It is 11 o’clock… "Children, the break is over!" Our small school has five classes with 37 children in total, a modest number but enough to cause our small building to shake…
And there they are: here and there they spring, looking for a lost flute, hats or half finished gloves. "Maestra I have forgotten my knitting needles." And I hope inwardly that at least no one has forgotten their English exercise book.
Now we have a free period and I can relax a little. Ah… the three older classes have music. Despite the ‘earthquake’ shortly before, now angel’s voices resound through the doors and windows.
These are the authentic moments of gratitude, when you say to yourself, that you have chosen the most beautiful job in the world. Or when you tell a story that captures their imagination and they all sit there before you with sparkling eyes, certain that the adventure will end well, yes of course the hero must triumph!
Some of the scenes we experience from our teacher’s room (actually the fore room of a toilet); small arguments, tears, embarrassed apologies, unwilling giving each other a hand to make it up, that move the heart; life answers many questions with time, sooner or later.
And the questions? "Maestra, why?" Just in the moment when you are caught off balance between answering and keeping quiet, you too grow.
And then the theatre performances, their first steps on stage! "Maestra" they ask you, " is the whole school really coming?" " Yes all 30!". But to them this seems like a huge audience. With difficulty you can hold back the tears while they perform. How differently we
See them, growing from day to day.
They reveal every day to me, in my English lessons, the genius of language that Steiner spoke of, in that something suddenly happens and the thought becomes word. It is a wonder.
We recently spoke in the teachers’ meeting about how important it is for the teachers never to stop with their self-education and striving. I believe for our small school this quality is worth more than gold!
Manuela Aquisti (translated by Martyn Rawson)