-- Subject frequently makes cryptic allusions to mythology, Shakespeare, and/or obscure poets. Subject will probably try to solicit knowing nods from his/her audience by grinning and winking after aforementioned allusion. Don't respond. It's best not to encourage this sort of behavior.
-- Subject will often dress oddly. When asked why he/she is wearing a toga, or a floor length gown, or a cap and mustache, subject will respond immediately with something along the lines of, "We're doing mythology"; "We're in Pride and Prejudice"; "I'm supposed to be Mr. Period to talk about independent clauses." Do not feel concerned with these odd displays. Although this IS a mild form of insanity (subject experiences delusions that he/she is actually IN books), subject's delusions are relatively innocuous and will not generally lead to harm.
-- Subject may show empathy and concern for world issues and/or serious life events; however, the most immediate trigger for subject's weeping will be incorrect apostrophe usage.
-- Subject can be seen muttering to him/herself in lines of iambic pentameter.
-- Subject will show an appalling lack of recall when asked to repeat details from friends' lives. However, subject WILL be able to spout off minute details from a novel and/or poem, and can locate any given quote within said novel within 90 seconds. Those who display this unfortunate psychological imbalance can be classified as "Language Arts Savants."
-- Subject vigilantly keeps records of students' hypothetical incomes (both advances and losses) when playing societal games as part of a class curriculum. Subject, however, may be clueless as to the actual state of his/her own finances.
-- Subject will usually be oblivious to the essays stuck to his/her shoe. It's best not to call the subject's attention to this embarrassing situation. Researchers have found that an English Teacher's discovery of one more ungraded essay can easily lead to hyperventilation and/or hysterics.
-- Subject carries a red grading pen for protection, mistakenly believing "the pen is mightier than the sword."
-- Subject loves grammar jokes. "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "To." "To who?" "No, to WHOM!" This unfortunate humor can most quickly be stopped by an obliging chuckle, followed by a quick change in subject.
-- Subject becomes flushed and passionate when discussing meaningful syntax, and may show disappointment when others do not demonstrate the same heart-pounding fervor.
-- Subject finds symbolism in everything: a can of soup; a garbage can; a rearrangement in the produce aisle. In cases such as these, there is no curbing the rhapsodic ramblings; it's best to just let them play out.
These creatures are unquestionably odd, but can be charming if taken with a grain of salt and a large helping of patience. They will feel great appreciation for their friends, since clearly, they could never make it in this world on their own. An English Teacher acquaintance can come in remarkably handy when seeking an editor for grad school essays, the correct spelling of a word, or a quick grammar check. All things considered, this breed should be considered a "necessary evil," for-- though eccentric and unreasonably incensed by mistaken homonyms, the English Teacher can be helpful in his/her own idiosyncratic way.
Feb 4, 2011
Pride and Prejudice
... Is the book I'm trying to get my seniors through right now. Frankly, I'm not sure how they're managing with the text. I DO know, however, that we're having a blast recreating the society of Pride and Prejudice within our classroom.
We started by going over the different class levels of Jane Austen's world. These are, listed from the "top down," in terms of respectability:
Aristocratic Land-owners (Mr. Darcy; Lady Catherine de Bourgh)
Gentry-- also referred to as members of the aristocracy (Bingleys)
Pseudo-gentry (Bennets, Lucases-- people who are trying to maintain their gentry status through appearances and behavior, but may have difficulty in doing so because of low income and/or questionable family connections)
Clergy (Mr. Collins)
Educated working class (The Gardiners)
Un-educated working class
Servants
After establishing the esteem of each social class, each kid drew an income out of a hat. Based on that income, they were divided into classes.
Then, we turned my classroom into England.
Different corners are taped off, and the students decorated their class' respective areas. The aristocracy, for example, get to sprawl into two different corners of the classroom: first, their country residence in one corner, which is distinguished by large white cardboard pillars, ivy, and a "Harvard" banner. They also can enjoy their city residence, in the fashionable corner of London, i.e. the fashionable corner of my classroom, where I've hung various photographs and art posters. The pseudo-gentry crowds together in a smaller corner, adjacent to the gentry's comfortable abode. They've done the best with what they have, hanging tulle curtains on the wall, setting up candleabras, and generally making their best efforts to "keep up with the Darcys." The clergy are near the pseudo-gentry, and sit beneath a giant paper cross. The Educated Working Class, meanwhile, are in the unfashionable area of London. They've hung giant pieces of paper from the ceiling with windows cut out, to imitate flats in close proximity; they've also hung aprons and baskets as a nod to their various professions. The servant must sit in a small corner in front of the filing cabinet, in a portable desk. The kids MUST sit in the corner of the classroom dictated by their social status.
