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Emergency Sub Plan 2-- What is love? Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no mo. . .

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So Brad lives in the high school world--the one with the really big boys who have to duck to get into doors.  I live in the junior high world--the world where I have students follow me into the restroom asking me questions like, "Mrs. Denton, do you really want us to print out those stories you asked us to?  I mean, really.  Because you did not spend an entire day teaching us how to print, so I was wondering.  .  , " or "Mrs. Denton, are those your boots under the stall?  I really like them.  Where do you shop?  Whaaaat?  You're on Pinterest?  Me, too!" or "Hi, Mrs. Denton" (then child awkwardly stands too close to me while I wash my hands).

My sweet honors 7th graders and I are in the midst of finishing up A Midsummer Night's Dream, so we have been talking about love for a few weeks now, and it's February--the month of the groundhog, African Americans, and loooooove.  Plus, I saw Fiddler on the Roof this weekend which is about TRA-DI-TION (I sung that, btw); however, it is also about love, how love works in culture, and how culture influences the definition of love.  

Which leads to today's topic (should you choose to accept it), what is love?  I mean, for reals.  Were Romeo and Juliet in love?  Can Demetrius really love Helena considering he is under the influence of the love potion?  And what about Oberon and Titania's messed up marriage?  What in the world?

Is there a constant, unchanging definition of love?  Are lovers ever really star-crossed?  

Brad calls me a Vulcan on our good days or an ice queen on our bad days.  I'm a highly anxious, very logical person who is very practical about most things--the kind of girl who would rather have her faucet fixed than have roses (hint, hint--Valentine's Day).  I totally don't believe in love at first sight, I think that love is constant, and I think that Demetrius and Helena are going to have a messed up marriage.  I mean, Helena hates herself, and Demetrius is a cheating louse who is willing to kick her--not a solid foundation for marriage.

However, I also know that love is magical.  It has caused me to change in ways I thought I would never change (like actually made a crock pot meal before school this morning.  I know.  I don't know myself most days).  It has softened my edges, given me a deeper sense of humor, and made me less of a germaphobe (Hello--I am on day 4 of rubbing anti-fungal cream all over my daughter).

Here's my answer:  Love is magical.  .  . and hard. . . and complicated. . . and totally worth it (today--ask me tomorrow and you may find me a grave man).

Ball's in your court, Mr. Denton.

(And I totally know this writing is disjointed and weird, but I have also learned to, in the words of that prophetess Elsa, let it go.  Hopefully, Brad can bring the jelly today--mixing metaphors like a mix master).














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