by Katia Ceccarelli
I wake up at a quarter to six. I have to, if I want to take the 7 o’clock bus; in the morning I want to take my time to get properly dressed and to put on makeup perfectly and then I need a quarter of an hour to revise and check the last details.
When you are travelling by bus you definitely cannot do anything, you know, with all that excited chatterÂ going on and all those people who have plenty of energy – unbelievable but true!- to bug you. It takes one hour to get to school. I stay in the classroom until one o’clock at a stretch, with our Italian teacher who wants us to repeat the lesson parrot-like, from Leopardi till Verga and, why not, Dante’s Paradiso too, and with the math teacher who adds ten new exercises each time he hears a noise and it’s not our fault if somebody is Â mowing just outside the school building.
I really have no idea whether they like treating us like idiots or if they are simply frustrated and it’s natural to do so. However, it is a fact that I’m not really into this anymore, I want to think with my own head and it has been a long time sinceÂ I came to school with the colourful little schoolbag, now I’ve got a studded bag, I am determined, I’ll make my final exams and then I’ll leave this crazy school full of crazy people, I don’t ever want to seeÂ them again.
I get home at three o’clock, I am not hungry anymoreÂ and, in addition to that, I must study philosophy ‘cause I have an oral exam tomorrow. If I go on like this by the time the school finishes next June I’ll have a nervous breakdown. My mum is at work but she has made the pizza dough. Wow, that’s great news! We’ll have pizza for dinner. Yes, pizza for dinner.