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Posted by Mario Ascione – September 1 is upon us, I feel that it comes from the aromas in the air like the spring breeze, I feel that it is about to enter and, for me and for all the operators of the school, it is a little like New Years day. .
It marks the beginning of the new school year … organizational college of teachers in which the educational project around which the new school schedule revolves is discussed … at least for the current year. September 1 is the day of hugs between teachers, who meet after a more or less short summer vacation, with the desire to share ideas and build the school in which they still believe … the day to discuss, discuss , confront in the beautiful diatribe of life.
It is the day of the presentations for those who are entering a new school or for the young professors admitted to the position … with the hand that still trembles for the signature on that sheet on which the fateful indefinite contract is signed.
September 1 is the day of return, of friendship, of feeling, together, an educating community with the responsibility of having the society of the future at the forefront … which starts from this first day of late summer.
But this year something is not going well for me … and it is not to be controversial or to be too attentive to geometric details. I’m not even a math teacher who likes figures or numerical precision … but really, something is bothering me here.
What model of school are we about to give birth to? It will be enough to see what September 1 will be like, in times of pandemic, to shudder at the aforementioned periphrastic. No hugs, no handshakes, no greetings, no meetings … no good wishes for a good return with tanned eyes. Distance.
This is the slogan of the new group of teachers.
Islands that will no longer be able to communicate … if not from a screen like television, in the latest talent.
Distancing is the new imperative for the school of the future … but what will life be like without a relationship present? How can I teach, that is, leave a mark on those who have been entrusted to me, if everything has to happen at the “right” distance, rigorously measured and behind the veil of a mask?
A school without more smiles but made up of eyes without gaze that will fight to be able to look beyond their own digital screen. I am afraid of a school of measurement … because, on the contrary, I have always believed that teaching, like love, must be immeasurable in the healthy madness of those who break banks because they know that only beyond a barrier that protects there may be discovery. of the new and the progress of life.
I am afraid of the speeches I hear in the center where there are only “things” and never “people”. In these six months I have heard of disposable benches with wheels, thermometers, masks, protective barriers, funnels, empty spaces to find. Never a word about the subjects in question made of bodies of flesh and blood, of
free and thinking brains, freedom to flourish, dreams to fulfill, souls to nurture.
Not a word about art, culture, music, literature, historical roots and scientific research. Do not call me a denier if I cry out my fear, but I only foresee a new pandemic that will be stronger than the pneumonic plague because it will have taken from humanity what makes it human: beauty and freedom. I still dream of a beautiful school, a free school so that I can lead critical and divergent thinking.
So happy on September 1 for me, for each teacher, new martyr of this post-human time.
We’ll be there … in line … in a mask … spaced … as you wish. We also do all the tests, swabs and tests of the case … in the necessary shots.
But every now and then, like divers coming out of the deepest dives, we may resurface and see the light … and still continue to sigh for breaths …
Happy September 1, 2020 everyone.
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