almost everyday there is a moment where I feel so overwhelmed by homesickness that I could cry. But that moment passes, and in the next moment I remember how incredible this experience has been, and how I have already made so many memories that I know I will carry with me for a lifetime. And then suddenly I’m wishing I could stay here forever, and never have to return home. It’s a strange feeling, but I wouldn’t give up this experience for anything. "...I was immediately nervous that we weren't going to live up to their expectations of us."1/10/2018 It’s been an eventful few days. Since I last blogged we have had the opportunity to visit the school twice. Day one was yesterday and for everyone else, it seemed to go just swimmingly, but for Brittany, my teaching partner, and I it could only be described as chaotic. When we arrived at our classroom for the day we were shocked to find that it was twice as full of students as it was the day before when we were shown our rooms. They had combined two classes into one, and as soon as we walked in, the teachers immediately gave us the floor. This was a bit of a shock because we were under the impression that we would be observing for most of the day. But, as all teachers do, we tried our best to be flexible and we read our book out loud to the class. I fumbled my way through the Italian and Brittany got the easy task of reading the English. We incorporated some echo reading with them and told our teachers that tomorrow we would have more activities. We thought for the rest of the day we would be observing their teaching method but as soon as we were finished, we were ushered to another combined class of roughly fifty students and asked to do the same thing. By the end of the day we ended up reading our book to four different fourth grade classes, one fifth grade class, and one first grade. It was an unexpected challenge because the first graders were much too young to read our book, and the fifth graders were advanced beyond it. We improvised the best we could, and the students positivity and excitement made our day much easier to swallow, but by the end of it we were overwhelmed by so many children, and so many teachers pulling us every which way.
Later, the teachers took us out for a catered lunch at a restaurant, and were very hospitable to us. We tried our best to communicate with them, but most of them spoke very limited English. Following lunch, we met them again at the school and discussed how our days had gone, and what our plans were going forward. Brittany and I made it clear that our book was specifically designed for fourth grade, and our materials that we had brought were only enough for one class and they assured us that the next day we would be able to stay put. Today when we arrived at the school our classroom again had two classes combined into one, which totaled 47 students. Before we could even speak the teacher immediately started showing us several posters and projects and said they were a gift to us. One by one, a handful of students approached us at the front of the room with their own handmade posters depicting Buffalo pictures, and information. Our teacher explained that she didn’t assign this as homework, she just told them if they had spare time they could feel free to look up some information. I personally was overwhelmed at their willingness to do this on their own time, and I knew we had made an impact yesterday because some of the posters showed elements from our book including “Let’s go Buffalo!”, pizza and chicken wings, and snow. It was such a touching moment that right off the bat that I was immediately nervous that we weren’t going to live up to their expectations of us. I conducted the first part of our activity, which was a vocabulary game, and that was daunting for me. Given that I am slightly behind in my program, I have yet to participate in a field placement , so today was to be my first official lesson in front of a class. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t feel nervous at all, but I think I can attribute that to knowing that if I really messed up, neither the teachers nor students were likely to notice since we spoke separate languages. I started out by writing an English vocabulary word from our book on the chalkboard with the corresponding Italian word. Then I had a stack of picture cards that matched each word. The teacher taught me to say “cosè?” which meant “What is this?” So with each picture I asked the students to tell me what the word was in Italian, and then I followed that up with “In English, we say….” Then they repeated the English word. I made the game more challenging as they started catching on and only left the English words on the board before asking them to tell me the word on each picture in English. Then I taped the picture cards on the board and gave each student one English word. One by one, they came up to the front and matched their word to the picture. Then I asked “Is this correct?” and they all said it was, so I then pointed to each picture and had them chant out loud each word. By the end of the activity, I was shocked to see how quickly they picked up both the English words, and the ability to match them as well. Not only could they say and read the words, but also they now knew what they meant, and that was a gratifying feeling. After my vocabulary lesson, Brittany conducted a second read-aloud with the students which included them having