Thursday, April 12, 2012

Read it with Passion!

"The plays' the thing wherin I'll catch the conscience of the king." Act II Scene ii

"Read it with passion, Jared!" It's only 8:00 in the morning, but it looks like one of us had already made multiple trips to Starbucks before class started. How could a person have so much energy this early in the morning? I glanced over at my teacher, Mrs. F, who held a plastic sword and was pointing it at a stricken student in the front row. We were currently in the process of assigning roles for our dramatic reading of the day, and my teacher was choosing her victims carefully. Mrs. F made Jared practice his lines several times before she was satisfied with his performance. Welcome to my first hour English class. Yesterday Mrs. F stood on a desk waving scissors around her head as she read the infamous poem, "The Rape of the Lock" (no-it's not what you think, some girl just gets part of her hair cut off). We now refer to scissors as forfexs in that class.

For the past couple of weeks, however, the focus of our studies has been Hamlet. Hamlet is one of my teacher's favorite works, which is apparent by her enthusiasm. She is satisfied with our dramatic readings only when we have disrupted the class next door, "louder, louder! You're supposed to be angry here! Make me believe it!" My teacher is known for being one of the most passionate teachers in the school.

Mrs. F swung her sword again, almost hitting a student. "Fabulous job, just fabulous!" she shouted after we finished our reading.  "Oh you're just going to love this next part! Claudius is going to plot Hamlet's death, and Hamlet gets captured by pirates! Isn't that wonderful?" She paused dramatically, waiting for our reactions. Twenty-eight students stare back at her blankly. I was fairly certain the student to my left was drooling in his sleep, but I didn't want to look to be sure. That's when a student spoke up, "did you really cut your hair off on accident when you were reading the Rape of the Lock several years ago?"

"Yes, I did. Now back to Hamlet, who wants to read for Laertes?"


Today I have learned two things. Firstly, that my teacher is pretty good at fencing (yes-she did a demonstration for us). Secondly, that I am undoubtedly in love with the play Hamlet. Or any Shakespearean work for that matter. Although Hamlet is rude to pretty much everyone, he's witty. This play is brilliant. Shakespeare, you are a genius.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Scars Tell Stories

Every scar has its own story. Unfortunately all of my scars I earned in slightly less than heroic ways. For example, I have a four inch scar on my leg. Yes, I did measure it in case you were wondering. Any guess on how I got it?

No, I did not fall down a cliff. That's a close guess though. I haven't ever fallen off a cliff recently, but I've taken a tumble or two from climbing extremely large boulders. I believe the correct term would be called bouldering. As in climbing up a giant rock, hoping you don't fall; and if you do someone might be there to catch you.

Any other guesses? And no, I didn't get this scar from surgery either. Well, since you're begging to know I suppose I'll just tell you.

I got the scar on my leg from running into a chair.

Not many people know this, but the responses from the people I have told are hilarious. "How does someone get a scar from a chair?" Well I don't really know, ask the chair. I'm sure I did something to it in the past that caused its feelings to get hurt, and then in retaliating it left me a scar when I ran into it. What I do know is that I felt a sharp pain when I collided with the thing and by the time I walked to the next class my leg was covered a large amount of blood. The teacher ordered me to go see the nurse, where I spent the next ten to fifteen minutes of my life trying to stop the unending flow of blood.

Some of my friends found my story to be a little pathetic, "that's kinda sad, you should come up with a cool story. Tell people you got attacked by a wild animal!" My friends never fail to give good advice. Others found my story more entertaining, "that sounds like something you'd do!"

Another scar I have is on my wrist. One of my good friends was responsible for this particular scar. It was last summer when I was at the pool with my friends. My friends jumped into the pool, but being stubborn I stood near the edge and tried to gain the courage to get into the cold water. My friend decided to be kind enough to spare me the anxiety of jumping in myself, so instead simply grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the water. I had to get out of the water soon after to stop the bleeding.

Today I might have one more scar to add to my collection. Or should I say scars. My family went on a trip to Mexico over spring break, which is part of the reason I haven't posted in awhile (my apologies). Anyways, today we got home and I went to go get my dogs from my grandparents. My grandparents had five dogs at their house this week, as they were watching my two dogs and my cousins' two dogs also. When I stepped through the door I was immediately greeted by all five. As a result I left with numerous claw marks (a couple broke the skin) on my arms and legs from them jumping up on me.
But I'm not complaining, my dogs are pretty adorable.


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