my pen, books, lists, and hand-outs on the desk, others pretending to ignore me. After the comforting routine of taking attendance I explain that I will hand out and discuss the syllabus at the end of the session.
“First I’m going to be boringly predictable for a moment. I’ll try to be excitingly wild and erratic later on.” This earns me my first titters of amusement. “Can someone define the term ‘comedy’ for us?”
One finger shoots up; it belongs to a ginger-haired boy in the last row.
“Yes—Logan, isn’t it?”
“That’s me, ma’am. Could we open the door, ma’am, to—” He waves his hand around to signify circulation. There are a few giggles, but they are nervous giggles. I have been challenged, and it takes me a second to overcome an instinctive reluctance to teach my first class for anyone to hear who walks along the hallway.
“Sure, be my guest.” In subtle retaliation I remain where I am and smile my permission at him to stand up and walk over to the door himself.
Several of my prospective English majors are of the eager beaver variety, girls who always do their homework and don’t let the teacher down. The eager beavers may not produce flights of fancy but they do keep a class afloat. We sort out that the everyday use of the term “comedy” has to be distinguished from its scholarly use and that a comedy is not necessarily belly-laugh funny.
“Isn’t the difference that at the end of a tragedy everyone is dead, and at the end of a comedy everyone is married?” says a girl wearing a bandana to keep her bright blond curls out of her face.
“That’s a little simplistic, but yes, let’s work with this definition. How would you categorize, say, Titanic? The event was, we all agree, tragic. The hubris of one man leads to the death of hundreds. But how would we categorize the genre of the movie? Kate Winslet doesn’t get to marry Leo di Caprio; that seems to rule out comedy. But do you remember the narrative frame of the movie?”
A low murmur arises as they begin to get involved in the debate, and I inwardly sigh with relief. I think I’ve got them. I make eye contact for a quick second with bandana girl and grin at her; she grins back.
“Now. If at the center of drama is the conflict between Life and Death, except that in comedy Life prevails while in tragedy Death prevails—” the class hurriedly starts scribbling notes “—then comedy and tragedy are basically about the same issues, but in different…flavors. Different modes. Now, I’d like to turn two more corners with you, and then we’ll probably just have time to look at a very short text. Can we think about the origins of drama for a moment? Because I believe that an anthropological perspective will allow us to see even more clearly how comedy and tragedy are flip sides of the same coin.”
This is either slightly over their heads, or not interesting enough after Leonardo di Caprio.
“Well, what cultural practices did people engage in that would, over time, develop into theatre?”
“Reality TV.” Logan, his long hair flopping over one eye, evidently aspires to the position of class clown.
“Well, obviously, reality TV,” I agree, poker-faced. “What else?”
They confer amongst themselves, and finally someone tentatively offers me “ritual.”
“Precisely, and the point of all these aboriginal rituals is the survival of the community, isn’t it? We dance, so that the gods may send rain or the return of sunlight. But if you’re making a deal with someone, you have to give something in return—sacrifice.”
“The Legend of the Five Suns,” says a slim boy who had not so far spoken up. I ask him to explain to the others, and he does, very articulately, but also a little diffidently. Note to self: remember to encourage the shy ones.
“What about religion?” asks one of the eager beavers.
“We’ve just been talking about religion,” Jocelyn with the bandana rebukes her.
“No! Proper religion! Christianity.”
“Sure, same thing.” Jocelyn is obviously willing to take control of the discussion, and I step back and watch my first class session crash and burn.
“Christianity isn’t one of those primitive, bloodthirsty rites!”
“It is so! You have a god, or the son of a god, and he is sacrificed to save mankind. It’s the same as in the Aztec legend, and there’re dozens of myths like this, all over the world! In fact—” Jocelyn leans forward, and I feel a shiver of fear “—Christians eat their