So...here we come to the long-awaited moment in which I explain how I fell in love with English, and why we will live happily ever after!
In order to thoroughly understand my situation, we must go back to when it all started, that is pretty early in my life, around 5-6 years of age: back then, I remember that I had learned a couple of very simple words and their meaning, and repeated them in front of everyone who, in my opinion, might have been interested. That, if I'm honest, was really uncommon among children of my age, and it made me feel - how can I say? - cool and awesome (can't think of more fitting words than those!) in front of the adults (who clearly appreciated it) and my classmates who, instead, considered me as the usual annoying nerdy and asocial boy - but that's another story.
Then I arrived to the second year of primary school (7 years of age), when, finally, English became a regular subject of my studies.
Back then, my curiosity was simply unbelievable, and that gave me a lot of motivation to take that language seriously, helped by the fact that my teacher was very good, and she even wanted us to call her teacher instead of maestra (the Italian equivalent), thus giving us a taste of what a serious language class should be: trying to communicate as much as possible in the language that's the subject of the lesson.
An even deeper immersion came with the middle school, thanks to another excellent teacher (who also held the German classes I liked so much): starting with the second year, we even had a few lessons with native speakers, namely Janet from the UK and Dritan, an American of Albanian descent. That left me with a good knowledge level, after the final exam; there has even been a time when my English grades were substantially higher than those in Italian! (Seriously! That was because of my Italian teacher, it's not making me a bad Italian speaker!)
Then came the secondary school years; we can basically divide this period in two parts, the first two years and the other three.
In my first and second year, I had been so unlucky that I had had quite possibly the worst English teacher in the world: a woman who was more interested in treating a class of teenagers as if we were Kindergarten children, which is bloody annoying, and also wasn't doing much in terms of favouring the use of English during her classes; in fact, she was speaking Italian all the time, and even when she decided to watch a movie with us, her choice went for Pirates of the Caribbean. DUBBED IN ITALIAN. How pointless is that?????
On the other hand, she acknowledged that my level was much higher than my classmates', which left her wondering whether I had any English teachers or native speakers in my family. Which I don't. In fact, I think I am the only one in my family who can speak English on a good level; my sister has been studying that for years too, but I never had a chance to have a chat with her! (And we still live together with mum and dad. Whose English begins at coffee and ends at thank you.)
From third year onwards, things improved. Dramatically.
My new teacher was really doing everything that was in her power to make us realise how important it is for us to speak English, especially as I was specialising in information technology and EVERYTHING related to computers is in English. She was also giving us motivation, pushing us to do our best. And while most of us understood her efforts and paid her off, others were simply too closed in their mentality and too careless (but that's not my cup of tea, neither is it my teacher's fault). We also had a mother-tongue lecturer, a Scotsman named Alasdair, who simply...wasn't as serious as he ought to be, but that wasn't stopping me from doing my best and getting equally good results.
At the end of the fourth year, I got the PET language certificate (92% was my final score), whereas at the beginning of the fifth and final year, I spent a week with school in Winchester, Hampshire, with a host family.
My host family was a mid-aged couple, both of whom are retired teachers. On the day I'd arrived, something really surprised them: my English, of course!
We've had a long chat, talking about various topics, from education to cars to taxation in Italy, and they were pleased to hear that an 18-year old had interest in such a wide range of topics! In that occasion, I also started building one of the pillars upon which my continuous improvement of English is based: watching a certain TV show that goes by the name of Top Gear. Yes, you might have already spotted the fact that I am a great fan of Jeremy Clarkson, but really, when I began watching that show with such interest and good will to improve, my motivation really got a massive boost! I have learned more by watching TV shows and films in a few months than many other people have in several years, but that's another story...
Having scored 15 points out of 15 in my final English test, I confidently entered university and, on my very first semester...guess what was one of my core subjects?
The English course was divided into three modules, of which the grammar module was held by a native speaker from Australia. Needless to say, the Aussie was also impressed, and when came the time to take the grammar exam, I completed my test in less than 19 minutes. Out of 45 available. Scoring 30 points out of 30. With a classmate who even asked me to help him cheating on the test by saying I know who you are and I am close friends with your sister (I can only think of one fitting word for this kind of person. Except it is the C-word and it is extremely rude to use it.)
30/30 also was the average score of the other two English tests, as well as, predictably, my final score.
More recently, my Erasmus experience gave me a lot of satisfaction: many people were so impressed with my accent, they even struggled to believe that I was an Italian! (Not one thing that could be said of the other Italian students I met in Salzburg. And they were simply too many.) That was just the beginning of a series of amazing friendships which I want to last for many years to come.
At this point, how could I possibly forget to mention that, when I first entered into contact with a young racing enthusiast (and regular reader of this blog) from Sweden, she immediately pointed out that my English is very good for an Italian? I do realise that, unfortunately, we are widely acknowledged as generally bad English speakers all around Europe (the exact opposite of the Scandinavians, to be brutally honest), but so many people who acknowledge me as the opposite...well, that's a big personal pride!
Now, it's fair to say that this is not just a chronicle of my relationship with my favourite school subject ever; I'd rather call it a love story. A story that I want to last. Forever.
And, if I may, I can't think of a language that sounds more attractive than British English.
Being in an in-love-with-Great-Britain sort of mood, how could I not choose my usual closing photos accordingly?
From above: a typical Cotswolds village, the Goodwood House near Chichester, West Sussex, the town of Oban, in Scotland, Suzanne Stoddart's birthplace, and the Black Mountain Pass in Wales.
