Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Martedi Grasso parte due
I also should mention that while I was off being, let us say, festive. F was working on three websites and baking me a cake and picking up T's report card/pagella all by himself. He said there were thousands of parents lined up in the second floor corridor of her middle school. Once he pushed his way past to a group that he recognized as belonging to T's class, he felt relieved. Five minutes later T came by and let F and the other parents know that they were standing in front of the wrong door. Welcome to Italy, folks.  For this special day only the math professor was waiting for them at the other side of the hall of the monastery. Our friend Paola who is also a class mom arranged for F to cut the line. He was in and out of the meeting before you could say pasta frolla. T got stellar grades and we don't even help her with anything anymore unless you count asking every five minutes, "Did you do your homework?" ala "Are we there yet?" She, as I'm sure she would tell you, does not find this helpful at all.


Remember the grades here are from 1- 10 with 10 being the best. If you get less than a 4 you are fritta. She got all 8s except for a seven in Italian grammar, which is understandable, a 7 in Technology, which is mostly about how things like paper are made and whose tests are still a mystery to us, a 6 in playing the recorder in music, whatever, and a 10 in English. Genius. Plus let's face it, she has excellent DNA.

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