There's room for movement within this society though. In Austenian society, your status-- especially those in the middle classes-- was entirely dependent on how well you followed the "unwritten rules" of society. To emphasize the concept of the "unwritten rules" of decorum that each member of society was trying to follow, we played a game of cards. If kids were the first to get rid of all their cards, they could raise their income by up to 1,200 pounds, and thereby move towards a more elevated status. If they were caught with 12 cards in their hand or more, they risked losing up to 600 pounds. Here's the catch: only the aristocracy knew the rules of the game. They made the rules up with one another out in the hall, and the pseudo-gentry went in blind, trying to catch on as quickly as possible. If they accidentally broke an unwritten rule, they were penalized with a card. The sooner they caught on and managed to follow decorum, the better their chances were in advancing within society.
The events that played out were totally reflective of the actual Austenian society! Examples:
-- The student playing the servant wasn't allowed to participate in the game, since social advancement for servants was essentially impossible. However, as a member of the aristocracy's household, the servant had privileged information-- he KNEW the "rules"-- and therefore could be bribed by members of the pseudo-gentry to fill them in. Ultimately though, the richest member of class finally "bought" the servant's silence by giving him 1,000 pounds to keep the secrets. The lesson was clear: it was more advantageous in the long run for a servant to be faithful to a benevolent master than to be found untrustworthy.
-- The clergymen in each classroom struggled to maintain their incomes. At the end of the game, I told the class that their clergy would either need to abandon the work of the Lord and take up a more lucrative profession, or would need to be supported by tithes from their congregation. Some of the kids who had done well in the game agreed to support their local clergy-men, and the clergy remained in their parishes.
-- After each game, the pseudo-gentry frantically conferred to discuss their ideas of what the "unwritten rules" of the aristocracy were-- a conversation which frequently would have occurred back in Austen's society as well.
-- Although the students playing the aristocracy knew the rules, they didn't especially worry about keeping them... especially the wealthiest member of the class. What incentive does he have to keep the rules? Even if he lost thousands of pounds, he'd still be the wealthiest member of class. The kids, therefore, through their own experience, directly see why Mr. Darcy wouldn't be inclined to dance with all the ladies at Netherfield if he didn't want to. What incentive does he have to play the "social game"? He's already on top. No WONDER he comes across as such a jerk!
At the end of the game, some members of the pseudo-gentry were forced to move down into the working class, because their incomes had fallen to unsustainable levels. Some members of the working class though, who had acted shrewdly and advanced their incomes, are now close to being able to buy a "gentleman's title," and advance upwards into the pseudo-gentry.
Oh don't worry, it doesn't stop there.
Yesterday, when working on homework that asked students to analyze the text for authorial persona and irony, the kids were only allowed to work with students within their social classes. However, if the aristocracy so chose, they could invite a member or two from the pseudo-gentry to come work with them. Two of my brightest students in 4th period are members of the pseudo-gentry, and the aristocracy were obviously eager to solicit their help. Therefore, they extended a cordial invitation to the two ladies to come join them in their coutry estate.
The girls wrinkled their noses at me. "Do we HAVE to go?" they asked. "Or, at least could we choose which aristocrat we help?"
Their reluctance was immediately recognized by the other students as improper. The aristocracy had invited them in!! That was a BIG deal!
I turned to the class. "This is the situation that Elizabeth Bennet finds herself in!" I said. "Clearly, for her to turn down an offer from the aristocracy-- to risk offending them by her ironic comments, and her breaches of decorum-- is totally imprudent. She has an opportunity to advance and snubs her nose at it! BUT... she sincerely dislikes some members of the aristocracy because of their arrogance and snobbishness. Her reluctance to join them, therefore, shows her to be both bold and courageous... while also showing her to be a little reckless."
Next week, the kids will continue to either advance their statuses or fall down the social ladder by following rules of decorum. The girls have come up with rules for the guys:
1.) Gentlemen must be mustachioed.
2.) Gentlemen must compliment ladies, with sincerity, not sarcasm.
3.) When a lady walks into a room, gentlemen should stand. Gentlemen must stay standing until all ladies are seated. If a lady gets up to leave, gentlemen must stand as well. In other words, for as long as a lady is on her feet, a gentleman must stand to show her adequate courtesy.