physical copies of our book in front of them to follow along. Then we finished up the day with a craft that was supposed to be my second lesson plan, but ended up being morphed into one full day of teaching. For the craft, I gave each student a blue sheet of construction paper, a printed photo of a Buffalo landmark, snowflake foam stickers and glitter glue. The object was for them to make their own wintery scenes of Buffalo, and I think they ended up liking that the most, just because they got to play with glue and stickers. Some of them used the glitter glue to spell out our names and many of them wrote “Let’s go Buffalo!” on them, as that was a component of our book. It was amazing to give them an opportunity to express their own creativity and be able to observe their energy and individuality. Reflecting on today, I would have to say that I feel beyond pleased with how the day went. I couldn’t have imagined it going any smoother, despite the fact that the room was so jammed with students that it was nothing short of chaos. I had such a good time today, and it reaffirmed my choice in this career, which is huge for me. Sometimes I wonder if I have the patience or the capability to teach students, but today reminded me why I chose the field I did, and how much I already love it. I wasn’t planning on writing a blog. I thought I’d take tonight off and snuggle up in bed with Netflix. However, after the events that transpired, I couldn’t let the day pass without putting my thoughts to text.
We went to the market right after breakfast today, which comes to the town every Monday morning. We didn’t have a lot of time to walk around because we had to be at the school at 10am, but somehow I still found time to buy a scarf and a hat. I couldn’t pass up buying a hat for only one Euro! At nine thirty we began making our way to the school. It was only a short walk from the market so we ended up arriving a little early. As we approached I saw hundreds of students piling in to the square in front of their school buildings. One of the teachers who works closely with our professors came across the road and told us to wait a few minutes as they were still getting ready. A sign reading ‘Bienvenido!’ flew above the school gates, and in the middle of the square stood two students holding a banner that said ‘Welcome!’ in English. Behind them was four students holding the American flag, Italian flag, the flag for their school and a gay pride flag that read ‘peace’ in Italian. Seeing the LGBT flag flown with equal merit to the country’s flag was astounding in the best way possible. It reminded me that though hate persists in this world, there is hope yet. Hoards of students were holding balloons and pom-poms, in both the Italian colors and in red white and blue. When we were standing in front of them in the square facing them, I remember feeling excited and thinking about how cute they were. However, as we approached the gates, those feelings grew into something much deeper, and much more profound. When we stepped through the school gates music started playing and students began cheering and jumping up and down. Immediately I was crying. Tear welled up in my eyes as I tried to absorb what was going on. Looking around I saw about 60-70 people from the town who had come to watch the celebration. I assumed many of them were mothers and parents, but I also saw many elderly couples there as well. I couldn’t believe they had taken time out of their day to just come and see us. That was the first time I thought that this was a much bigger deal to the town than I originally realized. They played our National Anthem and we sang it for them, and then they played their anthem and they sang for us. After that we all felt a little awkward just standing in the middle of all of these people, all here to see us so I approached some of the students who looked a little older. I was hoping to find some that spoke some English, and luckily I did. As I walked over to their group they all started saying “Hello! Hello! Hello!” and doing their best to say all the English phrases they knew. “What is your name?”, “Where are you from?”, “How old are you?” I heard over and over. When I told them my name they all said “Jessica, Jessica Jessica!” in the most precious accents I’ve ever heard. One little boy yelled out “You are beautiful!” and suddenly they all echoed his claims. Their teacher approached me and began to speak to me in very broken English. Luckily, I’ve had many years of experience learning to decipher what Italians are saying (Recently I asked my Nana the name of someone and she said ‘Blank’. It only took me a few seconds to realize his name was Blake). She told me her students were going to sing for me, and suddenly they burst into a song that had a chorus that repeated “Speak, Speak English!” The verses were Italian phrases followed by the English translation. One little girl was so clearly enamored by us that she pushed herself to the front of the group, even as I walked around it and sang as loud as she could, with her chest proudly raised, and her arms on her hips. After a few minutes of singing, we were ushered into the Principal’s office where a table of muffins, biscuits, Panatone, and drinks awaited us. I’m not sure why I expected any less given that Italians are the most gracious group of people I have ever encountered. We munched on snacks and spoke with some of the teachers who were going to be