I got to teach three greats today.
We finished the movie of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest which, sadly, will be the only interpretation that some of my students saw some of. It’s to be expected, though. Phones and late work and homework from other classes are tough competition. Too bad kids never met Ken Kesey–I did!–because they might have understood why it was, and is, a big deal.
We’re in the process of reading Fahrenheit 451. It’s not hard literature, and it certainly follows the themes of many books we’ve read so far this year. It’s Ray Bradbury, a fellow Angelino, in one of his seminal moments. Plus, I might be able to find the Francois Truffaut movie version that has Julie Christie playing different female roles (she pretty much just changes wigs).
I finished the day with “Harrison Bergeron,” by Kurt Vonnegut. I’m bummed that I didn’t read Cat’s Cradle with my sophomore honors kids, but each year it gets a little tougher for them to understand, or read, or both.
Bradbury finishes last here in my list of literary heroes. Kesey and Vonnegut, though from different circles (or are they really?) are two of my favorites. Despite Vonnegut’s cynicism, he is much like me in his disdain for people because he is surrounded by them. He still loves them, as do I, but when so many surround you, sometimes the good folks get lost among the bad. As for Kesey, he just wanted to wake people up. And Bradbury, he certainly doesn’t need me to state his greatness. He has plenty of works that people will remember forever.
This is what I get to do during my days. I get to talk about great literature, explore great ideas, and banter about the ideas of authors I never got to meet (except Kesey). It’s like a salon every single day, where all my students come prepared and we laugh, discuss, eat cucumber sandwiches, and wonder when our seat at the table will come, or be up. The halcyon days. The greats are looking down (or up) at me as students and I relive it all.
Okay, I was being sarcastic about that last part–the well-oiled salon machine. I’m sorry/not sorry. I’m not going to apologize for loving teaching and talking about great literature and trying to pass that along to today’s youth. I will apologize for failing daily.
What’s the matter with people? I can talk to you about sports, food, travel, pets, spouses, movies, music–a myriad of circles that I can fit in. When it comes to books, though, especially the ones I teach (don’t pull out the semantics of that word), the audience is minimal. I don’t want to throw other teachers under the bus either, as most of them are busy trying to do the same thing I’m trying to do every day–get through it, have the kids learn some stuff, remember the big ideas for another day.
Kesey, Vonnegut, and Bradbury are all dead (though my copy of F 451 still has the author alive because of the age of our books). I would tweet at them if they were still alive, as I do with several other authors and artists. It’s not stalking–it’s an electronic salon. Who knew that Joyce Carol Oates was a huge cat lover? She is, and she posts some great things. Who knew that Bret Easton Elllis . . . gosh, I follow him?
Someone come by and talk to me about Orwell. Someone come by and we’ll talk about what Vonnegut would be doing online. Someone come by and tell me how bad a choice Jack Nicholson was to play R.P. McMurphy, because the character should be bigger and happier.
If no one comes by, I’ll just have to keep typing to myself. Myself to myself, with apologies (not really) to Debora Iyall and Romeo Void. 415!