Frank McCourt, A Teacher’s Brush with The Teacher Man
July 20, 2009 by Debra Marrs
Filed under Blog
Frank McCourt in 2007 at Housing Works bookstore in New York City (photo courtesy David Shankbone)
Things are a little grayer all over the world today with the passing of author Frank McCourt, on Sunday, July 19, 2009. Angela’s Ashes, published in 1996, and the first in a series of memoirs written by McCourt, probably did more than anything in the past two decades to create the heightened desire in writers to preserve and craft their own personal stories. During his years as a classroom teacher in the New York public school system, he “always told his writing students that they were their own best material.” Toward the end of his teaching career and into retirement, he took his own best advice and penned Angela’s Ashes and two subsequent memoirs: ‘Tis: A Memoir, and Teacher Man.
The people who read and enjoyed his books were common folks just like most of us. Some were better off but knew someone–perhaps a neighbor, or their child’s teacher, or their grandparents—who had come from a hard-scrabble upbringing and had a story to tell. Suddenly, everyone wanted to capture their own lives on the page, whether to publish like McCourt had, or to simply create a legacy in words to leave behind for their progeny.
McCourt achieved one of publishing’s highest accolades when he won the Pulitzer Prize for Biography. But he never lost his humble bearings.
I met him, shook his hand and had an opportunity to speak to Mr. McCourt briefly during the 2001 Florida Suncoast Writers Conference. A gentle teacher man, the same age as my father, he had just presented the opening keynote at the conference. He took my hand, turned it over, and said, “I bet you’re a teacher.” I was taken aback, for indeed I was. In fact, I had just started teaching memoir writing courses the semester before at the University of South Florida.
Because of the resurgence in personal storytelling McCourt had spawned, I’d switched from teaching business writing to creative nonfiction writing classes so I could read stories, like McCourt’s, for a living, and help writers write, and perhaps publish, the books of their dreams.
And I shared that with him. He never broke eye contact, and I locked on him, too, reveling in this brief moment with a mentor, a literary icon.
In his characteristic Irish-laden brogue, he thanked me for carrying on something he started “as kind of a bother.”
He winked, then said, “You know, I sometimes still prefer teaching. Writing is kinda fun, but on the bad days, it can get you down, ya know?”
I agree, both writing and teaching have their flip sides: good days and bad days, great days and blah days. Whether we’re the student or teaching from the other side of the desk, both are integral parts of the journey to publishing. The writer’s life is (or ought to be) a lifelong act of learning and figuring things out, as Frank McCourt’s memoirs attest.
What remains a mystery to me is how the iconic Teacher Man figured out I was a teacher by simply taking my hand in his.
In tribute to Frank McCourt, Whose Irish Childhood Illuminated His Prose, Dead at 78
Frank McCourt from photographer David Shankbone’s perspective
Debra,
Wow! What a special encounter. He must have seen the kindness in you, the way you help others in so many ways – teaching being one.
Rest In Peace, Frank McCourt.
Thank you, Melissa. I do love what I do, and I think he did also.
Awesome, Deb! What an experience! Thanks for sharing it in such a real way!
Thanks for your note, Karen. Yes, it was one of those unforgettable moments. The kind you never want to erase from your mind as a magical one.
Debra: I never knew that you met Frank McCourt. I loved Angela’s Ashes as much as you said I would.
Sandy, I’m glad you enjoyed Angela’s Ashes. It’s one of those rare books that touches many.
I am so happy you were able to meet Frank McCourt. I would have loved to have met him. His memoir was one of the first books to inspire my co-writer Deirdre Gogarty to write her memoir. And, of course, they are both from Ireland, so she felt a bond.
Lovely piece, Debra. Thanks for sharing your magical moment.
Darrelyn, yes, McCourt inspired so many people to want to share their stories. He made it look easy in some ways because he just allowed his day by day coming-of-age stories to unfold. By example, he teaches “show, don’t tell” with his vivid scenes. I’m so happy for you to have this opportunity to co-write Deirdre Gogarty’s memoir. Because you already know so much about what makes a good story too. No doubt, it will be a stunner. Can’t wait to see!
Thanks Debra. We are on chapter 12 out of 16 or 17. It’s a slow process but so worthwhile. I truly appreciate your inspiration and support.
His “Angela’s Ashes” and “‘Tis” brought me back to thoughts about my family.
“Teacher Man” brought me down to earth, that I understand my students, like me, are humans, with their own stories, and sorrows.
TP Chuan
Malaysia
Yes, Frank McCourt had a similar effect on many. He’ll be missed for so many reasons. Thank you for your comment, TP.
Debbie, actually you had a lot in common with Frank, you always remembered where you came from . . . perhaps Frère Jacques kitty might ring a bell.
Loved Angela’s Ashes, as I did all his works, oddly enough many of my friends did not, said it was depressing. The humor in life often holds tight to an edge of depressing, it’s part of the human condition, embracing reality is okay.
Lisa, wow–I’m so glad you found me here. I DO remember Frere Jacques kitty. That seems so long ago. So glad to hear from you and also to know you related to Frank McCourt’s writings. We have lots to catch up on, my friend. I’ll be in touch. Thanks for your comments.
Debra