giving us a tour. They handed us each an itinerary and when I looked at it, suddenly I was tearing up again. They had planned out the next two weeks in entirety, which includes guided tours of the town, tours of old churches, visiting the market, a performance by the high school just for us, and a welcome lunch at a restaurant tomorrow. I was beginning to understand how big of a deal it was for us to be there. I realized that it is probably just as exciting for them as it is for us to be in here. It was clear how proud they are of their town and their home, and I couldn’t even begin to convey how honored I felt to be welcomed into it. When we took the tour I was impressed at the cleanliness of the school, and the artwork and colors that completely covered every inch of wall. We were welcomed into class after class, and in each one the teacher would call on a student to stand up and say something in English. In one classroom in particular, the teacher spoke some English and she had written on the chalkboard in the front of the room “Welcome in Italy.” I chuckled but would never have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t grammatically correct. She bounced around the room with the kind of energy that I’ve only seen Italian women have. Her excitement was contagious and she quickly pointed to one student after another and proudly asked them to display their English skills. They stood up and proclaimed “My name is__________, I am eight years old, I am from Torremaggiore.” I looked around at my fellow students and I felt disappointed. Some of them seemed excited but it appeared as though they didn’t know what to say or how to act. I think that some of them thought it was awkward to be standing there, and watching them fumble through our language. I tried to give the biggest smiles I could give to both the teachers and students because I recognized that they were so proud of their accomplishments and I wanted them to see that I was proud for them. “Brava!” I yelled and clapped after each student. I still don’t know if it’s brava for a girl and bravo for a boy, or if it’s always brava for me since I’m a girl and I’m saying the word. But I figured that was roughly equivalent to their “in/to” mistake, so hopefully they’ll let it slide. When I started writing this blog, I wanted to accurately encapsulate my feelings from today into words, but as I’m writing I’m beginning to realize that might be impossible. I feel beyond words for the way I felt while I was in the school today. It is as if my body and soul felt whole. In the midst of the chaos, I felt safe and content. I felt like I was coming home. At one point I bumped into one of the teachers on accident. She was an older lady, easily in her seventies but had the energy of someone in their thirties. I quickly turned around to apologize but before I could get one word out she said “No, no, no!” and waved her hand in the air as if to say “don’t even worry about it.” Then she grabbed my hand tightly and put it to my cheek and smiled at me warmly. As I turned back away from her suddenly I was crying all over again. Earlier in the morning I heard one of my peers mention how weird it was that they are so touchy, but to me, that encounter was anything but weird. It was so kind and so genuine, and it made me feel almost loved. Still I am turning the days’ events round and round in my head. I’m considering every moment that happened and wondering if I should include it, or if it’s important enough. I am considering every emotion I had and wondering if words exist to describe them. I don’t even know if any of this blog will make coherent sense, it’s more than likely just me rambling on. But today was so moving, and so overwhelming that even if I rewrote this over and over again I could never get it right. I hope to do justice to the events that continue as the weeks progress, but I have a feeling I’ll be just as excited so we’ll see. Tomorrow we’ll be in one class with our designated teacher, and if it is half the experience that today was I’ll probably be blubbering all over again. Our last day in Rome was yesterday, and it was yet another fun filled day. We got up early again and hopped the 9am bus headed straight to the Colosseum. Our goal was to tour the inside first thing in the morning and then go to Palatine Hill following that. When we got there we must have clearly looked like clueless Americans because a lady approached us and starting giving us information about how to enter and where to go and then offered us a tour which included both the Colosseum and Palatine Hill which was perfect for us. We took a guided tour around both of the sights, and the views we saw were so spectacular, especially Palatine Hill. To be honest, I’ve been to Rome before and I’ve still never even heard of it. I had no idea what to expect, but if I had any expectations at all they were wildly exceeded. Atop the hill were the ruins of the palace of Augustus Caesar himself, along with other prominent figures of ancient Rome. There were pieces of marble floors still left, with artifacts almost haphazardly strewn about. Moving further down the hill we were able to observe even more ruins, and beautiful buildings which included the Forum as well as where Julius Caesar is buried. Again, it seemed so strange to me that so many ancient pieces of Rome simply lay strewn about all over the yard, but then again I suppose that’s the charm of it all.
