Hi, my name is Marcello. How are you?

After being in Italy for two months now, my feel for the people, places, and culture of my small city community have changed from what they were—as stereotypes and preconceptions—before arriving. Specifically going once a week to a local third grade class to help teach an English class has helped change many of these previous notions, both those before I came and even while in Florence.

Before coming, I had heard from so many people about how Americanized-Anglicanized Florence was: that there was little chance to actually experience Italian culture. Admittedly Florence, the city center, is very touched and molded to tourists—especially American and British—with little chance to speak Italian in restaurants or to shop owners because they automatically see the American in me and assume that I am like all of the rest: unable and unwilling to try to speak Italian.

The city I live in, which is a ‘suburb’ (as much of a suburb as happens in Italy) of Florence, definitely does not thrive on tourism and therefore is much more residential and Italian. The school I volunteer at is a five minute walk from where I live, which is nice because the city itself, like most of the Italy I have experienced so far, is walkable. Every Monday I make the trek, passing the favorite hang out of the middle aged men in Sesto, shops selling Italian made scarves and ties, and people sitting outside of cafés smoking cigarettes and washing them down with shots of espresso, and in front of the school there is a playground that is open and residents of the city come here to push their toddlers on swings or just get a breath of fresh air. I love this walk because I get to see the town come alive—see the social aspect of this culture played out.

Instead of sitting in their homes and offices all day at the computer, the people here get out and stroll around the city, enjoy the parks, shop at the boutiques, and stop to enjoy a nice sip of espresso: there is definitely a greater inclination and desire to be social. This social niche is reflected in the third grade classroom too, where the kids are not afraid to speak up in class, constantly do group work and interact with each other and me. Although their English speaking skills are pretty much limited to “Hi, my name is Marcello. How are you?,” they want to learn more and always ask me how to say things correctly and spell them.

More than the satisfaction of being able to help them learn words that they want to and a language that their school and the globalized world has begun to deem necessary is the satisfaction that I get from being able to speak to Italians. I came here expecting to not only learn so much about Italian culture, which I feel like I have, but also speaking as close to fluently as possible, which has not happened. Mondays with the bambini (children) are my chances to practice my Italian with native speakers (because my program is in a villa with all American students, many of which have had no Italian language classes until getting here) who aren’t judgmental and are in the same situation I am in learning another language.

Like American kids, there are good kids and the not so good, shy girls that are afraid to speak above a whisper and those who always want to be the first to answer, but unlike all of my classes in the States growing up, the teacher has much less structure to her class or control over the kids—there is often an array of yelling and kids randomly leaving the room or getting up to look out the window. More than American kids, too, these kids seem much more affectionate, happy, and ready to learn. They have really embraced me and unlike a lot of the time in this country, I don’t feel like an outsider because they allow me to try to speak to them in Italian. In general, this experience has been more about Italian culture and getting to know the people than helping kids learn my language.

-Andrea Rush, October 2006