I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists. It might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human mind and spirit—John Steinbeck I spent my blog post last week advising everyone not to pay too much attention to writing advice. I guess it…
I’ve always been a reader. My first word was “book,” and some of my most treasured childhood memories are from the days I spent cozied up with Roald Dahl stories. By the time I was thirteen, I discovered Arthur C. Clarke and Ray Bradbury, gateway authors into the science fiction world. My geekiness soared tenfold. Perhaps those authors give the impression I was a sophisticated child reader; my big sister…
During a catastrophically bad job interview, Kate, the main character in Small Admissions says that, in her mind, the year begins in September — not in January. It’s one of the few reasonable (as in not completely crazy) statements she makes as she’s trying to land a job in a school. I feel the same way. For me, September has always meant the beginning of a new year. All these…
I loathed everything about Emmett Woodshanks (not his real name — his real name was far less Dickensian. He also didn’t look like Alan Rickman. I probably would have liked him a lot more if he had). I loathed his nearly-bald head, with its wreath of orange hair. I loathed his close-cropped beard and mustache. I loathed his wire-rimmed circular glasses. I loathed the way he licked his upper lip…
