Repetitive Redundancy

This morning, I was watching one of my ninth grade English classes rehearse their scenes for Romeo and Juliet. Seriously, sometimes I really, really like my job. This was one of those times. I got to sit back and watch my re-designated English Learners (that means they are supposed to be totally fluent in reading and writing English now. Key word is “supposed to be”. Don’t go there, No child left behind crap, stupid republicans…) speak the speech of Shakespeare.

Iambic pentameter in the inner city. Coolio.

When we started with Act One of the play, the students read it as if it were in Chinese and I swear, I thought most were going to need Botox the way they squinted and furrowed at the words. Then through translating it into their own language, translating it into “text-speak” and finally relating modern song lyrics to it, they began to read it the way Shakespeare and god had intended it. Well, at least they no longer hated it. Well, at least they were showing up for class.

I love teaching Shakespeare in the hood. If you have never heard the Balcony scene rapped while the rest of the class taps out a beat on the desks in perfect unison…Seriously, such beauty is found there. I was in awe of them. I figure as long as they can do that to it, perhaps they understand it as well. A rose is still a rose. Ya know?

Next week all of the ninth grade classes have to do scenes from Romeo and Juliet with the original language but need to take it out of the Elizabethan time period and put it somewhere else in history and then justify it. It beats making them take standardized tests. So far they have changed the sets to Compton, Ancient Egypt, and a Mafia owned restaurant in New York in the 1920’s. There’s one where Romeo is a zombie too. That one, I am really looking forward to seeing.

Now, because I am a sadistic English teacher, part of their grade will be for memorizing the scenes to be presented next week. Ah, torturing children with English; this is the crap that keeps me young.

“But Ms. Levine,” several of them whined, “I can’t memorize things.”

“Have you ever tried?” I sympathetically asked.

“Um…no, but I know I can’t”. They stare blankly at the ceiling.

I pause and then tentatively say, “But you’ve never tried.” I wait for a response. And then sigh. And then roll my eyes. And then walk back to my desk.

I do that a lot as an English teacher. As a mother too.

“Hey Max, you want to try some carrots today?” I ask every freakin night at dinner.

“Umm…no thanks, mommy. I don’t like them.” He says sweetly, every freakin night at dinner.

“But you’ve never tried them, honey.” I say with a press-on smile, trying not to get frustrated by my children’s eating habits, every freakin night at dinner.

“Um…I know, but I’m sure I won’t like them.” He says omnisciently. Well, as omniscient as a seven year old can be about his disdain for veggies.

“And you Dash?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Um…no thanks mommy. I don’t like them.” He says every freakin night at dinner.

I pause and then tentatively say, “But you’ve never tried them.” I wait for a response. And then sigh. And then roll my eyes. And then walk back into the kitchen.

I guess that time I threatened my children with broccoli was a bad idea. It was funny at the time.

I feel like I repeat myself. A lot. Again and again. Over and over. Becoming redundant and repetitive and redundant and repetitive. A lot.

It would be fun if I could just say something once, have it truly heard and then move on with my life.

As a teacher:

“If you are talking you can’t hear me tell you to be quiet.” “Your assignment was due yesterday.” It might help if you actually wrote down the assignment.”

As a mother:

“No really, it’s time for bed so please stop transforming now.” “Henry the cat does not eat pizza.” “I don’t care if it is January, Santa is still watching you.”

As a new online dater answering emails from prospective dates:

“No, the red flames on my mini-van are not a euphemism for anything. I actually have red flames actually on my actual mini-van.” “It might help if you read my profile.” “Yes, they are real but thanks for asking.

So, I guess writing will have to do. I don’t think I would get my point across if I read it aloud to people because no one seems to be listening. Not that I have many points in my blogs. Which doesn’t really matter because no one is listening anyway. But I will just keep moving onward with them anyway.

I'm sorry, what was I saying? No, seriously.