MY EDUCATIONAL PATH

Foggy days- extremely foggy…. Northern Italy.

Started my first EDUCATIONAL PATH, my young Mexican mother taking my sister and I to the kindergarten.

Foggy- humid. Do not remember much- could not see well. I was only 5 and my sister 3.

Round tables- working with COMBO – pencils – drawings- colours – and first Italian letters- consonants and vowels. Foreign language not allowed in those times under a certain age.

My mother patient and sweet used to speak Spanish to me at home and helped me out with drawings- scissors- and stories.

Kindergarten – Catholic- nuns – the teachers were-. Hated by me, the worst was yet to come.

My father moved to Sicily- to work at the military airport. And be close to his still alive parents.

Rented a 4-room flat in a 13-floor building- in a very famous commercial street in Palermo.

It was time to go to school seriously- in those times thick folders were used to go to elementary school- books were free- pencils- and pens-note books.

The school does no longer exist- it was an orphanage of war orphans- and abandoned by their closest relatives- all males – older than our age. Abused- physically abused.

Only 6 female accepted as external pupils- I still remember a blond one-

I was a good pupil- but terrorized by my performance when the teacher used to beat the orphans up violently- beating up their heads-Once I was so terrorized – the violent teacher found a lake under the chair- pee = terror- urinated for terror.

My mother- learned Italian as native speaker- taught me how to read and write- the words in Italian and the translation in Spanish.

I was good- in History of Italy- Geography and other subjects- moved to another school- I felt alienated- I was growing taller than the average of my female peers. The new school was close to the military airport-

Same subjects- I had to learn how to write compositions about family and peers- history- geography – math. Drawing. Music and Religion too. A priest came once a week for 2 hours to read the teaching of Jesus for children.

Once I stood up and asked the priest what happened to the passed away of those who were not Christian Catholics- Hell- Heaven- Purgatorio.

First poems – to learn by heart- theatre to represent characters.

The priest was very sweet and gentle and replied to me that even those children would have their own Paradise ready for them- once deceased. God was only one.

I was the last- last row – of the classroom- constantly ill- tonsils. Fever every 2 weeks- rheumatic pains- getting thinner and thinner.

One thing was sure- I was very good at writing in Italian. Immediate surgery after a holiday taken to Mexico- to meet my grandparents. Flying- Surgery- terrible- my mother cried- cried and cried.

I was operated with no anaesthesia- public hospital- no tonsils anymore- I had to eat many many many ice-creams- all cold icy – icy drinks to heal the wound.  That was the only positive memory.

Back to school- go on learning and be a good pupil-they started bullying me 3 girls- because they thought I was dumb- and too shy.

Pony tail- beautiful brown hair.

I learned soon that ‘’children’’ can be cruel. That would change my way of being from the age of 11 on. I was ill and dumb for those classroom children.

I enjoyed the Nativity.

Passed the elementary exam- mandatory at the age of 10. Good notes.

Italian the first.

Michelangelo Buonarroti- the next school- new subjects and love- first the English language- at the age of 11 mandatory- the teachers terrible-

History of Europe – GEOGRAPHY- Physics- technical applications- how electricity worked- how to grow vegetables in a garden. Potatoes and so on- very funny for children of my age and most of us.

How to grow green peas- how to prepare bread- practical stuff.

Michelangelo Buonarroti- more literature- poems by heart – all by heart- composition – on literature once a month- social issues-how to express properly.

3 hours of time to write the composition on a social issue- for those times- the role of parents and caregivers- children-religion- siblings- political speeches- watched for children of our age.

I was good at Chemistry- but in Maths- a real disaster. The final mandatory exam arrived-

Composition on social and family issues- at choice. English- and Maths.
Another subject that had a GREAT AND HUGE importance overall Condotta, personal behaviour – as subject at school.

If you had a very low note on behaviour called in Italian’’ Condotta generale’’ respect towards other classmates and teachers, bad note on all the rest. Other times- ANCIENT TIMES= MIDDLE AGES.

My parents had to visualize the notes and sign it.

No technology-  we had only one teacher once – a biologist on sexual education- she started speaking about sexual intercourse- and contraception- and hormonal changes- and a deep silent in the classroom arrived-

EVERYBODY LAUGHING – ‘’we want the photos of the intercourse in details’ no books available- period in which pupils learned from other peers.

