The girls’ school has asked me to come in tomorrow morning and talk about where I’m from. Any details beyond this were vague, and I suspect it’s just a ploy by the teachers to get some homemade chocolate chip cookies. Fortunately for them, it’s working. Unfortunately for me, I have no idea what I’m going to say.
The United States really aren’t all that different from Italy. Americans drive on the same side of the road, eat with the same utensils, and wear the same clothing styles as Italians (with the possible exception of the tubithongotard which needs to die a swift death anyway). We speak a different language, but mandatory English classes start in preschool here, and the girls’ classmates sang a forty-two chorus version of “We Are the World” for their Christmas play; neither the English language nor Michael Jackson is new territory for them.
I’m oversimplifying, of course. There are plenty of cultural nuances to take into account—the ways people relate to each other, to food, to sports—the ways politics are run or rigged—the ways humor is understood—but I doubt a roomful of three-to-five-year-olds would appreciate a lecture on sarcasm vs. slapstick.
My leading idea at the moment is to walk in wearing a cowboy hat, say “Poop!”, wait for the riotous laughter to subside, and lead everyone in forty-three choruses of “We Are the World” while passing out cookies. I’d be an instant hit with the kids, but I’m not sure the teachers would be amused (different understanding of humor and all). Anyone have a suggestion not involving fashion lamentations, scatological humor, or bribery by cookies? Because I’ve totally got those covered.