Page 8 - 普台之星16

Dionysus, God of the grape harvest, Sophocles (496 BCE-406 CE)was one of classical
winemaking, ritual madness, religious Athens' three tragic playwrights.
ecstasy, and theatre.
I have been a keen observer and a willing participant of the annual Putai Drama Festival for a
number of years, so I can speak both as a spectator and a performer. Every show holds little surprises: a
student, who is normally shy and timid in the classroom, comes to life on stage. A group, a whole class,
that you see daily, sunk into stupor and lethargy, shocks you, and brings you back to life with the power
of their creativity, restoring your faith in not only your profession, but the entire human race. (All is not
lost!)
Labels that we all carry - written on our foreheads like a mark of Cain, or stuck onto our backs like
naughty sticky notes - fall away. You cease to be, and are reborn as part of a grand illusion, a mirage,
a fantasy, a kind of “sacred madness”. You believe it for an hour, a minute, for a half second, and the
playing field is leveled: you are free of all the chains, restraints and voices that persistently whisper (or
shout) that “This form, this label is who you are, and this is all you are!” (This is the moment I imagine
some students go, “English, please!”) Well, I speak of the idea Virginia Woolf expressed in the following
way: “There is no gate, no lock, and no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.” Get it? You
get to be the hero of the Never Ending Story who's sent on a quest, the aim of which is to find a cure
for the ailing empress, the only person able to save Fantasia from extinction. Fantasia, you see, is in the
grip of a terrible disease called the ‘Nothing’. It's what happens when “people lose their hopes and forget
their dreams.”
Sophocles has long been dead, and Dionysus is no longer worshipped. But, if there were a heaven
to look down from, and they were watching, and listening, they would be pleased to see that their work,
their tradition and their name are kept alive. Even here. By us. And they would be proud. I know I am.

Who I Am, and Why I Am Here Mr. Kecsedi ( 普台高中 AP 文學課程教師 )

Greetings! For those that don’t know me, I’m the bald, bearded guy that walks around campus, usually carrying heavy books
in his hands. I have worn out quite a few pairs of shoes walking the hallways of Putai like that over the years I have been teaching
here. A frequent question I get from ex-students of mine whenever they come back to visit is, “Oh, you’re still here?” I am. The
reason? I found my “ecological niche” here.
I knew I was going to be a teacher when I was in high school. Those were different times, perhaps. A well-rounded, cultured
character, shaped by the timeless treasures preserved in novels, poems, philosophies and artifacts still had value in the world, and
was highly regarded – at least by naïve, romantic, little me. I was drawn to words, the magic of creative forces, and ideas. I was
also interested in the workings of the mind and how it is able to contain both wonderfully profound and horrifyingly profane forces.
These interests have led me to pursue degrees in literature, and mental hygiene (a branch of psychiatry that deals with the science
and practice of maintaining and restoring mental health) and the wish to share this passion eventually brought me to the shores of
Taiwan in the year 2000.
I hope I can add a bit of color to the quilt that’s Putai. Having European roots and values, having attended school in the US,
and having lived in Asia for a considerable amount of time, I strive to look at things from multiple perspectives. Hopefully, in rare
moments of inspiration, I can instill an appreciation of the works, values and ideas that I hold dear in the students’ minds as well.

6 SophocleS Smiling