Hormonal changes- and more laughter – a noisy one- a girl saying and more:’’ Yes, that’s why there are more of us stinking- ‘’

The teacher brought in deodorants for the HORMONAL changes and please ‘’DO NOT NEGLECT THE BIDET! Every day- morning and evening. More important than your dumb faces’’.

She never came back.

Scuola media done Age 14. Now. I was growing taller- and a bit more round then.

Forgot one thing physical education mandatory- I was good at long jump – the fastest.

Running at school- gymnastics at school. NO LUNCH. Only 15 minutes break at 10:30.

Let’s go on with EDUCATION.

The difficult choice at that time in Italy- for those who were supposedly particularly good- the choices were 2 classic studies or scientific-until the age of 18. For the rest all technical schools- to become Accounts payable, Graphic designer- technician for repairing, and many other schools who brought to ‘’nothing’ ’or a job, ‘’perhaps’’, vocational school for agriculture, vocational school for tourism and catering.

My choice in those times was made.

A precondition should be made and more than one.

No kisses among classmates- never ever- CIAO – that’s all. A hug to the favourite one-

Change of schools meant – no more contacts with previous school mates- no trace.

A brand-new situation started in those years – Institute of culture and languages the choice.

Historical City Centre. MOST OF THE AFTER-SCHOOL TIME S IN THOSE DAYS WAS SPENT AT HOME DOING HOMEWORK, OR AFTER SCHOOL UNTIL THE EVENING IF YOU WERE BAD IN A SUBJECT MANDATORY TO PASS.

For the worst students and well-off ones- private schools was the option to complete mandatory school.

Late 70’s . Turmoil in Italy- due to Terrorism.

The bus taken every morning- fully crowded of students- no uniforms dress decently and clean.

15 stops- my mother patiently waiting at home.

An important law passed in Italy years earlier- DIRITTO DI FAMIGLIA- equality between men and women- married women should not adopt their husband’s surname- abortion made legal until the 3^rd month- psychology before the operation and consequences. Divorce approved- while I was still a child.

I still remember the first day at Liceo- a crowd of students waiting in front an ancient 3 floor building- Palermo city centre- traffic- I was only 14.

All smoking cigarettes- hoping to learn something useful.  Scooters or buses- no other means of transport- no mobile phones-

Books this time- were not free- had to be purchased- new subjects French was added as second language- Latin only 2 years- Math very light- World history 3 years- Political Sciences

Social sciences. Educazione civica-

We were mainly girls- 7 boys- 4 gays among them. Declared gays- no issues. We hardly ever spoke about sexual identity.

The School Director made us choose the seat for the whole year. First row to the left for me.

Everybody coming back from the summer holidays spent mainly with their families- beach- the sea. NO trips abroad.

All tanned and happy.  Long brown hair- first light make- up- pink lipsticks – kajal as most girls. I became closer friend to my deskside classroom mate- a tall dark brown girl- already engaged with a much older man. 15 years older-

He came to visit her during break at 11- asked her frequent questions about his much older boyfriend- spoke to him once- or twice- did not like him. Avoided.

Another closer class room mate a blond Sicilian girl- who was going THROUGH a nervous breakdown- smartly hidden according to her.

She confessed me why after 1 year. She introduced me to Classical music- in the evening she used to go to the state school for music- Beethoven, Chopin, Mozart- music was the only obsession. She wanted to become a pianist- She used to smoke tons of Muratt cigarettes- shouting at teachers- Rebel.

Most of our teachers were nice- young- but…..but…. they started covering all the State program after months of chatting of personal life with their pupils. ONE DAY – THE FUTURE PIANIST GOT TIRED AND TOLD TO THE TEACHERS TO SHUP UP.

I used to talk a lot- to the future pianist- discovering that she was not reliable. I had to pay the consequences of that friendly behaviour.

The future pianist had a nice- and good-looking boyfriend same age- she was on the pill. Asked her if she wanted to marry him- apparently, she did after many years.

Political Turmoil started- assembly- a group of older students not allowing younger ones to enter the classes- occupation- without authorization.

