A Link to the Past
Susan Lima's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'
When I think back on my education, my teachers were an assortment of good, not-so-good, and a few oddballs. Today, I am going to tell you about Susan Lima, my ninth-grade English teacher, and a surprise connection to her later in my life.
I recall Mrs. Lima, as we all called her, standing in front of the class or sitting on one of the student’s desks as she recited “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” It was our first exposure to William Shakespeare, a good place to start on his body of work. During each day’s lesson, Mrs. Lima held her blue Yale University Press version open in her hand, but she rarely looked at the words.
Mrs. Lima knew most of the play by heart.
“How now my love! Why is your cheek so pale?” Lysander, who is in love with Hermia, asks.
I was only a freshman in high school, but I knew hers was a remarkable performance.
Decades later, my mother mailed me a box. Inside, I found clothing she bought for the kids and me at a tag sale, and then at the bottom, a slim blue volume of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” the Yale Shakespeare version edited by Willard H. Durham. The book is a second printing, dated 1923.
The blue cloth was mottled with something white, perhaps from moisture. When I opened the book, I saw the name “Susan Lima” written in perfect cursive on the second page.
I marveled. How many times did Mrs. Lima hold this book as she spoke its words from memory? Now, it has a treasured spot on one of my bookshelves.
Puck says, “Now the hungry lion roars; And the wolf behowls the moon.”
My good luck, I am certain.
"Midsummer Night's Dream" was also important to me and my daughter, Rosa. When my kids were growing up I made a point of getting them involved in community theater. Because we homeschooled, the evening rehearsals were never a problem in terms of getting homework done, and if rehearsals went late, the kids could always sleep later the next morning. One of many fine memories was this Shakespearean play with the music of Felix Mendelssohn. My eight-year-old Rosa was a dancing fairy and I was an Amazon guard to Hippolyta; neither of us had a speaking part. But although my daughter is extremely dyslexic, she soaked up Shakespeare's language like a sponge and could quote from the play. After the end of the run, I bought my daughter a tape of the Mendelssohn score and we would listen to it in the car. Periodically she would say something like, "Here's where Oberon comes in..." I will always be grateful to the play's director, Gen Fraser, for giving Rosa this opportunity for joy and achievement—a never-forgotten highlight of her childhood.
Hi Joan.
Thanks for posting this story. It made me remember an English teacher I had in high school named Mrs. Abbott. She made half of the class of high school juniors cry with how hard she worked us. We were expected to write 3-5, 5-page MLA essays a week (essentially one per school night). I don't think I went to sleep before 10 or 11 pm on any given night the year I had her in my junior year of high school. She was also a harsh grader in terms of sticking to MLA formatting, but I think everyone left her class with a vastly improved ability to write. Your post prompted me to see how she was doing, and I was surprised to learn she had passed three years ago.
That's awesome that you came across an artifact like that though, from a person you had a connection with through school. Maybe you should write your own name in it, and when the time comes, pass it on to someone else who will also treasure it. Or maybe write a little note below her name talking about the impact she had on you, as a way to keep her memory alive.
-Kevin