Overheard at a Classical School: Part two
My office shares a wall with our school clinic. Normally, this means I hear anything from cold-induced sniffles to tall tales of tummy aches.
When it’s quiet, though, I can sometimes hear what’s happening on just the other side of the clinic in the school atrium. Those noises usually consist of giggling girls walking to their next class or small study groups quizzing each other.
But on one day last winter, my ear was caught by an unfamiliar noise: it sounded, for all I could tell, like the clinking of a sword. Now, at this point in the day, I was knee-deep in a state report due later that week so I thought I was imagining things. Upon hearing another clink, though, I became thoroughly distracted.
Then I remembered. This was the day of the 10th grade medieval feast to celebrate the end of reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
I should have remembered this more quickly given that my husband organizes the event. As such, the weeks leading up to this very feast took quite a toll on my kitchen. Between food preparation and the painting of a giant green head, there weren’t many spaces left in my house untouched by paint, papier-mache, or medieval armory.
Judging by the clinking and subsequent “oohs” and “ahhhs” the feast had reached its climax. . Indeed, I entered the atrium, looked past forty-five 10th graders in medieval garb, and realized that I had arrived at the perfect moment: right in time to witness the smallest girl in the grade step to the front of the room, pick up a large, sharp axe, and raise it over my husband’s head (now a yearly event in my life, for those curious).
The room was frozen. Every eye was fixed on her. Then the victim (my husband) cried, “Swing true!”
With a mighty thrust, the small 10th grade girl swung her ax and….nearly decapitated the Green Knight (her axe hung up in the styrofoam neck that my husband thankfully held a safe distance from his real one). A trickle of laugher followed as the Green Knight called, “Swing true-er!” One more swing and the knight was finished. The room erupted with cheers of celebration and the knight’s noble adversary was given great honors.
The rest of the class period was occupied by feasting, delightful conversation, and games and sports fitting of the times (axe throwing, mostly).
When I’ve told this story in the past, I’ve gotten one of two reactions. Families either think it’s awesome or they think it’s awesome and pretty nerdy. While I’ll concede that it is a little nerdy and definitely agree that it’s awesome, I very rarely get the chance to talk about why we hold the feast at all.
Perhaps you’ll be relieved to hear that there isn’t some earth-shattering, deep reason to hold a medieval feast. It’s really quite simple.
This scene - where a giant green knight intrudes upon King Arthur’s Christmas feast and challenges anyone there to behead him with an axe - is taken straight from a great poem. It’s one of the strangest and most memorable that our students read. And we like to celebrate the hard work of reading. Though our students enjoy what they read in class, taking the time to celebrate a hallmark book makes for a great day of respite.
Specifically, celebrating in this way, where we do honor to the strangeness and even playfulness of a book, we remind ourselves that literature is a thing that brings us joy.
You see, reading literature at a classical school goes beyond learning vocabulary words and summary skills. We read so we can examine lives - both our own and those within the pages. We read, to remind ourselves that every life has meaning and a story worth hearing. That kind of work deserves a grand celebration and joyful feasting.
I’ve touched on joy as a key element of a classical education before. You can read more about that in my What is Classical Education post, but I’ll sing it until the cows come home. Joyless educators have no business calling themselves classical. It is, beyond doubt, an essential piece of our work.
