There are some days it’s easy to believe in Puck.
The morning I fell up the stairs at the middle school, I actually glanced over my shoulder to see if he was there. It looked like his work. Essays, department meeting notes, and newly mimeographed tests now littered the landing and drifted down the stairs. Diet Coke gurgled from the can and dribbled its way across the papers. And in my classroom, thirty students waited to read A Summer Night’s Dream, which is probably why I had Puck on my mind.
Middle school kids appreciate Puck. Much like them, this quick-witted sprite, is both good-hearted and capable of mean tricks. He cavorts through Shakespeare’s play messing with mortals—stealing cream from the top of the milk pail, misleading travelers at night, tripping venerable old dames, and pretending to be an apple in a woman’s drink so she spills it. He often turns into a stool and then disappears so that old ladies land on their “bum.” And like middle school kids, he delights in the chaos he creates.
Since that misadventure on the school steps, I’ve never again looked over my shoulder for Puck. But I’ve been tempted. There are days, he seems to trail me everywhere I go, when he’s in cahoots with Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.
On those days, it’s one thing after another—my computer freezes, I arrive at the grocery store without my list, the toilet clogs, my coat button falls off. Everything I touch seems to spill or slip.
And my day turns grim.
Unlike a showing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
During this play, audiences chortle over every mishap Puck inflicts. Germans call this schadenfreude, finding joy in the misfortune of others. It’s a kind of humor that’s like low-hanging fruit, easy to access.
What’s harder for me is to take the advice I’ve given hundreds of middle school kids.
“If you can laugh at yourself,” I’d say, “you’ll be fine. No one can touch you!”
In Shakespeare’s play, Puck messes not only with mortals, but also with himself. Sometimes he’s a horse, sometimes a hound or a hog or a bear. Sometimes a fire or a stool. And to get through times that grow dark, he becomes a merry wanderer.
So when Puck seems to follow me, I need to stop turning grim and follow my own advise—laugh at myself.
Apple to Apple 