Neighing in likeness of a filly foal..." -Puck
Shakespeare only makes it worse! We practice and practice and practice and the rain falls outside in bathtubs and then the sun comes out and we walk all squishy Oregon toes and wet sneakers into the trees picking garlands and gathering branches for our set... whispering Shakespeare in these kid's ears....for my sake and theirs.
In very likeness of a roasted crab..." -Puck
My old anthology of plays I dragged from the shelves of Colton is starting to mold on the little wooden desk by the classroom door filled with leaves and postcards and four-leaf clovers and funny keepsakes from all the lives I've had the pleasure of living.
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale..." -Puck
Who doesn't get a number of lives...and Thank God for it.
Sometimes for three-foot stool mistaketh me..." -Puck
Rain seasons shouldn't make one depressed. Rather...Soulful. Mindful. Reflective.
And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough
And then the whole quire hold their hips and loff
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there..." -Puck
Gather up all these bodies to do this play with me, for me, because of me...it's my idea hammered and drilled into their lives. A stake to hang something on...anything to splinter the monotony of tests and memorized math problems and formulaic paragraphs of Chinese history.
Sometimes after class...when all these bodies have returned to their world...I stare at the walls for a good long time and count my breaths...then before I know it I'm up...running in the trees...out in the mountain woods. I chose right. This one time, I chose right.