4.) Gentlemen should escort ladies to their classes, and offer to carry a lady’s belongings.
5.) Gentlemen must address ladies as “Your highness,” or “Your majesty.”
... And the guys have come up with rules for the girls:
1.) Ladies may only drink water; while at school, no alternate beverages should be seen.
2.) A lady’s hair must be worn in two side pig-tails.
3.) Ladies should not disguise their natural beauty with make-up of any kind.
4.) Ladies should preface any utterance of a gentleman’s name with, “Oh gracious _______.”
5.) Ladies must open doors for gentlemen.
They are expected to follow these rules all day long, all week. Every day when they come to class, they'll vote on who's done the best job following the rules, and who is obviously breaking them. Kids who follow the rules well gain money and increase their statuses; kids who break the rules will lose money and fall in status. At the end of the week, we'll vote on the overall best rule-abider; that person will get 15 free homework points. Once again, the students who have the most to gain or lose are the students within the pseudo-gentry class... just as it was in Jane Austen's time.
The week after that, kids can try to advance their stations by proposing to one another. The catch? Their proposals must be in the style of one of the actual proposals in the book. Poor members of the pseudo-gentry, who are just barely hanging on, are already considering how they might try to align with a wealthier member of the working class-- an engagement which would foreseeably benefit both. The class is totally falling into the same patterns of behavior that members of Jane Austen's society fell into!
Anyway.
We're having lots of fun. :)
We started by going over the different class levels of Jane Austen's world. These are, listed from the "top down," in terms of respectability:
Aristocratic Land-owners (Mr. Darcy; Lady Catherine de Bourgh)
Gentry-- also referred to as members of the aristocracy (Bingleys)
Pseudo-gentry (Bennets, Lucases-- people who are trying to maintain their gentry status through appearances and behavior, but may have difficulty in doing so because of low income and/or questionable family connections)
Clergy (Mr. Collins)
Educated working class (The Gardiners)
Un-educated working class
Servants
After establishing the esteem of each social class, each kid drew an income out of a hat. Based on that income, they were divided into classes.
Then, we turned my classroom into England.
Different corners are taped off, and the students decorated their class' respective areas. The aristocracy, for example, get to sprawl into two different corners of the classroom: first, their country residence in one corner, which is distinguished by large white cardboard pillars, ivy, and a "Harvard" banner. They also can enjoy their city residence, in the fashionable corner of London, i.e. the fashionable corner of my classroom, where I've hung various photographs and art posters. The pseudo-gentry crowds together in a smaller corner, adjacent to the gentry's comfortable abode. They've done the best with what they have, hanging tulle curtains on the wall, setting up candleabras, and generally making their best efforts to "keep up with the Darcys." The clergy are near the pseudo-gentry, and sit beneath a giant paper cross. The Educated Working Class, meanwhile, are in the unfashionable area of London. They've hung giant pieces of paper from the ceiling with windows cut out, to imitate flats in close proximity; they've also hung aprons and baskets as a nod to their various professions. The servant must sit in a small corner in front of the filing cabinet, in a portable desk. The kids MUST sit in the corner of the classroom dictated by their social status.
There's room for movement within this society though. In Austenian society, your status-- especially those in the middle classes-- was entirely dependent on how well you followed the "unwritten rules" of society. To emphasize the concept of the "unwritten rules" of decorum that each member of society was trying to follow, we played a game of cards. If kids were the first to get rid of all their cards, they could raise their income by up to 1,200 pounds, and thereby move towards a more elevated status. If they were caught with 12 cards in their hand or more, they risked losing up to 600 pounds. Here's the catch: only the aristocracy knew the rules of the game. They made the rules up with one another out in the hall, and the pseudo-gentry went in blind, trying to catch on as quickly as possible. If they accidentally broke an unwritten rule, they were penalized with a card. The sooner they caught on and managed to follow decorum, the better their chances were in advancing within society.
The events that played out were totally reflective of the actual Austenian society! Examples:
-- The student playing the servant wasn't allowed to participate in the game, since social advancement for servants was essentially impossible. However, as a member of the aristocracy's household, the servant had privileged information-- he KNEW the "rules"-- and therefore could be bribed by members of the pseudo-gentry to fill them in. Ultimately though, the richest member of class finally "bought" the servant's silence by giving him 1,000 pounds to keep the secrets. The lesson was clear: it was more advantageous in the long run for a servant to be faithful to a benevolent master than to be found untrustworthy.
