Hi. My name is Hannah, and I suffer from middle child syndrome. Or I am blessed by “MCS,” depending on the day. Family as the highest priority in my life has led me to identify strongly with my role as a middle child; combine this with my introversion and the result is thirteen years’ worth of report cards that all say the same thing—“I wish Hannah would speak up more in class.”
I was unaware of the importance of my introversion until I came to college. I was unaware of the importance of critically thinking about citizenship until I came to Venice. I am now acutely aware of how closely they tie together.
As an introverted middle child, I’m an expert at “flying under the radar” but also uncomfortable if I am unable to do so. Venice is a unique place because it allows me to do both. Expertly weaving in and out of slow tourists, I can give the impression that I belong here; however, as soon as life’s daily tasks require interaction with “true” citizens, my cover is blown. I didn’t realize how frustrating it would be to not know Italian while studying abroad. Aristotle talked about our unique ability to verbally communicate as humans—the basis of our naturally political and social dispositions. Even an introvert relies heavily on verbal communication.
Interestingly enough, the loss of one comfort—blending in through knowledge of the native language—forces me into another discomfort—asking for help. One way in which I achieve my under-the-radar status is by maintaining in air of competence. So, it has been a frustrating experience to ask for help with elementary communication skills.
The question I’m brought to when considering my introversion and temporary home abroad is this: is citizenship all about blending in with the locals? Language and verbal communication are at the core of our existence, so I would argue that it is difficult to be a citizen—especially in a foreign country—when a core part of our existence is missing. Without language, it is more difficult to participate in the daily experiences that I identify with citizenship—like employment, conversation, and awareness of current events. I imagine that Casa Artom students start to feel like Venetians once they meet locals and successfully order a meal in Italian because those are the day-to-day tasks that are mundane and second-nature until the native language becomes foreign.
To tie all of my thoughts together, I assert that citizenship is made up of the small, daily tasks that we take for granted when we speak the native language of the place where we’re living. Participation in these daily experiences becomes more difficult when the basis of our social existence—language—is removed.
Three and a half months is a short length of time to live somewhere, and I think our status as citizens of Venice will be based on simple, surface level experiences like ordering a cappuccino without the lady at Bar Da Gino translating “here or to go” for us.
I was unaware of the importance of my introversion until I came to college. I was unaware of the importance of critically thinking about citizenship until I came to Venice. I am now acutely aware of how closely they tie together.
As an introverted middle child, I’m an expert at “flying under the radar” but also uncomfortable if I am unable to do so. Venice is a unique place because it allows me to do both. Expertly weaving in and out of slow tourists, I can give the impression that I belong here; however, as soon as life’s daily tasks require interaction with “true” citizens, my cover is blown. I didn’t realize how frustrating it would be to not know Italian while studying abroad. Aristotle talked about our unique ability to verbally communicate as humans—the basis of our naturally political and social dispositions. Even an introvert relies heavily on verbal communication.
Interestingly enough, the loss of one comfort—blending in through knowledge of the native language—forces me into another discomfort—asking for help. One way in which I achieve my under-the-radar status is by maintaining in air of competence. So, it has been a frustrating experience to ask for help with elementary communication skills.
The question I’m brought to when considering my introversion and temporary home abroad is this: is citizenship all about blending in with the locals? Language and verbal communication are at the core of our existence, so I would argue that it is difficult to be a citizen—especially in a foreign country—when a core part of our existence is missing. Without language, it is more difficult to participate in the daily experiences that I identify with citizenship—like employment, conversation, and awareness of current events. I imagine that Casa Artom students start to feel like Venetians once they meet locals and successfully order a meal in Italian because those are the day-to-day tasks that are mundane and second-nature until the native language becomes foreign.
To tie all of my thoughts together, I assert that citizenship is made up of the small, daily tasks that we take for granted when we speak the native language of the place where we’re living. Participation in these daily experiences becomes more difficult when the basis of our social existence—language—is removed.
Three and a half months is a short length of time to live somewhere, and I think our status as citizens of Venice will be based on simple, surface level experiences like ordering a cappuccino without the lady at Bar Da Gino translating “here or to go” for us.