Remembering High-School English Class

Trying to write a synopsis of a book always reminds me of Mr. H, my least favorite high-school English teacher. Mr. H was energetic. He tried to engage the class. For example, when we were reading Beowulf, he used one of those rubber-monster finger puppets to represent Grendel. When we reached the part of the story where Beowulf ripped off Grendel’s arm, you better believe Mr. H tore off one of those little rubber monster arms and pinned it above the classroom door.

And yet I disliked Mr. H and dreaded every minute I had to spend in his class. One of his favorite in-class assignments was to make us write brief plot summaries of books we had read. He would spring the assignment on us without warning and give us little time to complete the task. I forget now what the maximum length was, whether it was one sentence or two. Either way, it was difficult and it made me miserable every time. He gave us no pointers (that I can recall) on how to distill a whole novel’s worth of character and plot into just a few lines. Though in fairness to him I have to admit that I was often absent. Maybe I missed a key class? Still, I can’t recall him ever offering me any individualized help either.

Looking back on it now, I wonder if I was the only kid who felt that way. Did the rest of the kids love Mr. H’s class? Did his zaniness inspire them? And did he actually manage to teach them how to order their thoughts and write concisely?

I have no way to know. But it’s sad that I still think of Mr. H when I’m trying to write a synopsis. And it’s even sadder that I still feel so inept at a task that I ought to have learned decades ago.

So perhaps it is time to take action. I have a whole new year before me. Couldn’t I find a little time to learn how to write a good plot synopsis?

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