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September 1 is upon us, I feel it coming from the scents in the air like the spring breeze, I feel like it is about to come in and, for me and for all the school operators, it is a bit like New Year’s Day. New.
It marks the beginning of the new school year … organizing council of teachers in which the “educational project” around which the new school schedule revolves is deliberated … 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, should be “unlimited” in the healthy madness of those who break banks because they know that only beyond a barrier What protects us may be the 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 on the issues in question made of bodies of flesh and blood, of free and thinking brains, of freedom to flourish, of dreams to fulfill, of souls to feed.
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 returning from the deepest dives, we may resurface and see the light … and still continue to sigh for breaths.
Happy September 1, 2020 everyone.
Mario ascione
