Week 1, Post 1: The Long and Winding Road

I have always loved language.  Initially, I think I was fascinated by my Arkansas grandma’s twang, which sounded so different from -- and frankly, funnier than -- anyone else’s speech in our family.  Then I found myself mesmerized by songs and the meanings behind lyrics, from children’s songs to Hank Williams to Motown to Dylan. 

When I was twelve I had my first encounter with religion; the language of King James’ Bible felt magical.  I first fell in love with literature when, in high school, we were encouraged to expand our outside reading.  This is how I came upon Steinbeck’s “Grapes of Wrath,” with it’s lovely alternate chapters of poetic/journalistic commentary.  In my English BA, I adored Milton’s description of Satan in “Paradise Lost,” and, from the beginning, I’d always felt Shakespeare’s dialogues were confections as much as conversations.

In intermediate school we had to pick a foreign language to study.  Having been born in Germany and having grown up with mysteries of “G.I. German” in the home, my choice was clear.  My father knew a man who’d retired from his medical practice and was living in Lucerne, Switzerland.  In the summer of my fourteenth year, he asked if I’d like to spend a summer in Switzerland, and I jumped at the chance.  I was fairly immersed in German for about three months, an experience that ran from pure alienation and misery, at first, to an amazing feeling of enlightenment toward the end.  I reveled in the people, the culture and the learning; I dreaded having to come back to my home in California.  My zeal for language learning was only boosted by this experience.  In time, I would study happily, if superficially, French, Spanish and Japanese, as well.

High school journalism classes afforded me the chance to use language to inform and, potentially, move people to action.  Toward the same end, though in a more creative way, I would eventually put my hand to songwriting, poetry and, for a limited time, advertisement copy writing in an internship with a firm in the City.  Songwriting was my greatest love.  Personally, nothing had ever stirred me quite like the one-two punch of music and narrative that we find in modern songwriting, so I channeled that passion into a few rock bands in the East Bay during the early 80s, playing clubs all over the Bay Area.

Though I moved to LA after college, in part, to make it as a songwriter, I rather fell into teaching via the seduction of the emergency credential.  In truth, I didn’t know what I was getting into.  I’d had no formal teaching instruction.  Suddenly I was teaching huge classes of hormone-crazed adolescents in ESL in South Central, complete with drive-by shootings and, worse, an even more uncooperative administration.  Two years later, taking a big drop in pay, I found my way to teaching ESL in adult education centers throughout LA.  I did this for about 25 years.  After a very enjoyable position near the beach for twelve years, the entire school was eliminated due to budget constraints -- a tragedy for the whole community, where the school had served for over seventy years.  For my part,  it broke my heart to walk away from the joyous students I’d been blessed to teach, and who’d taught me much about loyalty, friendship and the bounty of a (comparatively) non-materialistic culture.

Unemployed, I took some literature courses at a community college.  They reminded me of my earlier passion for reading and writing, which, to be honest, I’d neglected to some extent, in favor of songwriting.  I remembered, too, my favorite class at UC Berkley, Rhetoric 101.  It was easily the most student-centered course in my college experience; the discussions were always lively, sometimes even aggressive.  The goal was to master persuasive writing.  The means to that end was critical thinking, questioning everything, and honing our writing skills until we were capable of persuading our most ardent opponents.  Like my summer of “enlightenment” in Switzerland, Rhetoric 101 felt like a great “wake up” time.  Looking back, this was the turning point, I suppose, where I discovered clearer thinking and clearer writing.  In choosing a new career direction for myself, I’ve decided to return to my Rhetoric “roots,” to try to help other young people clarify their thoughts and writing.  It may well be difficult, but I’m sure it will be rewarding.