three looked up from the sheet of paper, their expressions stunned, and none of them offered a response.
“What’s the matter?” Sandro asked, puzzled.
Carlo frowned. “The government passed some ‘Race Laws,’ whatever that’s supposed to be.”
“Race Laws?” Sandro asked, puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“We don’t understand.” Ezio pursed his lips. “It’s horrible. It means that the Jews are kicked out of school. The Jewish teachers and the Jewish students, both.”
“Are you joking?” Sandro didn’t understand. It wasn’t funny.
“No, it’s not a joke. Preside Livorno is going to speak about it any minute. They gave us all a notice. Here, take a look.” Vittorio handed him a sheet of paper. “The first part is about the teachers.”
Sandro accepted the paper, and its title was “Measures for the Defense of Race in Fascist Schools.” He read the first paragraph:
Article 1.
The position of teacher in state or state-controlled schools of any order or degree and in the nonstate schools, of which the studies are legally recognized, cannot be granted to people of the Jewish race, even if they won the position through a competitive state examination prior to the present degree; nor can they be granted positions as university assistants, nor can they obtain a university teaching qualification.
Sandro looked up, stricken. “There can’t be Jewish teachers anymore? That’s crazy! What happens to them?”
Carlo shook his head. “We think they’re fired.”
Ezio’s face fell. “Professoressa Longhi is crying. All the teachers are upset. None of us know what’s going on or why.”
“Oh no!” Sandro kept reading, horrified:
Article 2.
Students of the Jewish race cannot be enrolled in schools of any type or level of which the studies are legally recognized.
Sandro gasped, incredulous. He read the sentence twice. If he hadn’t seen it printed in black and white, he never would have believed it was possible. “I don’t understand. I’m already enrolled in school. Is this real? This is a law now? I’m not allowed to go?”
“I think so,” Carlo muttered. “I don’t know why they’re doing this. It was never this way. It’s wrong to single out the Jews, for no reason.”
“This can’t be true!” Sandro had a million thoughts at once. “I’m Jewish, so I can’t go to school anymore? What do I do? This is my school! I go here! I’m graduating this year! Does this mean I don’t graduate? I’m kicked out of my own school?”
“We don’t know, either.” Vittorio frowned. “I’m so sorry, Sandro. Maybe Preside Livorno will explain. It doesn’t make any sense to us.”
“My God!” Sandro couldn’t believe it was happening. He wanted to go to La Sapienza for undergraduate and graduate degrees in mathematics. He wanted to learn all he could, then teach and publish papers. He wanted to contribute, like Professor Levi-Civita. He had goals, but he couldn’t achieve a single one if he couldn’t graduate from high school. All of a sudden, he had no future at all.
He glanced around in disbelief. His anguished gaze sought out the other Jewish students, though he had to pause before he remembered who was Jewish and who wasn’t. It had simply never mattered to him or anyone else at school. He had no idea why it mattered now. He spotted Giulia and Carlotta, whom he knew from synagogue, and tears stained their cheeks as they read the sheet of paper.
He returned his attention to the sheet, trying to collect his thoughts. Ezio and Carlo fell silent, and Sandro read Article 3, which said that Jewish teachers were suspended, and then Article 4, which stated:
Article 4.
Those members of scientific, literary, and artistic academies, institutes, and associations who are of the Jewish race will cease to be part of said institutions beginning on October 16, 1938, XVI.
Sandro’s mind reeled. Professor Levi-Civita was Jewish, and if Jewish professors could no longer teach, that meant that the professor was suspended, too. It was unthinkable. It was insane. Sandro was supposed to go to La Sapienza after school today. He didn’t know if Professor Levi-Civita or if any of the other Jewish professors would be there, or the Jewish students.
Suddenly the students erupted in chatter, turning to face the entrance to the school, and Preside Livorno appeared, with the faculty grouped behind him. His bright white hair blew in the breeze, and his gaze was solemn behind his glasses. He was stooped in his three-piece suit. All of the teachers were distraught, clinging to each other, and many had puffy eyes as if they had been weeping.
“Students!” Preside Livorno motioned. “Please, I need