View Comments to “P.S. to Coaching Interruptus”

1. George Spink09/10/04 15:25

   

   I began writing in college following a devastating Freshman English class. I took it in my second year because I had to take Subject A (“Idiots English”) twice in my first year. My teacher was, I thought, unusually hard one me. He usually gave me a ‘D’ on my tests and papers.

   He knew I was from the Chicago area. When we were reading “The Great Gatsby,” he said, “Spink, tell us what Lake Forest is like.”

   “That’s where all the rich people live,” I said.

   He looked at me and smiled. “Perfect!”

   A few days before the term ended, he asked me to stop by his office that afternoon.

   “Spink, you must be wondering why I’ve been so hard on you. Well, first of all, you really do need to work on your grammar. I’ve written down a couple of books you should study this summer. One is Strunk’s “The Elements of Style.” Really study it and you’ll be OK next year and from then on.

   “But the main reason I’ve been so tough on you is because I think of all my students you have the potential to become a writer. Once you master the basics, you’ll be on your way!”

   I transferred to Northwestern for my last two years of college. I did well in English. I was awarded the English Department’s Edwin Shuman Literary Prize for my senior year — a full-tuition scholarship! Ironically, I was majoring in political science, but the English professors who awarded the prize liked how I wrote.

   Twenty-five years later, I stopped by my Freshman English teacher’s office. I reminded him who I was and what he had said to me.

   “Now I recall,” he said. “You’re the one who said ‘Lake Forest is where all the rich people live.’ What have you been doing all these years?”

   I said I had been working as a writer and editor back in my hometown, Chicago. “I began as a features editor for a trade magazine not long after I finished graduate school. I’ve stuck with it. Sometimes I freelance articles about jazz and big band music for Chicago newspapers.”

   He smiled. “So you really stuck with it! That is terrific! I’m proud of you….”

   His name was Edward Loomis, a fine novelist. He was my Freshman English teacher at the University of California in the late 1950′s. He looked like James Joyce. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, had short-cropped hair, and rode a motorcycle to and from campus. Loomis already had written two novels, “The Hunter Deep in Summer” and “Mothers” by the time I studied with him. He wrote more later.

   I retired in 2001, but I still write every day on my blogs and web site. Now, 50 years later, I remember how one teacher, Professor Loomis, changed my life by caring enough to be so hard on me. When I saw him 25 years ago, I thanked him. And I thank him again today….