A Writing Life Lesson

I had a nice treat yesterday. I had a real live comment on my blog site. That’s a new experience. I’ve had friends comment through e-mail. However, I’ve never had a posted comment that others could view. I suppose I need to file that under a ‘fun’ thing. You can view the comment as posted under ‘Anthony Chapel’.

I’m not sure I could define why I started this writing and blog creating adventure. I know that I marvel at the changes in technology, and they hold a certain appeal for me. I well remember sitting in the middle of my bed in college typing on my portable typewriter. I seemed to feel the creative juices flow better in the middle of the bed. Sitting at the desk just didn’t do anything for me. I remember being careful of which keys I struck and how I spelled words. I didn’t want to turn in a paper with misspelled words, and I didn’t want to use ‘white out’ on it either. It meant careful careful work, or I'd have to completely retype the paper. I can only imagine how much easier that life would have been with a computer and the ability to use a word processor. I know I LOVE it now!

I remember feeling relieved when I went to college with the knowledge that I’d had an outstanding English teacher in high school. She made us love literature and also taught us the fine points of English grammar and ‘term paper’ writing. I was astonished my freshman year of college to find that many had no idea about how to write a term paper. I wondered if they had slept in class or just weren’t taught that skill.

At this point in my life, I’d have to review term paper writing, but I’ve continued to enjoy writing.... to some extent.

I keep thinking about an event that happened to me while seeking my first teaching position upon graduation from college. I often shared this story with students through the years as felt it made a strong point. Students don’t always see the need to care about spelling and form of writing. Too often they just want to complete the task and get the paper on the desk. I thought the following story might point out just how critical it might be to them.

I’d applied for an elementary teaching position in a community close to a larger city. It was my first interview for my first job in education. I really wanted the position. Looking back on it, I think I probably had the position before I even walked in the door. A family friend was Superintendent of Schools in our small community, and I know he had called and put in a good word for me with the Superintendent who was then interviewing me.

I felt relaxed during the interview and thought I was having a good discussion with the Superintendent. Then he mentioned that he had a number of positions to fill and motioned toward a stack of letters on his desk. Pulling the stack closer to himself, he leafed through them and handed one to me. ‘What in the heck is he doing?!’, I thought. He asked me to read through it and tell him if I thought he should interview the person. My mind was reeling as I started reading the letter. I couldn’t imagine why on earth he would be asking me such a thing. I just knew it was a test of some kind, but just what was he expecting.

As I read further into the letter, I saw the problem, or problems. I finished the letter and handed it back to him. He smiled and asked if I thought he should interview the person. I smiled right back and gave him a confident ‘No, Sir. I wouldn’t bother.’ He gave me a slow smile and asked why I’d formed that opinion. I told him that there were three spelling errors in the letter. I also stated that it showed the person didn’t care enough to check every word and make certain they presented themselves well. He cast me a ‘well done’ glance and placed the letter back into the stack on his desk. He said, ‘I agree. I have no intention of bothering with an interview.’ With that, he slid another paper across the desk, and I signed my first teaching contract.

I told this to my classes year after year, as found too often students saw no reason to bother with proofreading. I thought it was a fine example of why one should practice good writing habits. Someone, somewhere, lost even the possibility of a position they might have sincerely desired. That is one of those life lessons that has stayed with me for many years. I only hoped that my telling the story in class might help some young person to value the effort it takes to reread or double check how they present themselves to others. I will say that each time I told the story, there was dead silence at the end. Perhaps they listened. I hope so.