21 / 28
Capitolo 2
Esempi di Unità di Apprendimento
161
www.
edises
.it
scelto può anche essere lungo o medio-lungo allo scopo di stimolare ulterior-
mente la curiosità e l’interesse degli studenti.
Tutti gli esempi di seguito riportati rimangono, tuttavia, meramente indicativi:
spetta, infatti, al docente valutare i materiali da proporre in base alla tipologia
della classe e al tempo a disposizione. Senza contare che è possibile chiedere
agli studenti che leggano l’intero romanzo come compito a casa.
Documento 1
Chapter 12
Every other night for the next two weeks, I tell Mother I’m off to feed the hungry at the
Canton Presbyterian Church, where we, fortunately, know not a soul. (…)
Hour after hour, in Aibileen’s kitchen, she reads her writing and I type, the details thicke-
ning, the babies’ faces sliding into focus. At first, I’m disappointed that Aibileen is doing
most of the writing, with me just editing. But if Missus Stein likes it, I’ll be writing the
other maids’ stories and that will be more than enough work. If she likes it. (...) I find myself
saying this over and over in my head, hoping it might make it so.
Aibileen’s writing is clear, honest. I tell her so.
“Well, look who I been writing to.” She chuckles. “Can’t lie to God.” (...)
“Any word from Minny yet?” I ask. “If Missus Stein likes it,” I say, practically chanting the
familiar words, “I just want to have the next interview set up and ready.”
Aibileen shakes her head. “I asked Minny three times and she still say she ain’t gone do
it. I spec it’s time I believed her.” I try not to show my worry. “Maybe you could ask some
others? See if they’re interested?” I am positive that Aibileen would have better luck con-
vincing someone than I would. Aibileen nods. “I got some more I can ask. But how long you
think it’s gone take for this lady to tell you if she like it?”...
On our fifth session, Aibileen reads to me about the day Treelore died. She reads about how
his broken body was thrown on the back of a pickup by the white foreman. “And then they
dropped him off at the colored hospital. That’s what the nurse told me, who was standing
outside. They rolled him off the truck bed and the white men drove away.” Aibileen doesn’t
cry, just lets a parcel of time pass while I stare at the typewriter, she at the worn black tiles.
On the sixth session, Aibileen says, “I went to work for Miss Leefolt in 1960. When Mae
Mobley two weeks old,” and I feel I’ve passed through a leaden gate of confidence. She
describes the building of the garage bathroom, admits she is glad it is there now. It’s easier
than listening to Hilly complain about sharing a toilet with the maid. She tells me that I
once commented that colored people attend too much church. That stuck with her. I crin-
ge, wondering what else I’ve said, never suspecting the help was listening or cared. One
night she says, “I was thinking (...)”. But then she stops. I look up from the typewriter, wait.
It took Aibileen vomiting on herself for me to learn to let her take her time.
“I’s thinking I ought to do some reading. Might help me with my own writing.”
“Go down to the State Street Library. They have a whole room full of Southern writers.
Faulkner, Eudora Welty”. Aibileen gives me a dry cough. “You know colored folks ain’t allo-
wed in that library.” I sit there a second, feeling stupid. “I can’t believe I forgot that.” The
colored library must be pretty bad. There was a sit-in at the white library a few years ago
and it made the papers. When the colored crowd showed up for the sit-in trial, the police
department simply stepped back and turned the German shepherds loose. I look at Aibile-
en and am reminded, once again, the risk she’s taking talking to me. “I’ll be glad to pick the
books up for you,” I say.