Did a teacher change your life?
The ones who show us the way, plus my weekly shareables: A long-ago kidnapping, a recent storm, and going inside the head of Nic Cage
My life wouldn’t be the same if not for James Holt.
He died this week at age 69, which means he was only nine years older than me. It seems weird now to think that he was just 23 when I was 14 and a freshman at Brunswick High School. He seemed much older. I guess nine years is a lifetime when you’re that age.
He taught math but I never took a math class from him … what he was really known for was being one of the best debate coaches in the state. He recruited me for the team. I read a lot and talked a lot and didn’t mind getting up in front of people. I guess I was an obvious choice.
Mr. Holt, and his colleague Wayne Ervin, made us into a solid squad. We traveled all over Georgia for tournaments, packing into a short bus for the drive to Quitman or Elijay or Warner Robins. The tournaments themselves I don’t remember much, although we brought home our share of trophies. What I remember is those bus rides, playing 20 Questions, conjuring up elaborate puns, listening to “Super Freak” on repeat, maybe doing a little sweaty teenage groping under a musty blanket. I made lifelong friends and priceless memories.
That was one favor Mr. Holt did for me. The other was getting me a job at the Sunset Drive-In.
I need to write a whole separate piece soon about my time at the drive-in; it was the first real job I ever had, and probably the best. I worked there from when I was 15 until I left for college three years later, then came back and worked summers for a year or two. Mr. Holt’s mom, Tommie, ran the drive-in. She would bring giant bowls of fried rice for the staff to share. James worked at the theater, too, along with his brother, John. They hired a lot of James’ students and John’s friends. I learned so many things there. People will show up for a movie even in a tropical storm. The “butter” on buttered popcorn looks horrendous in its unmelted state. If everyone is high enough, they won’t notice you assembled the movie reels in the wrong order.
Except for my mom and dad, the debate team and the drive-in probably had the most influence on who I am and what I became. And I have James Holt to thank for both of them.
Did you have a teacher who changed YOUR life? I would to hear from y’all on this one. Tell me your story in the comments.
10 things I wanted to share this week:
My weekly for WFAE was about a day at the tip of a smoking gun.
This week’s SouthBound was a replay of my conversation with ESPN’s Ryan McGee. Go buy his book WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS OF BASEBALL. It’s tremendous.
Speaking of tremendous: this piece by Taffy Brodesser-Akner on a long-ago kidnapping, and the victim’s life after that trauma … well, this story goes in some unexpected directions, and gets better with every passing paragraph, and by the end it left me breathless. (NYT)
In related news: I can’t wait to read Taffy’s new novel, LONG ISLAND COMPROMISE, which is tangentially related to the kidnapping above.
My friend Chris Vognar writes about the new TWISTERS movie, and what it’s like when a real storm hits your town. (NYT)
Nancy Brachey, the Charlotte Observer’s longtime garden columnist, died this week; the Observer’s Joe Marusak has an excellent obit. I worked at the paper with Nancy for many years, and for most of those years, I was never sure if she liked me—but one day she came over and started chatting and everything was fine. She was encyclopedically knowledgable, constantly skeptical, master of the side-eye, and possessed a great laugh—but you really had to earn it.
One more RIP: the brilliant Bob Newhart, who created the first blockbuster comedy album AND the greatest final scene in sitcom history. (The Guardian, NYT)
Nicolas Cage talks to Susan Orlean about ADAPTATION, and lots of other things. (And if you haven’t seen ADAPTATION, remedy that right away.) (New Yorker)
Charlotte’s own Joshua Lee Turner, an amazing musician, posted his 500th YouTube video and made it into a look back at how creating videos gave him an unexpected career.
For a great taste of what Josh does, check out this version of Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain”:
Have a great week, everybody.
Spring of junior year, registering for senior classes. Sitting in library discussing course selection with a certain gal. Me: "I'm going to take easier classes. Sick of homework". She: "I'm taking this pre-calculus class. I heard it's good". Me, hoping desperately to be in the same class as her: "well.... maybe I will take pre-calc too". I was always good at math (perfect score on ACT math section) but did not especially like the subject. Myron Schultz' pre-calc class changed everything, especially the short intro to calculus that finished the year. I remember saying to myself, "Holy crap! This stuff is POWERFUL!". Some 11 years later I was hired as a high school math teacher myself. Had a successful career - district, state, national teaching awards. Every now and then, when something went especially well in my classroom, I would point up, look, and say "this one's for you, Myron". Eventually some kid would ask what the heck I was doing, and I would repeat fpr the class the story I just told.
Apologies to those who have heard this story.
My Approaches to Lit professor, Sam Watson of UNCC, after reading a five-page handwritten assignment in which I had wandered around a topic but never landed anywhere, wrote back to me, "Dear Ellyn, you have a delightful felicity with words. Try not to let that stand in the way of your actually having something to SAY."
Ever since then, I have tried to have something worth saying, or to keep quiet.