Theodore Roethke was a big man,
225 pounds. He was fascinated by gangsters, and he even talked
like one — he had a deep voice, a growl. He was
manic-depressive, and he often drank too much. He wore fur
coats and drove big cars. As a teacher, he was persuasive and
emotional. When he wanted his students to write a description
of a physical action, he told them to describe what he was
about to do, then climbed out the window onto a narrow ledge
and inched his way around the whole classroom, making faces at
every window. He insisted students memorize poems so that they
would have something to call on when they were going through a
tough period in life.
-- Writer’s Almanac
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