After we finished up at the Hill we were unsure of where to go next, but our tour guide had mentioned that you can visit the ruins of where Julius Caesar was killed, so once again we hopped the bus. When we arrived I was shocked to discover that ancient ruins had been repurposed to hold hundreds of cats from around the city, and served as a safe haven for them. Looking at the half walls of old buildings you could see cats tucked into little nook and crannies, having a snooze or chasing mice. They were all vaccinated, fed and well taken care of by a generous group of volunteers. If you know anything about me, you know that I’m a cat lady through and through, so I quite literally couldn’t contain my excitement as so many cats walked around me, many approaching me for head scratches and affectionate bumps against my legs. This quickly became my favorite part of Rome not just because I got to see so many cats, but because I was so enamored with the idea of taking something that has no purpose but to be beautiful and old and using it to protect small beings that don’t belong on the streets of a city. It was truly one of the most amazing things I have witnessed. After woefully leaving the cats behind, we headed back towards to Hotel and got some dinner as our final day in Rome concluded. As I reflect on my time there, one thing comes to mind that I think is significant. One of my wishes originally going into the trip was to be as least touristy as possible. In my head, I felt like I had already done all that stuff, and I just wanted to spend my time hanging out in parks, going to cafes, eating pastries and not feel like I had to rush around. I knew that most likely wasn’t attainable because I was going with a group of people who had never been to the city before and as predicted, we ended up fitting in almost a week’s worth of tourist activities into three days. The crazy part is that I really didn’t even mind. I was happy we did, and I’m shocked to even say that. Truthfully, I came to the conclusion that you could spend years in Rome and not see everything there is to see, and the beauty of Rome is that you’ll never be bored. Yes, hanging out in a café is nice, but I could have done just the same thing in Buffalo. I’m so glad I was able to see so much of Rome in the short time we were there, and I don’t regret it being a busy few days at all. This morning we stuffed ourselves into a van and headed off for Torremaggiore. The drive was only four hours but I actually enjoyed it a lot because the scenery was incredible. The mountains in Italy are so vast and so beautiful that when you drive through them you almost feel as though you are in a painting. However, despite the beauty of the landscape, I was struck by how much poverty there was. It seemed like every few miles we passed another town that looked badly beaten up, with graffiti covering every building. It’s odd because I think Americans think of Italy as being this incredible, exotic sort of place, and it is that, but today I was reminded that in every place there is poverty and hardship. The town of Torremaggiore is not at all what I expected. It was described to us as being very small, and not having almost anything around it. In my head I was picturing maybe dirt roads on a mountainside, and a building every hundred yards, he but that is not at all the case. It is indeed a small town, and all of the locals literally stop and stare at us everywhere we have gone because I’m quite sure it’s not the hottest tourist spot in Italy. However, the town looks like a mini city, with city blocks, many small restaurants, bars and stores and several churches. Being here feels authentically Italian. It lacks that hustle and bustle of the city, and atmosphere is relaxed and very slow. People walked around with their dogs outside, and in the evening, in the middle of the town square we saw a band set up, with many people from the town hanging out, including several groups of old men wearing hats and smoking cigars. It feels weird to say, but being here feels like being home. When I walk through the streets, I hear people speaking Italian and I feel a sense of comfort deep within my chest, and I am reminded of my Nana and Papa, and being back at Mangia Monday for dinners every week. I am reminded of her talking excitedly speaking Italian on the phone to one of her sisters. I am reminded of him singing “O’ Sole Mio” loudly. I am reminded that though I am far, I am close to my roots, and that brings me great comfort. Tomorrow we begin observations at the school, and I feel apprehensive because I feel like I have no idea what I’m about to walk into. That said, it’s exciting to have this new experience, and just hope it all goes smoothly. Today can be summed up in one sentence I heard Brittany utter earlier; “This is all so amazing, I don’t even know what to say but ‘wow’.”
