To me, this publication is a personal achievement, but it is also an opportunity to reflect on what a school I would like to work in and help build might look like.
Maestri di Strada: educating by starting with real people
The collection 120 Writings on Education brings together experiences and reflections from people with different backgrounds, professional roles, and life journeys: educational theorists, street educators, teachers, school leaders, artists, social workers, and many other voices. What strikes me most is the possibility of recognizing, across such a variety of contributions, a shared educational approach.
The introduction to the collection highlights a particularly meaningful idea: the periphery is not an empty space to be filled through the intervention of those arriving from the centre, but a threshold with a language of its own. This perspective invites us to recognize the resources, stories, and possibilities present in different contexts, rather than defining them solely in terms of what they lack.
This perspective also has much to say to schools.
The educational practice of Maestri di Strada, as reflected in the themes explored throughout the collection, highlights the importance of meeting people within their own contexts, recognizing them before judging them, building educational communities, and understanding relationships as an essential part of learning.
This is a perspective I feel close to the kind of school I would like to see: a school capable of moving beyond the idea of an ideal student and genuinely engaging with the students in front of it, with their individual stories, resources, and needs.
The conflict between the school we imagine and the students we actually meet
A child may arrive in the classroom having gone through experiences and responsibilities we know nothing about. They may not have completed their homework, not because they do not value school, but because their day has been taken up by other pressing needs. They may not answer a question, participate in the ways we expect, or face difficulties that are not immediately visible.
What happens when we interpret all of this solely through the image of the student we have in mind? The risk is that our expectations become a lens that shapes the way we see students and, consequently, the opportunities we offer them.
Exclusion, in fact, does not necessarily mean being absent from the classroom: a student may be physically present, sitting at the back of the room, and yet remain on the margins of learning experiences.
Not lowering expectations, but rethinking teaching
The point though is not to lower expectations or give up on learning objectives. Rather, it is to ask whether we are providing every student with the conditions they need to achieve them.
Are we willing to question our teaching methods before questioning our students’ potential?
Maintaining a strong belief in students’ ability to learn also means being able to adapt teaching strategies, opportunities for participation, timing, and the ways in which students can engage with learning. It means not confusing a temporary difficulty with a permanent limitation, or turning a performance into a judgement about the person.
This is where reflection on expectations meets teaching practice: the way we organise lessons, ask questions, manage participation, and give students the opportunity to try again can all help create a classroom climate in which learning becomes possible.
From reflection to practice: Pygmalion in the Classroom: A Real Experience
The article published in 120 Writings on Education grew out of the process of reflection and experimentation described in my book Pygmalion in the Classroom: A Real Experience. It is a reworking of that experience, focusing on an aspect I consider central: the relationship between teachers’ expectations, the way we see our students, and the classroom climate we create.
The book presents the entire process in greater depth, exploring its different stages: from the initial reflections and teaching decisions to the methods and strategies used to turn expectations into concrete classroom practices, because believing in every student's potential to learn is essential, but that belief must also translate into a different way of planning and delivering teaching.
The article offers a glimpse into this experience; the book tells the wider story, showing how educational reflections can become part of everyday teaching practice.
The school I would like to work for
The reflections I encountered in the contributions from Maestri di Strada and those I have developed through my own work come together in one conviction: education cannot be separated from real people and the contexts in which they live.
The school I would like to work for is not a school without objectives, rules, or expectations. It is a school that maintains a strong belief in students’ potential while also recognizing the need to transform its own practices.
A school where difference is not automatically seen as a deficiency, where relationships are understood as inseparable from learning, and where every student can find a genuine place within a shared educational journey.
Because it is not enough for a child to be inside the school. The school must truly find a way to meet that child. And it is through this encounter that the classroom climate can begin to change, day after day.
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