Medieval History
There was an outing today. 150 kids, the entirety of the 7th grade, a drive out of our small town, and through Amish country to one of our glorious state parks. Warm, breezy, clear air redirected by cries of glee and teasing, kids running ahead, kids lagging behind, the incredible energy of this age. So here, a few impressions of working with these children who live on a thrilling cusp, somewhere between wonder and self-consciousness, moving across the gulf from 12 to 13 years of age. Mac said it beautifully, about what it was like for some of them to read the poem by Mary Oliver with which we started - "It's as though some of them didn't want the words to be fully in their mouths." They spoke hurriedly, brushing over the sounds of their own voices - feeling (maybe) the words too strange, the idea of standing by the river in a circle reading one line of the poem each too disorienting. Much rejoicing at the invitation to make structures. The river was too high for us to have access to the stones that make good cairns, so we expanded our materials. The circle above of big and little standing stones surrounding seashells was made when the mud was still soft in the morning. We all loved thinking about how far the seashells had come - to wash up in crazy, misplaced plenitude on these inland shores.
The science teacher had suggested this next idea, which was an intense one, actually: stand blindfolded for five minutes and observe the environment around you without the sense of sight. I started thinking "There's no way that I could do this with college students" and I'm still not entirely sure I could put my finger on why. Bigger discussion, but I am wary of making my students too vulnerable - somewhere between 7th grade, and college, hurts and distrust accumulate. Here, there was willingness - and these kids' trust was very poignant to me. Those who wanted to stand in the quiet rush of the river were the most still. I thought that that was so cool: to purposefully stand where the ground would shift beneath your feet. Then, after big gasps of air as the blindfolds came off, they wrote (of birds and water and sensing others nearby and many many things).
There were three Sigfrids, one for each group of kids who gathered to hear the tale from the Völsunga Saga. Each time, when Mac called for a hero, one stepped forth. And a human Fafnir and a dragon Fafnir, and birds and Ragnar and Otter and the Other Brother and more. Sometimes (here) a crutch was the sword, others a stick long dead. Each time, Fafnir met his doom and then we'd all line up on the beach and throw rocks (Fafnir's gold) into the river at the same time, the sinking stones' expanding circles disassembled by eddies swirling past. The third time we did it, Sigfrid from the second group came back to join in the story again - to hear once more about gold making men mad, and dragon's blood revealing the language of birds, and wild throws by the river's edge.
- These Days
And then there are extraordinary ordinary days. Like when your brother and his awesome wife and their two fantastic boys come to where you live, and you find yourself very soon at the park and the kids are running around and maybe you've actually...
- Summer - When A Middle-aged Medievalist Art Historian's Fancy Turns To...
... taking early morning walks with Seamus Heaney reading Beowulf (very motivating, that Grendel greedily groping). ... reclaiming this stressed-out mortal coil with sleep, and random conversations, and vegetables from the Amish. ... deciding which book...
- Very Sad
A.-F. Desportes, Dog and Pheasant, 1780sThis painting has always reminded me of Sawyer: change the coat to black and elongate the tail, and there's our hound.Was. I'm so sad to write that we've decided to find another home for Sawyer. ...
- Fabyowlis
That, you see, is how "fabulous" is spelled when you're Miss I writing about your week-end. And indeed the adventures these chickitas managed to have bespeaks some serious fabyowlosity. How long, do you think, before Miss E joins a punk band? ...
- Those Old Grey Stones Aren't What They Used To Be
On a promontory of land outside of the Swedish fishing town of Kaseberga, stand two rows of standing stones. A boat shaped burial monument, 220 feet (67m) long and composed of 59 megaliths that stand like sentinels guarding the cliffs and the pounding...
Medieval History
By the river with 7th graders, Mary Oliver, and Fafnir
- These Days
And then there are extraordinary ordinary days. Like when your brother and his awesome wife and their two fantastic boys come to where you live, and you find yourself very soon at the park and the kids are running around and maybe you've actually...
- Summer - When A Middle-aged Medievalist Art Historian's Fancy Turns To...
... taking early morning walks with Seamus Heaney reading Beowulf (very motivating, that Grendel greedily groping). ... reclaiming this stressed-out mortal coil with sleep, and random conversations, and vegetables from the Amish. ... deciding which book...
- Very Sad
A.-F. Desportes, Dog and Pheasant, 1780sThis painting has always reminded me of Sawyer: change the coat to black and elongate the tail, and there's our hound.Was. I'm so sad to write that we've decided to find another home for Sawyer. ...
- Fabyowlis
That, you see, is how "fabulous" is spelled when you're Miss I writing about your week-end. And indeed the adventures these chickitas managed to have bespeaks some serious fabyowlosity. How long, do you think, before Miss E joins a punk band? ...
- Those Old Grey Stones Aren't What They Used To Be
On a promontory of land outside of the Swedish fishing town of Kaseberga, stand two rows of standing stones. A boat shaped burial monument, 220 feet (67m) long and composed of 59 megaliths that stand like sentinels guarding the cliffs and the pounding...