She wet like the ocean pull out the trojan

The thesis itself should be clear, either through a direct statement, called the thesis statement, or by implication. (See Chapter 3 for more on thesis.)

2. There should be no digressions — no discussion or information that is not shown to be logically related to the thesis. A unified essay stays within the limits of its thesis.

Here, for example, is a short essay by Stuart Chase about the dangers of making generalizations. As you read, notice how carefully Chase sticks to his point.

145

An essay may be longer, more complex, and more wide-ranging than this one, but to be effective, it must also avoid digressions and remain close to the author’s main idea.

A good way to check that your essay is indeed unified is to underline or highlight your thesis and then explain to yourself how each paragraph in your essay is related to the thesis. If you find a paragraph that does not appear to be logically connected, you can revise it so that the relationship is clear. Similarly, it is useful to make sure that each sentence in a paragraph is related to the topic sentence. (See pp. 162–64 for a discussion of topic sentences.)

146

147

My Favorite Teacher

Thomas L. Friedman

Thomas L. Friedman, foreign affairs columnist for the New York Times, was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 1953. He

graduated from Brandeis University in 1975 and received a Marshall Scholarship to study modern Middle East studies at

St. Antony’s College, Oxford University, where he earned a master’s degree. He has worked for the New York Times since

1981, first in Lebanon, then in Israel, and since 1989 in Washington, D.C. He has won three Pulitzer Prizes. His 1989

best seller, From Beirut to Jerusalem, received the National Book Award for nonfiction. Friedman’s most recent books

include The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-First Century (2005); Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green

Revolution — and How It Can Renew America (2008); That Used to Be Us: How America Fell Behind in the World It Invented

and How We Can Come Back (2011), co-written with Michael Mandelbaum; and Thank You for Being Late (2016).

In the following essay, which first appeared in the New York Times in 2001, Friedman pays tribute to his tenth-grade

journalism teacher. As you read Friedman’s profile of Hattie M. Steinberg, note the descriptive detail he selects to create a

unified, dominant impression of “a woman of clarity in an age of uncertainty.”

Reflecting on What You Know

If you had to name your three favorite teachers to date, who would be on your list? Why do you consider each of the

teachers a favorite? Which one, if any, are you likely to remember twenty-five years from now? Why?

Last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine published its annual review of people who died last year who left a particular mark on the world. I am sure all readers have their own such list. I certainly do. Indeed, someone who made the most important difference in my life died last year — my high school journalism teacher, Hattie M. Steinberg.

I grew up in a small suburb of Minneapolis, and Hattie was the legendary journalism teacher at St. Louis Park High School, Room 313. I took her intro to journalism course in 10th grade, back in 1969, and have never needed, or taken, another course in journalism since. She was that good.

148

Hattie was a woman who believed that the secret for success in life was getting the

fundamentals right. And boy, she pounded the fundamentals of journalism into her students — not simply how to write a lead or accurately transcribe a quote, but, more important, how to comport yourself in a professional way and to always do quality work. To this day, when I forget to wear a tie on assignment, I think of Hattie scolding me. I once interviewed an ad exec for our high school paper who used a four-letter word. We debated whether to run it. Hattie ruled yes. That ad man almost lost his job when it appeared. She wanted to teach us about consequences.

Hattie was the toughest teacher I ever had. After you took her journalism course in 10th grade, you tried out for the paper, The Echo, which she supervised. Competition was fierce. In 11th grade, I didn’t quite come up to her writing standards, so she made me business manager, selling ads to the local pizza parlors. That year, though, she let me write one story.

It was about an Israeli general who had been a hero in the Six-Day War,1 who was giving a lecture at the University of Minnesota. I covered his lecture and interviewed him briefly. His

name was Ariel Sharon.2 First story I ever got published.