The Realm of Women

The world used to be simpler once. It is a matter of fact that as you grow older your certainties gradually need an upgrade if you want to keep up with times. Let’s talk about genders, for example. For a long time of my life I was convinced that there were just two: male and female. I was wrong. It is incorrect.  In fact, I have learnt advancing in years that there are more: transgender, gender-fluid, non-binary and I am afraid I am missing many others. Nonetheless, despite this colourful world out there, there is one place, which remains  grey.  A place where even the old tedious male/female dualism struggles to survive and I am talking about – guess what? – school. Women are on average  the 80-85% of the teaching force in Italy, hence, school has become de facto the realm of women. But, is this constant feminization of school a good thing? As, of course, the female gender distinctive traits cannot but characterize the work environment eventually, but, who is going to balance them?

One of the female  features which has been clearly affecting school in recent years is the so called “maternage” attitude, which tends to enhance the idea that teaching consists mostly in protecting, justifying and understanding. This is what mothers do. More than once I have found myself being  told by  colleagues, that as I have no children, I might be unable to understand a particular psychological condition that a student may suffer. What ticks me off is not only the lack of delicacy, as they cannot know the reason why I didn’t have children – I didn’t want them, for the record – but the assumption that to do this job well, you have to be a mother. Well, I firmly believe that it is exactly the other way round, as mothering is not part of this job. Teaching is a completely different kind of occupation. The custom of associating mothering to teaching  generates only chaos,  as the boundaries of teachers’ and parents’ duties are too often blurred in this way.

Think it well, for teachers  being maternal is much simpler, as giving rules and have them followed, educating, testing, grading  and such, is what makes us all enter into fighting mode against  parents, admin and students in this precise order and it may be the cause of lots of troubles. Mothers/teachers’ approach is warmer and apparently smooth. So, if Paolino often misses classes, mothers/teachers become his shadow and inform the family about it (despite the glorious invention of the electronic register);  if Paolino does not come to take the test, they check if on those days there were maybe too many tests, and make sure he will come next time,  usually promising a less demanding scenario;  if Paolino while smoking in the toilet sets the school on fire, they try to understand what brought Paolino to act like this (and they’d better find something solid, as someone let him go in there and it usually ends up being teachers’ fault too). Eventually, because of this mothering attitude students are never to be blamed, (real) parents are never responsible and teachers…..keep complaining, but who is the cause of all this mess?

It is a truth universally acknowledged that women are not good at teaming, and school is the sheer demonstration of this statement. I know, it is such a clichés, and I am sure there are excellent exceptions somewhere, and I have even met some, but, this is just a general rule which derives from experience and observation. The fact that women are not good at team working has been explained anthropologically, pointing out that teaming is in men’s DNA since the beginning of times. Men were in charge of the sustainment of the tribe and went all together on hunting trips or to make war. Playing  team games is something you have learnt since boyhood, while for girls things have always been a bit different. I need a metaphor, girls have always developed a sort of…..  “etoile” attitude.  

In short, while it is natural for the group of males  to develop a strategy together in order to provide food/victory, because they’ve learnt to understand the advantages of being part of a group in order to survive, women, having been raised as etoiles, enjoy dancing solos, that is,  they aim at being admired for their qualities or skills. They want to be protagonists, but what happens when a group of etoiles is in charge of planning a common development strategy? I leave that to your imagination. Who is used to working/playing in a team knows that success lies in  confiding in the most valiant actors and in the leader, and here is another distinctive female trait :  women struggle in recognizing the leadership of another woman.  The little etoile inside us means to be the star of the show and wants to lead the dance. Get in her way and she’ll trip you. This is how school dynamics work. Lots of solos, even good ones, but when the exhibition ends, nothing more remains. The residual 15% of men in the teaching force does not even try – remember, as a general rule – to change this trend. They mostly choose the convenient role of spectators or, much worse, start to learn ballerinas’ steps.

At this point a good question would be: what prevents men from choosing the teaching career ? Well, it obvious, the salary is not attractive, that is all. While on the other side, women find the working hours attractive, which allow them to perform the duties and responsibilities of being a daughter, a mother or a grandmother. This means that many of us have chosen to be teachers to have more time to do…… something else. If it is so, couldn’t that be reason why the salary is so low?  Don’t you suspect that men’s underrepresentation in the profession is one of the reasons why a teacher salary can be kept so low?  We need more men. It is time to admit it and  only a pay bump could spur a virtuous cycle, thus drawing a greater representation of men in the profession. School cannot be the realm of women forever, it doesn’t work and we all know it well.  

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Christmas Lights

I love Christmas trees. I can feel a sort of magic in their glow, a charm which has the power to revive my childish spirit, the one which still looks in wonder at the myriads colourful lights and baubles hanging from the branches. It  also brings back memories of my past, the majority of which, I have to say, are indissolubly linked to my father.  He loved this time of the year so much. Christmas decorations were his seasonal pastime and he was very meticulous in his creative act indeed. It took him days to study all the mechanisms of the nativity scene and find the best spot to place it, but he mostly excelled in making Christmas trees. They were real artworks. When I was a little girl I enjoyed watching him being intent in giving life to what I interpreted to be the spirit of Christmas.  I loved it so much that when I became old enough I was happy to share this family tradition with him and in time I  found myself preserving it for him. When I turned on the lights, the magic always worked as I could still see a joyful sparkle appear in his old dark eyes. It is no wonder that he decided to leave us on Christmas Day. It seems it couldn’t have been otherwise.

