Seeing is not feeling, but feeling is seeing
Norma is a teacher in Milan, Italy. I read a brief letter she wrote and was struck by her ability to put her experience into words. I find it difficult to see like she does, but maybe I can learn by reading her letter.
It is early morning. I’m the only one at school. I enter and I turn on the lights in the empty hallways. The window shades are down and the desks are waiting for no one. There is not even a hint of my colleagues, but someone may come in later. I go to the classroom of my seniors. We are in what has been classified as a “dark-orange” zone, and therefore the students are working remotely. Morale is low, and I ask myself, “How can I stay in front of those faces with hope in my eyes?”
I’m trying to see what she is seeing. Norma mentions that “morale is low”, probably because of the situation of COVID-19 in Italy. Is morale low also for her? She then asks herself “How can I stay in front of those faces with hope in my eyes?” She doesn’t want to have hope — she wants to have hope in her eyes.
I’m now trying to feel what she is feeling. What is her desire? No… not desire: What is she FEELING?
I think she feels alone: she is the only one at school, the classrooms are empty and it is discouraging for her. She feels it’s her responsibility to be a face of hope for her students, but she…