-- The clergymen in each classroom struggled to maintain their incomes. At the end of the game, I told the class that their clergy would either need to abandon the work of the Lord and take up a more lucrative profession, or would need to be supported by tithes from their congregation. Some of the kids who had done well in the game agreed to support their local clergy-men, and the clergy remained in their parishes.
-- After each game, the pseudo-gentry frantically conferred to discuss their ideas of what the "unwritten rules" of the aristocracy were-- a conversation which frequently would have occurred back in Austen's society as well.
-- Although the students playing the aristocracy knew the rules, they didn't especially worry about keeping them... especially the wealthiest member of the class. What incentive does he have to keep the rules? Even if he lost thousands of pounds, he'd still be the wealthiest member of class. The kids, therefore, through their own experience, directly see why Mr. Darcy wouldn't be inclined to dance with all the ladies at Netherfield if he didn't want to. What incentive does he have to play the "social game"? He's already on top. No WONDER he comes across as such a jerk!
At the end of the game, some members of the pseudo-gentry were forced to move down into the working class, because their incomes had fallen to unsustainable levels. Some members of the working class though, who had acted shrewdly and advanced their incomes, are now close to being able to buy a "gentleman's title," and advance upwards into the pseudo-gentry.
Oh don't worry, it doesn't stop there.
Yesterday, when working on homework that asked students to analyze the text for authorial persona and irony, the kids were only allowed to work with students within their social classes. However, if the aristocracy so chose, they could invite a member or two from the pseudo-gentry to come work with them. Two of my brightest students in 4th period are members of the pseudo-gentry, and the aristocracy were obviously eager to solicit their help. Therefore, they extended a cordial invitation to the two ladies to come join them in their coutry estate.
The girls wrinkled their noses at me. "Do we HAVE to go?" they asked. "Or, at least could we choose which aristocrat we help?"
Their reluctance was immediately recognized by the other students as improper. The aristocracy had invited them in!! That was a BIG deal!
I turned to the class. "This is the situation that Elizabeth Bennet finds herself in!" I said. "Clearly, for her to turn down an offer from the aristocracy-- to risk offending them by her ironic comments, and her breaches of decorum-- is totally imprudent. She has an opportunity to advance and snubs her nose at it! BUT... she sincerely dislikes some members of the aristocracy because of their arrogance and snobbishness. Her reluctance to join them, therefore, shows her to be both bold and courageous... while also showing her to be a little reckless."
Next week, the kids will continue to either advance their statuses or fall down the social ladder by following rules of decorum. The girls have come up with rules for the guys:
1.) Gentlemen must be mustachioed.
2.) Gentlemen must compliment ladies, with sincerity, not sarcasm.
3.) When a lady walks into a room, gentlemen should stand. Gentlemen must stay standing until all ladies are seated. If a lady gets up to leave, gentlemen must stand as well. In other words, for as long as a lady is on her feet, a gentleman must stand to show her adequate courtesy.
4.) Gentlemen should escort ladies to their classes, and offer to carry a lady’s belongings.
5.) Gentlemen must address ladies as “Your highness,” or “Your majesty.”
... And the guys have come up with rules for the girls:
1.) Ladies may only drink water; while at school, no alternate beverages should be seen.
2.) A lady’s hair must be worn in two side pig-tails.
3.) Ladies should not disguise their natural beauty with make-up of any kind.
4.) Ladies should preface any utterance of a gentleman’s name with, “Oh gracious _______.”
5.) Ladies must open doors for gentlemen.
They are expected to follow these rules all day long, all week. Every day when they come to class, they'll vote on who's done the best job following the rules, and who is obviously breaking them. Kids who follow the rules well gain money and increase their statuses; kids who break the rules will lose money and fall in status. At the end of the week, we'll vote on the overall best rule-abider; that person will get 15 free homework points. Once again, the students who have the most to gain or lose are the students within the pseudo-gentry class... just as it was in Jane Austen's time.
The week after that, kids can try to advance their stations by proposing to one another. The catch? Their proposals must be in the style of one of the actual proposals in the book. Poor members of the pseudo-gentry, who are just barely hanging on, are already considering how they might try to align with a wealthier member of the working class-- an engagement which would foreseeably benefit both. The class is totally falling into the same patterns of behavior that members of Jane Austen's society fell into!
Anyway.
We're having lots of fun. :)
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