Yet, I never associate Christmas to sad events, and I would have more than one reason to do it, I can assure you,  as for some strange twist of fate, catastrophes and tragedies  have always happened during Christmas time in my life. And do you know why? Because that magic still has a hold on me. Every year when I  start to make my Christmas tree  the amazing charm of the lights seems to silence sorrows and bad memories are obscured for a while by their joyous twinkling. This is what I call the Christmas spirit. 

Hence, I want to turn on the lights of my  Christmas tree and share their powers with you, wishing you happiness and joy. At least for a while. Merry Christmas.

On WhatsApp and …Wisdom

The fact that I wrote about a brand new class only after a couple of months of their acquaintance and nothing about the other one of the same age – another group of people of a peculiar kind I have been with for 5 long years that we’ll identify as 5Afb –  has aroused some sort of stupor among them; I guess because they found themselves unexpectedly stripped of the coveted title of “weirdos” mostly. Actually, it seemed pretty incredible that this event could ever happen, but it did. So, having the 5Afb been definitely surpassed by 5(I)D on matter of weirdness and desiring to make things even writing something worthy of 5Afb, I found myself running short of ideas. After all, you cannot write on command. But, one day, something epiphanic came in help.

The occasion was an unmissable training course given by the formidable Mr Cross, a former magistrate, deputed to updating  school staff  on the matter of norms, about the dangers of the usage of WhatsApp in class and in particular as means of communication with students. After more than an hour of endless boredom 🥱 Mr Cross came up with an incredible story which he thought to be pretty convincing:

Mr Cross:  ” It is absolutely not recommended the usage of WhatsApp  with students, hence, I wish to tell this story to dissuade you once and for all from using it for any school activity. So, listen carefully. I have been told that a student texted his teacher demanding if he could skip the test the following day and she replied he could not. The following day, as he was unprepared, he was given a bad mark. His parents read that conversation and sued the teacher for sexual harassment”.

Teachers : 😮😮😮😮😮

Mrs Tink ( texting a colleague) “If this is a real story, I guess there must be some parts missing!! How did we go from test to sex I can’t make it out”.😕

Nonetheless, despite the anecdote was absurd, it stirred something in my conscience and I found myself wondering  about the massive usage of WhatsApp I usually have with my students, which, in a word, I could actually define ….over-the-top. I know, it was only five years ago when I pontificated urbi et orbi about the joys of disconnection, but in five years a lot has changed, there has been a pandemic and communication via WhatsApp has become vital…..and fun. It was exactly during this thorough examination that some episodes about the 5Afb in question came up to my mind.

But first of all I have to spend a few  words on the general demeanour of this class. Their weirdness has always consisted in the fact that since early days almost all of them seemed to have joined the school by a twist of fate. To be more specific, their attitude has been for long that of a bunch of youngsters who are at a football stadium and the very moment their favourite player is about to kick an important penalty, for some sort of magic, they find themselves in a class while Mrs Tink is explaining the wonders of the Present Continuous tense. I still have this impression from time to time when I look them in the eyes. They are addicted to football and this is truth we have to deal with every day.

During the pandemic I even found myself in charge of the coordination of all the activities of the 5Afb, bureaucratic stuff  in particular, and on that occasion it was clear to me they all had trouble in responding effectively to the word “deadline”. Every time I needed some papers and I set a specific deadline, if  it was a good day, I had 2 in 22.  Words were totally useless, hence, I thought about using the figurative, primitive but impactful way of communication that WhatsApp  emoticons can offer. I actually used three of them  in particular, according to my level of anger and  consequent danger for them:

☠️:  You did something wrong! Watch out! I am ticked off! There will be consequences (but in a way you still have a chance of redemption).

⚰️: Your time for redemption is running short, in fact, I am just about to seal the lids of your coffins ( I usually texted a sequence of coffins according to the number of those who had not accomplished their tasks)

🪦: Non matter what you mean to do. It’s over. Fertig. Fini. Finito. Tomorrow we will settle up (sequence of gravestones followed).

Well, it worked and it was fun. They have become soldiers in matter of deadlines, I have to say.  I still every now and then text a skull, just to see how and whether they react, and they do (very childish of me, I know).

Mts Tink :☠️

5Afb : “What have we done, now?”🥶🥶🥶

But, I couldn’t help but wonder during that training course, what if one parent had stumbled across that group chat? The kind of parent Mr Cross’s story was about? I would have offered my head on a silver platter, especially if one wanted wilfully to misunderstand tones and intentions. So, I resolved upon being definitely more careful in the future. Hence, still full of concerns, I decided to test the waters telling the class Dr Cross’s tale and comparing it to our skull/coffin/gravestone episodes (and more🤦) to have a good laugh and check their reaction at the same time. While they were listening to this crazy story, I could see their faces enlighten and their smiles take the form of a smirk. Then, after a while, one of those “impostors”, a bold one, took the floor hinting darkly that in due time I might as well get a skull one day in remembrance of those “good” old times.

5Afb : ” Before the exams in June it would be a good timing, wouldn’t  it?😇😇😇

Mrs Tink: 😈“ You won’t live that long”.🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