Teacher Man

I enjoyed Frank McCourt’s childhood biography, Angela’s Ashes, but never bothered to pick up ’Tis, so I wasn’t sure if I would find any coherent link between the child of Ireland and America, and the teacher of American children… McCourt, however, brought his whole life to his teaching experiences, and his memoir of those years is a moving, (if directionless), wholly worthwhile read. I could have spent a lot longer reading about the first 8 years of his career, because his floundering and occasional flashes of brilliance made for fascinating reading.

I was especially moved by the respect and appreciation he granted the pupils that graced his classrooms, even those that tested his early, fledgling teaching ability beyond its show more limits. I admit I expected something much more cynical from a retired teacher, but McCourt’s cynicism is reserved for his own life, bringing the internal Catholic guilt down upon himself for not somehow knowing or achieving what he wanted to do with his life – this despite having obviously done it, then and later, and quite successfully, at that. show less

I was delighted to find this book at Borders, mainly coz I’ve read his other two, Angela’s Ashes and Tis. McCourt is the kind of author who test your patience. He’s not the kind who throws too many things at you in the first three chapters, almost challenging you to put it down if you didn’t have enough faith in him. But should you persevere, you will be duly rewarded, for McCourt is a late bloomer, as he would tell his readers repeatedly. You’d think that there’s no hope for him as he laments his string of misfortunes, one of it having to be born Irish, but rising above and beyond all stereotype and eventually making his mark as an accomplished author.

McCourt doesn’t write fiction, at least I have come to conclude. He show more writes his memoirs, his childhood growing up in Limerick though he was born in New York. Returning to America, he was cast as an outsider, a bitter irony that he resented deeply though that did not stop him. He finally became an English teacher, teaching high school kids about a language that they have taken for granted. If that wasn’t hard enough he had teenage angst, rebellion and lack of ambition to contend with. But McCourt pulled through and there were many moments in this book that reaffirmed his career choice, for like his students, he knows what it feels like to be a misfit, never quite blending into the background and finding that everything is one big struggle.

I took this book with me when I went away for work. Since I had many moments to myself, I found myself easily drawn into McCourt’s world. I saw him working at the docks to pay through his college education. I felt like I was in his class when he was trying to describe sentence structure aided by a ballpoint pen. I wished I was there when his students read recipes from cookbooks to the tune of various musical instruments, thus a reading of Eggs Benedict was elevated into an opus of some kind.

Read this if you’re a McCourt fan, or if you’re a teacher wanting a shot of inspiration. Or simply if like McCourt, you’re a tough mick trying to make it through but finding it hard and the whole world is against you. McCourt doesn’t use big words, or vague analogies to drive his message. Instead they’re everyday scenes, proving that greatness is achieved not through ingenuity or that rare streak of talent, but through sheer perseverance and finding inspiration in ourselves and within each other. show less

The author of Angela's Ashes brings us his self-deprecating reflections on a 30 year teaching career. Early on, he laments that teaching-college doesn't prepare you at all for dealing with a real high school classroom. High minded theories of pedogogy don't matter if you can't get the respect and attention of a room full of teenagers that have been in school going on 12 years straight.

His constant self-doubting is incredibly human. He has story after story that recaptures the mental haze of forging his own path. His best moments didn't come because he was a genious and a natural, but because he followed his gut, took a risk, worried about it for quite some time until it finally worked out. Or didn't.

As a teacher with a thick Irish show more accent in New York City, there's a lot to be learned from his classroom stories about cultural and racial classes. Or the tension of teaching poetry to New York's future dockworkers and hair dressers. Or dealing with parents that have a very low idea of teachers.

For me, leaving construction work and grassroots organizing behind to go into teaching, this book has been more insightful than any of the classes I've taken so far. show less

This book put me in a time and place, and I could smell the class room that Mr. McCourt taught in. He reminds us that the best we can do is to reach the next generation in line. He wasn't always a perfect teacher, nor a perfect man, but he did his best.

read this after Angela's Ashes and 'Tis. Loved them all. His is a distinctive voice.

Frank McCourt worked as a teacher in the New York school system for 30 years, well before he ever dreamed of writing the memoir that became a surprise best seller, Angela's Ashes. This book recounts various stories of him teaching - or, more accurately, meandering through trying to teach and make it in adulthood while constantly questioning his ability to do so.

I have to admit, it made for a bit of a tough read. Some of his descriptions of his classes and attempts to keep the class busy and out of trouble were amusing, other times I was wondering what on earth made him a "good" teacher like the jacket copy and blurbs all said. He was teaching primarily in the '60s and '70s and the book was published in 2005, so some of the descriptions show more of students' ethnicities don't age well, and one story he tells about a fat waitress he meets in Ireland is, I think, supposed to be funny but read to me as terribly cruel. And he kind of meanders through the memoir like he does through his life, spending the first 50 pages of only 250 total recounting stories of his Irish childhood that he told his classes when he didn't know what to teach them. If I didn't have to read it for book club, I wouldn't have finished it. show less

I was hooked by listening to the author tell about his awful childhood in Limerick, Ireland. The pulitzer prize winning book Angela's Ashes is riveting and remarkable. This book by McCourt is less so. While I highly recommend listening instead of reading Teacher Man, it does not come close to the shock and awe of his previous works. Hearing McCourt's Irish accent, tone, and pitch retell every event is musical and adds so much depth to the accounts. For every soon to be English teacher this book should be on your shelf, but I can't see it being very enjoyable for anyone else. The stories of students are humorous and educational for a new teacher, but this books lacks the rawness I was hoping for from McCourt. It is, perhaps, unfair for show more me to judge this book against his others. Each one has a beauty and flavor unique to McCourt's writing style that I have come to love. If we were to place Teacher Man as a sequel (or even the third in the trilogy of memoirs) I would feel like McCourt ran out of steam by this addition. Without the overwhelming, well-deserved success of Angela's Ashes, I'm not sure Teacher Man could stand alone. show less

I'm conflicted about this one. His self-disgust can be tedious, even offensive. Is that right though? Do we not all question ourselves, our motives, our capabilities? I wanted him to move on, have an epiphany, get it right, stop maundering. He gives a tiny peek into the successes in his classroom, but flings the door wide to all his failures. Supposedly, he was a good teacher. I would like to know more about that and less about the sordid side he loathes. All that being said, the book was interesting and provoked thought.