Progy - what?

My Rhetoric course this year is focused on the Progymnasmata. Aside from being an unpronounceable word, you may ask, what is that? The progymnasmata is a series of twelve exercises, mental gymnastics, if you will, which were taught to Greek and Roman school children.

I’m entranced. I love the idea of learning something so ancient, which is why I took Rhetoric in the first place. I am, however, confused. These are all bits and pieces which may be used in the construction of a full-length rhetorical argument. So why is this not the first year course? My Rhetoric course last year was comprised of three rhetorical papers, each one of which I practically bled my brain out to complete. If we had the prepping of the Progymnasmata, like the Greek and Roman kids, wouldn’t it have been infinitely easier?

Just a thought. I’ve been thinking. I do that on occasion.

And, on that note, it’s about time I give you something to read. In the spirit of this post, it will be my first Progymnasmata exercise: a fable.

The Story of Sunny and Hades

There once was a little bird named Sunny. She had golden feathers that gleamed in the sun, and was loved by all the other birds. There was, though, one bird who did not like her. His name was Hades, and he had black feathers. One day, Hades decided he was tired of everyone admiring Sunny, and no one ever looking at him. During the night he flew to Sunny's tree and plucked one of her golden feathers. Sunny screamed, but he quickly flew away.

The next day, Hades flew around showing off his new feather. It shone in contrast to the black, bright in the sun. All the other birds stared at him; they Oooh-ed and Aaah-ed. Hades felt beautiful.

As Hades was flying past the home of the old owl, he felt a sudden pain. The owl had ripped out three of Hades’ feathers.

"That is a terrible thing to do!” Hades said.

"But did you not do the same to Sunny?" the owl said.

"Yes, but look at how beautiful I am!”

"And have you caught any prey today? Or did that shiny feather warn the mice that you were coming?"

Hades thought about this. The owl was right. All of his prey had seen him coming, when before the golden feather he had been able to hide in the shadows. Hades flew to Sunny's tree, and returned her feather.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m just not meant for golden feathers.”