Political turmoil- assembly- strikes- missing weeks of classes-

My mother was quite annoyed of seeing me- earlier than usual at home- no homework assigned-

We had to go to school- and had gatherings in front of the school without attending the classes- asking for better and more prepared teachers-.

Another terrible event – linked to either extreme right or extreme left aggressions.

One morning- something bad happened- that made me weep- Moro- was killed by Red Brigade-

I put a step inside the building- to attend classes- the School Director came over to me and said: ‘’you are suspended for 3 days- tell your parents to sign the paper’’.

A stab on the back- the blond girl and others had told the Director that I had organized the turmoil not to attend classes and the unauthorized occupation.

My father’s reaction in the evening was of total indifference- he signed and said- that I had nothing to lose.

I took it personally- my father said: ‘’don’t you understand the times we are living? Terrorism.

We were instructed to go on with the State school program on our own, at home- Some teachers had salaries reduced. Teach yourself.

One very sunny morning with a group of usual school mates we organized to meet to visit a shop- famous city centre.

I took a big bag- the ‘’sweety blond future pianist’ ’opened my bag in the shop- grab make up, lip glosses- and more and put all inside my bag.

It was the first time in my life- the first in which I hit and punched hardly.  What did it mean ‘’being friend’’ did I know?

Life went on despite the turmoil – silence in the classroom- studying following the lessons- passing the tests- underneath there was something going on- My parents were deciding differently as far as destiny- and destination- not fully aware of.

A cappuccino with my desk side school mate- who said she enjoyed the classes to a certain extent- she enjoyed kissing her much older boyfriend- but no more than that-

The ‘’future pianist’’ invited me to a gathering after school- she used to drive a scooter- apologized- and said the following: ‘’emotional distress- her father left her 39-year-old mother – since her belly suddenly was very big- but from another man’’ The ‘’future pianist’’: ‘s’’ my mother was having an affair with someone else’’!

Legal separation arrived. She apologized- she saw me as the most vulnerable.

The outcome: I learned much more French than English. Political Science than science.

I should have kept in touch with both these school mates- had their land line numbers.

My school days – you choose one or two. Of your school mates.

Many people saying that I was growing beautiful- very pretty only 16. Once I had anxiety since being followed by a man with his car- avoided dark and empty areas- he invited me to go on his car- I just looked straight into his eyes- straight- straight- straight into his eyes- without saying a single word- without pronouncing a single word- took a piece of paper and a pen- and wrote down the car’s licence plate. He accelerated and vanished.

One morning of October – all suitcases were ready- I was lying in bed- my sister’s bed was to my left.

My father had requested the pre-retirement from the Airforce- without realizing that it was irreversible-. My mother, I talked a lot to her-had a distress- she needed her parents – she suddenly started missing them- besides there were other reasons.

Very early morning- the plane took off from Palermo’s airport to Rome. My mother and the 4 children. We met a cousin of my father who lives there- university professor- already retired.

I was so excited- so excited- I could not believe it!   My father’s cousin tried to make us feel fine at the airport- my youngest sister was only 6.   Rome airport. The plane took off heading to New York.

I was worried for my mother- a much naïve and unprepared woman than I was.

We landed in New York- took taxi drove by a man from Puerto Rico- he looked quite mean – he demanded more money for a relatively short path- I was aggressive- my mother was not.

My mother was simply ‘’pale’’ black hair- I was behind her- jerk guy from Puerto Rico-

My mother thought that by speaking Spanish to him he could have a better tariff, just the opposite.

Another plane to Dallas TX. Nice and pleasant flight. I was wearing a maxi skirt- and elegant coat and boots. MAXI SKIRT. We left behind a terrible weather in Palermo.

My sister, my nice hippy brother and the youngest the child we landed with my happy mother to hug her parents and cousins in El Paso Texas. I was stupefied by the arid weather- I felt thirsty- very low percentage of humidity.

I provided to my former school mates my grandparents post address to send me one or two letters about their lives. They did. The one having the older dumped him – or the other way around. She wrote that she had no intention to go further or sleep with him, he needed an older woman- the future pianist- was fine and helping out the mother to raise the half-brother. She would start to study for an exam to teach music.

