Net Cotton Content / On Life and Marketing, Creativity and Ethics

Driving Forward

In my quest for teaching, I've called just about every educational institution I admire (within 30 minutes of home), asking for students and a classroom.

Old favorites, Ohio State and Columbus College of Art & Design, are setting up interesting opportunities. And conversations with other colleges and universities are in the mix.

Last week, however, was a most interesting prospect: an eighth grade language arts position at Columbus School for Girls, a local, beloved, K-12 school. They invited me to visit for a day, meeting with the eighth grade faculty and the chair of the English Department, and teaching a class on verbals.

"Verbals?"
At first, I thought she said, "You'll be teaching a class on gerbils."

I thought, "I'm teaching a class on gerbils?" Surely she didn't say that I would be teaching a class of gerbils. (My daughter attends CSG. I know the "G" in "CSG" stands for "girls," not "gerbils.")

Back when eighth grade English class was called "Grammar," I knew what it was about. Now, however, it's called "Language Arts." Perhaps there is a module on gerbils.

At first, I worried. Then I did what any faux scholar would do: I Googled "verbals."

I quickly learned that "verbals" are alternative forms of verbs. Of course: participle, gerund, infinitive.

It was a stark reminder that writing — even writing well — isn't the same as being able to explain how it's accomplished. I would have to re-learn verbals and just about everything else of grammar — er, language arts.

So I called Kevin Morrin
If you want to learn English as a first language, you might as well start with Kevin Morrin, one of the legendary masters of the English Department at Columbus Academy.

When I was his student in the 1970s, he was — as he remains today — a formidable, larger-than-life intellect. He leans into teaching in a way that makes the subject urgent. He once famously poured tomato ketchup all over himself and entered the classroom, spitting out the report of the Bleeding Sergeant in Macbeth.

We met over coffee and he helped me understand the challenge and opportunity I faced at CSG. He brought a sheath of paper from his bag, looked at me, squinting his eyes, and slid the papers across the table to me. I held the secret transcript of the original notes for the daily lessons that had been taught me in 1973 by David Trowbridge:

Grammar Notes
Sumner F. Dennett
George D. Bown

Columbus Academy
1942

He suggested I find a specific street sign that would teach me all I need to know about gerunds.

"'Traffic Calming Ahead'? What is the subject?" he asked. "Many eighth graders might say it is 'traffic.' They would be wrong."

I found the sign and drove on in search of other signs with verbals. And they are everywhere.

From "Custom Cleaning" to "Shopping Center"  — verbals are everywhere.

Of all the signs I've seen, none is as grammatically horrendous (or is that languagely artless?) as the one at left.

I believe I could teach an entire semester on this sign.

But I Canceled the Audition

During the week before the visit to CSG, I met with three of my teachers. They know me well and care for my next steps. (How lucky am I? Way lucky.)

All three helped me to understand that, if I leap into full-time classroom teaching, I will not be able to pursue my book projects, my continuing work with Young Isaac clients, and my public speaking.

One said: "You will love teaching. The kids will love you. The parents will be grateful. And 18 years will pass in a flash. But Artie's potential is best realized when you have flexibility and constantly changing opportunity. You must make sure that you set yourself up to do the most important work of your life. Now."

So, I've stepped back from full-time teaching. I hope to sub often and broadly. And, of course, teach college students, graduate students, and friends in the corporate world. (Just last week, OhioHealth had me address a corporate staff on Choosing Words.)

Did I chicken out? I was trained 30 years ago at Yale as a teacher. Am I just scared of the daily, daylong challenge?

The Plan
All I ask is: Give me a few years. Let me do the best work of my career at Young Isaac. Let me write a couple books. Let me teach broadly from middle school to college to the corporate world.

Then, perhaps, I'll be ready for the classroom.

For now, let me pull to the stop bar to actuate signal.

Traffic calming ahead.

What Is Your 90-day Self-Education Budget?

Would you be willing to spend $100,000 for an MBA?

Yet you might hesitate before spending $2,500 to learn how to meditate.

But, wait. What's the value of being able to meditate? For me, meditation has brought me more value than my MBA. (Sure, I learned about cost-benefit analysis, but then I calculated that meditation is more valuable. Go figure.)

You can learn almost anything in 90 days
What's your self-education budget for the next 90 days? How much are you willing to spend to learn new subjects? Or to dig deeper into the topics you already know?

Once you have a budget, what would you study?

Here are three questions that might lead you to the answer:

1. If you went back to college, what degree would you seek?
2. If you had a $100 gift card for a bookstore, what section would you first go to?
3. If you could wave a magic wand, what new knowledge or skills would you grant yourself?
   

A couple years ago, I decided to re-teach myself cursive handwriting. It's made me a better writer -- and a better listener, because I can take better notes.

So what are you going to study during the next 90 days?

Why must you answer this?
No one else is as interested in your continuing education as you are. It's time to be a little selfish about learning.

And, if we're not learning, we're not growing. What's that feel like?

For me, not learning felt like this: one day, I recognized that the newest band I'd heard of was Steely Dan.

Are you reelin' in the years,
Stowin' away the time?
Are you gatherin' up the tears?
Have you had enough of mine?

What do you want to learn?

Here's what I want to learn this summer
In no particular order, here's a hasty list:

1. How to teach teenagers. I've taught seventh grade on Sundays for years. It's what I do best. But I want to learn more about brain and behavioral development during adolescence.
2. How to ride Amtrak across the country. It's time for a second honeymoon. The first one took us to the Grand Canyon. (Is it still there?)
3. How to collaborate in the theatre. How to act. How to memorize. How to rehearse. How to perform. (How to do it without losing money.) Our Town is June 26-28.
4. How to better teach the Ethics of Speech, Creativity, and Storytelling. I'd like to develop each one of these topics into one- and three-day curricula for schools, colleges and businesses.
5. How to read well enough to hear the protagonist's heartbeat. Can that be done?
6. How to fix a flat tire on a bicycle. It's going to happen sooner or later. I don't want to be a sitting duck -- or to continue feeling helpless while on the way to my next flat tire.
7. How to park without scraping the tires against the curb. (I had to buy a new tire yesterday. I wore out the sides before I wore out the bottom. That's dopey.) Let this be my Summer of Tires.
8. How to be a better friend.
9. How to listen better.

What do you want to learn?
Let's remember the admonition to "acquire a teacher."

What Course Most Changed Your Life?

Recently, I was sitting around, killing time with a few lawyers (before I offered my Rainmaker presentation).

One of them asked me, of all my studies, what class most changed me? What single class made the most difference in who I am?

I have an odd answer to this.

I've taken great courses from wonderful teachers in hundreds of subjects from mathematics to Milton; satire to sculpture; tai chi to Chaucer.

But if I had to pick only one course for how much it changed me, I'd pick: typing.

Really. Ten-finger touch-typing.

Before the eighth or ninth grade, Mr. Russ Owen, the track coach at the local Bexley High, taught typing at summer school.  (I never quite understood what track and typing had to do with each other. Perhaps they were close to each other in the dictionary.)

But Coach Owen was nice enough to teach it.

How Did The Class Change Me?
By teaching me how to type -- and type fast -- it helped turn the words in my mind into the words on the page. As the thoughts became tangibly visible, writing became a real and fun way to express myself.

Now I write.

I think it was the class on typing.

What about you? What course made the most difference?