It's a Shame

Before coming to Italy, I knew my classes were going to be fairly different than my one's back in the States. The classes were going to be bigger and, of course, they were going to be taught in Italian. What I didn't know is that the American students would display a great lack of respect in those classes.

My program offers a select number of classes to all the American students that is taught at a slower pace than those through the University. The professors speak slower and there is a more of an emphasis on making sure everyone understands. Obviously it is tough for us to learn in Italian but it also is tough for these Italian professors to teach a handful of American students.

The one and only class I'm taking through my program is a theater class. I had been told that it was extremely fun and I enjoy getting my act on. My professor is about 50 years old, has a beard, and is a RABID smoker. He more or less looks like Ben Falik's father Bill, and also General Raddick from the movie Air Force One with Harrison Ford.

He is a great guy and a great teacher. He chose three short plays for us to perform for our final show and we have been working on them for some time now. I cannot think of too many things I dislike about the class except for how we, the students, treat him and the course.

Students show up late all the time: anywhere from 5 to 45 minutes. As of now, with the big show on Tuesday, it is safe to say that there are MAYBE 3 out of 13 people who know their lines. Our only homework the last month has been to memorize these lines. But barely anyone has done so. (For the record, I know all of my lines. Believe that!) When he starts to criticize people for not studying he gets a surly response and the excuse that 'its hard to study because its in Italian'.

Oh, you're right. It is hard in Italian. Is it also hard to talk in Italian to the guy with the gel'd hair, plucked eyebrows, and a manicure? Is it hard to complain to your roommate in Italian?

People always ask each other why he is picking on them in class. Why does he have to single me out?

My response-"Oh, oh, call on me. I know. I know why. It's because you don't know your lines."

If you ask me, if this class was at one of our universities back home everyone would have their lines down cold. People don't really take this (and maybe others) class seriously. Believe me, I'm here to chill and have a good time but when you got a professor who is devoting his time to snot nose private university American students you gotta show some respect. Normally all these kids are running around freaking out come this time of year. Worrying about finals and how this could exam could affect their future.

To be fair, not everyone is slacking. There are some folks who know their lines (and even the lines of others)

As far as my role on Tuesday, in one play I am a vampire, in another I'm a hustler from Venice, and the third is a giant poem and the highlight is when I save someone from drowning. Yeah, you know I got some surprises in store. Trust me.

There is a high probability there were be more than one person who is going to have to say 'line' when on stage on Tuesday night. But maybe everyone will get their s*it together and come through come Tuesday night.

Maybe not