I'm a high school English teacher, and as you may guess, most of us have no life whatsoever beyond grading papers and making sure the world speaks in grammatically correct sentences. After all, we are the hopelessly optimistic people who continue to think up creative ways to teach classic literature like "Huckleberry Finn," "The Scarlet Letter," and "Romeo and Juliet" year after year, even though students don't even pretend to read them anymore and openly stroll into class reading a freshly printed copy of the Sparknoted assignment.
Oh, well. That's a whole other blog.
One of the perks of being a teacher used to be the conventions we were encouraged to attend before the economy went South. I once met Al Pacino and the late Gene Siskel at an NCTE (National Council of Teachers of English) convention in Chicago when they were promoting Pacino's documentary "Looking for Richard," which followed the creative process of the conception and production of his feature film, "Richard III." It struck me as bizarre how Pacino portrays glib, glossy characters on the screen, but when presented with questions in a live interview, his sentences veered and lurched, as he unsuccessfully attempted to keep his responses between the ditches. A bad night? The workings of a creative mind? Or, maybe he missed having a script in front of him.
About ten years ago in October, I attended another NCTE convention, this time in Milwaukee. The keynote speaker was Frank McCourt who was there to promote the film based on his Pulitzer Prize-winning book, "Angela's Ashes." I adored the book and his no nonsense, yet blarney-filled, story-telling style. Though steeped in the darkness of his poor and pitiful childhood, the memoir is chuck-full of humor, honesty, depth and philosophical musings, all qualities I admire in a book---and an author.
Being of Irish heritage and an aspiring writer, I envisioned my plan to be noticed by him: "Hello, Mr. McCourt. Would you please sign my name tag? I loved 'Angela's Ashes.' I saw in your book that you included a picture of the Leamy School in Limerick which you attended when you were young. My maiden name was Leamy. (I hand him my name tag and point out the name.) I'm a writer too. Love to write stories about families.---You'd like to see some of my writing? Sure, I can send something to you. Oh, why look. I happen to have a story right here in this folder.---Why, yes. I'd love it if you'd read it and comment on it.---I've written a novel, you know. Really? If you like it, you'd consider writing a promotional blurb for the cover? Oh, thank you, Mr. McCourt.---What? Call you Frank?"
Frank McCourt delivered a wry, spot-on, hour-long monologue of quips and ditties about his 30 years of teaching in the New York Public School System to an audience of a thousand teachers or more. He then took questions, and the stories flowed full-bodied and smooth, as Guinness from the tap in an Irish pub. If there were an Academy Award category for Best Live Performance at an NCTE Convention, McCourt would take home Oscar, and Pacino would be left in the dust.
After the standing ovation, McCourt signed autographs, so I stood in line going over my spiel in my mind. All the women English teachers were gathered around him, ogling in admiration, as we tend to do in the presence of a notable author. Finally, it was my turn. (I hate how the pressure builds when you're waiting in line for a long time.) Anyway, I spouted the business about my maiden name being Leamy, and how my ancestors were from Ireland, etc. He signed my name tag as he listened, gave it back, and in his Irish lilt said, "You know those Leamy people were pirates, don't you?"
"It figures," was all I could think of to say, my shining Pacino moment.
***Frank McCourt, author of "Angela's Ashes," "'Tis," and "Teacher Man," died at the age of 78 in New York City of meningitis on July 19, 2009.
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