Living within the city walls of Florence makes it very easy to forget that the modern world exists. So when my Italian teacher asked me to visit her son's elementary school for "English Day," I was taken aback. Where, in this medieval city grid filled with frescoes, churches, leather jackets, and study-abroad students might there be an elementary school? Of course, I agreed.

Patrizia picked me up in Piazza Savanarola in her Citroen and quickly navigated the cobbled side streets to the modern paved roads leading out to the suburbs.

(Yes, bellaTuscany has real suburbs, not just vineyards and villas.) She suspended her professorial voice and started speaking with the rapid Tuscan accent which takes out the c's and replaces them with h's. (Una hoha-hola hon la hannuccia is a sentence used commonly to tease Tuscans.) I struggled to keep up as she de-briefed me on her son Lorenzo's school and the day's program where the kids were having a day-long celebration of the English language, followed by a Nutella festa.

Lorenzo's school looked pretty much like the cinder-block elementary school I had attended, complete with that same janitorial smell. Was I really still in Italy? As I turned the corner into the classroom, I was suddenly met with thirty children who chanted in unison, "Welcome to our school our friend from America!"

"Teacher Lucy" proceeded to gather the children into a circle where they would introduce themselves to me in English and present their newly adopted English name. Lorenzo struggled over the awkward "w" in Lawrence while a little girl named Fiammetta introduced herself as Flame.

Whenever I introduce myself to anyone in Italy, I always use Daniela but since it was English day, I figured I would throw Danielle out there and see if the kids could say it. They all looked at me baffled until little Rafaelo or "Ralph" chimed in with "Prosciutto San Daniele!" Yup, I was definitely still in Italy.

After the lengthy introductions were over, it was time for the Italian culture portion of the program. The star pupils went to the front of the classroom and each delivered a one-line lesson in Italian culture to me, La Americana, followed by applause from their classmates.

"Italian food is not just spaghetti," said Alfonso, a.k.a Al.

"Italian sauce is not only tomatoes and is not often red," added Francesca, or Francis.

Little Robert furthered these thoughts with, "Italian people are not all brunette. They are blonde and red and many of them are very tall and not short."

Choking back laughter, I suddenly realized that these children were not delivering lessons to me in Italian culture, but were defending stereotypes!! Not only that, they were deflecting stereotypes of Southern Italians that had grown up in America and sent back to Italy-at-large via mob movies.

At the end, I was asked to say something about life in America. Smiling, I looked at the classroom and said, "People in America love Italians. We love Italian people and art and movies and food—and not just spaghetti."

"Thanks, Prosciutto," said Ralph on behalf of the group. "Now Teacher Lucy is to show you how we eat bread with oil and not butter."

About the Author:Danielle Oteri shares her experiences navigating Southern Italy with all of its linguistic and cultural quirks.