S is for
Shakespeare…in Middle School
Today I’m proud to
allow my daughter, Jaime, post the “S” for Shakespeare. She is a 7th
and 8th grade English and Humanities teacher, and loves her work.
Her kids are working on Shakespeare.
Shakespeare’s death day, his exact birthdate unknown, was
the other day – April 23rd, 1616. I maintain he was an Aries,
although I’ve no physical, metaphysical, logical or otherwise relevant proof…I
maintain he was an Aries simply for the fact that prior to 2010 Shakespeare and
I had a long and disharmonious relationship. Did I mention I’m an Aries –
stubborn, strong-willed and logger-headed (all three words that mean
‘stubborn’). Simply put, I hated everything Shakespearean because I couldn’t
understand it.
However, after a Bachelors degree in History, a Masters
degree in teaching and several years teaching English, I’ve come to know,
respect and, to a degree, love the bard. Regardless of whether or not you are a
fan, there is something to be said for his ability to turn a phrase and insult
people with wildly hilarious and totally inappropriate language.
Finding myself teaching middle school this year, I harkened
back to my days as a hormone raging, acne prone, uncomfortable and irritable
teenager. As I said before, I loathed Shakespeare simply for the fact that I
just didn’t get it, and despite my protestations, I still had to read Romeo
& Juliette, Hamlet and something else I’ve blocked out completely…I suppose
the memories were just TOO bad.
Rather than repeat my high school experience, I decided to
approach Shakespeare on his own turf – he likes to turn a phrase? HA! By
George, we will, too! Thus the Shakespearean Insults were born. Each day my 8th
graders come to class, I give them a new insult, today’s: Fie, fie you
counterfeit cloak-bag, you puke stocking! They feverishly work for 2 minutes
trying to figure out what it means – for some of them this is the only 2
minutes of the entire day when they
will actually do work. We share our insults on the whiteboards at each table,
and I read every one of them aloud. Now…being in middle school, they’ve
naturally figured out that I’ll read just about anything, thus the following
responses have left my mouth:
-
You are a puss infested toe on a hawt summa’
daaayyyy.
-
You are a donkey’s fart hole.
-
You are a stinky fart under my foot.
-
You are a drunken farting man (it seems this
table likes farts).
-
Go away you drunken butthole.
We really do have fun with these insults – the conversations
we have are pretty hilarious:
“Gleeking
means?” I asked two weeks ago.
“Spitting!!”
“Close…when
you spit on someone you are….”
“Spitting?!”
“No,
you are teasing and taunting them.” I receive a few nods and ‘ah’s.’ “Now,
brazen-faced means what?”
“Brazen!”
Backstory…three
weeks ago a friend of mine visited our classroom. One of my students took class-time
during this lesson to ask the question… “is he your boyfriend?!” Deciding this
was a perfect time to address ‘brazen’ I used her as an example.
“When
Y (Insert student name) asked me ‘is that guy your boyfriend?!’ she was asking
in a totally brazen way. She was unashamed, unembarrassed and shameless,
right?”
“Huh,
so she didn’t really care if it would embarrass you, so she just asked?”
someone clarified. Apparently, this example totally made sense…I’m so glad my
personal embarrassment has led to some sort of learning.
“Yes…it’s
sort of like when I walk in here and say, ‘man I’m sweating sooo much’ and then
show you the sweat marks on my shirt,” I reply, using yet another example from
my personal life.
“Yeah,
we get it hambone…just don’t do that again.” Hmm…
“Flax
is…”
“A
seed!” Star pupil X. “And a wench is a babe or a hoe…so she’s a seed hoe! No
wait, a seed prostitute!”
I
roll my eyes…“well in a manner yes, but no. Why can’t you just say ‘seed
babe’?” We discussed the thing to death, and discovered that by taking out the
word ‘flax’ the insult totally made sense: Gleeking, brazen-faced flax-wench = A
taunting/joking, shameless babe.
I’ve had entirely way too much fun teaching the language
aspect of Shakespeare, and I think my students have as well. I suppose it’s an
effort to reach those kids who, like me, just didn’t get it. But, what’s
emerged from this is a group of highly intellectual, critical thinking,
button-pushing 14 year-olds who can insult you using awesome language like it’s
nobody’s business. In doing this, I feel I’ve addressed most of the “I don’t
get it” types and have engaged them in a way that I would have wanted to learn,
in a way that I would have totally been hooked to old English and atrocious
sentence structure.
For all the wonderful things we do, unfortunately being a
teacher, there are so many things we have to do in a day – “we wear a lot of
hats” as we say in the staff lounge. It is doubly unfortunate that during any
day, because we are pulled in so many differing directions, we cannot devote
the time and our energies to each and every student who needs that one-on-one
connection for understanding. There are young adults who, like me at that age,
don’t understand, won’t ask for help and are simply content to carry on, ignorant.
Sometimes it’s easier to do that then to ask ‘why’ or ask for help.
So, I’ll end with a shameless plug! Go talk to your
children, your grandchildren. Find out what they are struggling with, find out
what they don’t know…and then TELL US! E-mail us, call us, drop in to our
offices and pester us! When it comes to education, there’s nothing more
important than our own. As mom says, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” and
just think back to a time when you were too scared to ask for clarification. Had
I been willing to embrace the radtasticalness of Shakespeare, I might have had
an entirely different love affair…
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