Learning Is a delicacy

I taught a class on writing and there I learned.

I was asked to give a class on writing to sophomores at The Met School in Providence a while back. Having never given a writing class before, I was a bit puzzled as to how I should approach the subject. After all, I never considered my occupation that of a writer though that was what I had been doing nearly full-time of late with regular columns and published books. Well, at least the professor who planned the course thought that I might fit in someplace in the writing world.

Should I be pedantic and recite a litany of the importance of being able to write well where success comes through learning new skills, and attitudes? Where success comes from practice. “You must write every day.” Where success comes from reading. “The more you read, the more you will understand good writing, particularly if you read the good books.” Where success comes from collaboration, mentorships, and study.

I enjoyed homework

 Pedantic? Perhaps not. I never taught that way. Too boring. Maybe an example would be better. So I decided to tell them of a learning experience in my junior high school English class of years ago.

My teacher ( bless her) introduced us to poetry by reading “Casey at the Bat.” Up to that point, I had not read any poetry. Well, maybe I read “Trees’ by Kilmer. But “Casey” was different as he lived in a world that married my love of sports with an introduction to something new and different. I loved the poem, loved Casey, and became entranced with her recital. I was stunned when she reached the end and read the last stanza of Ernest Lawrence Thayer’s work.

 Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,

But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

         I awoke and  blurted “He struck out!”

      “Yes, Edward. Calm down. He struck out.” I suspect that was the moment when I realized the power of the written word, my learning moment.

          I read “Casey” to the class and told my story. They laughed. I reassured them that there was a sequel, “Casey’s Revenge” and that the results were different.

           I asked the class, “What does learning mean to you?” I was not prepared for this answer.

“Learning is a delicacy.” I paused to look at the confident young lady with her smiling, wide-eyed, enthusiastic expression.

“A delicacy?" I asked.

“Yes.”

 “I love it,” I said. “But what do you mean?”

“I just love to learn. It’s like dessert.”

 I needed some time. I read a story from my book. The class was momentarily silent, and then they asked questions.

“Why did you write a book?”

“How many did you sell?’

 “Did it make you feel good?”

“How did you remember all those things?”

 “Tell us about becoming a doctor.”

I said to the class, “What a treat to be in school. How incredibly lucky to learn just for the sake of learning. Savor every moment.” I reflected on those days of not listening enough, and wanting to get out to do other things, sports for example.

This young lady had already realized what I learned later in life. Dessert.

Recently, I decided to re-read some of the classics that I did not appreciate as I should have in earlier years; those years when I had professors by my side who wanted to help me on the journey. I started with Dostoevsky’s “Brothers Karamazov.” It took one year to read. I moved on to “Moby Dick.” Another year. Then “Great Expectations.” Less time. Every page, every inch of text was worth it.

I remember the days when these assignments were a chore. Would that those years were back when I had a teacher to guide me.

To be able to learn for the sake of learning itself. To be able to enjoy the classics, history, sociology, religion, geography, and languages just because you can is a treasure, an experience like no other.

The hour sped by. I wish I had more time. I hoped they did also.

“A delicacy,” she said.

Yes, indeed. We should never forget it.

“Learning is a delicacy.”