One of the most influential teachers I had was at ElCo Jc. Sophomore year during the football season. This little Italian man held my attention and actually got me to look forward to his class. When all I looked forward to was practice. lol.
He got my attention because he built up his students. Made them believe in themselves. Most teachers and coaches do not do that in my experience.
Most make the kid come to them. He led me through making me want it for me. Influence not force.
One project, he told us to write an essay. He wanted all the senses engaged.
He wanted to know how it looked, sounded like, felt like, smelled like, and tasted like.
Years later I would come to know this concept as VAKOG
from NLP…..Visual, Auditory, Kinestethic, Olfactory, Gustatory.
Everyone has their favorites they tend to lead with. However it often amuses me how unaware many are in diagnosing their own preferences.
To tell a story like my little Italian professor taught, is often best said with all the senses.
I recently heard the old Kris Kristoferson Sunday Morning Sidewalk.
You want to learn how to tell a story and use all the senses to engage your reader or listener?
Study the lyrics: The full frame he paints using VAKOG
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I’d smoked my brain the night before
With cigarettes and songs I’d been pickin’
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussin’ at a can that he was kicking
Then I crossed the empty street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to something that I’d lost
Somehow, somewhere along the way
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin’ little girl who he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the song that they were singing
Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down