![\"JSechrest-webbanner5\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/JSechrest-webbanner5.jpg?resize=800%2C100\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
1.<\/span><\/p>\n Stephen King once said, \u201cGood teachers can be trained, if they really want to learn. Great teachers, like Socrates, are born.\u201d He should know. He taught writing to high school students at Hampden Academy in Hampden, Maine, plus spent a year teaching as a writer-in-residence at his alma mater, the University of Maine, in the late 1970s while still establishing himself as a writer. <\/span><\/p>\n I can\u2019t tell you whether King considers himself to be a <\/span>good<\/span><\/i> teacher or a <\/span>great<\/span><\/i> one, though his comments on the topic have never been all that flattering. \u201cHigh school teachers are sort of like Pavlov\u2019s dogs,\u201d King once quipped. \u201cPavlov\u2019s dogs were taught to salivate at the sound of a bell, and high school teachers are taught to drop their mouths open and begin to work at the sound of one for about forty minutes. Then another bell rings, and they shut up and go away.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n I could tell you that I consider King to be a <\/span>great<\/span><\/i> teacher, but then I\u2019m biased. I write a monthly column called <\/span>What I Learned From Stephen King<\/span><\/i>. On the list of great influencers in my life, the man holds a lot of clout. But why? And perhaps more importantly, how? <\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s really rather curious when you think about it. How is it possible that you need not even meet someone for them to make such a profound impact on your life? And why do we listen ever attentive to the words of some while not others? Is it for the sound of their voice, which our ears it seems were born to hear, like radios tuned to a station that broadcasts more clearly than most? What is it about certain souls that gives them an all-access pass to be able to reach into the deepest, most private places of your heart, to touch it with a divine hand, and whisper: \u201cGrow.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Good teachers inform, educate, and inspire, but great teachers hold a certain kind of magic that enables them to appear at the exact moment you need them the most. They carry with them a gift of prophecy to say the right things at the right times, the times we are most open to hearing. Like angels, they float in and sometimes out of our lives, disappearing and reappearing to lend us their wings, teach us a new life lesson, or sometimes just to make us smile. <\/span><\/p>\n A great teacher is one part knowledge, and two parts magic. Sure, I\u2019ve learned a whole lot about writing from Stephen King, and there\u2019s much more that I\u2019ve learned about life from his books. This monthly column I\u2019ve been graciously afforded by King\u2019s publishers has so far been a laundry list of those highlights, but today I\u2019d like to take us off the beaten path for a spell. I\u2019d like, if For me, I think the magic began when I was 10 years old reading about the Loser\u2019s Club in Stephen King\u2019s epic novel, IT<\/em>. The Losers Club consisted of seven kids, outcasts often picked upon and picked apart, until in one great scene they pick up rocks and chuck them at their bullies. I was being bullied every day when I was 10, and the book came to me at the right place and the right time. It gave me the strength to fight back, in more ways than one. I\u2019ll never forget the day that kid decided to pick a fight with me for the last time. His name was David, and he presumed that I would just take it, as I had taken it every day up until that point, but on this particular day I wanted to be like Beverly Marsh and Eddie Kasbrack, Richie Tozier and Bill Denbrough, Ben Hanscom, Stan Uris, and Mike Hanlon. The only problem was, they had each other, and I was alone. I wasn\u2019t sure if I had the strength to fight back on my own, but with them I knew I could defeat the monster. So when David tapped me on the shoulder to punch me, I swung the 1,138 page hardback novel around and hit him with it, square in the jaw. Bev, the boys and I got in a few more swings too. He never messed with us again. <\/span><\/p>\n Right place, right time. <\/span><\/p>\n I could tell you about the time Carrie White saved me from becoming too religious. Right place, right time. Or, I could tell you about the moment Leland Gaunt made me think twice before becoming too <\/span>needful <\/span><\/i>of my most needful thing. Right place, right time. <\/span><\/p>\n But I think the story that best illustrates the magic is this.<\/span><\/p>\n 2.