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Teacher Man: A Memoir (The Frank McCourt Memoirs) Hardcover – November 15, 2005
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Now, here at last, is McCourt's long-awaited book about how his thirty-year teaching career shaped his second act as a writer. Teacher Man is also an urgent tribute to teachers everywhere. In bold and spirited prose featuring his irreverent wit and heartbreaking honesty, McCourt records the trials, triumphs and surprises he faces in public high schools around New York City. His methods anything but conventional, McCourt creates a lasting impact on his students through imaginative assignments (he instructs one class to write "An Excuse Note from Adam or Eve to God"), singalongs (featuring recipe ingredients as lyrics), and field trips (imagine taking twenty-nine rowdy girls to a movie in Times Square!).
McCourt struggles to find his way in the classroom and spends his evenings drinking with writers and dreaming of one day putting his own story to paper. Teacher Man shows McCourt developing his unparalleled ability to tell a great story as, five days a week, five periods per day, he works to gain the attention and respect of unruly, hormonally charged or indifferent adolescents. McCourt's rocky marriage, his failed attempt to get a Ph.D. at Trinity College, Dublin, and his repeated firings due to his propensity to talk back to his superiors ironically lead him to New York's most prestigious school, Stuyvesant High School, where he finally finds a place and a voice. "Doggedness," he says, is "not as glamorous as ambition or talent or intellect or charm, but still the one thing that got me through the days and nights."
For McCourt, storytelling itself is the source of salvation, and in Teacher Man the journey to redemption -- and literary fame -- is an exhilarating adventure.
- Print length272 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherScribner
- Publication dateNovember 15, 2005
- Dimensions6.13 x 1 x 9.25 inches
- ISBN-100743243773
- ISBN-13978-0743243773
- Lexile measure920L
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As he did so adroitly in his previous memoirs, Angela's Ashes and 'Tis, McCourt manages to uncover humor in nearly everything. He writes about hilarious misfires, as when he suggested (during his teacher's exam) that the students write a suicide note, as well as unorthodox assignments that turned into epiphanies for both teacher and students. A dazzling writer with a unique and compelling voice, McCourt describes the dignity and difficulties of a largely thankless profession with incisive, self-deprecating wit and uncommon perception. It may have taken him three decades to figure out how to be an effective teacher, but he ultimately saved his most valuable lesson for himself: how to be his own man. --Shawn Carkonen
From Publishers Weekly
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From Bookmarks Magazine
Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc.
From Booklist
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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-- Billy Collins
About the Author
Product details
- Publisher : Scribner; First Edition (November 15, 2005)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 272 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0743243773
- ISBN-13 : 978-0743243773
- Lexile measure : 920L
- Item Weight : 1.14 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.13 x 1 x 9.25 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #143,704 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #59 in Educator Biographies
- #583 in Author Biographies
- #4,667 in Memoirs (Books)
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About the author

Frank McCourt (1930-2009) was born in Brooklyn, New York, to Irish immigrant parents, grew up in Limerick, Ireland, and returned to America in 1949. For thirty years he taught in New York City high schools. His first book, "Angela's Ashes," won the Pulitzer Prize, the National Book Critics Circle Award and the L.A. Times Book Award. In 2006, he won the prestigious Ellis Island Family Heritage Award for Exemplary Service in the Field of the Arts and the United Federation of Teachers John Dewey Award for Excellence in Education.
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Frank McCourt (1930-2009) nació en Brooklyn, Nueva York, de padres inmigrantes irlandeses, creció en Limerick, Irlanda, y regresó a Estados Unidos en 1949. Durante treinta años enseñó en escuelas secundarias de la ciudad de Nueva York. Su primer libro, "Las cenizas de Angela", ganó el Premio Pulitzer, el Premio del Círculo Nacional de Críticos de Libros y el Premio L.A. Times Book. En 2006, ganó el prestigioso Premio Ellis Island Family Heritage por el Servicio ejemplar en el campo de las artes y el Premio de la Unión de Maestros John Dewey por la excelencia en la educación.
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On the other side of the continent, Frank McCourt taught high school English for 30 years in New York City. It seems likely to me that he was always a talented teacher, but for most of his career teaching was his private hell filled with idiot administrators, stupider parents and damaged students. In these early technical schools he was bothered and belittled by his betters: "I was uncomfortable with the bureaucrats, the higher-ups, who had escaped classrooms only to turn and bother the occupants of those classrooms, teachers and students. I never wanted to fill out their forms, follow their guidelines, administer their examinations, tolerate their snooping, adjust myself to their programs and courses of study."
