Lisa Hoffman and Charles Atkins

Published June 15, 2006

After last week’s discussion of practice, Lisa and I began to reflect on a related topic—important teachers and mentors in our lives.

She begins the discussion by veering off course, "I remember as a teenager, having quite a crush on one of my teachers; I think that’s quite normal. But that’s not what you want to talk about is it?"

"No, there’s enough of that already in the news, let’s focus on people who’ve helped us learn important lessons. As I was thinking about this topic I came to the awful expression, ‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t do, teach’. In my experience, great teachers know their subject inside and out—they both do and teach. For instance, my writing mentor is my literary agent with whom I’ll develop a dozen outlines and as many drafts of a novel before it’s ready for publication. Every time he offers a critique I try to see what I can learn from it."

"You’re very lucky," Lisa says, "agents don’t usually function that way. For me it was my first English teacher in Munich. She recognized my talent for languages and suggested I correspond with a girl my age in America. Her name was Dorothy and she lived in San Rafael California. Many years later, when I was doing book publicity in California, I tried to find her, but was not successful. Whenever I’d get a letter from her I had to translate it and then read it in front of the class. Dorothy, on her end, would write stories about me and Germany and publish them in her school newspaper."

Lisa reflects, "School in those days was quite different; it was much stricter. Teachers ran the classroom with absolute discipline. I remember when I was first in public school I made the mistake of turning around to see the girl behind me. Instantly, the teacher approached me. She made me extend my hand with the palm up and she hit me twice with the ruler. It was painful and humiliating. I never turned around again."

"I’ve had some bad public school experiences of my own," I say, "but I’d like to focus on the importance of great mentors, and wonderful role models in general. As a physician, my favorite lesson came from a doctor I worked for prior to medical school. He was the busiest person I’ve ever met, always racing from his clinic to the classroom, but whenever somebody wanted to speak with him; he stopped, sat down, and gave them his undivided attention. It’s something I’ve tried to emulate. As an aside, it was at a time in my life when I was preparing to apply to medical schools—a highly competitive process. This same physician was in charge of interviewing prospective medical students at a major university. Realizing that I was about to start this process he invited me down to see how it was done. What most struck me about watching forty young men and women coming for their interviews was how appearances really did matter. I noticed that over three quarters of the applicants wore navy suits, a couple had gray suits and a few wore blazers. It’s terrible to say, but the ones in blazers didn’t stand a chance; they looked unprofessional. That weekend I went out and purchased the most-conservative navy suit that I could find. Because I knew, coming from my background in the arts, I better at least look the part because once I opened my mouth all bets were off."

Lisa chuckles, "At least you didn’t put your foot in it."

"Not then. I do it enough at other times."

"I guess the greatest teachers in my life," Lisa says, "were my parents; that’s probably true for many. From my mother I learned the practical things, and from my father I developed a love for intellectual pursuits. But as I think about this, you can actually learn from anyone. I remember many years ago when I was working as a movie translator for MGM, the girl who did the French translations invited me to dinner and taught me how to eat artichokes; I’d never had one before."

"That’s one of the great things about learning; it can be endless," I say. "There’s no reason to ever stop, but the one thing you need to maintain is a willingness to listen and to learn. The instant you believe you know it all, you shut off the possibility for growth. Part of me hates it when my agent makes a comment that will involve a major rewrite. Something inside of me stomps its foot and has a tantrum. But once I step back and realize he’s right, it opens the door for a better piece of writing. And, if I pay attention to what’s behind the suggestion—after all he’s helped publish an enormous number of bestsellers--I may actually learn something."

"Any way you look at it," Lisa says, "it’s important to keep an open mind and not carry a chip on your shoulder, because important lessons and wonderful teachers are all around us. If you remember to do that, and to accept good advice and constructive criticism, then a dog at any age can most certainly learn new tricks."

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