Leading · Sun Jun 25, 18:07 by Eleri Straker
At this time of year, the English department at my school all ‘do’ Shakespeare with the year 7 classes. We all do the ‘play within a play’ from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s always fun to do, as the kids get to design their costumes (– very imaginative when it comes to the part of the Wall!) and messing about. Reading the lines, however, is more of a problem as they get a bit self-conscious when trying to ham it up for Bottom’s part.
Last lesson I was watching a group working on the Pyramus speech that begins with “Oh grim looked night…”and watching them say the lines with as much expression as a doughnut. So I went to join them. They were performing outside in a covered area supported by pillars. I watched them for a bit longer then decided that they needed a bit of modelling. So taking on the role of Pyramus, I climbed onto the wall out of which the pillars protrude and, swinging round on the pillar, declaimed Pyramus’s lines as loudly and as hammily as possible. Needless to say, the kids were in hysterics. Which was the whole point.
I finished the lines, swung down from the pillar, took a bow and said, “Now you do it.”
I left them to it, but on going back inside, I took a peek out of the window to see the student playing the role of Pyramus, swinging round the pillar and declaiming as hammily as I had done! Success!
Later on, back in the English staff room, the youngest member of the team said that she was finding it difficult to get the children in her class to get into the spirit of the play. I suggested that she model it for them, to which she replied that she didn’t really feel that she could do it. She said that she’d seen me do it at the pillars and didn’t think she could be that silly…
I found this rather intriguing, as I have always believed that an important part of teaching is the ability to forget one’s dignity now and again. I can’t expect my classes to make fools of themselves if I’m not willing to do it myself.
Ernest Shackelton, on his journey South, expected to experience everything that his men did, – the fun and the suffering. He believed that one couldn’t lead well if one distanced oneself from one’s followers. He was a brilliant leader – after all, all his men survived.
I’m not comparing myself to Shackelton, but I think that teachers can learn from good leaders. After all, teaching, in a way, is about leadership. We lead our students where we want them to go. And if getting my young year 7s to appreciate how much of a laugh they can have doing Shakespeare means I have to be silly with them and make a fool of myself, then I will happily do it.
