You have no idea. A text by Pietro De Angelis read by Matteo Gracis.
Un testo di Pietro De Angelis, docente e scrittore, autore del libro "La scuola a scuola, contro la didattica a distanza".
Full text:
We will open schools in the woods and libraries in the meadows. We will watch the sunrise and sunset together, holding hands. We will breathe the pure, sharp mountain air freely. We will read books and invent fairy tales. We will walk roundabouts, singing in the wind. You will never tame our spirit, you will never cage our freedom. Because we have something you don't have, and you will never have. We still know how to be enchanted by the poignant beauty of life. We know how to walk slowly, so as not to make noise. We know how to stand still, so as not to disturb. We build with our hands immersed in the earth and our eyes turned to the sky. Our only god is wonder. We know how to find the infinite reflected in a puddle. We are children of the light, brothers of the animals, little lights in the night. You will never have us. We will dart from your grasp, like so many rebellious little fish. You have no idea, because you have no imagination. We know how to light another creature's gaze, bring love where there was only abandonment, and joy where there was only sadness, and union where there was only emptiness and separation. You have no idea. And yet I tell you, the clouds play for you too in the sky. And the water rushes down rapids and waterfalls, for you too. For you, it is also the wild flight of birds and the ecstatic buzzing of bees. Try something, will you? Try watching a little bird build its nest; the patience, the effort, the suffering, the perfection. Look at everything, from beginning to end, and then tell me: could you do it? Could you build such a marvel of engineering where there was nothing before? What right do you have, then, to life? You have no idea. You must go back to building sandcastles by the sea and try to defend them by digging moats; Only then will you be able to return to making laws and governing men. You have had the wrong teachers—money, power, fame.
The only teachers who can teach you anything are children and animals. Go to school with them, and you will learn everything there is to know. I wish you what I wish for all those who have detached themselves from the earth, who have rejected it; I wish you to return to feeling, before understanding. To feel with your whole body, without the need for any thought, any reason. To breathe and feel. Simply, to feel. The blind and obtuse violence you demonstrate dismays me, but does not terrify me; it is part of the mystery, the enchantment, the beauty that contains me and overwhelms me. I buried a little brother squirrel a few days ago in the woods, and later also a little sister mole; I laid them in the grass, in the shade. Have you ever buried a little animal in the woods? Do it, and then, only after you've done it, return to govern men. Otherwise, you will never have any idea what life is, how sacred, inviolable, and absolute it is. And you will never have any idea of ??the immense power that resides in the hands of those who love and honor that life. You will never have us.
You can harass us, humiliate us, rob us. We will always be somewhere else than where you think you'll find us. We will open schools in the woods and libraries in the meadows. We will survive like so many invisible seeds under the snow, and when you've forgotten us, we will blossom, and our sudden spring will be the end of your endless winter.
You have no idea.