Passion in the Seventies
He bounds down the stairs, moving quickly, to unlock the door for me. I admire his movements, not out of lust but with hope. When I am 74 years old, I want to live and move like Dr. Elmore.
I'm taking four classes this semester. Two of them are online classes from old Doc Elmore. Now, I say old because he is (I think) the oldest professor at my university but honestly, I rarely think "old" when I see him. Doc Elmore lives with a passion, not necessarily for a certain lover but definitely for life. He's in love with life, with writing and with literature. His enthusiasm is undeniable and contagious.
Doc Elmore is teaching two of my classes this semester. Technically, they are online classes. The only time we are required to see him is for two tests.
However, Doc Elmore loves to teach so, this semester, for my Shakespeare class, he is offering an optional Sunday afternoon lecture. An optional lecture by an old man. Who would want to waste their Sundays on that? Not many students take him up on that offer. Only about 5-10 of us come each week. But usually, if you try it, you want to come again. One lady attends and she's not even officially part of the class. She's a former student who misses studying with Doc.
I'm ashamed to admit but I've always hated Shakespeare. All that old language and metaphors I don't understand. I've often mentioned that I feel Shakespeare gives literature classes in high school a bad name. I thought English teachers should present mostly current literature. I've been heard to say, "Writers like Shakespeare just make students hate reading and give up!"
I'm still not sure I love Shakespeare now but discussing his works with Doc Elmore every Sunday is starting to change my attitude. Coincidently, we just finished our study of the play, Julius Caesar. The title of the play never interested me. I'd never been forced to study it before. The only thing I knew about it was some guy named Brutus betrays his friend in the play. Boring. Dull. Why should I read about a friend's betrayal? I know enough about real life betrayals.
But it was time to study it. I came to class only to find that maintenance had not unlocked the back door, hence my call to Doc to let me in. I wasn't excited about studying this play but down Doc Elmore bounds to greet me and let me in. I had a hard time keeping up with him on our way back up the stairs. He's over twice my age but also, apparently, has twice my energy.
We enter the chapel. One end looks like a church, the other end looks like a conference room. Doc says, "Today is Julius Ceasar. I can't wait!" I smile but oh, boy, I can wait.
The other students enter. Doc says, "Let's start by reading aloud. M---, you start," Doc says. I reluctantly began. Why do we have to study something so boring?
Around and around we read, stopping now and then for Doc to ask us questions and give us insights. Doc loves to connect Shakespeare's works to other literature and current events at that time. Suddenly, this dry, boring old play actually seems to make some sense. The numbers and images aren't as arbitrary and off the wall as I thought they were.
Doc reads his lines with enthusiasm, encouraging the student who reads the soothsayers part to, "Make it spooky! You're prophesying doom here!" With his boundless encouragement, suddenly we're reading in our best voices, really speaking out.
"What did you think about the ending, M--?" Doc asks me. Oh great! Should I be honest?
"It's a depressing play." I say. "They kill Caesar to make room for a better leader and then some of them end up committing suicide. I guess the play shows that murder has consequences."
Doc frowns. Oh no. I said the wrong thing.
"Well, that's one way to look at it, I guess," Doc says. "The funny thing about this play is that, in spite of being titled, Julius Caesar, the hero of this play is Brutus."
"Brutus?" I said. "But he's famous for the ultimate betrayal!" I exclaim.
"That's how many think of him, yes," Doc says. "But actually, if you read the play carefully, you'll see that he loved his country enough that he was willing to kill even his best friend if that would make room for a better leader."
Class continues and Doc's statements linger in my mind. I think of the people in my life who I considered ones who betrayed me. Man, I hate them! When I think of them, it's hard to want anything good to happen in their lives. But then I think of Brutus. Sometimes what seems like betrayal has complicated motives. Maybe some of them did have good motives, I just took their actions wrong.
I think of Doc. I think of how much I have decried becoming old, how I consider aging to be something to dread and to fight. I think of Shakespeare and how, before this class, he was an author I suffered through but never wanted to study.
True learning involves change. Changing and developing of talents and sometimes, changing of viewpoints. I walked in Doc's class the first day, certain I knew my feelings on so many areas. And every Sunday, I leave, more unsure of what I used to know and just a little more open to the fact that my heart needs to change. Maybe Shakespeare does have something to teach me. Maybe those who betrayed me in my life had their reasons.
Maybe, if I am lucky, I will be 74 and still studying this not-so-boring Shakespeare, still bounding down the stairs, still wanting to give my Sunday afternoons to students I am not under an obligation to see.
The first Sunday, I dreaded the idea of driving an hour each way to a meeting I didn't have to attend. Now Sunday is my favorite day of the week. And I find myself saying, "I can't wait to get to Shakespeare class!"
Have I become one of those silly Shakespeare-loving English teachers? Me?
