Seven Stages of Man

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This week in Language John and I have been reading William Shakespeare's Seven Ages of Man, sad Jacques' monologue from As You Like It. John is very motivated by this particular monologue because it moves him and he chose to do several activities with it, specifically he wanted to write his own piece using this one as a model.

No matter what we did this afternoon I could tell that John's mind was working a mile a minute and that he was barely paying attention. I sent him off for a neighborhood walk so that he could blow off some steam, get himself together, have a bit of fun.

He then went off and, in mere moments, no kidding, he sat down and wrote this piece, first edit, in imitation of Seven Stages of Man. 

In minutes.

First a parasite that knows nought but black, darkness is replaced by the first light and a hospital's sterile walls. The womb of a mother replaced by her arms and caring gaze. The light walks across the walls as if dancing. Yet life doesn’t continue to be so entrancing.

Metamorphosis spares no man nor woman, for next the cocoon of childhood takes hold. The world begins molding and bending them. Every second is spent slowly shaping them to be obedient. But for now, they let us keep the dreams of living in space stay, and the delusions of a perfect world.

Alas they grow, their dreams fall and rise like bread, but in the end the only ones that stand are from those that go against the grain, those that challenge this puppet master we call society. Some who attempt this fight are drained until they become soulless beings like the rest of the drove, others continue to try and show the world color. But time moves on, and this proving ground is short lived.

Then we begin the descent, for the apex is fleeting and sudden. Now we all ask the question, are we prepared for the end? Is our happiness going to last? Has it even begun? The questions don’t stop until we do. It is finally time to start anew, the cycle begins again with a new face. We willingly pull the innocent into our broken world, one which has been hijacked by fear and hate. Yet life goes on.

Falling yet faster our wings begin to wilt. Every moment is spent fighting, whether it is against, or for, others. No more time to think of our future, the crowed must be controlled. The rebels that once fought, now fall into line and pretend to never have defied. We all become what we hate, those that were once oppressed gain power and become the oppressors, the system starts anew.

The moment that we all have waited for. All the time in the world is theirs, but they’ve given that which they were born with away. Relaxation has finally come, the back breaking is left to the next generation. Now that their fire is gone others must light their the way. Warfare isn’t as intimidating when others are under fire. There is no need to stop the system when you’re the one in power.

The final moments, when we all return to the darkness. The light walks across the wall as if dancing. The final light and the hospital's sterile walls are replaced with darkness. The darkness reclaims the parasite. We all return to star stuff.

The next stage of this guy...

This is the boy who, just months ago, wouldn't pick up a pencil and who, I feared, would never be able to write. He was nervous and scared of writing and felt completely unable to write. 

Today he wrote this.

His confidence is way up and his desire to write is super high. Today he said When I want to write, Mom, it makes so much sense and I'm loving being able to write. I wrote this because I wanted to not because you asked me to do it.

The next stage for him.
Just...thanks, John, for pleasing this happy homeschool mom.