Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

This was originally part of a private email to Doreen. With Zlatko's permission, I have reprinted it, here:


Long ago and far away in Southern California I reluctantly registered for the local community college. We are talking, like 1979/1980. I signed up for one of Zlatko's classes in my first semester. He was there, wrinkled, looking like he'd slept in his clothes for several nights, and had been drinking too. I thought, "Oh no. Another one. How do I drop this class?"

Once he started talking, I changed my mind in seconds. He was the most knowledgeable, most awake and alive teacher I'd seen that day. Then he said the magic words. I can almost still remember them, because it wasn't what he said, but how he said it that riveted me. He said, "I love books" and he said it in the tone of voice you'd use to say you loved your mother, your sister, your lover. My opinion of him changed so much in that hour that I dropped the other English class I had signed up for that semester and took the same class with Zlatko instead. In fact, for the rest of the time I attended that school, he was virtually my only English Lit teacher.

The one thing that got to me about him -- and still does, although it doesn't come across so well in print -- is the way he can discuss the most ordinary things and yet make you look at them in an entirely different way. He is extremely observant and introspective. Besides that, he's a genius -- but you knew that already. His poetry classes were a real treat. I think I learned more about poetry from him than from any other single source in my life. Same goes for literature, although I had a great headstart in that area from a teacher in high school. He was constantly recommending books, apropos of whatever subject we happened to be studying. They just all came out of his head, I think. I don't believe he ever prepared much for classes. He didn't need to.

I regret that I wasn't a more serious student then. For various bizarre reasons, I often skipped classes, and ALWAYS turned my papers in late. I quickly discovered that he forgave everything and punished nothing. I punished myself, actually by missing the classes. I am still glad I turned those papers in late! It gave me opportunities to talk with him outside the classroom, and that was fascinating. I scrutinized the books on his office shelves so many times I can still see them -- and his poster of James Joyce and his papercovered desk, and his odd armchair in the corner.

He was the best teacher I ever had.


(BTW, he never appeared rumpled or unkempt in class again. That was a one-time fluke. If I had followed my first impulse and walked out before the class began, I would have missed out on the whole thing.)



Cat.

cat, very cool of you to post this!
thanks

judih

I have been lucky enough to have some wonderful teachers. My first one was in the seventh grade. Miss Duree was pretty and red haired and freckled,a Southern Belle just out of college. She praised my writing. I suppose it was clever for a seventh grader. But her praise spurred me on.
Then there was Ms. Tandy, my journalism teacher in high school. We had terrible crushes on each other, and under her tutelage I won first prize for column writing in the State of Texas as a junior.
Then Dr. Baird in the English Dept. at NTU was a mentor; I still correspond with him today.
While I was in the joint, I had one of my best teachers. His name was Dr. Olsen and he was in the History Dept. at Sam Houston State. He would come in to class in the prison with nothing more than a #2 pencil and proceed to make history come to life with his lectures. We became very close even under those extreme circumstances because he, like any teacher, loves to see his work light a fire under a student.
Then there are the Other Teachers, those that have no seats or degrees.

I've had other good ones, but Zlatko was the most memorable and easily the best.

Mrs. Beaubien in my junior year of high school was an epiphany for me. She made me work my butt off, and put some power behind my punch. "Proof! Proof! Proof!" I can still see her red pen slashings in the margins of my papers. She gave Bs and and Cs, typically, and only a couple As in a class of gifted students who were USED to getting As in everything. She is now on a city council in Southern California.

I've had history teachers who were good, as well. Mr.Earl, God rest his soul, in junior high school, brought history alive, made me appreciate justice, freedom, the pursuit of happiness -- how these concepts were unique to our country at that time -- and how terribly important they are. He fought whole battles of the Civil and Revolutionary wars for the class, and actually made me care for strategy in a way that I never have before or since.

Then, while we're on the subject, I mustn't forget Chuck Clark, the principal of that same school. He was sensitive enough to see an introspective little girl, furiously writing poetry every day by herself in the school cafeteria, and invite her, specially, to enter a poem in a local Bicentennial writing contest. I entered a poem, and felt highly honored to skip classes to attend the event with other students who had submitted artwork or writing. I was heartbroken when I looked on all the tables and didn't see my poem anywhere. I thought that meant it had gotten lost, somehow. Imagine my surprise when, instead, I got called to the stage to accept first prize! My poem and my picture were printed in the local paper and I was the proudest, most puffed up 14 year old in town for about two years.

I met him in the supermarket a few years ago and got to thank him in person. I don't think teachers realize it, but sometimes the simplest little gestures can have long lasting positive results in a child's life. Until that moment, I never thought anyone noticed me or cared about me, particularly. And when my poem won the contest, I began to believe in myself. I can honestly say that I can't think of any earlier incident that had a greater impact on my life. My parents were/are heavy on criticism, and not too quick to notice their children's special talents. In these cases, a kind and perceptive teacher can make all the difference in the world.