“Everyone wants a piece of the teacher, but you don’t get that piece until years later.”
That quote is attributed to author Kate Green by Natalie Goldberg in her book LONG QUIET HIGHWAY, which I’m re-reading for the umpteenth time.
That quote reverberates with me. I remember many teachers from my life. Far too often, I didn’t realize the gifts they gave me until years after.
My fifth grade teacher, who bought me a set of Rudyard Kipling at a yard sale because she knew I loved to read the classics; My sixth grade teacher, who let me read and write far off the reservation, and encouraged me to write stories during class time, even during lectures. Who taught me I could spit out a first draft any way I wanted, but then I had to shape it in order to present it to the world. My band teacher in high school, who knew I loved to write, and suggested I write articles about the high school band, orchestra, and chorus for the local newspapers (my first professional published byline).
In college, I was lucky to have a fantastic teacher who was also my advisor. At a competitive school like NYU Film School, that was vital. I’ve stayed in touch with him over the years, and even got together with him when I visited NYC a few years back. I’ve also kept in touch with one of my screenwriting professors from NYU. The two of them helped me get back on track when I got unfocused, especially when I put other people’s work ahead of my own.
I think they were both surprised when I went into theatre instead of film as my career, but were interested in how I looped what I learned in their classes to the rest of my theatre and writing life.
When I teach, students come away with handouts and workbooks (I am the Queen of Handouts – the bins I haul into a conference workshop cause eyes to widen and backs to groan).
I’m a strict teacher and don’t put up with excuses or not writing. I make it clear that during the scope of the class, things are strict, and then, AFTER the class is over, they get to keep what works and toss the rest. I see many of my students toss quite a bit initially, and then slowly work their way back to what we did, in their own time.
Either way is great. You find your process by trying many different things, not staying in a rut, taking chances, and building your skills with every piece you write.
I am deeply grateful to my teachers. Even the ones I didn’t agree with gave me something important. And I’m still realizing the pieces, and will continue, my entire life, as long as I pay attention.
Who are your most memorable teachers? Is there anyone with whom you kept in touch?
I have a few memorable teachers. One who just passed was my Home Economics teacher. Why did I like her? Not because of what she taught, but of who she was. She was a welcoming person. She talked with you as though you were an adult, even if you were only 14. When I had a sleepover at her house (her daughter and I were friends), she was just as welcoming without being that parent who lays down rules.
Another memorable teacher was the one who taught my advanced composition class in high school. She let me experiment and encouraged it in every student. It’s what helped me find my voice. My advanced novel teacher was just as encouraging.
My first professor in college — composition course of some sort — was inspiring and encouraging. Then there was the Eastern Religions instructor, who changed my life just by teaching the course in a way that included all religions and showed the relationship they all shared.