It seems to me that all writers, including those who deserve to be classified as geniuses, need encouragement, particularly in their early years. I always knew I could write, but that just meant I wrote a little better than the other kids in my classes. That I might one day write well enough to derive1 income from my efforts, oddly enough, never occurred to me during my grade school and high school years.
There was a particular teacher at Hyde Park High School in Chicago, Illinois, who, simply by concentrating her attention on me, made me believe that I might be able to master the knack2 of writing well enough to consider the craft as a profession. Her name was Marguerite Byrne, and she taught English, which, of course, involved writing skills. Whatever instruction she shared with me was exactly the same as all her other students enjoyed, but the difference was she encouraged me to begin the process of submitting things I was writing, in that day, chiefly poems.
To my surprise the Chicago Tribune not only thought enough of several of my verses to publish them, but also paid me -- inadvertently -- the highest compliment a fledging author can receive. The editor wrote a confidential3 letter to Miss Byrne, asking her to see, if by chance, one of her students -- a certain Stephen Allen -- might be guilty of plagiarism4. The editor’s suspicions had been roused because, he was kind enough to say, he found it hard to believe that a seventeen-year-old could create material on such a professional level.
When Miss Byrne shared the letter with me, I was ecstatic! It was wonderfully encouraging. Maybe I really as a writer, I thought.
Miss Byrne also encouraged me to enter a contest sponsored by the CIVITAN organization. The assignment was to write an essay titled "Rediscovering America." I was literally5 astonished when I received a letter saying that I was the winner of the contest. The prize was a check for one-hundred dollars and an invitation to an all-the-trimmings banquet at a hotel in downtown Chicago.
My mother, at the time, was not even aware that I was interested in writing, or if she had somehow found out about it, she took little notice. When I arrived back home tat evening, she didn’t ask how the evening had gone. I placed the one-hundred-dollar check on the breakfast table where she would see it when she awoke in the morning -- and went immediately to bed.
This scenario6 demonstrates the tremendous impor-tance of giving young people caring attention and encouraging them to develop and practice such gifts as they might have. Years later, I was able to repay my debt to Marguerite Byrne by dedicating one of my books, Wry7 on the Rocks -- A Collection of Poems, to her.
On the other hand, without encouragement talented students may never be motivated to learn, develop skills, or reach their full potential. For example, at the same high school, there was a teacher whose Spanish language classes I attended but from whom I, unfortunately learned very little simply because of the woman’s cold sarcastically8 critical attitude. She seemed to know nothing about encouraging students, and she was gifted speaking contemptuously of those of us who weren’t learning fast enough. Her negativism drove me away. Partly because of this teacher’s negative influence, I am not fluent in Spanish today.
You see, I had already learned that one can derive instructive benefit from bad examples -- by avoiding that behavior. Alcoholism was a serious problem in my mother’s family. As a result of having seen enough examples of alcoholic9 excess in my childhood, I have never had any interest in drinking. The same applies to smoking. My poor mother was a two-pack a day victim of nicotine10 addiction11, and because of the endless clouds of smoke, the coughing, the overfilled ashtrays12, and the ugly smell of cigarette smoke in the house and in my clothing, I have never smoked a cigarette in my life.
Again, young writers need to be encouraged. Because of Miss Byrne’s influence, I have enjoyed a lifetime writing books, songs, and TV scripts. And guess what? I haven’t plagiarized13 a single word of any of it.
A Thanksgiving Story
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