I remember a saint I once knew – I can’t remember his name, sadly, but he was a teacher of writing, and I was a wary lump at the back of the classroom. And he gave us an assignment, a writing exercise, and we did the assignment, and the next day he stood in front of the class and said, “Everyone here completed the exercise the way I suggested. One person did not.” That was me. He read my story and praised my story with its unorthodox POV, and his praise was so whole-hearted that I remember it still. I wish I knew his name. I wish all our saints, living here or in memory, all the ones who did us good, or helped us most by keeping hands off when we needed to do it alone, I wish for all those saints a dazzle and a rest commensurate with their achievements, unseen and unsung, maybe, but still reverberating. Thank you, teacher of writing in the St. Clair Shores school district, thank you very, very much.
All saints Tuesday, Nov 3 2009
School Visits and Writing 9:17 pm
November 3, 2009 at 10:36 pm |
I vaguely recall a similar event – similar, that is, in the way that a teacher had set an assignment – in this case write a short story about a cowboy. But in every other sense the recollection is quite the opposite to yours. Well I was off and running like a literary Olympic champion, and undoubtedly producing my best work to date – until he chanced to glance over my shoulder at my ‘work’. The sneering scoff that slipped from between his lips as he read the title destroyed not only the piece, but my pleasure in writing at all. It wasn’t until my late teens that I returned to writing. Now, in my fifties, I can barely stop.
November 3, 2009 at 11:29 pm |
Teachers have enormous power, for good and for ill. Thankfully you ultimately listened to your talent, not that sneer.