A privileged visit with King Arthur and Lancelot

I'm not sure that King Arthur and Lancelot ever discoursed in a rural Italian dialect, or that Guinevere was ever imprisoned in the library of a small central Italian town, but then I'll readily concede that my knowledge of such classics is far from complete. And who, after all, am I to question the passion of the pre-teen knights of the round table as they clambered in their garden-netting armour, cardboard swords clasped firmly in hand, up the hill, through the arch, past the coffee shop, and into the piazza?

It was a privilege to be part of it, an epic, low-cost (no-cost?) production of this legend of the middle ages. Earlier in the day, having just dropped Julius at school, I was asked by Ornella, teacher and film director (at least for the day) to take photographs of the proceedings. Following only one full rehearsal and a few days of memorizing lines, the children donned the costumes they had made themselves, and prepared themselves for the shoot.

Dialogue was delivered as it would be by 10- and 11-year-olds the world over - in a deadpan monotone. The words, however, were to some extent incidental - after all, it's really about the process, and the experience for the kids. And of course the fact that frequently passing farm vehicles drowned out any recognizable words anyway.

For me it was a peek into the world of an Italian elementary school. I discovered there is one constant - noise. Lots of it. The teachers seem immune to it, or perhaps simply deafened into submission. On a few occasions, they invited the kids to let out surplus energy by yelling at the tops of their voices. Somehow, the building remained intact.

The second insight was of the teachers, at least the ones involved in the production. First is the incredible patience they showed in dealing with the very vocal troupe, which impressively remained harmonious throughout the day. Second, and rather more telling, was the obvious love they feel for the children. Touching a child on the shoulder, cradling their chin in their palm, holding their hand, ruffling their hair are natural things they do without even thinking, as if they aren't even aware of it. The kids love it, and respond so positively to it. I wonder how this degree of tactile teacher-pupil interaction would go down in the hypersensitive and vindictive society of the USA.

I've heard criticism that the italians coddle their children too much. We've seen evidence in the way they drown them in layers of clothes in even moderate weather. But if coddling means a liberal display of love, I'll defend the bundling up till the cows come home.

I've now become something of a celebrity with the kids. I and the (equally novice and short-noticed) cameraman were novelties for all of them, participants and lookers-on alike, but me perhaps more so than he because I have a child in the school. They now wave and greet me enthusiastically whenever they see me. I won't deny that it gives me a real kick. Now if only I could hold a conversation with them ...