deep-seated racism

I was trying to decide which European city to send one of my 11th grade Russian students who didn't have a designated place to go. As I alluded to a potential trip to Berlin, he immediately responded with a non-chalant, "I hate Germans."

Yeah, I know.

'Gasp!', you are thinking.

He had no idea how mean his statement was, how politically incorrect it was, how unfair it was, and how it meant that I was actually more inclined to send him to Berlin so he can confront his hatred.

However, he was 16 years old, from a wealthy and supposedly educated family, and was unabashedly stating his racism without any passion. I couldn't shame him into submission, and I couldn't even begin to get him to overcome it without understanding where it came from. But I knew that this was a moment of truth, and that I had in those few seconds of his attention, the most precious opportunity to insert some doubt into his mind. Let just a sliver of light shine through to his dungeon of racism. I did what I could, I reversed the roles, called up the concept of eternity, humankind, the arbitrariness of borders, the cycle of wars, and how they start…

Did I get through to him?

Only time will tell.

becoming Italian

The other day, hubby told me that I am becoming too Italian.

Yeah, I know. What's that all about!

But to give some context, I was railing about the fact that I have so many colleagues who are presumptuous, demanding, arrogant, selfish, and many mask it under a veneer of do-gooding. I am tired of pretending they all have a point, that all their comments are worthy of a respectful reply, and in general just tired of dealing with the same ol' BS.

And that's when he said it, that I was becoming Italian and my tolerance for their excess individualism and subsequent incessant demands was running low.

I am slightly appalled at this, that my embracing Italian culture must somehow lead to a rejection or disdain of American culture. And by American, I mean my own.

Sigh.