Jenny Jones and Shakespeare
Those of us who had Jenny Jones for English IV probably remember Macbeth and memorizing 100 lines from Shakespeare's dark tragedy. Who would have thought that in just a few years I would be teaching Macbeth to seniors at Byrd High School and later to seniors at Brazosport High School in Freeport, Tex., and requiring them, too, to memorize lines from Macbeth. At the 50th reunion dance, Andy Dalyrymple and Ellen Neely Doran remembered parts of those lines, and I recited the great soliloquy from Act IV:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing (4.5.19-28).
What did those lines mean to me in 1957? Not much. Then I lived life, and at times, I knew exactly what those lines meant when I was facing some crises, deep blue funks and dark nights of the soul. Of course, my situation was not as bad as Macbeth's situation: his wife just died, Dunsinane Wood would march to his castle; Macduff, the man whom Macbeth was told to "beware," a man "not born or woman," but from his mother's womb "untimely ripped," was on his way to chop Macbeth's head off--all these things prophesied by the three witches.
Once in a sleazy bar restroom in Shreveport, I wrote Macbeth's soliloquy from memory on the wall beside those classic lyrics that begin, "The night was dark, the sky way blue, / And round the corner...," well, you know how it goes. I wonder what those who wandered later into the restroom and read those words above the urinal thought?
The point of all this is that we learned things from Jenny Jones and our other teachers we didn't really realize we were learning, things we didn't understand until maybe five, 10 or 20 years later.
. . .and we are the better for what we learned unaware and should be grateful to our old teachers.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing (4.5.19-28).
What did those lines mean to me in 1957? Not much. Then I lived life, and at times, I knew exactly what those lines meant when I was facing some crises, deep blue funks and dark nights of the soul. Of course, my situation was not as bad as Macbeth's situation: his wife just died, Dunsinane Wood would march to his castle; Macduff, the man whom Macbeth was told to "beware," a man "not born or woman," but from his mother's womb "untimely ripped," was on his way to chop Macbeth's head off--all these things prophesied by the three witches.
Once in a sleazy bar restroom in Shreveport, I wrote Macbeth's soliloquy from memory on the wall beside those classic lyrics that begin, "The night was dark, the sky way blue, / And round the corner...," well, you know how it goes. I wonder what those who wandered later into the restroom and read those words above the urinal thought?
The point of all this is that we learned things from Jenny Jones and our other teachers we didn't really realize we were learning, things we didn't understand until maybe five, 10 or 20 years later.
. . .and we are the better for what we learned unaware and should be grateful to our old teachers.
Interesting, and I can identify with what you say.
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I have read tributes to my favorite teacher on some other FPHS sites. Antoinette Tuminello Price either substituted or student taught part of my Freshman English. She challenged me to start reading grownup books (I almost wrote "adult", but that has such a different meaning now). So i went from teenage girl romances directly to what my father got from his book club - Frank Yerby and Ernest Hemingway. We also subscribed to the Saturday Evening Post and Reader's Digest and their condensed books, so I read those too. Fortunately, the art of double entendre still existed, so i didn't understand a lot of the sexual parts of Yerby and Hemingway. Unlike most of today's "literature", the sex was very secondary to the strong stories.
Then, I was privileged to have Mrs. Price for American History. She taught me one of the most important things that i have ever learned: to think about why, how and what was the outcome instead of just what and when and where. This not only has been a VERY great blessing when I have visited historical sites but has made me a true "critic" as I have analyzed not only history, but today's world.
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I, too, am grateful to some of those old teachers who so patiently taught us, including Jenny Jones. The first week I entered her classroom, I knew I had to get transferred to another teacher after two years of easy street in Bernard Sliman's English classes (with all due respect to a good literature teacher). I promptly went to see Mr. Herron, who pulled my records after he heard my plea. I'll never forget his answer to my request... "Sandra, you are a straight A English student. You'll do fine in Mrs. Jones' class." How do you tell the Asst. Principal that you are TERRIFIED of a teacher and had hardly hit a lick at a snake as far as grammar was concerned over the past two years? Mr. Herron said he would have a talk with her so I felt I had won at least half of a battle, so back to class I went. After completing my Senior year and enrolling in college, I realized that the English instruction I received from "Miss Jenny" was equal to what most students are finishing college with today. She just did not teach me to be brief!
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From what Sandra said about Ms. Jones, I guess I'm lucky (or unlucky) I didn't have her for a teacher. I had Ms. Johns and she was a dear. I really enjoyed being in her class. The one thing I remember most is having to memorize something in 20 minutes and then stand up in front of the class and recite it. That use to scare the heck out of me!
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