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| Epimetheus and Pandora |
“The name Epimetheus comes from the Greek god (or titan) Epimetheus (or hindsight) who was the brother of Prometheus (foresight). Together, they represented humanity.”
I read The Iliad and The Odyssey a long time ago but I would struggle to remember much Greek mythology now. Maybe worth a re-read, just to master the challenging names, even though I found lots of it scary. Stephen Fry’s Mythos is on the shelf, looking more appealing. I’ll see. There is a reason for this.
I’m a reading volunteer at the local primary school. Actually,
I’m not doing the reading, I’m listening, encouraging, praising and offering
help where needed to Year 4 children, which is the 8 to 9 age group. I’m
learning a lot. They don’t mind telling me what they think of reading. It’s a
love or hate thing. I do my best to promote a positive love of books, stories
developed by imagination and the joy of disappearing into the world created by
a good author. It is lovely to meet a child who reads for pleasure. There are
some struggles for me to overcome.
“I read in my head, Miss,” says the child with an open book
half under the table.
“I’m sure you do, and that’s excellent, but you need to read
aloud to me just for a couple of minutes while I check your progress. Pop it up
on the table so I can see the words.”
Seeing the words would be good. The better the reader, the
smaller the print, it seems. My glasses are the correct prescription but I
struggle to see some pages and it’s hard to follow the text with a child who
has a tiny voice. Then there was the stumbling over an unfamiliar name.
“Epi, Epi, Epim,” a pleading look for help. We sound it out
together.
“Epimetheus. Well done!” I hoped I’d confirmed the correct
pronunciation. The story was an age appropriate Pandora’s Box. Other children also had Greek
mythology stories. I’d better brush up before next time. Personally, I prefer
the Amelia Fang stories by Laura Ellen Anderson.
One of my favourite poets, although he’s so much more,
including writer, broadcaster and until recently, Chancellor of the University
of Manchester, is Lemn Sissay, OBE, FRSL. Reading his autobiography was
heart-breaking, tears on every page, a childhood full of struggle and adversity
with situations which made me furious. I am in awe of him, the life he has made
for himself and everything he does for the benefit of others. Out of many, I
chose this poem,
By Lemn Sissay
Let there be peace
So frowns fly away like albatross
And skeletons foxtrot from cupboards,
So war correspondants become travel show presenters
And magpies bring back lost property,
Children, engagement rings, broken things.
Let there be peace
So storms can go out to sea to be
Angry and return to me calm,
So the broken can rise up and dance in the hospitals.
Let the aged Ethiopian man in the grey block of flats
Peer through his window and see Addis before him,
So his thrilled outstretched arms become frames
For his dreams.
Let there be peace
Let tears evaporate to form clouds, cleanse themselves
And fall into reservoirs of drinking water.
Let harsh memories burst into fireworks that melt
In the dark pupils of a child’s eyes
And disappear like shoals of silver darting fish,
And let the waves reach the shore with a
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
