”
Is yonder the man?
”
squeaked Rosalind. Black hair partially obscured Rosalind’s
eyes; otherwise, she appeared remarkably strong, large, strapping,
and masculine, and the unexpected pitch of
”
her
”
voice set all of the six teenagers in our living room to
laughing.
“Is yonder the man?” squeaked Rosalind. Black hair partially obscured Rosalind’s eyes; otherwise, she appeared remarkably strong, large, strapping, and masculine, and the unexpected pitch of “her” voice set all of the six teenagers in our living room to laughing.
“Even he, madam,” growled Le Beau, with a French accent stolen from Monty Python. Le Beau would tip the scales at 80 pounds, dripping wet, had braids, and bore an uncanny resemblance to our
14-year-old daughter Anne.
It was Le Beau’s idea to choose Act I scene 2 from As You Like It, to fulfill their assignment of performing a skit in class two days later. As You Like It is not Le Beau’s favorite of the Shakespeare plays that they have read this year, but this particular scene has six speaking parts.
“Alas, he is too young!” lamented Celia in falsetto. Celia is even bigger and more burly than Rosalind and sports a crew cut. “Yet he looks successfully.”
“How now, daughter and cousin!” thundered Duke Frederick, willowy and illegally blonde. Duke Frederick had suggested that, as their group was composed of four girls and two guys, and as the plays always seem to have more male roles than female, they simply have the girls play male roles and the guys play females.
All six agreed that such a switch would be eminently Shakespearian. For one thing, during the Renaissance, acting was not a respectable profession; there were no female actresses; all female parts were played by men. For another, many of Shakespeare’s plays, including As You Like It, contain plot elements of disguise, and women dressing as men. Thirdly, they thought their teacher and classmates would find it funny.
While the kids practiced, I retired discretely to the kitchen, to sip tea and reflect. This year’s English class is a challenge for our daughter, as it begins with six Shakespeare plays: Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It, Merchant of Venice, Henry the Fourth Part I, Romeo and Juliet, and Midsummer’s Night Dream. They will then proceed to 19th century authors: one each by Austen, Dickens, Bronte, Eliot, Collins, and MacDonald.
Our daughter would be the first to insist she does not like Shakespeare. She dislikes love stories, so Much Ado and As You Like It left her cold. Merchant was slightly better; the adventures of Hal and Falstaff quite tolerable, especially since she read Henry V last year and is intrigued to see the hero’s boyhood.
When I pointed out to Anne that she was enjoying each consecutive play better than the one before, she admitted it, with surprise. Perhaps the exposure to the language makes each subsequent play easier to understand.
Some people, notably GUSD, would question whether a class of 14 to 17-year-olds should study six Shakespeare plays and six 19th century authors. They would consider such a course list too abstruse, too irrelevant, too boring.
And what about the kids who are not college bound?
As the new publisher of The Dispatch, Steve Staloch, asked at the newspaper’s candidate forum, what about the students who are going to enter the global workforce? Should we not offer them specialized technical training so they can participate in the global economy?
Research indicates that a rigorous college prep education is the best preparation for all kids. Students who take algebra are better off than if they had taken a class called consumer mathematics; those who complete algebra II are still better off.
Low-achieving eighth graders are more apt to earn D’s or F’s in low level English courses than if they are enrolled in college prep English. Good academic preparation is particularly important for minority students: analyst Andrew Sum shows that the earnings gap between Caucasians and people of color narrows with increasing skills and knowledge, and vanishes at the highest literacy levels.
Anne still struggles, especially with the essays. The week of the skit, they had no essay assignment: a huge relief. Lightheartedly, they reached the end of the scene.
“Sir,” squeaked Rosalind, “You have wrestled well, and overthrown more than your enemies.” This is true, for all of them, truer than they can guess.
Interested readers may learn more about academic preparation at http://www2.edtrust.org/NR/rdonlyres/26923A64-4266-444B-99ED-2A6D5F14061F/0/k16_winter2003.pdf.
