Hamlet, Darnit, She Was In Hamlet!

Zorak loves me unconditionally and wholeheartedly. I know this, and that is why I am not insecure when he gives me pitying, head-shaking looks while we discuss mathematics. Or, more accurately, while he postulates, expounds and monologues about mathematics.

I just sit there like the RCA puppy; attentive, but clueless.

The tables turn, however, when we discuss, say, Shakespeare. Tonight I was trying to explain to him who Helena Bonham Carter is, and all I could say was, "Ophelia! You know, she was Ophelia in Mel Gibson's Hamlet! You know..."

No. He didn't know. Not that he didn't know who Helena Bonham Carter is (he did remember her from Fight Club). He doesn't know who Ophelia is.

This is where we switch roles. I don the didactic robes and he dons the puppy spots. He starts sniffing about the couch, roams into the kitchen looking for food and eventually wanders off completely, leaving me to mumble to myself, "I really do like Kenneth Branagh, but I just felt the way Gibson set Rosencrantz' arrival at the castle fit what I saw when I read it..."

So there you have it, hidden beneath the weirdness of discussions in our home, two very clear academic goals we have for the boys. Zorak wants them to know mathematics on a deep and personal level. OK, I wouldn't put it that flowery. From his perspective, he wants them to own it, make it their slave, use it hard and fling it around like a used tissue, baby! (Mmm, yeah, been a while since I had to talk like a guy, so let's just consider that a wholeheartedly paraphrased sentiment there. Hopefully, however, you get the idea.)

I want them to read and explore the world around them, to grasp words and understand what it means to truly savor stories, books, histories. I want them to understand my food-related book review guide on a nearly cellular level: taste what you are reading, feel the texture. If you are steeped in language and your taste buds are primed, then when you hit on a masterpiece, you'll never forget that full sensation for the rest of your life. I want them to get obscure references - they're like extra smiles you wouldn't get otherwise. Who would voluntarily pass up on extra smiles?

We do have to accept the fact that out of three children, odds are good that one (or more) may never really revere Fourier the way Zorak does. And one (or more... *sniff, sniff*) may not feel a from-the-belly laugh at Shakespeare's comedies.

It could happen.

But at least, if we do our jobs well and expose them to things like this, show them what's been laid out before them, they'll at least be able to roll their eyes at me and groan when I make silly references. They'll see another Laplace diatribe coming on from Zorak and head for the kitchen in search of food.

And they will know who Ophelia is!!!!!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy