S is for Shakespeare

S is for Shakespeare…in Middle School

Today I’m proud to allow my daughter, Jaime, post the “S” for Shakespeare. She is a 7^th and 8^th 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 23^rd, 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 8^th 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…

Don't forget to catch the other A-Z Blog participants by clicking here.

I is for Insults, Shakespearean Style!

My daughter is teaching a Jr. High English Class. True to her nature, she is doing it with humor, lacing the lesson in and amongst the laughter. I think kids learn better when they are having fun. When learning English can be fun, they read more, write more. And we all know the world is a better place.

Okay, I'm a mom. So, I think she's brilliant. She's the kind of teacher I wish I had in school.

You all know Jr. High is such an interesting time in a child's life. Halfway between adulthood and childhood, at any one time they phase between the two at will, depending on the circumstance. But give them a chance to learn how to insult someone properly, well, let's say they are enjoying themselves.

They are learning about Shakespeare, learning the meaning of the English but nonetheless foreign words. Kids in California don't go running around quoting the great bard. With prior permission, my daughter was able to get them to be able to get liberal with the colorful expressions. They wrote notes to each other. And to other teachers, which was the highlight of the lesson. Remember I said she'd gotten prior permission.

Shakespearean "Conversations"
An Insulting Conversation

1. A:  Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat.
   
2. B:  Let's meet as little as we can.
   

1. A:  More of your conversation would infect my brain.
   
2. B:  Away! Thou art poison to my blood.
   

1. A:  Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch.
   
2. B:  Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
   

1. A:  Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.
   
2. B:  Go forward, and be choked with thy ambition!
   

1. A:  Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born to signify thou came to bite the world.
   
2. B:  Your heart is crammed with arrogancy, spleen and pride.
   

1. A:  Thou art a boil, a plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood
   
2. B:  There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell as thou shall be.
   

1. A:  Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! You were born to do me shame.
   
2. B:  Come, you are a tedious fool.
   

1. A:  Beg that thou may have leave to hang thyself.
   
2. B:  Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; for I am sick when I do look on thee.
   

1. A:  Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
   
2. B:  Go thou and fill another room in hell.
   

1. A:  Heaven truly knows that thou are as false as hell.
   
2. B:  Thou lump of foul deformity.
   

1. A:  Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
   
2. B:  A way, you three-inch fool.
   

1. A:  Hang cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker.
   
2. B:  Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
   

1. A:  Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you.
   
2. B:  Go rot! 
   
   I know some of you historical readers are probably a lot more familiar with some of these terms than I ever will be. But it tickled me no end to envision these teenagers going about their day trading insults, and learning the beauty and power of the spoken/written word. 
   
   Thanks to all the creative, wonderful teachers out there, who do so much for our kids, and for us all. You guys are my heroes today.
   

Don't forget to catch the other A-Z Blog participants by clicking here.

A-Z Blog Challenge

I've decided to choose a theme this year in the A-Z Blog Challenge, which starts April lst and goes the entire month, or until we get to letter 26. This will be the second year I have done it. I met some wonderful people last year. This year the group is about twice as large.

My new theme? GRATITUDE.

I've had a real blessing over the past three years. My good writing coach/friend, Kristen Lamb has reminded me in her workshops and posts the value of sharp pointy objects and sharp people--who then smooth and shape us, polish us into the jewels we become.

As I sit and write this, I know some day I will be a well known author. Right now, I work at other things until this dream can be realized. But the wandering garden path that looks so enticing comes up for me each day when I awaken. By the end of the day, I've seen garages and boxes of stuff, closing statements, bills, attorney memos, banks and title companies, inspection companies and reports, office meetings, happy people, upset people, traffic and frustrations of all species. It's a bit of a challenge to remember that lovely bucolic path I took in my dreams, during my quiet time, in the morning. Even quieter now that I have sent my chickens off to a better place for them. And for me.

