Tigers and Cubs

Jean-Léon Gérôme

By MILES KNIGHT

Dear Daphne,

Most people seem to think that cats hate people but I think you prove them wrong. Sure you have your moments of grumpiness, but who doesn't? I give you the painting Tiger and Cubs because I know deep down inside this is what you think you are. A loving mother that takes care of her children, in this case, me, my sister and parents. You make sure we are clean by licking us. You even protect us by chasing away all the dangerous squirrels and birds in the backyard.

Now, you are a bit of a pain sometimes, meowing whenever you want out, scratching furniture when you want food, and of course, waking us up at 5:00 a.m. to let you out every morning. However, with every annoyance comes something good. You love to be petted and have your chin scratched. You are even (occasionally) happy to see one of your humans when we come home. You will always listen to anyone if they want to complain or just talk about something, although you aren't all that good at giving feedback, but, eh, you're a cat.

Lots of pets,
Miles K

Editor's Note: Students were asked to give a painting to someone they cared for. These are their moving responses.
  • 7:00 AM

The Arab and His Steed

Jean-Léon Gérôme
Jean-Leon Gerome, The Arab and His Steed, 1872
By MELISA CAPAN

To the Desert 
Benjamin Alire Sáenz

I came to you one rainless August night.
You taught me how to live without the rain.
You are thirst and thirst is all I know.
You are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky,
The hottest blue. You blow a breeze and brand
Your breath into my mouth. You reach—then bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
You wrap your name tight around my ribs
And keep me warm. I was born for you.
Above, below, by you, by you surrounded.
I wake to you at dawn. Never break your
Knot. Reach, rise, blow, Sálvame, mi dios,
Trágame, mi tierra. Salva, traga, Break me,
I am bread. I will be the water for your thirst.

Editor's Note: Students were asked to match a poem of their choice with a painting of their choice. The relationship between the two shall be determined by the viewer/reader.
  • 7:00 AM

Pygmalion and Galatea and Twelfth Night

Jean-Léon Gérôme
Jean-Léon Gérôme, Pygmalion and Galatea, 1890

From Twelfth Night
By William Shakespeare

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.

Editor's Note: Students were asked to match a poem to a picture. They could do so with or without comment; they could be serious or playful, profound or goofy. We will leave it to our dear readers to make their own connections.
  • 7:00 AM