The Commonplace Book

One of my friends, a long time instructor of high school English and an avid reader, has her students replicate an idea from the past, the Commonplace Book. For her class, the assignment is to copy, in longhand, a quote from daily reading that the student wishes to remember, or some brief excerpt which is worthy of further contemplation. As illustrated by the link associated with the title, the keeping of such a book was typical in times past.

My daughter kept her Commonplace Book when assigned to do so, since she was in my friend's class during her high school years, but now that she is a college sophomore, she tells me that she has returned to the practice. Recently, she shared this entry from her notebook— a brief, comedic poem by one of my favorite favorite authors, a skillful poet and a true cynic, Dorothy Parker. Some of the best writing is produced by unhappy people, as a study of Parker's bio reveals. Reading her verse reminds me that times may change, but the nature of humanity does not.

The Leal

The friends I made have slipped and strayed.
And who's the one that cares
A trifling lot and best forgot—
And that's my tale, and theirs.

Then if my friendships break and bend
There's little need to cry
The while I know that every foe
Is faithful till I die.

Graduating (and graduating some more)

My soon-to-be eighteen year old daughter is graduating today. While she knows it is an important milestone, the idea of graduation has been cheapened by all the previous ones. Nowadays, in our neck of the woods, children graduate from preschool, kindergarten, fifth grade, eighth grade, and now high school. Hopefully, there will be a couple more, for we expect her to finish college and graduate school. For her, this graduation is bittersweet, in that she leaves behind some friends, but she will also leave behind a school that she has outgrown, intellectually.

We live near the local schools, and traffic was a bit of a mess this morning as parents and grandparents were making their way to the high school gym, where the kindergarten ceremony was about to take place. The fifth grade graduation will take place today; the middle school held their ceremony last night. Indeed, folks who have several children or are related to those who do, have to shuttle around to several of these events. As a teacher, I attended quite a number of high school graduations, and as a parent, this makes seven graduations.

The ceremony tonight is almost secondary to all that goes along with it— establishing a bank account to deposit monetary gifts and to pay bills in college, going to goodbye parties, attending the senior breakfast, going to “Intro,” which is the program for incoming freshman at her chosen post-secondary school, and then moving out of our home. These transtional months are a pivotal time, and much of her future happiness and success will depend on what happens as she begins college.

Like Janus in classical mythology, this is a time to look forward, and to look back. We’ve gone through some pictures and other memorabilia, to decorate for her graduation party. As we looked though the boxes, we laughed at her kindergarten class picture and put back some really embarrassing yearbook mug shots. My daughter may not realize the momentous aspect of this hour of her life, but hubby and I do, so we will no doubt be a bit misty eyed, as we watch her pick up the diploma that acknowledges thirteen years of her life, and of ours.

The Good Parts Version

Do you remember The Princess Bride by William Goldman, or the excellent film version of that same story? I read it decades back, as a young woman with plenty of summer and a library card. The frame for it stated that it was “the good parts version” and I had never read anything like it. By that, I mean I hadn’t read a story within a framework. Of course, I hadn’t quite read anything so funny and yet so filled with adventure. Doing a “good parts” version did work for that piece.

That said, I found out on Monday that my son’s teacher skipped the end of Romeo and Juliet. Yep, you read that right. He said they were reading it aloud and their reading became laborious, so the teacher summarized the rest of the play and showed them the movie version. I asked when they stopped and he said just after Friar Lawrence gives Juliet the vial. That means he didn't get to hear the fourth act, with the magnificent soliloquy by Juliet as she debates whether or not she should take the potion. That scene is also omitted in the film version most popular with teachers.

As a former high school English teacher, I was appalled. Oh, I usually relied on a tape of professional Shakespearian actors rather than ninth graders for the reading, but by gosh, we read the whole play. Indeed, I’ve struggled with Julius Caesar and Macbeth from time to time, but anyone ought to be able to teach ninth graders (kids who are 14 and 15) a play about a pair of rebellious teenaged lovers. If you can’t, I do believe it is time to find a new line of work.

The Shakespeare Tavern in Atlanta does Romeo and Juliet each year, in February , of course, so I must get tickets to that. My son deserves more than the good parts version, and so do most young people. Great stories deserve to be told, and R & J qualifies as great in my mind.