After getting a decent few hours of sleep, despite the jetlag, I was determined to enter today with a more positive attitude. Nine of us had decided last night to get up early this morning, have a quick breakfast and head straight to the train station as early as possible. We each purchased a hop on-hop off bus pass that was valid for two full days, and had a great route around all of the major sights in the city. I had previously used the same company in a few different cities before, including Rome, so I knew it was the best bang for our buck, and the easiest way to see everything we wanted. Our plan for the day was to go to the Vatican, which we figured would take us the better part of the day. I ended up being so grateful for our punctuality because upon our arrival our bus guide informed us that the museum and Sistine Chapel would be closing early because tomorrow is the Epiphany. We dashed through the crowd to make it on time, and luckily were able to gain entrance before closing. Inside the museum building, we made a B line straight for the Sistine Chapel, which was a priority for the day. I had previously seen the inside of it once before, but previously, my father was so claustrophobic of the crowds that we rushed right through it, without me ever fully appreciating what I was seeing. This time around, I stood aghast at the murals, trying to fold each square of them into my memories indefinitely. We all stood in the middle of the room taking it in every detail for at least twenty minutes, as people bustled around us. Despite having seen it before, this was a highlight of the day for me because I got to see something with new eyes, and appreciate it in a whole different way. After exiting we decided to skip the rest of the museum because we knew we had a long line for St. Peter’s ahead of us. And boy, did we ever. We ended up waiting for 2 hours in line just to walk through the church, which was a little frustrating, but flew by quicker than we all expected. Finally reaching the church felt like such an accomplishment. Having been to several cathedrals and churches around the world, I can honestly say it was one of the most breathtaking places of worship I have ever seen. Just the sheer size of it alone was staggering. There was a real choir practicing, and everywhere you turned there was a tomb or shrine to a deceased Pope or a holy figure. I couldn’t convey into words the feelings that swell in you when you’re standing in such a holy, and magnificent place. It was overwhelming in the best way. To close out the evening we hopped back on the bus route and took it all the way to the Colosseum and grabbed an indulgent dinner in front of the lit up structure, which included copious amounts of wine, pasta and dessert. We took a few photos before finally heading off to our beds. I’m proud to report that my attempt at a more positive attitude met great success. Any time I found myself the least bit annoyed, I tried to remind myself how lucky I am to be here, and how phenomenal of an experience this is. That helped snap me back to reality, and I was able to let go of any stress or negativity and I ended up having such an incredible day. P.S. I think the word ‘incredible’ might be a reoccurring theme in these blogs but I can’t help it, I’m in Italy, of course it’s incredible! Today is January 4th, and I have been awake for 30+ hours, aside from a few ten minute naps on the plane. Needless to say, I am drained. The last two days have been so overwhelming in both the best and worst way possible. There have already been some trials and tribulations on this journey, but I am trying to make the most of every opportunity here because even a bad day vacationing in Italy is still better than a good day in Buffalo.
