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Sparkle (1)
The semester is three weeks old.
So far, my classes have been very nice. Not the Shakespearian "nice," but "nice" in its modern context.
I like to begin the semester as I like to end the semester - by making connections. Connections are, after all, what education is all about. Since I teach grammar and writing, we make connections about everything. There are no limits. This is, of course, how all courses should be, but they never are. This is the teacher's fault, by the way.
We are talking, right now, among other things such as subject/verb agreement and Einsteinian time warps (tense), about how words evolve. We discuss how all words have a point of origin - a history - just as people do, and that just as some people have a somewhat more interesting history than others, so it is with words, as well.
It's one of my favorite lessons, this evolution of word meanings. At the end of the class, few students can listen to me deliberately saying things like "He was nice, but strolling gaily down the skanky strata, he saw forthwith a trio of giglots, strumpets, and confederate companions, whereupon he felt a fragment of his old self" without a giggle or three.
Included in the discussion were hints and allegations that the varying degrees of naughtiness concerning body parts have evolved over the years, as well. The palm of the hand and the neck used to be forbidden to see or touch, and the elbow was considered an erogenous zone; however, the breasts were often entirely exposed. Perhaps it's my innate immaturity showing - I'm twelve, some days - but I find this history fascinating, and also hilarious.
It makes me remember the old (true) story about the Catholic priest who showed the ladies' aid a film of his missionary parish, which included a scene of tribal women walking into a mass, stark naked. The priest expected an outcry of some sort from his audience - a bevy of dowdy, sanctimonious older women (beldams, most likely)- but what he got wasn't quite what he expected. The dowdiest and most self-righteous of the group stood up, trembling with indignation, and said, in a most condemning tone, "Father, don't tell me you let those women walk into the sanctuary WITHOUT HATS!!!"
Note to self: The narcoleptic student is going to be a bit of a challenge. Until he brings documentation, I'm going to keep waking him up. I wish he'd keep his hands off his huge quat, though; it's almost riggish.
So, there you have my day: skanks, niceties, narcolepsy, hints and allegations, erogenous zones, nudity, gaity, condemnation, beldams, poverty, intricacy, giglots, strumpets, confederates, quats, and fogie alarms.
Shakespeare was bawdy, but never dirty. Very, very borderline. Very borderline. The border is sometimes a fun place to dwell.
I'll also say this: If you found Shakespeare boring in school, you had a boring teacher. (Bring it on.)
And how was your day? I do hope it wasn't too nice, bardily speaking.
Don't you wish you were in my class? We discussed fragments last week, and you do know the history of "fragment," don't you? It's one of my favorites.
As Tybalt remarked to Romeo, before being run through, "What up, Fragment?" To which Romeo replied, "Kiss my codpiece, thou yeasty, rump-fed moldwarp."
Not in so many words, but you get the general idea.
The one who said "fragment" was always the one who died.
Which could also have meant "orgasmed."
Words rocked, and rock.
Keep a thesaurus and a dictionary in your bathroom. Learn cool words along with the twosies. Where else do you have the time?
"Don't be content with being average. Average is as close to the bottom as it is to the top."
Jane blogs as "Mamacita" at Scheiss Weekly, hitting the fan like nobody can.
