The Italian teacher always told me, in the sixth grade, when he did not know which way to turn your computer (it's young, but not if the computer has never fared much bene):
"Tu possiedi l'arte dei latini, l'arte di arrangiarsi."
Qualche giorno fa me l'ha ridetto, non mi ricordo perché.
E ci ho pensato. Io non so arrangiarmi. Sono troppo caotica, sono troppo insicura. Ma all'apparenza sembro una che si arrangia molto bene, nonostante il non vederci.
Mi sono ricordata di tante occasioni in cui non mi sono saputa arrangiare e me la sono cavata scappando metaforicamente.
Ho deciso di scriverci un post stamattina, ed ora eccomi qui.
Avevo sei anni, la prima volta che mi sono arrangiata. Prima elementare, credo verso la fine di settembre, quando il nocciolo che c'era sul piazzale mi stringeva con i suoi rami lunghi e gracili.
Ma non sto parlando del nocciolo.
In elementary school in Switzerland have to do swimming once a week. water rather than swimming was an education in the first and second grade.
The first lesson was all right. We had not entered the water, we were limited to playing with it and make bubbles with colored straws.
The second lesson we have entered. I've never had problems then is spun smooth paddling. But then we had to change and dry. For those first lessons
the Angel (the special education teacher who followed me from first grade and that helps me so much even now) gave me a hand, after I got away from me alone.
Only the Angel could not enter the dressing room.
He said
"Here's the towel, treasure. Now you can dry. "
I did not have the slightest idea how to wipe. Dress I knew I had learned to brush my teeth and face. But he has not seen a child, six years can not wipe its own, or I do not megliio I could do.
I did not know how to do, really. So I did not choose the easy way out. to cry or ask. So I rubbed a lot orpo violently for a while 'and failing to dry I got dressed. dripping water from hair and I think I made a few worthwhile companion.
I remember he laughed and said something not very nice. it's amazing how children are able to be mean without even knowing six years.
Then I went to class. I wanted to go to the bathroom because I was soaking wet and I ran away to pee. I lacked the courage, I was wrong. Below
pants wet soup I did not know what to do.
I remember arriving home semipiangente and myself tucked into bed when dried.
Then there were so many other episodes, perhaps less shocking. In elementary school I was a child more talkative now and I could ask for anything.
Then I forgotten how to ask for help, I do not know why. The first two years of the medium were spent quietly and spoke only to say phrases and not futile to talk about my need but with some teachers.
remember for many years, my biggest problem was the toilet. I did not dare go there, let alone ask to go. Only at home I could do it naturally.
Out of nothing. I was also several days without a bowel movement in the colony. Why could not I do it there.
Now, after so long, I'm learning slowly.
when seeking help I made progress, just ask me out on trips for me has always been a problem.
the toilet are still at a bit 'painful, though not against the public toilets have so much hate. A school is not never, ever ask a teacher to go to the toilet, do not think I can do it. Why
the reason Of this post? To share
insecurity, a slice of life past and not yet forgotten. Baci
only pop-up baits of this type. 
