March/April 2002
Writing Contest Winner
Salute to J.S.
By Ruth Sawh
I decided that my creative writing class was going to be an experience supreme a la mode for me. I wanted to learn how to craft a story, a good story.
At first, I didn't know who would be the professor.
Luckily, however, when I moved to Tallahassee, the Tallahassee
Democrat had published an article about the head of the Creative
Writing Program at Florida State University. I decided that I
would worm my way into that professor's class, 
for what
the article revealed was most enlightening.
The article described a dedicated professor who helped his students publish novels, stories and poems. He was just what I wanted-someone who could take my simple love for writing-and spin it into something spectacular. The list of his many publications, radio commentaries, articles and years of teaching bore testimony to his expertise. I wanted to learn from this scholar.
In the summer of 1993 I sat in Room 430 Williams
Hall at Florida State waiting for our creative writing professor
to enter.
Colleagues, obviously ac-quainted with each other, were smiling
and talking.
"He's good." "Looking forward to it." Best of all, "He can teach."
I knew no one and INTROVERT probably was written
all over me, but grinning came easily that day. I was going to
be taught what I had always wanted to learn. I sat at the front.
There was a brief hush as the expected professor crossed the
threshold in worn blue jeans and tennis shoes. He smiled, and
we were at ease.
One student had an anxiety attack, however.
Dressed in sparkling white shirt, black tie, jacket, vest and
trousers, the worried student waved his hand. He had a question,
"What have you written, professor?"
"Nothing earthshaking," Professor Jerome Stern (better known as Jerry Stern to many of his students) answered.
I looked for the suited student to attend subsequent classes, but I never saw him again.
If he were looking for Jerry Stern to appear in a three-piece suit as he had been dressed, and if he were hoping that the professor would hand us a 10-page list of his accomplishments, he was definately barking up the wrong tree.
Jerry Stern was not like that. He did not model the fancy accoutrements of a businessman, but he was certainly in the classroom for business. He was patient, knowledgeable and tactful. He had an internal eye that could see beyond the student's frail beginnings to the more polished stone the student hoped to hone. He could take the plain and embellish it, or the gaudy and simplify it, as needed.
He could reach beyond the boundaries of the student's story when the student's view was limited to the mundane center. To me, it was as though he could take a speck of dust and make it into a man. He was masterful.
This professor could have added many more publications to his name. The time he spent helping his students write their stories could have been spent on spinning glory for himself, but he didn't turn us away. He was willing to share precious time. His true students knew it then and still know it now, for even though Jerome Stern has closed his physical eye to this world, his inner eye still shines within us. We will continue to catch a glimmer of the stories he once saw. And many will continue to acknowledge this master teacher. His students will direct other students, and those students will direct others.
His name will live on and on for generations,
because he cared about us.
God bless J.S.
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