COMM 337: "Anatomy of a High School Dropout"

Don Murray, author of our textbook, is the subject of an odd story titled "Anatomy of a High School Dropout" in an online education magazine. (Odd for our purposes, at least, because it's written by an educator rather than a journalist.) It's by Jeanne Jacoby Smith, a specialist in rhetoric and composition pedagogy who decided "the very things that gave Murray grief in school were those that won him the Pulitzer Prize."

I was always interested in the story, because I like Murray and because I never saw a whole lot of point in school either, at least not till grad school (but that's another story and not a very interesting one). But I never looked in the Jacoby Smith piece for anything that might help my own writing until today. Then I needed to find something -- and find it quick -- for an in-class writing assignment when a half dozen students showed up without their textbooks. Smith's story was all I could think of, so I asked them to write about what they found in it that could help them with their writing as J-students.

Which means I had to go back and re-read the story for writing tips, anecdotes about Murray and other things that might help me as a writer, too. I was surprised how much I found.

For one thing, Murray bombed out in school because he'd get too interested in a project, and he'd let all the rest of the busywork slide. I used to do that, too, and it's one of the reasons I always hated school until I could do research of things that interested me in grad school. But the same habits that hurt Murray (and me) in school are the ones you need as a professional writer.

Jacoby Smith explains:

Murray hungered for in-depth immersion in a subject of his own choosing. What mattered were topics he cared passionately about. He was motivated for a career in writing, for meaningful work that would point him in that direction, but he was not motivated for high school, which did not expedite his cause. When topics of interest captured Murray's attention, days would pass until he surfaced again. He reflects on the situation, "I was a compulsive reader held back by my ... teachers since I read more, far more, than was required. I knew I could learn what I needed to learn." His sense of efficacy, the knowledge that he could do what he determined to do, is characteristic of resilient children.

Whatever Murray decided to do he did with passion. If he failed, he did so abysmally. If he passed, he excelled beyond expectations. His Latin teacher informed him that he was her best translator in class, but in grammar he failed. Today, Murray laughs, "I simply didn't care enough about past participle, intransitive ... verbs."

Wow! That's what I was like all the way through school. I didn't much care for grammar, either. Still don't.

But the way Murray threw himself into research is exactly what pays off in journalism. In a lot of workplace settings, as a matter of fact. Jacoby Smith says Murray is an example of a "resiliant child," a type of student she's trying to reach. I don't know about that, but he was a good enough journalist to get a job with Time right out of school and win a Pulitzer Prize.

The other part I liked has to do with Murray's emphasis on surprise. One reason he was a good writer (a good teacher, too, I think) is because he was always open to being surprised. In fact, he insisted on it. Jacoby Smith says Murray:

... passed most courses, but barely. In his words, "I couldn't make sense of the work if there was no mystery involved."

What is "mystery" for Murray?

Anything that involves surprise. To this day he writes about his craft as putting pen to paper "to write what I do not expect. I invite, encourage, cultivate, welcome, and follow surprise." Though he spent his life as a reporter, writer, and writing coach, he confesses to teaching that which cannot be taught. A writer, he says, hears the voice in his head creating, unraveling, revising, envisioning the writing as it comes. Writing has become an obsession to reveal that which he does not know -- a form of ultimate reality, his daily revelation. He authors faith at the point of a pen and talks about the "voice within, the voice of the text." He claims he can pick out a newsroom's best reporters by watching them silently (prayerfully?) voice the stories as they flow onto the page.

I'm leaving out a couple of footnotes here. You can check them in the original. To me, the main thing here is surprise. It's key to the way I'm trying to teach this whole course in advanced journalistic writing.

In fact, that's what happened when I assigned the Jacoby Smith article in class. I wasn't expecting to, and it was a pleasant surprise. But I guess that's the point.