Shakespeare in Action

Yesterday, at long last, all the preliminaries were over.  The handbook was covered and tested.  The syllabi were out of the way.  The classroom procedures were established.  It was time for the activity I’d been waiting a month to try.

I gave the students a copy of the “Twelve Ages of Man” speech from Twelfth Night.  Just as the group of teachers had done in the summer academy, the class and I read it together chorally, and I asked them to make notes.

I have to admit being a little nervous about this approach.  It’s worlds different from the way I have traditionally addressed Shakespeare.  Instead of defining all the potentially-problematic words and presenting tons of scaffolding related to history or culture, I was letting the language stand on its own.  The students didn’t even know which character had said it. 

As I walked around, I was thoroughly pleased to see all the students busily marking up their passages, and their notes were insightful and on-track.  No one was fussing.  No one was throwing up hands in frustration.  At this point, I successfully managed to resist the urge to jump up and down in the back of the classroom and clap my hands in glee.  Dignity, people.  Always dignity…. (And if you’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain, you might not get the full measure of meaning for that quote….)

We read it again with each student reading to a strong mark of punctuation, just as our teacher group had all done when we were reading Hamlet together in DC.  Since reading aloud is a key fear for most of my students, I watched carefully to see how they received it.  Nobody even hesitated, even my shy ones. 

Another round of annotation followed, this time with them being asked to break up the passage into meaning groups or big ideas.  When we talked about it as a class, they all knew that the main theme was the passage of time and the stages of life, and they’d all identified what they were.  I hadn’t helped them.  I hadn’t provided a single translation.  I hadn’t done the endless background PowerPoint of doom illustrating what a “pantaloon” was.  They still got it.

That’s when it hit me.  They.  Still. Got.  It.

Since we have only 50 minute periods, we were reaching the end of our time when I had each group “pick-a-stick” from a numbered collection of popsicle sticks I keep for these things, and whatever number they drew became their “age” to act out in a one-minute pantomime the following day.  I expected eye-rolling or hesitation, but without exception, every student began eagerly talking to his or her partner about what they could do, making lists of props, and looking around my room for things they could use.  As the bell rang, they bustled out full of energy and ideas, already practicing gestures.

Today, we did a final quick review with each person reading just one line before passing it on to the next reader.  Then they put their scenes together, and the creative interpretation of Shakespeare’s words flowed.  One group used a balled-up wad of paper and a quickly bundled hoodie to construct an infant who was then “fed” from a bottle of blue Powerade.  Another group had a black-jacketed death stalking a cane-wielding “old woman” and gently pulling her down.  A third had a group member turn herself into the scales of Justice who passed an owl figurine from my giant collection to another student who drew a beard and mustache on her own face in an action of total commitment to the role.  I have known for years that my students are capable of wonderful things when they do creative assignments, but with as little preparation time as they had, it struck me again how good they are at it and how much fun they had while doing it.

After the acting, I passed out my “fancy” new whiteboards and told each group to pick three of the ages and give pros and cons for each.  After they’d had time to confer, I used the Folger website to pull up the close-up images of the Seven Ages window that had fascinated me so during my time in the Reading Room and the students looked at the individual characters  and related their pros and cons for each as we examined it.  I concluded by asking them to come a consensus as a group about to which “age” seniors belong.  The answers were as diverse as the people.  Some saw themselves as soldiers fighting for fame and honor.  Some saw themselves as lovers.  One group said infants; just beside them, a group claimed to be justices, the pinnacle of knowledge. 

When the bell claimed them again, they headed out the door full of discussion about who was right, swapping evidence and justifications, and my little teacher heart was absolutely full.  Without more than a minimum of assistance - perhaps the defining of two words - they had gotten there all on their own and, most importantly to me, they had made a connection.  I’d seen the looks of dismay yesterday when Shakespeare’s name was mentioned.  All of that was gone as they left.  They’d had a good encounter with the Bard.  He’d been a source of laughter and relevance for them instead of some monolithic obstacle.

Even though I love to teach Shakespeare and look forward to it all year long, today he became something for “everyday use.”  I don’t have to keep him in a special box and bring him out only for fancy occasions or my mega-Hamlet unit.  I can have the joy of watching my students discover him in small doses.  Maybe he can become their solace, too, or at least less of an object of dread or discomfort.

How liberating for all of us.