I can almost hear the girl I used to be whisper, "Et tu, Brute?"
I'm taking four classes this semester. Two of them are online classes from old Doc Elmore. Now, I say old because he is (I think) the oldest professor at my university but honestly, I rarely think "old" when I see him. Doc Elmore lives with a passion, not necessarily for a certain lover but definitely for life. He's in love with life, with writing and with literature. His enthusiasm is undeniable and contagious.
Doc Elmore is teaching two of my classes this semester. Technically, they are online classes. The only time we are required to see him is for two tests.
However, Doc Elmore loves to teach so, this semester, for my Shakespeare class, he is offering an optional Sunday afternoon lecture. An optional lecture by an old man. Who would want to waste their Sundays on that? Not many students take him up on that offer. Only about 5-10 of us come each week. But usually, if you try it, you want to come again. One lady attends and she's not even officially part of the class. She's a former student who misses studying with Doc.
I'm ashamed to admit but I've always hated Shakespeare. All that old language and metaphors I don't understand. I've often mentioned that I feel Shakespeare gives literature classes in high school a bad name. I thought English teachers should present mostly current literature. I've been heard to say, "Writers like Shakespeare just make students hate reading and give up!"
I'm still not sure I love Shakespeare now but discussing his works with Doc Elmore every Sunday is starting to change my attitude. Coincidently, we just finished our study of the play, Julius Caesar. The title of the play never interested me. I'd never been forced to study it before. The only thing I knew about it was some guy named Brutus betrays his friend in the play. Boring. Dull. Why should I read about a friend's betrayal? I know enough about real life betrayals.
But it was time to study it. I came to class only to find that maintenance had not unlocked the back door, hence my call to Doc to let me in. I wasn't excited about studying this play but down Doc Elmore bounds to greet me and let me in. I had a hard time keeping up with him on our way back up the stairs. He's over twice my age but also, apparently, has twice my energy.
We enter the chapel. One end looks like a church, the other end looks like a conference room. Doc says, "Today is Julius Ceasar. I can't wait!" I smile but oh, boy, I can wait.
The other students enter. Doc says, "Let's start by reading aloud. M---, you start," Doc says. I reluctantly began. Why do we have to study something so boring?
Around and around we read, stopping now and then for Doc to ask us questions and give us insights. Doc loves to connect Shakespeare's works to other literature and current events at that time. Suddenly, this dry, boring old play actually seems to make some sense. The numbers and images aren't as arbitrary and off the wall as I thought they were.
Doc reads his lines with enthusiasm, encouraging the student who reads the soothsayers part to, "Make it spooky! You're prophesying doom here!" With his boundless encouragement, suddenly we're reading in our best voices, really speaking out.
"What did you think about the ending, M--?" Doc asks me. Oh great! Should I be honest?
"It's a depressing play." I say. "They kill Caesar to make room for a better leader and then some of them end up committing suicide. I guess the play shows that murder has consequences."
Doc frowns. Oh no. I said the wrong thing.
"Well, that's one way to look at it, I guess," Doc says. "The funny thing about this play is that, in spite of being titled, Julius Caesar, the hero of this play is Brutus."
"Brutus?" I said. "But he's famous for the ultimate betrayal!" I exclaim.
"That's how many think of him, yes," Doc says. "But actually, if you read the play carefully, you'll see that he loved his country enough that he was willing to kill even his best friend if that would make room for a better leader."
Class continues and Doc's statements linger in my mind. I think of the people in my life who I considered ones who betrayed me. Man, I hate them! When I think of them, it's hard to want anything good to happen in their lives. But then I think of Brutus. Sometimes what seems like betrayal has complicated motives. Maybe some of them did have good motives, I just took their actions wrong.
I think of Doc. I think of how much I have decried becoming old, how I consider aging to be something to dread and to fight. I think of Shakespeare and how, before this class, he was an author I suffered through but never wanted to study.
True learning involves change. Changing and developing of talents and sometimes, changing of viewpoints. I walked in Doc's class the first day, certain I knew my feelings on so many areas. And every Sunday, I leave, more unsure of what I used to know and just a little more open to the fact that my heart needs to change. Maybe Shakespeare does have something to teach me. Maybe those who betrayed me in my life had their reasons.
Maybe, if I am lucky, I will be 74 and still studying this not-so-boring Shakespeare, still bounding down the stairs, still wanting to give my Sunday afternoons to students I am not under an obligation to see.
The first Sunday, I dreaded the idea of driving an hour each way to a meeting I didn't have to attend. Now Sunday is my favorite day of the week. And I find myself saying, "I can't wait to get to Shakespeare class!"
Have I become one of those silly Shakespeare-loving English teachers? Me?
I can almost hear the girl I used to be whisper, "Et tu, Brute?"