Bust of Shakespeare
I met with my Early Brit Lit survey for one last time on Friday and, as the students ate the whiskey cake I always bake for them for the last class, we talked about the works we had read. I asked them to rate the works (thumbs up, thumbs down), in part so that they could see the wide range of responses the works had elicited. Every work had at least a few defenders and, on the other hand, even Shakespeare didn’t escape unscathed.
One student said she was sick of Shakespeare and another was put off by the gender bending of Twelfth Night. Then again, others said they had fallen in love with Shakespeare’s autumnal comedy, especially for its exploration of gender identity. King Lear fared even better and some, encountering it for the first time, essentially felt like Keats upon first reading Chapman’s Homer: “Then felt I like some watcher of the skies/When a new planet swims into its ken.”
I was open to all the responses. I don’t want my students to worship at the altar of great literature but rather to have an authentic relationship with it. In other words, I want them to be like the students in an Rg Gregory poem when Shakespeare descends from his pedestal and begins to fraternize with them.
The teacher in the poem is guilty of bardolatry. That is, he has turned Shakespeare into a fetish and thinks it is enough to say that the playwright “was what we call/a great man” and that “apart from winston churchill/ shakespeare was the greatest/ englishman who ever lived.” The students get sore necks from looking up at this Shakespeare.
When they take Shakespeare away from the teacher, however, they have fun. Shakespeare tells them that he was “always pissing around…when he was their age” and isn’t shocked at all by their language. Meanwhile, the teacher goes back to reread the plays, discovers where he has gone wrong, and gets out of teaching.
If I ever find myself guilty to such idolatry, I’ll follow him out of the classroom. But I prefer to think that the teacher made the wrong decision. If he has indeed rediscovered his love of Shakespeare, then the classroom is exactly where he belongs.
the shakes
By Rg Gregory
now pay attention
(said the teacher)
and look up here
the children looked up
this is william shakespeare
four centuries up
on a pedestal
was shakespeare’s head
he was what we call
a great man
the children got sore necks
looking up
and some began to look down
no no
you mustn’t look down
(said the teacher)
apart from winston churchill
shakespeare was the greatest
englishman who ever lived
the children’s eyes
drained to their feet
and their minds
played around with
their private parts
shakespeare was once
a schoolteacher who
had a second best bed
and he happened to write
thirty six plays
and sonnets and things
he has a noble brow
as you can see
the children stared
from a dusty old head
and a mothridden beard
two sour eyes
glared down
from being a bit bored
then very bored
the children began to have
explosions going off
in many parts of their
bodies
mutters came
out of their mouths
and then anger
followed by flames
shakespeare is a chauvinist
pig
(they screamed)
why don’t you piss off
(they shrieked at the teacher)
and take him with you
now now children
(said the teacher)
shakespeare’s language
was always as noble
as his brow
he will be shocked
to hear such words
some of the class jumped
on the teacher
(as the young are inclined
to nowadays)
and
the rest began to rock
shakespeare’s pedestal
no
please no children
(cried the teacher)
you know not what you do
do you want to destroy
all that is good
in the world
the rocking went on
like an earthquake
and slowly
up four
centuries of stone
shakespeare’s head
began to wobble
and all of a sudden
it seemed to
jump from its pedestal
and drop
shaking itself
free of dust and
a beardful of moths
vandals desecrators
(raged the teacher)
wetting himself
no doubt
watch out
(laughed the children)
catch
and the head
fell safely into
their outstretched hands
the teacher shrank away
(wet wet)
terrified to be so close
to the greatest but one
of the greats
the children flocked round
curious to find
what greatness was
shakespeare blew his nose
cleared his throat
(the last of the dust)
and said
hello kids
i’m famished
what’s to eat
tell me about yourselves
(and things like that)
he had a real face
and he spoke english
with a kind of
birmingham accent
and he didn’t seem to know
much more than they did
he was always pissing around
(he told them)
when he was their age
the teacher gradually
came back
very surprised
and (when he dared to look
at himself) obviously
very relieved
he went away and began
reading the plays
and (discovering
where he’d gone wrong)
got out of teaching
