Defending Irene by Kristin Wolden; Nitz Page B

fight back a wave of homesickness, I looked down at my schedule. The basic school day ran from 7:55 a.m. to 13:10 (1:10 p.m. ), Monday through Saturday. Yes, Saturday. After an hour and a half for lunch—Italians would consider my old American schedule of getting twenty minutes to scarf down cafeteria food at 10:27 a.m. to be cruel and unusual punishment—students could return at 14:40 (2:40 p.m. ) for remedial instruction, special language courses, computers, sports, music, or other non-academic activities.
    Professoressa Trevisani returned at the end of the hour to hand out a list of school supplies we would need. “We begin tomorrow,” she said. “Arrivederci.”
    The room emptied quickly.
    â€œWe’ll see each other at the paper shop after you finish with the professoressa ,” Giulia said. “Barbara and I will collect everything you need. You have enough money?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œI hope so,” Giulia said. “I do not want to go there two times today. It will be chaos. Absolute chaos.”
    From what Giulia had told me earlier, hundreds of parents and their children were ready to descend on the neighborhood paper shops scattered throughout the city to buy everything that they needed for the next day.
    â€œThanks for helping me,” I said.
    â€œIt’s nothing. Ciao. I must hurry.”
    As Giulia dashed out the door, the professoressa motioned me to a chair near the front of the room. “So, Irene, the principal tells me that you actually have two mother tongues: Italian and English.”
    I smiled. “ Sí. But at home, we say that Italian is my father tongue.”
    â€œAh, very good,” she nodded with appreciation at my family’s small joke. “This will still be a difficult year for you. You will have much to learn about the written language. It is different, you know.”
    â€œYes, I’ve seen it. My grandparents always send me books for Christmas.”
    â€œReally? Then it could be worse. By the end of the year, you will be able to write Italian in the ‘remote past’ and ‘past anterior’ as well as read it.” She sounded confident. I must have looked less so, because she laughed. “Don’t worry yourself. Your classmates must work hard on the same thing.”
    The professoressa glanced down at her sheet of paper and continued, “Naturally, you give each other the ‘tu’ at home. It seems that there is no way to speak formally in English. True?”
    I nodded.
    â€œNot even to the President or a senator?”
    â€œNot even for them.”
    She shook her head. “A strange language, English. Now, let us check your understanding of the polite forms. Talk. Ask me a question.”
    Slowly and carefully, I asked if she could loan me a pencil, if she planned to give us much homework, if she thought I was using the proper pronoun and verb forms.
    â€œBrava!” Professoressa Trevisan said when I finished. “Perfect.”
    â€œBut I’m not used to it,” I said, panicked. “I must think.”
    â€œAh, Irene, to think is a good habit. Hmmmm. You may practice until the first week of October. We will allow you five punishments before sending a note to your parents. Your teachers will have much patience with you. If you always use the formal pronoun, your professori will merely correct any mistakes with your verbs. They will not give you a punishment. Do not have fear of asking for help with this and other things.”
    Professoressa Trevisani looked down at her notes again. “Let’s go on. You will remain in class when the other students study German. Given that everyone else began studying it six years ago, your grade will be based on your effort and ability. Do not expect an ottimo or distinto . Until you are proficient, you will receive buono at the maximum.”
    I nodded. Optimum, Distinctive, and Good were the A, B, and C of the Italian