<\/span><\/p>\n About a year ago, I took a trip to my hometown of Columbus, Indiana. The flight there had been somewhat traumatic and overly dramatized by the unexpected occurrence of a (these days) rare panic attack just before take-off. I still don\u2019t know what started it. I had been happy just moments before. I hadn\u2019t had any caffeine. Everything was peaches-and-cream-fine-and-dandy until the plane began it’s slow crawl down the tarmac, and I started to feel like I couldn\u2019t breathe. <\/span><\/p>\n It seemed clear to me that the oxygen was being vacuumed out of the plane, and yet I was the only one experiencing anything. My throat closed all the more at the thought that this was perhaps one of the most inopportune moments in life to have a panic attack, or any attack for that matter. My mind became like a machine, racing faster, picking up speed in time with the plane itself, sizzling with questions like: What happens when someone has a heart attack or seizure in the middle of a flight? Do they land the plane? Is there a doctor on board? Why is it not mandatory to have a trained medical specialist on every aircraft? <\/span><\/p>\n I drank. Lots of cold water at first (which always helps, by the way \u2013 it reminds you that if you can swallow, then you can breathe) and then I progressed to wine, managing a steady buzz to keep myself under control. It wasn’t until halfway through the flight when we dropped straight down for over two minutes that I began audibly screaming — and I wasn\u2019t the only one. I\u2019d experienced drops before, but nothing like this, the kind of drop that pushes your stomach up into your esophagus. To have experienced it sober would have been frightening, but to experience it while already under the duress of a panic attack was sheer torture. <\/span><\/p>\n The two minutes felt like two hours, and when it was over the captain apologized, claiming we had hit a very unexpected wind tunnel. (<\/span>More like a worm hole<\/span><\/i>, I thought to myself.) He further apologized for the fact that we would need to brace ourselves as we had dropped so far, we were among the mountains of Colorado, and needed to angle the plane practically like a rocket in order to go straight up, or we would run the risk of hitting a mountain head on. <\/span><\/p>\n When the plane finally landed safely in Indiana, I was so grateful I nearly kissed the ground after exiting the aircraft. <\/span><\/p>\n Ten days later, I found myself on another flight, back to Los Angeles. These were friendly skies. So far.<\/span><\/p>\n Needless to say, I had not been looking forward to this plane ride home. One of the worst things about panic attacks is that when you start to think about them, you start to have them. The more you think about them, the worse it gets. Trying NOT to think about them is next to impossible right after you\u2019ve had one. It\u2019s a never-ending cycle.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cMaybe my panic attacks aren\u2019t so random,\u201d I muttered to myself, looking out my window. After all, hadn\u2019t there been plenty of reason to panic? \u00a0The plane had nearly crashed. Twice. Perhaps these attacks were more premonitory in nature. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A lot of folks, they got a little bit of shine to them. They don’t even know it. But they always seem to show up with flowers when their wives are feelin blue with the monthlies. They do good on school tests they don’t even study for. They got a good idea how people are feelin as soon as they walk in the room. I come across fifty or sixty like that. But maybe only a dozen, countin my gram, that knew they were shinin.<\/span><\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n I saw a bit of myself in the remarks Halloran was making to five-year old Danny Torrance, who was just discovering his strong psychic instincts. I suppose I am one of those people who knows when to bring the coffee at the exact moment it’s needed, when it’s okay to confront someone and when it is most definitely not, how someone is feeling on the inside no matter how well they may mask it on the outside — and maybe, just maybe, I had also been given a way of knowing when something was not quite right with the world. The oxygen that goes short in the room, my throat that closes up and my inability to swallow, all red flags of danger up ahead. The universe\u2019s way perhaps of saying, \u201cThe shit is about to hit the fan. Brace yourself.” <\/span><\/p>\n But the thing you got to remember, my boy, is this: Those things don’t always come true.