In 9th grade, we had to perform monologues (or soliloquies) of our choice from Romeo and Juliet. I chose Romeo's death soliloquy, and needed two people to help me out (Paris, because he really needs to say the leading lines for anything to make sense, and (of course) Juliet). There was a really cute girl named Mia who was in the class, and was part of the group of friends who were friends with my group, but we didn't see each other that much out of class. I asked her if she'd be Juliet for me, because "it would look weird if I was just kissing the air." Suave, I know.
She agreed, and I managed to pull off a great performance, getting the second best grade in the class. The next day we started dating. She was my first girlfriend.
As a brief aside, our English teacher (who I later had for AP English in Junior year, and who was like a young(er) Kurt Vonnegut), played a devious prank on all of the 9th graders. On the day he was assigning the monologues, he would have a previous student come in with a note about something inconsequential, and ask them if they remembered their old monologue. They would fumble about, but he would insist that they at least try, to show the 9th graders how it's done. Then the former student would bust out into a startlingly dramatic, perfect rendition of their monologue. It both terrified us and pumped us up.
Man, he was a good teacher. A few months ago he died of cancer. So it goes.
I think the main reason my friends didn't like the Great Gatsby is simply because they were required to read it in high school. Nothing kills the enjoyment of literature quite like having to take a test on it.
I have never understood that. Reading a book for pure enjoyment, it is just as easy to pass a test afterward as if one had read it solely for said test.
The deadline makes you rush through it. Most people can't read at the speeds required for the classes. You can't take the time to look for what you want, only what's on the test. I enjoyed Gatsby only because I had already failed that class for the year, so I only read it for discussion and pleasure. Otherwise it would sit along side Tale of Two Cities on my list of "Yeah, I really would've liked that book and I'll go back to it in a few years, but I just couldn't get anything out of it the first time around."
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She agreed, and I managed to pull off a great performance, getting the second best grade in the class. The next day we started dating. She was my first girlfriend.
As a brief aside, our English teacher (who I later had for AP English in Junior year, and who was like a young(er) Kurt Vonnegut), played a devious prank on all of the 9th graders. On the day he was assigning the monologues, he would have a previous student come in with a note about something inconsequential, and ask them if they remembered their old monologue. They would fumble about, but he would insist that they at least try, to show the 9th graders how it's done. Then the former student would bust out into a startlingly dramatic, perfect rendition of their monologue. It both terrified us and pumped us up.
Man, he was a good teacher. A few months ago he died of cancer. So it goes.