St. George's play

At the end of April we had St. George's Day here in England.  Apparently it's a big deal.  Since we were in the midst of a local geography lesson, it seemed only right to learn more about it and how it's celebrated here.

We already knew the story of St. George slaying the dragon.  It has been told and retold countless times, by countless people.  Usually it's something we do at Michaelmas, and my go-to version comes from one of the Waldorf books.  However, this time I told a version I found over at the Baldwin Project from C. S. Bailey, entitled simply: St. George and the Dragon.  And the girls were quick to say that they preferred this retelling much more than the others.

Because Sunburst had been studying the Crusades a few months ago, we were reminded about how St. George's cross was used to identify a crusader and then brought to England by Richard the Lionheart to identify English troops in battle.

We set out to hear the poem by William Blake ("And did those feet in ancient time") that was turned into a hymn of sorts and named "Jerusalem."  It's a wonderful song-- even Emerson, Lake and Palmer covered it in the 70s.  The girls were so enamored with the song that we were inspired to learn it.  And that was Monday.  Our first attempts to get the tune down were hilarious, but by Tuesday we had begun to show signs of improvement.

The girls both made some lovely St. George drawings for their books.  Sunburst wanted to draw hers in pencil, while Moonshine asked if she could use pastels.  Moonshine's drawing had such an otherworldly quality to it that it reminded me of program covers from Waldorf school plays.  The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that we finally had a large enough cast to put on a proper play.  The kids were immediately excited by the idea and thought it would be a great surprise for their dad Einstein.

We created a program using artwork from the girls' main lesson books.  I included the words to "Jerusalem" so that it would be a nice keepsake for the kids.  Even Kitty Bill picked up the lyrics rather quickly.

 Here is Sunburst's drawing on the inside of the program:

And Kitty Bill was inspired to draw a picture, as well: 

Both Sunburst and Moonshine wanted to help write the dialog, so we worked on it together in the afternoons as they found the inspiration.  Somehow the entire thing took on a life of its own and turned into a musical-- this is what happens when you have children that don't ever stop singing.

Sunburst played both the king and the dragon.  She managed to transform a cereal box into a convincing dragon's head.  Moonshine took the part of the Princess Sabra, with the comic exception that she wanted to be eaten by the dragon.  Kitty Bill played St. George.  His role was fairly straight forward, but he managed to bring some comedic personality to the role when, overcome with wonder by Sunburst's convincing dragon death scene during rehearsals, he shouted, "Awesome!"  We laughed so hard that we decided to leave that line in for the performance.

They had a fantastic time, and Einstein was completely impressed.  He couldn't believe that they had pulled off the show without him catching any hint of it.  And of course he was taken with their performances.

We managed to capture the entire performance on video to send the grandparents back in the states.  I think it will be quite the treat for my British grandmother in particular.  I fully expect she will be singing along.

Shakespeare in the park

How now, brown cow?

Last night we strolled over to the park to watch a creative adaptation of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Perhaps not the best subject matter for our children, or was it?

This foray into the land of dramatic arts was Einstein's brainchild, and I knew there was no hope of actually watching the play itself. Kitty Bill and Moonshine can barely sit through dinner, did we really expect them to sit through Shakespeare? And what of Sunburst? How do seven-year-olds fare with the Olde English language? Doth thine ears quiver and thine head shaketh when thou speaketh? Would she dig the language and even get the faintest hint at what was going on? More so, did I want her to?

Twelfth Night is a story about a love triangle. Viola, disguised as a man, loves the duke. The duke loves Olivia, and Olivia loves Cesario (erm, Viola.) There's a bit more to it than that, obviously, but that's the gyst. While Kitty Bill and I watched Moonshine play on the playground, Einstein and Sunburst tried to decipher what was actually happening on the stage:

"If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!"

Sunburst didn't really get the plot, but she adored it. She desperately wanted to know what was happening and couldn't take her eyes off the stage. During Intermission, Einstein walked her backstage and let her look around. She was awestruck! Later she told me there was a table full of food and books and lots of people in costume stumbling around. One of them even mimed to her. She found the entire thing fascinating.

On the way home, she had more questions than she knew what to do with.

• How do they know what to say?
• What's a script?
• Did that guy, uh... Headspeare or whatever you called him, write the script?
• Are there books about this stuff?
• What was actually happening?
• Why did that girl dress in the fisherman's clothes?
• How does it end?

We left after Intermission, which was well after bedtime. Sunburst wanted to know right away what it was really all about. Einstein told her they could look for a book tomorrow at the library, but that wasn't quite fast enough for her. She had to know now.

"Aw Dad, can't we just google it?"