The old school yard

After a couple of busy weeks which almost had me nostalgic for the days of lockdown and a gentler pace of life, this past week has settle down into something approaching a normal routine, including the long-anticipated meeting at the school.

This took place as promised (sort of) on Monday afternoon and I arrived in good time, again being let in by a nun. The reason for this is that they (or the Catholic church or one of its arms) owns the building in which the school rents a small number of the rooms. A small number because it is enormous, stretching in an elongated U shape over three floors. The good thing about this, as I found out when I asked about parking, is that in the cup of the u there is a garden that the school uses for recreation but also an embarrassment of parking space, especially given that the average person living in or visiting Civitanova has to drive around the streets until he spies a gap in the cars lining the sides of the streets. All I have to do in future is drive to the back of the building and drive through the gates and up the 100 metres to the rear of the school. Simple.

It was less simple, however, when it came to the meeting and my timetable. Having been told last week that it would be Monday and Thursday, the provisional timetable had me down for Monday and Friday and only for five hours as opposed to the ten promised. This later was explained away because, I was told, September in schools in Italy is spent getting to know the pupils and then the timetable proper, with five full days as opposed to the part days currently. Consequently, I was told, my hours would increase in October, which was also the point at which the curriculum would be organised as opposed to September’s voyage of discovery approach.

As for my days, I was very firm (some might say stroppy, but hey we are in Italy and it can’t be classed as a full on strop without melodramatic waving of arms and shouting and at least one door parting company with its hinges) in saying that I had been told Monday and Thursday, and eventually this was agreed. For the interim period, then, I will be working from 8.20 to 10.30 on the Monday and 8.20 to 11.10 on the Thursday – all with the same class and no breaktime respite thanks to Covid. As for what I will be teaching them, that is another matter altogether. I had in my ignorance, or naivety, understood that I was supporting the English teacher by reinforcing with directed oral work what he had been teaching in his lessons. It seems, however, that I am in there on my own doing whatever I want, at least until October – it’s always good to have such clarity and support when starting a new job.

It would seem that I am not the only person, either, who is a bit puzzled where the school is concerned as Paola called on Wednesday, asking about lunchtime arrangements and if I knew when the canteen, where she is due to work, is starting up. I was no help, for whilst during the meeting the staff had taken time out to visit it and discuss how the children can eat lunch in a safe, socially-distanced arrangement, nothing as far as I could tell was said about when. I promised to enquire the next day when I started.

To backtrack a little, the news on the Jimny on Monday was that it all depended on the deal with the garage. Whilst it ticked several of our boxes, it missed on others and we are not desperate to have it at any cost. As the week progressed, the whole thing seemed to cool on both sides so it looks very much like the Suzuki is history and we will have to reconsider what we want to do. That something needs to be done either with work on or a replacement for the Freeclimber was underlined on Wednesday when, after several hours on charge again on Tuesday, Stephen was able to drive to the factory but was left stranded when he tried to come home for lunch and it wouldn’t start, again. Mirco very gallantly gave him a lift to the top of the road, but this cannot go on indefinitely.

Another non-starter would seem to be my lessons with Alice. After our lesson last week going over her presentation, she said that she wanted to continue and on a Tuesday as that was her day off. However, despite confirming with her that I was free on that day and her promising (twice) to get back to me with a preferred time, I have heard nothing. That’s fine, for besides Fouzia’s three lessons and Giacomo’s two, I have Laura restarting on the 22nd at 7.00 and also one of my conversation partners, Luca, who has decided to home school his daughters this year, asked if I would be available for a lesson with them via Skype, so my time is filling up nicely.

And so we come to Thursday, and my morning at the school. I started out bright eyed with the proverbial bushy tail, arriving there around 8 a.m. to give me time for some photocopying and to set my stall our for the lesson. After three hours in the same place with the same nine children I admit I was wilting a little. Because of Covid, you cannot do pair or group work or have them out of their places to do games or role play. They have to sit in their seats all the time, and if they need to move for some reason only two are allowed to do so at the same time. There is a break, of course, but as they are not allowed to play together outside, that is taken in the classroom sitting at their desks with me keeping them company.

It was with some relief that I handed over to the next teacher when she arrived, and made for the exit and some fresh air. As luck would have it, I spotted the headmistress as I was on the corridor and was able to keep my promise to Paola. The canteen, she said, was opening on the 21st, and next week we will do contracts she called over her shoulder as she went off purposefully. We might also do something about how I am being paid – but that, I’m sure, is a minor detail.

As for the rest of the week, there is nothing of great significance or excitement to entertain you with. Thursday night we went to the pub again, where it was less busy than last week but a little slow on service as the kitchen staff, for no fault of theirs, were delayed. We did, though, have a little trouble paying again as the lady who had now progressed to using the till obviously thought, being English, I was also stupid (fair enough). “Two eight,” she kept saying to me, slowly and loudly, which confused me not a little. Eventually it clicked that she was saying the bill was €28, so I handed over two €20 notes. “Two eight,” she continued and was only happy when I took back one of the twenties, replaced it with a five and Stephen managed to dig around and find €3 in change. No doubt she had a good laugh when she got home and told her family about the daft Englishman who handed over €40 when his bill was only €28; or maybe she kept schtum because while she can, given time, add up on the till she hasn’t yet worked out how to give change.

It was all change, though, on Friday as my lesson with Fouzia from 7.00 to 8.00 really interferes with our long-standing routine of g&t, a few crisps and then pizza whilst lounging on the settee watching rubbish on the TV. We decided to switch it to Saturday, but somehow it just wasn’t the same – and not just because we spent the weekend confused as to what day it actually was – so maybe we will revert to Friday pizza but with a slightly delayed start time. Yesterday we set to with the apples and in a combined effort produced four kilos of chutney, which is now maturing for later in the year. As for today, I spent the afternoon on lesson preparation, which underlines what a good idea it was that I took early retirement from teaching and we moved to Italy for a more relaxed and freer way of life.