Assembly on Literature for Adolescents Loses a Pioneer

ALAN Review, Winter 2004 by Broz, Bill

My second encounter took place a few months later. My school required that all its teachers pile up a set number of university hours after we had taught five years, and it was my turn. Since Bob was teaching an adolescent literature course, I bet my closest friend on our faculty that I could get an "A" in his course. I got the grades, but I got much more. he challenged me, I learned, and I became a better teacher, all to my amazement.

By the end of the second week that summer, I had become a Carlsen convert. Equally surprising, we planned when I was taking time off for my doctoral work, we decided what courses I would take, we worked out what my dissertation was going to be, and we deviated little from all these grand plans in the years that followed. How Bob managed all this still puzzles me, but he brought me into a life that, for 37 years, has given me professional satisfaction and personal joy, and for that I am eternally grateful to Bob Carlsen.

Memories of G. Robert Carlsen

by Ben F. Nelms

University of Florida

Ph.D. University of Iowa, 1966

When I first presented myself to Bob Carlsen, I had taught Algebra II and English IV. As a college instructor, I had taught freshman composition and the British Literature survey, creative writing, and remedial writing (a 1a Ken Macrorie). I thought I was an experienced and competent teacher. I didn't know from nothin'. Four years at University High in Iowa City remade me as a teacher and changed me as a person.

Bob took me under his professional guardianship early on, before he had any clear idea who I was. I had been accepted into a doctoral program at Iowa as well as four or five other universities. But Iowa was the only one where I had received no financial award (because, I was later to learn, they had misfiled my GRE scores under Helms instead of Nelms.)

So I had accepted an appointment elsewhere. But somehow it just didn't seem right. I couldn't get Iowa and G. Robert Carlsen out of my mind. The English Journal in February of 1963 led off with his presidential address, "The Way of the Spirit and the Way of the Mind." It had spoken to my spirit, to my mind, and to my heart. I could not forget it. Finally, early one Saturday morning, while I was driving somewhere in Abilene, Texas, I decided I just couldn't give up that easily. It was pouring down rain, but I stopped the car and jumped into a telephone booth, getting Carlsen's home phone number from information in Iowa City. He answered and was gracious, to someone he had never heard of, even early on a Saturday morning. I can't imagine that I had such chutzpa, and I still am in wonder that he responded with such grace. I explained my situation and told him a little bit about myself. "Well, yes," he said, "I think we will be able to find you a place as a part-time teacher in the University School." He made the offer on the phone; I accepted on the phone. What a risk he was taking. I hung up, and the rain stopped.

How well I remember the first day in his adolescent literature class. We met in the library of University High. We checked out books all summer from that library, from the Curriculum Library in East Hall, and from the Iowa City public library. I began my collection of adolescent novels, mostly Bantam books to share with my students, as I remember.