I read a prayer a few Sundays ago in church which sums it up for me:

We confess the daily bread you give us is seldom enough to satisfy our indulgent appetites. Our craving for recognition and significance causes us to ignore the needs of our neighbors. Forgive our lip-service in worship when our actions beyond this sanctuary do not honor you. Renew us by your grace and remind us what it cost, that we might live in humble gratitude for Christ.

I'm not going to make this a religious experience or blog. One could substitute several words in the above prayer and it would apply to other religions or philosophies, and let me make sure to say that my way is by no means the right way. Afterall, I've said it before, I'm a Christian with a bent antennae. The passion with which we get to live and love has me falling down on my knees with gratitude. And to be blessed with the gift of storyteller, is one of the best gifts a person could receive.

And like the Bible stories, the gifts sometimes come at a terrible price. It's always darkest just before the light of a new day. In our stories, the black moment comes right before the resolution. And like in our romance novels, the Happily Ever After is always there, delivering the promise, perhaps not giving us what we want, but what we need.

I'm going to do 30 days of gratitude, one day at a time, starting April lst. I will humbly walk the path and would love to have your company.

Home For Christmas

I asked my daughter, Jaime, to guest blog for me today. Many of you have been following her path on this page (the Traveling Teacher blog to the upper right on this site), and have enjoyed her posts. She and I have been looking forward to some plotting and brainstorming, while we sit in the hot tub, look at the stars, and contemplate the meaning of life.

There are many things I'm thankful for this year. Looming huge among them is the fact that she is home for the next few weeks, safe and sound. Her journey in China has at times been hard for a mother to hear, and like so many of our best experiences in life, laced with the good as well as the bad. I've had my own gratitude for the watchful eyes and loving guidance of her Guardian angels. And that my prayers have been listened to, and answered.

One of the other things I'm thankful for is that she appreciates coming home. Home looks different now. It couldn't warm a mother's heart more.

So, here's my treat for all of you at Christmas. Take it away, Jaime!

Holiday Cheer

Jaime Hamilton

“Coming home for Christmas” has a new meaning for me these days. The Chinese don’t really celebrate Christmas; for them it’s a ‘fun’ holiday like Valentines Day or St. Patrick’s day – one signified by a jolly fat man’s face in every store window, giving people a reason to spend their hard-earned yuan.

I hum I’ll Be Home for Christmas Michael Buble style as I walk the Wenzhou streets. The smell of rotten trash, steamed Bao Zi (steamed buns with meat) and sweet bread permeate the air – infiltrating my nostrils as I side step hawked loogies, snot rockets and dog poop on the sidewalk. Tis the season of giving I suppose.

No matter how hard I try concentrating on Buble’s old-school bluesy voice, I can still hear the nasally cat-call of the trash lady waking me up in the mornings at 6:30 a.m. 

“Ba bao meya-meow!” 

I’d like to think she’s wishing everyone good luck and happiness in the new year, but in reality she’s calling for left-over cardboard or recycling. Blaise Pascal once said that “all men’s miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone.” With that being said, I’m looking forward most to the crazy cadence that family brings, the peace and quiet of a good night’s rest on Hamilton hill and coffee…ad nauseum!

Lord knows how tasty duck tongue and goose feet are, but in more simple terms…these are the things I am really looking forward to the most during the holiday season with family:

-       Coffee

-       Tillamook Sharp Cheddar Cheese

-       Silence and Crazy

-       Watching Christmas Vacation while knitting in front of the fire with mom

-       Fried Pineapple rings

-       Breathing clean air!

-       Not having to hear the letter ‘a’ at the end of every sentence

-       A western toilet!

-       The beautiful twinkling lights on Christmas Tree Lane

Thanks, Jaime. From our family to your family, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope whatever holiday you celebrate is filled with the unexpected gifts love brings to us all as a family of man.

We promise to keep on writing. We hope you all keep on reading.