Making Friends with Madam Bovary - Gather Writing Essentials Satwe

Challenge: Rewrite some famous piece of literature, poetry, opera, or song. Not the whole thing, obviously, just a sampling of a few paragraphs, stanzas, or verses. Make it your work. (Include the original text so readers can compare them.)

We were in study-hall when the headmaster entered, followed by a new boy not yet in school uniform and by the handyman carrying a large desk. Their arrival disturbed the slumber of many of us, but we all stood up in our places as though rising from our work.

The headmaster motioned us to be seated; then, turning to the teacher:

“Monsieur Roger,” he said in an undertone, “here’s a pupil I’d like you to keep your eye on. I’m putting him in the last year of the lower school. If he does good work and behaves himself we’ll move him up to where he ought to be at his age.”

The newcomer, who was hanging back in the corner so that the door half hid him from view, he was a country lad of about fifteen, taller than any of us. He had his hair cut in bangs like a cantor in a village church, and he had a gentle, timid look. He wasn’t broad in the shoulders, but his green jacket with its black buttons seemed tight under the arms; and through the vents of his cuffs we could see red wrists that were clearly unaccustomed to being covered. His yellow breeches were hiked up by his suspenders, and from them emerged a pair of blue-stockinged legs, he wore heavy shoes, hobnailed, and badly shined.

Gustave Flaubert - Madame Bovary

The principal came into study hall and woke most of us up. In behind him came a real a real geeky looking dork.

“Mr. Rogers could we have a moment to speak outside?” “ David find a chair and sit in it until we come back.”

The entire room stopped pretending to study to stare at the newbie. He was tall, his clothes were outdated and too small for him. So were his shoes. Combined they made him look bigger than he was. You could tell he was not from the neighborhood because he had a tan that was just a bit short of a third degree burn that stopped at the end of his shirt sleeves. Whatever he did outside of school obviously required gloves.

This David kid was definitely out of his element.

The principal and Mr. Rogers returned in a stern silence. They were back from one of those private confabs authority figureheads have and whose content, mostly made up, will have made the rounds in text messages before noon.

“David, Mr. Rogers will help you do some independent study and then we will retest you. I will check in on you later, I am going to go talk to your parents.”