‘c-mon! 🤡🫣😳🤭

 

A nineteen-year-old student at a music high school in Latina, Italy, discovers twenty errors in the score distributed by the Ministry of Education during the second final exam. 

Not just minor typos: misplaced alterations, incorrect chords, entire bars divergent from the original, and a score that appears to have been pulled from MuseScore, a platform where anyone publishes amateur transcriptions without any philological verification. 

The student writes an open letter to Minister Valditara, shares it on social media, and provides precise and timely evidence. The Ministry's response is unwavering and unequivocal: some inaccuracies, yes, but the evidence is valid. 

Meanwhile, the offending file is quietly replaced on the institutional portal with the corrected version, as if nothing had happened. 

This is the country where students are expected to be rigorous, precise, and responsible, and then they are dumped with a flawed score plucked from the internet. This is the country where those who make mistakes don't resign, don't apologize, don't blush: they barricade themselves behind the validity of the procedure and wait for the dust to settle. 

Institutional arrogance is never more ferocious than when it disguises itself as magnanimity. Umberto Eco had already seen it all: the moment the words of a wise man and those of an incompetent are put on the same level, democracy doesn't win, entropy wins. That boy from Latina knows more than the person who signed that document. And this, in 2026, is already news.