Agonizing Over Anne

Anne of Green Gables is my favorite book of all time, and as a result, it is the book I find most challenging to teach. I love everything about the book, and I desperately want to impart that love, as well as an appreciation for every single one of its nuances, so I stress myself out every year when it comes time to teach it. I agonize over every lesson, and torture myself when my plans fall short of my expectations. There is so much potential for joy with this book, and every year I feel as though I leave too much of it on the table.

This year, something changed. I finally feel as though I am doing justice to Anne. I have come up with creative lesson plans, the students are enjoying their assignments, and most importantly, I feel as though they know Anne Shirley, and they love her for all the reasons I do. My students are enjoying this book more than they ever have in past years.

Surprisingly, this year is so much better simply because I am just too busy to agonize. I am teaching five literature courses to a large range of ages (2nd-6th grade), those classes are online and in-person simultaneously, I am working on a huge project with my 6th graders, there are all of these new rules to enforce with masks and distancing, I am the mother of an extremely active toddler, and I also try to work out three times a week. Oh, and I try to feed myself, too.

Because I do not have time to agonize, my lesson planning process has become faster. First, I read the chapter that I have assigned to my students. Then, I ask myself, “What is the essential ‘Anne’ thing from this chapter?” or, “What is the thing you love most about this chapter?” Finally, I ask myself how I can best highlight that essential thing for my students so they might gain an appreciation for it, too. Sometimes the first idea that comes to me is kind of silly, and in years past, I would just dismiss that first thing right off the bat. This year, however, I don’t have the time to be too self-critical. I’ve allowed myself to experiment. “If it goes poorly,” I tell myself, “you can always stop and change course. Then you don’t ever have to do it again.” And, after a few experiments, I’ve learned that my first idea is usually pretty good. It does come from a brain that loves Anne and desires to do her justice, after all.

Today I was trying to figure out how best to highlight Anne’s desire to give names to things that don’t have appropriate ones, like when she renames Barry’s Pond “The Lake of Shining Waters.” I love that she does this because it shows us how the ordinary becomes extraordinary if we pay enough attention. I want my students to be able to see that, too. I had my idea that I would have brushed aside three years ago, but today I decided to run with it.

So, I took my students into the hallway of our school and walked over to the rotunda in the center of our building. I looked up at the light streaming through the windows, and made some sounds that echoed beautifully. I turned to them and said, “Isn’t this place magnificent? I love this part of our school. The echo is so much fun, and the light is beautiful.” My students nodded along as I talked. “And you know what it’s called? The ‘rotunda.’ Ugh. Isn’t that so un-romantic? ‘Rotund’ means ‘fat,’ you guys. I think this place needs a new name, and fast.” They laughed, and they agreed that the rotunda was in immediate need of re-naming.

It is now the Circle of Infinite Sunlight.

We have also written letters in the style of Anne Shirley, and taken notes on the various things she romanticizes. My students even keep a piece of paper next to them while they read so they can jot down any particularly “Anne-ish” lines they come across. By the time we finish the novel, they will have a formidable list of Anne quotes that they can whip out in conversation whenever they want. By letting Anne just be Anne, and by letting them practice her romanticism, my students are noticing everything that is special about this book as they read it, rather than when I point it out to them the next day. They are getting so much more joy out of this book than I ever could have hoped.

I have agonized over sharing Anne of Green Gables in the past because I was so afraid that I wouldn’t do it right. I was actually terrified that if I said or did the wrong thing, my students wouldn’t love Anne. Without realizing it, I was being a sort of over-protective parent to this book, scared of what would happen if I let it speak for itself. I lectured when I should have been letting the students explore Anne’s personality so they might adopt aspects of it for themselves. Quite by accident, I have discovered exactly how to do what I want to do: trust Anne to speak for herself. She is very good at it.

Grace SteeleJanuary 21, 2021Comment