I love my new career. Teaching can be difficult; it can be stressful. Of all the jobs I've ever held down, it's definitely the most challenging but it's also the most rewarding.
This past spring, I took a risk and decided to relocate to a new school. One factor that "sold me" during the interview was my future principal's willingness to let teachers design their own elective classes. I imagined she'd want me to play it safe after she hired me on, so I outlined some fairly standard crash courses on astronomy, geology, and other branches of science. Then I cooked up something else, an idea for a class that I knew the students would love but assumed nobody would actually let me teach.
At the final pitch meeting, things didn't go as I expected. My new boss listened patiently to all of my new class proposals before asking the million-dollar question: "Which one are you the most passionate about?"
Just like that, one of my wildest dreams was realized. I was given the green light to develop a new, original course called "The Science of Sci-Fi."
Building a curriculum from scratch is no easy feat. I spent my summer reading up on the real science behind some of the world's most beloved stories. I explored the physics of superheroes, the genetics of "Jurassic Park," and the cosmology behind Christopher Nolan's "Interstellar."
And then, of course, there was Mary Shelley.
"Frankenstein" has been one of my favorite novels ever since I first read it as a teenager. Unlike most works of fiction I picked up in those days, it didn't have an obvious hero or villain. Moral complexity forms the backbone of the story; we sympathize with Victor Frankenstein's poor, lonely monster at first, but our compassion runs dry when his self-pity drives him to homicide. He may not share Victor's DNA, but the creature is very much his father's son. Both characters are ruined by their obsessions. One of them wants to defeat death at the cost of his own humanity, while the other craves revenge despite knowing it won't make him happy in the end.
Nineteenth-century prose can be a little daunting for young readers and English language-learners. So instead of the original "Frankenstein" text, I decided to assign Jason Cobley's graphic novel adaptation of it. The illustrations are beautiful, and the abridged dialogue still does Mary Shelley justice.
My classroom experience tells me I made the right call. Cobley's take on the story is both accessible and entertaining. The students loved it and I was floored by some of the great questions and insights they raised during our class discussions.
At one point, late in the story, the monster compares himself to a fallen angel, clearly evoking the biblical story of Satan, who went from God's benevolent servant to the most evil being in the universe.
"Why's the creature bringing up the devil right now?" I asked. Then, without missing a beat, one of my more reserved students raised his hand and answered, "Because he relates to him."
The monster's dark turn wasn't inevitable, the class decided. A recurring theme in our chats about "Frankenstein" was my students' belief that the story could have gone very differently if even one person had loved him--especially his own creator. I share their view.
Getting to share a story that's meant so much to me over the years with a new generation of young people was a career highlight made all the sweeter by how much they seemed to enjoy it. I'll never forget the time I asked another student if she "liked 'Frankenstein' so far."
"Yeah," she told me. "It's real."
RATING: Five out of Five Tombstones