Easy does it

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Week four of photography class, and the girl next to me had yet to hand in a single assignment.

“Do you have your portrait photos?”

“No.”

“How about your street photography?” he asked optimistically.

“Not those either,” she said with a half-smile, giving the impression that she was sorry without it seeming too obvious that she wasn’t.

I expected the teacher to get angry, show some sign of irritation or order her to bring her assignments in next week, shaking his finger in fury as he implied for her to fear for her grade.

“Ok. Well try to bring them in next class,” he said with sincerity.

Are you serious? Since when were teachers so laid back about handing in late assignments? And since when are they so nice about it?

I have slowly but surely come to accept the strange phenomenon of Italian teachers. Contrary to their American counterparts, Italian professors are as laid back and relaxed as their culture.

I found the evidence of their easy-going nature everywhere.

My Italian Literature essay was due in three days. I had been assigned the task of interpreting the poems of Eugenio Montale, who is known for his indecipherable work.

Not to mention the fact that poetry really just doesn’t translate. I had to first read it in Italian, and then read it in English, just to come up with an analysis.
And I had put it all off till last minute.

“Simonetta, would it be possible for me to get an extension on my paper? It’s just taking me longer than expected to write it,” I said, listing off the reasons above.

“Sure!” she said, without hesitation. “When do you want to turn it in? Next week?”

I was shocked. I didn’t expect her to actually say yes. I mean, we had had three weeks to write the damn thing in the first place. “Next week is great!”

Three days later, she approached me again. “Jessica, if you need longer than one week, I understand. Hand it in when you’re ready.”

I almost fell over. When I was ready? Don’t tell me that, I’ll never get it done. I assured her one week was fine, rejecting the temptation to put it off altogether.

Every foreign teacher I have continues this trend.

My Italian teacher lets us complain our way out of book exercises, my Italy in the European Union teacher gave us a “midterm simulation” the class before our midterm exam.

However my painting teacher, an American who has been living in Italy for the past 15 years, somehow flops between the two, assuring us to go at our own pace, while keeping us up to deadlines at the same time.

I feel like I’m in the Alice and Wonderland of college. Now I’m just waiting for the Mad Hatter to pop up and assign me shopping as my final exam. Honestly, I wouldn’t be that surprised.

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