But his biggest mistake, I think, was in taking the teacher training seriously. At NYU he was told to present a consistent image of composure and self-confidence. Teach the curriculum, don't let them into your private life, maintain a distant-discipline. Tellingly, all that was said by some of the worst "teachers" imaginable. Why would anyone take them seriously?
From the start, when McCourt got in classroom trouble, he told the stories of his formerly Irish life and the students listened. In the beginning he thinks these stories, and his other classroom solutions, are mistakes. He even confesses to feeling doomed during his NY teacher's exam. (When trapped then he suggests the students write a suicide note.) But he passes and he gets to experience all of those frustrating years in "trade schools." Eventually he ends up at Stuyvesant High with kids who were prepared to learn what he was prepared to teach. At Stuyvesant his "betters" saw themselves as colleagues and knew enough to trust him to stimulate.
In a way, McCourt's story is the opening scene of Brave New World where the embryo Alphas get clean nutrients and embryos at the bottom of the stairs get nutrients laced with alcohol. In a way, it is the story of Jonathan Kozol's firing after his first year in Boston then his awards for doing the same things at a private school the next. In a way, it is the story of the contemporary crisis in American-national education. But what becomes clear is that knowing more about the problem doesn't point to any easy solutions. (Unless we can begin with honest discussions, new parents, new administrators, fresh teachers, and new buildings.)
Of course, all the talk about school rules and school discipline is important. But in the schools I've been a part of, at Stuyvesant, rules and discipline are just there - neither is focused on, at least not focused on seriously. The "high stakes' tests are given, but they are mostly ignored because the students do so well. (And therefore, by definition, they are not "high stakes.") In the marginal schools, at McKee Vocational and Technical in 1958, the rules, the discipline and, now, the "high stakes" tests are ends in themselves; crosses for new crucifixions; reasons to fire Frank McCourt.
Some reviewers have written that it took three decades for McCourt to figure out how to be an effective teacher. They are wrong. It just took him that long to find a school with administrators able to relax and students willing (and able) to learn what he had to teach.
Apropos of nothing in particular here is my favorite part. In the Prologue, soon-to-be-teacher-McCourt fantasizes about what it will be like when he finally makes it in the classroom.
"Principals and other figures of authority passing in the hallways will hear sounds of excitement from your room....You'll be nominated for awards: Teacher of the Year, Teacher of the Century. You'll be invited to Washington. Eisenhower will shake your hand. Newspapers will ask you, a mere teacher, for your opinion on education. This will be big news: A teacher asked for his opinion on education. Wow. You'll be on television. Television. Imagine: A teacher on television."
Buy the book for yourself and your neighbors and discuss it. And imagine a teacher, a mere teacher, asked for an opinion on education.
My students forged the notes. I turned them into a lesson plan.
From Reader's Digest, Originally in Teacher Man
I was in my third year of teaching creative writing at Ralph McKee Vocational School in Staten Island, New York, when one of my students, 16-year-old Mikey, gave me a note from his mother. It explained his absence from class the day before:
"Dear Mr. McCort, Mikey's grandmother who is eighty years of age fell down the stairs from too much coffee and I kept Mikey at home to take care of her and his baby sister so I could go to my job at the ferry terminal. Please excuse Mikey and he'll do his best in the future. P.S. His grandmother is ok."
I had seen Mikey writing the note at his desk, using his left hand to disguise his handwriting. I said nothing. Most parental-excuse notes I received back in those days were penned by my students. They'd been forging excuse notes since they learned to write, and if I were to confront each forger I'd be busy 24 hours a day.
I threw Mikey's note into a desk drawer along with dozens of other notes. While my classes took a test, I decided to read all the notes I'd only glanced at before. I made two piles, one for the genuine ones written by mothers, the other for forgeries. The second was the larger pile, with writing that ranged from imaginative to lunatic.
I was having an epiphany.
Isn't it remarkable, I thought, how the students whined and said it was hard putting 200 words together on any subject? But when they forged excuse notes, they were brilliant. The notes I had could be turned into an anthology of Great American Excuses. They were samples of talent never mentioned in song, story or study.