Yesterday, we all agreed to arrive early at 1:45pm to make sure we were loaded on the bus by 2pm, because our flight was leaving at 7:10pm out of Toronto. Instead there was a mix-up with the bus company, and they thought our pickup wasn’t until 3pm. When the bus finally arrived, there was only one instead of two, and we didn’t depart from Buffalo until 2:45pm. This obviously induced stress for everyone, but we lucked out and had no problems with getting over the boarder, through security, and checked in for our flight. We made it with about an hour to spare, and it felt like such a weight was lifted when I finally boarded the plane. It was an easy flight, but I regret to say I didn’t get any more than an hour of sleep. Upon arriving in Rome early this morning, I was shocked at how easy it was to blast through customs. I thought for sure it would be a long line, and everyone would be asked a series of questions. I experienced customs like that before, and I was dreading it so it was a welcome surprise when I was able to walk right up to the desk with no wait and receive a stamp within a matter of seconds and I was on my way. I was also thrilled when I spotted my luggage as soon as I approached our baggage claim because one of my fears was losing my luggage, which I think all travelers can relate to. Unfortunately, my roommate and good friend was not as lucky as me, and her luggage was nowhere to be found. Our professor left the airport in search of our pickup vans, while myself, another girl, and my roommate approached the service desk to inquire about the missing bag. The lady working at the desk was quick to inform us that her bag hasn’t even left Canada yet, for reasons unknown. She assured us that the luggage would be on the next flight to Rome and hand delivered to our hotel. I felt terrible for my roommate, and everyone was quick to offer her clothes, toiletries and anything else she might need. We finally left the airport and made it to our hotel. The hotel is on the third floor of a building, and the elevator for it only holds two people, nevermind their luggage. As one might imagine, it was a struggle to get each person and their 50lb bags all up there. On top of that, a seemingly drunk individual approached us as we were trying to get everyone up safely and attempted to force himself into the elevator when it was full. He then began yelling obscenities at our professor, which was alarming to us all. An uncomfortable interaction followed where our professor verbally spared with this man before following him into the elevator by herself. I was both inspired by her courage, and frightened for her because it was clear this was not a man to mess with. Luckily, alls well that ends well and a few minutes later our professor came back down the stairs, grinning and laughing, clearly unphased. Once we had our rooms sorted we all made plans to split off into groups and see some sights. Given that I was the only one with experience in Rome before, I suggested we walk to the Trevi Fountain and do a little shopping and then head over to the Spanish Steps. I thought with was going to be a very unorganized day due to the fact that we didn’t have any solid plans but as it turns out, we made the absolute most of our first day here and accomplished seeing so much already. We walked around the city for hours, and ended up seeing the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, Chiesa della Trinità dei Monti, Piazza della Repubblica, and the Basilica di Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri. I was so proud of our collective motivation to make the most of our first day in Rome despite some travelling setbacks. As of now, it’s about 8:30pm, and I’m starting to think that if I don’t go to bed within an hour, my brain will implode. All day I was so wrapped up in the city that I forgot how long it’s been since I’ve actually slept. Despite my cranky, overtired mood, I have been able to sit down and reflect on the day and these are my thoughts; Traveling is never going to go exactly as planned, especially with a group of people. There are so many variables that are just outside of everyone’s control. Having realized that, I have decided a new goal for myself on this trip is to remind myself that frustration isn’t going to solve a problem. I need to acknowledge how lucky I am to be in this beautiful city with a beautiful group of people around me. I am so thrilled to be here, and I need to let go of my anxiety and desire to have control of the situation and just give in to the fact that no matter what happens, I’m in Italy, this is the trip of a lifetime, and I am so grateful for this opportunity. P.S. Posting this a day late because WiFi in our hotel has not been my friend |
AuthorI am a third year Elementary Education student at Buffalo State College and a member of the Muriel A. Howard Honors program and Kappa Delta Pi Education Honor Society. My hobbies include reading, watching movies, hanging out with friends and family, and being a full time cat lady. I have always been passionate about working with children and hope that this program will give me insight as to how children in other countries are nurtured and develop. I am thrilled to have the opportunity to connect with fellow Education students and form lasting connections within my program ArchivesCategories |