What Light Through Younger Brain Breaks?

“Shakespeare? Oh, yeah. He’s the funny-looking dude who wrote a bunch of weird stories in a foreign language.” So says one of my more voluble freshmen whose ignorance of a topic (any topic) seldom puts his mouth on hold.

It’s that time again. Time to pull out the overheads of the Globe Theatre and introduce The Bard to a bunch of teenagers who think “Hamlet” is what they had for breakfast last Sunday. I’ve learned it’s important not to confuse them with the facts so I leave things like names and dates until later. After I’ve grabbed their attention.

“What do you like in a story?” is always my first question. Invariably the girls opt for romance and the boys go for intrigue and bloodshed. They’re shocked when I tell them Shakespeare’s writings are loaded with all that stuff. They didn’t think any of that existed in those days.

They have yet to learn that though everything changes, nothing changes.

Invariably, some wiseguy will ask: “So why didn’t he write in English?”

After a good long stare-down I pick up the text and read: “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!”

“This is Portuguese?” I ask. “Did anyone understand any of the words?” I wait.

Sally hesitates and then raises her hand. “They’re all English words but they’re put together funny to make it hard for us to understand them. Did he do that on purpose?”

“Yeah,” Bobby says, “because he wanted to make it tough for kids like us.”

Ahh, I think to myself, the ego-centricity of youth. “William Shakespeare did not write anything with you in mind,” I point out. “He wrote to make money. And that’s what he did.” They’re shocked. “When he wrote those words he had no idea that 400 years later kids would be reading them in an English class in northwest Ohio.”

“So why are we?” Bobby asks before he pronounces: “Shakespeare is really dumb!”

“Dumb” is the automatic classification for anything teens don’t understand. When I remind them it means “unable to speak” they replace the modifier with “stupid,” another teen favorite. That’s when I point out that neither books nor any other inanimate object can be classified “stupid.” Only live things, like people may behave in such a fashion. A few always catch on quickly and explain it to the others.

“Shakespeare wrote in the language of his day. The words he used were easily understood by his audiences.” Then I ask: “Have you written anything lately that will hold up for 400 years?” Blank faces. Everybody’s out to lunch. Time to reel them in.

“Shakespeare wrote R-rated plays and common people as well as royalty flocked to them. He was a hit!”

R-rated? That’s got their attention. With an absolutely straight face Bobby asks if they knew about sex in those days. I’m not shocked. It’s the same question I get every year.

“Yes, Bobby, they did. And once you get the lingo down, you’ll be able to understand all of the dirty jokes.” He looks inspired and then asks how you do that. “By reading, listening, paying attention, and thinking. When you get good at it I’ll give you my Riverside (college Shakespeare) to read. It’s unabridged. Nothing has been changed to protect the innocent.”

“So what does that mean - what you said?”

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” I repeat as I write it on the board. “Romeo has met Juliet at a dance and fallen for her. Now, that same night he’s hanging around in the orchard under her bedroom window hoping …”

“He’s a peeping Tom!” Bobby snickers.

“… hoping to have a word with her. He says to himself, ‘Wait a minute (be still), what’s that light?’ Then he realizes it’s Juliet and says, ‘It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!’ What does that mean to you?”

Bobby suggests Romeo’s been drinking. Sally says he’s comparing Juliet with the sun because falling in love with her has brightened his life. I tell them they’re probably both right.

Two days later I get the word. Bobby’s mom is coming for a conference. She wants to discuss the R-rated play I’m teaching.

xxxx