I’ve had some bizarre pseudo-memories lately that revolve around bathing. I’m not sure what to make of this, (or the fact that I am pretty convinced my parents called me “little Adolf” (another story for another day) while my hair was swept to the side by water rinsing away shampoo) but there is at least one memory that proves the fact I was doomed to be wrapped in literature from an early age.
When I was very young, my parents repeatedly watched Zeffirelli’s adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. This scene (the first twenty seconds of it anyway) had an immense impact on my young mind. My father has confirmed that I would throw a washcloth over my face while in the bath tub and “blah blah blahblah” to my little heart’s content. And so it was that my parents studying Shakespeare on film doomed me to the life of an English teacher.
Every day teachers see the fruits of parental labor or lack thereof. Read to your kids. Watch movies made fifty years ago that are based on 16th century plays and are both, somehow, still relevant. It will have an effect.
