Nightingale

Chapter 2

The clock struck two and it was finally time for literature. The three girls made their way into the old classroom, and took their usual seats by the large, stained-glass window which depicted some scenes from the myth of Leda and the Swan. Fable never really liked the window seat, as it was particularly draughty, but she put up with it anyway because her friends liked the fact is was the farthest away from the board and teacher – and at least for Fable, it meant that she could observe Mr Hudson without making it obvious to him. She opened up her poetry textbook and thumbed through the pages eagerly to find the poem they had been told to read last weekend. It was 'Ode To A Nightingale' by the romantic poet, John Keats. Fable wondered what about it appealed so much to her teacher, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She sat brooding in silence as she waited for the classroom chatter to fade away and Mr Hudson's calming voice to take over.

"Okay, class," spoke Mr Hudson. "Please turn to page thirty-two in the anthology and we will pick up from where we left off last week. May I have a volunteer to read the poem please?"

The response in the classroom seemed to be unanimous, as every student quickly averted their eyes from the teacher, staring into their book, or some other distant object in the room, in the hopes that they wouldn't be selected as the reading 'volunteer'. Mr Hudson let out a sigh and followed it up with a wry smile.

"Christie," he said, suddenly, "I know you always do your homework on time. How about you read the first two stanzas for us."

Christie felt the hot blaze of embarrassment christen her cheeks with redness, as she imagined the eyes of several dozen judgemental teenagers gazing at her – listening intently to every awkward syllable to exit her mouth. She wrinkled her forehead at him as if to beg him no, but he simply smiled back in earnestness. She had no choice and began to read.

"An excellent reading, Christie!" praised Mr Hudson, while clapping his hands together enthusiastically, "You didn't have to read the whole thing, but I'm sure everyone is eternally grateful you did. Now, let's discuss what we think about the poem – did we like it? Tell me what you think might be a possible interpretation?"

A boy named George put his hand up and was prompted to give his opinion.

"Well, I did some research and one critic said the main theme is paradox – the contrast between the real world and the world of imagination – and also the contrast between the human world and that of the Nightingale."

"Yes! George here has raised a very good point. Anybody wish to add to this?" asked Mr Hudson.

A shy girl called Rachel, who knew Fable from their after-school singing group, was next to answer.

"I don't know if its right" she mumbled "But, I think like what George was saying, the paradox lies in the way imagination is used as a release, or an escape, from painful actuality, yet at the same time, it renders that actuality even more painful."

Mr Hudson nodded his head vigorously in agreement. "Absolutely, Rachel. Good points so far guys. Now I'd like you to group up and analyse a stanza - line for line. Think about romanticism as a movement and look at the classical elements."

Fable grouped up with her friends and Rachel, and they started to discuss the third stanza. While the others were talking about the work, Christie unapologetically delved into her bag, and whipped out a pink, glistening lip-gloss and began applying a thick layer. Her date, Richie, was in the room, and she couldn't afford to look like a plain-Jane while presenting in front of him and the rest of the class. Suddenly, Christie felt a firm hand on her shoulder and she turned around to see Mr Hudson with a stern look on his face.

"Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies...where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow" he said with a glint in his eyes.

"Wow" mocked Christie. "Using lines from this sad poem against me, sir! Make-up is art and a way of expressing yourself. No need to be so serious."

Fable gasped to herself. She couldn't believe her friend could speak so disrespectfully to a teacher, especially one like Mr Hudson, but she half-admired it too. Luckily, he didn't seem too offended, and actually began to laugh a little.

"Just trying to get you to think about the work I've given you, Christie. Just remember there is much more to life than trying to impress the male kind – one day you will be like me, and Keats - wandering about in forests reflecting on human suffering, old age and the endless possibilities of the imagination. Try writing a poem sometime – I'm sure young Richard would appreciate that much more than your lip-stick." he advised playfully.

"Lip-gloss actually!" remarked Christie, making the important distinction. "Can you go help that other group now please."

Mr Hudson walked off quietly with a spring in his step, which left Christie even more frustrated, as she felt there was unfinished business with this audacious man.

"Seriously, how does he even know about me and Richie? Insane" she murmured to herself.

The other girls on the table giggled and started speculating who the snitch was, while Rachel turned to Fable to ask if she was attending their school singing group that evening. Fable nodded her head and got ready to present.