My grandparents so nice words: que bonita muchacha. But she is so…so …so harsh sometimes, for their standards.

My education started in a very odd way- complementary exam- English language first.

I had to register at the English language courses for foreigners- my father remained in Italy.

I had good memories: my father joined us later, meeting wonderful people Bob middle aged man from Texas, Charles I am still in contact today: struggling to understand them- I could barely understand them. Charles it is up to you: ‘’you will start from level I along with other foreign students. He was specialized in teaching English to foreigners- LINGUISTICS the degree.

3 months lasted the course- summer time- 10 hours a day. No break- Cafeteria at 13: 30.

10 hours a day of English- getting home tired and hated the language with all my heart, laboratory exam, headset on. I had to learn how to express myself in English- writing down a sentence, a meaningful one.

I could speak Spanish- I passed the exam as ‘’native speaker’’ not English. Even my French was better- I had a good teacher in Italy.

While going on describing my Edu Path, I came across a question addressed by a Clinical psychologist who asked I we/ I felt more excluded or bullied during my studies or at work, in my case at WORK.

I can happily go on with my EDU path.

I decided to pursue my studies as Undergraduate at the age of 18- in 2 languages. The State University was and IS bilingual. 

Registered following long queues – 7 hour-lines- cold weather in Texas, it was the month of January 1980.

Intermediate level of English language as non-native speaker. Compulsory subject to follow and pass in Spanish: American Government, no escape, 2 years- Introduction to Psychologist in English- American history in Spanish (quite short)-Spanish literature intermediate level as native speaker- French language intermediate level and so on- my father paid the tuition the first year. The cheapest Uni- Tuition were more expensive for non-American citizens. Introduction to Linguistics in English- Political Science in English-  then the following years I had to follow more advanced courses in English poetry- English- not American- Spanish advanced literature- French and a broad choice, not mandatory, mine was: Astronomy, History of Arts- Fine Arts-

Classes were usually in the morning- a Library was open in campus until 20. There was already Computer Science in another building- very stone ages type.

I enjoyed very much writing- I was often broke- I had to start to get a job- part time. During those years 1982, my mother from healthy woman passed away, cardiac arrest in Mexico.

I had been living with my grandparents- no hope to get the permanent residence. Went to the border I had to cross very morning- to immigration and exposed the situation. They provided me for pity a temporary Social Security to give me the right to look for a job in Texas.

I had worked as summer shop assistant in MEXICO- only summer.

I was never bullied for being Italian- they did not care- as most Americans do- do not care.

I started dating my Art professor- he invited me to his flat – he was curious more than anything.

He realised that I could not paint or draw anything. He was extremely good looking- single- overflowing compliments- that left me utterly indifferent, the only thing I felt, he had no intention to any 1-night stand of any kind.

I started dating another from Dallas- very weird- could not understand what he wanted. A weird accelerated guy- watching American football. NO WAY.

No dangers- only stress- post traumatic experience of my MUM.

I started a sort of free-lance job with a German man- engaged to a Mexican girl- he wanted to meet only twice a week.  Going to the ‘’maquiladoras’ Industrial area to sell courses.

Proposal made by a Mexican Factory entrepreneur- cheaper prices- much cheaper- we needed money. I used to meet the German young man at the Industrial Park ( all delocalised to China now).

I registered to a pseudo religious group- meditation – could handle- all in Spanish-My weight was 48 KG or less. GUSTO EN SALUDARLES PASEN… CON MUCHO GUSTO.

All factory workers- que Dios la bendiga- I started to understand and speak English much – much better. My French was good- 2 good Prof one from Chicago- gay.

I had a crush for a Mexican American man who was doing an MBA- we dated and studied together at the cafeteria- an American Jewish American woman joined us- they would marry in 2 years.

I wept one night- forgot- the invitation after studies to re-join my homeland was expressed several times.

What did I learn? The studies were not over.

Ps 3 days my mother passed away – I went to my English poetry prof – to apologise at her office for not studying. Mary Queens was her name- all grey hair- 60 years old. She showed me an erotic poem to read: I DID IT. SHE SAID IT MIGHT HELP.

Computers were already installed at professors’ offices.

That’s the path- we never end.

        THE END