How could I have ignored this treasure trove, these gems of fiction and fantasy? Here was American high school writing at its best--raw, real, urgent, lucid, brief, and lying. I read:
* The stove caught fire and the wallpaper went up and the fire department kept us out of the house all night.
* Arnold was getting off the train and the door closed on his school bag and the train took it away. He yelled to the conductor who said very vulgar things as the train drove away.
* His sister's dog ate his homework and I hope it chokes him.
* We were evicted from our apartment and the mean sheriff said if my son kept yelling for his notebook he'd have us all arrested.
The writers of these notes didn't realize that honest excuse notes were usually dull: "Peter was late because the alarm clock didn't go off."
One day I typed out a dozen excuse notes and distributed them to my senior classes. The students read them silently, intently. "Mr. McCourt, who wrote these?" asked one boy.
"You did," I said. "I omitted names to protect the guilty. They're supposed to be written by parents, but you and I know the real authors. Yes, Mikey?"
"So what are we supposed to do?"
"This is the first class to study the art of the excuse note--the first class, ever, to practice writing them. You're so lucky to have a teacher like me who has taken your best writing and turned it into a subject worthy of study."
Everyone smiled as I went on, "You didn't settle for the old alarm clock story. You used your imaginations. One day you might be writing excuses for your own children when they're late or absent or up to some devilment. So try it now. Imagine you have a 15-year-old who needs an excuse for falling behind in English. Let it rip."
The students produced a rhapsody of excuses, ranging from a 16-wheeler crashing into a house to a severe case of food poisoning blamed on the school cafeteria. They said, "More, more. Can we do more?"
So I said, "I'd like you to write--" And I finished, " `An Excuse Note from Adam to God' or `An Excuse Note from Eve to God.' " Heads went down. Pens raced across paper.
[...]
Top reviews from other countries
American educational standards have always reflected status, power and wealth. There will always be a class division as much as America is one of the wealthiest countries in the world the educational attainment of an individual will reflect what resources are available. And how political power can influence who gets what and where.
Extrait : « La route est longue qui mène à la pédagogie. Les gamins observent, examinent, jugent. Ils savent décoder le langage du corps, le ton de la voix, le comportement de manière générale. Pas comme s'ils s'asseyaient dans les toilettes ou à la cantine pour parler de ces choses-là. Seulement, ils les assimilent pendant onze ans, les transmettent aux générations suivantes. Fais attention à Melle Boyd, vont-ils dire. Des devoirs, vieux, des devoirs, et elle les corrige. Elle les corrige. Elle est pas mariée, donc elle a rien d'autre à faire. Faut toujours essayer d'avoir des profs mariés, avec des enfants. Ils ont pas que ça à faire, passer du temps avec des copies et des livres... » Bouquin sur le formidable désarroi des adolescents américains des années 60, 70 et 80, Teacher Man rappelle que bien des films, bien des comédies musicales et des livres racontent tout cela aussi : La Fureur de vivre (avec James Dean), Graine de violence (film remarquable de Richard Brooks, adapté du roman éponyme d’Ed McBain, voir Graine de violence ), mais aussi, L'Attrape-cœur (le bouquin de J.D. Salinger), La Foire au Cancre (de Jean-Charles), Le Sagouin (de François Mauriac) et j'en passe... Le message de ces ados est souvent désespérant : « la vie n'a pas de sens » et « tous les adultes sont bidons » (oubliant qu’ils le deviendront un jour…). Dès sa première heure de cours, Frank McCourt va marquer les esprits (je ne vous dirai pas comment...), mais franchement, ça vaut le détour... Et de conclure : « dans une classe de lycée, on est un sergent instructeur, un rabbin, une épaule sur laquelle pleurer, un dompteur, un chanteur, un érudit de pacotille, un vendeur, un arbitre, un clown, un conseiller d'orientation, un arbitre du code vestimentaire, un chef-d'orchestre, un apologiste, un philosophe, un collaborateur, un danseur de claquettes, un homme politique, un psy, un fou, un agent de la circulation, un curé, un-père-une-mère-un-frère-une-sœur-un-oncle-une-tante, un comptable, un critique, un psychologue, la goutte d'eau qui fait déborder le vase » (page 33). Et puis, les gamins, ils ont parfois une manière de te dire « Ouais », qui signifie qu'ils te tolèrent à peine... Alors, te reste plus qu'à serrer les dents et trouver ta propre façon d'enseigner... Une sorte de parcours du combattant.