<\/span><\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n That\u2019s true. Old man Halloran was right. Most of the things I dread don’t come true. The oxygen didn\u2019t go out of the room, really. I didn\u2019t faint. The plane didn’t crash. Not to mention the other things I am so certain of that don’t come true: That I will experience chaos if I don’t say my prayers, that I WON\u2019T experience chaos if I do. That I cannot overcome the challenge of the day. That I will never fall in love again. All disproved. <\/span><\/p>\n Maybe I don\u2019t know it all. Maybe there\u2019s a greater plan. <\/span><\/p>\n Maybe I\u2019m not in charge. <\/span><\/p>\n People who shine can sometimes see things that are gonna happen, and I think sometimes they can see things that did happen. But they’re just like pictures in a book. Did you ever see a picture in a book that scared you, Danny? You were scared, but you knew it couldn\u2019t hurt you, didn\u2019t you? Well, that’s how it is sometimes. If you see something bad\u2026 sometimes you just need to look the other way, and when you look back, it\u2019ll be gone. Are you digging me?<\/span><\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n \u201cI\u2019m digging it,\u201d I said to myself. <\/span><\/p>\n And that\u2019s when we hit the first turbulence. <\/span><\/p>\n Hard. <\/span><\/p>\n The first big bumps of my homecoming flight. My heart dropped into my stomach. Better than the stomach to the esophagus, by the way. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJust keep reading,” I thought. \u201c\u2026 Just. Keep. Reading.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n I looked down to the next sentence. <\/span><\/p>\n The plane ain’t gonna crash, doc.<\/span><\/i> \u00a0<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n And there it was. Plainer than if God himself had come down with fanfare and sang it to me with a choir of angels. I read it again, not believing the choice of metaphor.<\/span><\/p>\n The plane ain’t gonna crash, doc.<\/span><\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n More than that, I knew it was not in my hands. <\/span><\/p>\n 3.<\/span><\/p>\n We don\u2019t always get to choose our own adventures. I\u2019m not sure we even get to choose our own teachers. We are drawn. We are pulled like magnets towards <\/span>who<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>what<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>when<\/span><\/i> and <\/span>where<\/span><\/i> of the universal whim, though never without reason. <\/span><\/p>\n We don\u2019t always get to choose, but the magic exists, and I think the more you acknowledge the magic, the more it exists for you. <\/span><\/p>\n A good teacher knows. Ask them, and they\u2019ll tell you. <\/span><\/p>\n A great teacher, you\u2019ll never have to ask. They\u2019ll simply show you. <\/span><\/p>\n If it\u2019s the right place, and if the time is right.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat I Learned from Stephen King\u201d is a Cemetery Dance Online exclusive series of articles about the wisdom, spirituality and life lessons found within the works of Stephen King. Jason Sechrest began his career at 15 years old as a full-time staff writer for <\/i>Femme Fatales magazine. His writing credits include <\/i>LA Weekly,<\/i>Frontiers, <\/i>Entertainment Weekly and more. He tweets as @JasonSechrest<\/a> and posts often on Facebook<\/a>.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"![\"kingteach1\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/kingteach1-300x225.jpg?resize=300%2C225\")
With a title like <\/span>What I Learned From Stephen King, <\/span><\/i>I suppose at some point you and I are going to need to sit down and discuss the subject of teachers. I also suppose now would be as good a time as any. <\/span><\/p>\n![\"220px-It25thanniversary\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/220px-It25thanniversary-207x300.jpg?resize=207%2C300\")
I may, to share with you a little bit of the magic. <\/span><\/p>\n![\"shining\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/shining-173x300.jpg?resize=173%2C300\")
Fortunately, for this flight home, I\u2019d only had an hour of sleep the night before, so I was exhausted enough that my anxiety was minimal. Just enough in fact to keep me awake so that I could read more of <\/span>The Shining. <\/span><\/i>A natural choice of prose for someone experiencing panic attacks while riding on an airplane, yes? \u201cI must be a genius,\u201d I said aloud, facetiously. Still, I read on… <\/span><\/p>\n![\"kingteach2\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/kingteach2-281x300.jpg?resize=281%2C300\")
And I knew then that it wasn\u2019t. From that point forward, any turbulence was like a roller coaster ride. We could have had another two minute drop, and I’d have known beyond any shadow of a doubt\u2026 the plane ain’t gonna crash. <\/span><\/p>\n