I am Little and Fierce
thoughts on two years of teaching and a lifetime of embodying A Midsummer Night’s Dream
What’s more interesting, saying that Napoleon was exiled to Elba and St. Helena, or that he was yeeted out of France? Would I be more successful engaging my students if I said Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan” is a classic work of Romantic poetry, or if I said
our mans Sam wrote it high on opium after waking from a fever dream?
I’ve always enjoyed simplifying plots or historical events to be modern, colloquial adaptations. It makes the seemingly inaccessible unexpected, fun, and uniquely one’s own. Shakespeare is rife with opportunities to re-tell stories this way, which I joyfully found when teaching A Midsummer Night’s Dream to my students last Fall for the first time and currently for the second.
For those who slept or played 2048 through English class (aka most of my kids), A Midsummer Night’s Dream is William Shakespeare’s Athenian comedy following four young people caught in a love triangle (or love parallelogram, more accurately), the King and Queen of the fairies and their chaotic attendant Puck, and a troupe of workers-turned-aspiring-actors who are led (for all intents and purposes) by the over-confident and over-talkative Bottom. Hilarity (for the reader) ensues when they all get stuck in the forest and Puck introduces a love potion into the mix, but in the end everyone ends up in love with and married to their true beloved.
Recounting Helena’s short jokes used to spar with Hermia, Puck’s dragging on humans, Lysander’s incredibly extra loverboy moments (have I mentioned my students taught me the word “simp,” which kinda describes him tbh), and Bottom’s know-it-all stupidity was so much fun for me as a teacher—and even one of my few successes of my students’ having fun with the text, too. Especially throwing in flower crowns, paper swords, and a printed out donkey head, the insanity and silliness of the play came alive when the students realized it spoke their own language, in a sense.
Re-reading and teaching this Shakespearean comedy also allowed some of the lines to strike me in a way that went over my own head as a student. Naturally, “the course of true love never did run smooth” (I.i.136) made my heart flutter and eased some relationship anxiety (my soon-to-be sister-in-law actually lettered that quote on a painting for me last Christmas). Helena’s overwrought monologue laying out her unrequited lovesickness made me sympathize so deeply with her even when my students said they thought she needed to get a life—which, to be fair, I also thought to myself that I hoped ancient mythological Athens had a good therapist for our girl, because YIKES was there some trauma history on display from the way she pursued Demetrius.
What was more surprising to me, though, was how much I both bristled at and yet identified with the oft-quoted (out of context) line, “though she be but little, she is fierce” (III.ii.342). I’d seen this quotation all over social media for years as a rallying cry for big-spirited short girls (a guild for which I am a card-carrying member), but I’d forgotten that it was meant as a derogatory short joke in the midst of a love-potion induced cat fight between two best friends.
I’d also forgotten just how much Hermia hated the jabs at her littleness, and how much that goading made her so ready to fight that she shouted “I am not yet so low / But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes” (III.ii.312-313 — sometimes Billy Shakes doesn’t need translation for us to see that shit’s about to go down).
She truly became fierce, but not in a positive way. I described Hermia as “killer chihuahua energy” to my students this past week, which sums it up. She turned against her best friend because of a MAN—one who wasn’t even in his right mind when he was shaking her off of him. It is not meant as an inspiring quote.
And yet, last year at my holy hour while I was teaching this play, it was a line that was stuck in my head, and kept playing on repeat so that I ended up journaling about it. I found peace that even though I am “little” in the St. Therese sense of being sinful with not much capacity to do the good things I desire to do, I can (and do, I hope) still pursue Jesus with an unexpected ferocity, despite the odds. Being low and little does not stop us from being powerful and strong.
So, the line has taken on a “nevertheless, she persisted” kind of transformation for me. I proudly say that even though I am little, I am fierce—I am short, sometimes petty, and sometimes a weak teacher who gets walked over by her students, but I always have a fire within me that will stay burning and fight back no matter how belittled my little self may be. I am not so low that my voice can reach the heights of power to call for justice. Hopefully, in so doing, I make my grandma Zoraida—the OG little and fierce woman—proud.
It took me a whole quarter into the school year to post here (and even then, it was a post that was sitting half-written in my drafts), so I have exactly three book updates:
The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. I was absolutely shaken by how good and relevant to Baltimore this book was, which is honestly pretty ignorant to say, but it’s true. It was assigned to my students as a summer reading choice, so instead of just SAYING it was a good book because I knew it to be true, I read it and saw how good it was first hand. Especially as he talks about Easton, the Chesapeake Bay, Fells Point, and getting Baltimore boys to teach him how to read by poking their pride in saying he could read better than them—it was all so real and relevant to my students that I had goosebumps. Also, the commentary on a false Christianity that supported slavery was phenomenal and remarkably relevant to modern day. I am late to the party but on this classic, but am going to blast my praise of it all the same.
Book Lovers by Emily Henry. I devoured this rom-com in September. It was deeply good and well-written, and even though it had the obvious enemies-to-lovers trope and so many fan-service bookstore and publishing industry moments, it was surprising, emotionally meaningful, and satisfying. I can’t wait to read her other books.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Wait, isn’t this already the topic of this post? You betcha, and I make the rules here so I get to spend a few lines telling you to go read Shakespeare for fun. This play is phenomenal and should not stay chained within Sophomore English classes.
The Winners by Fredrik Backman. Wait, didn’t she say three updates? Yes, and again, I make the rules here. (Plus I haven’t read this yet so it’s still technically three book updates). Fredrik Backman is my favorite author and Beartown is my favorite book of his, so you bet I got the final installment of the Beartown trilogy as soon as possible. More information coming soon once I actually read it, but for now, go read Beartown, Us Against You, my grandmother asked me to tell you she’s sorry, and his first book A Man Called Ove (before the American movie version A Man Called Otto with Tom Hanks comes out), and report back to me. Additionally, fellow font lovers, come commiserate with me about how Simon and Schuster CHANGED the cover font of his books for Anxious People (which I still have to finish reading after a year pause because #ADHD) and the THIRD BOOK of a TRILOGY. Simon and Schuster, you thought we wouldn’t notice because it was also an all-caps handwritten font? THINK AGAIN.
That is all for now. I hope autumn is treating you all well and that you embrace ferocity and littleness as we begin a new week. Please ~subscribe~ to give your friend a dopamine hit and to make sure you don’t miss my ever-erratic postings here.
In Billy Shakes we trust,
Branan