Note: The image is for illustration only - that's not Her Blanke. There isn't anyone like Herr Blanke. and I dedicate this post to him.
Herr Blanke entered and, while traversing the classroom, announced, “I have some unfortunate news, I will no longer teach you Math and Physics”. He reached the blackboard and turned to study our bewildered faces.
Silence. At the age of 11, you begin not to like your teachers, but this one was different. He was our class teacher, and we loved him - everybody loved him.
Herr Blanke was old-school and strict. But he also had a sneaky sense of humor and a mischievous smile to go with it. He respected his students and forgave our youthful foolishness.
Here he was, scanning our reaction with a dead-serious expression. This wasn’t a joke.
“Oh, I am not going away, I won’t stop teaching you, but just not Math and Physics.” A sigh of relief crawled through the rows of students. We weren’t losing him. Then, what was this all about?
“From now on, I’ll teach History and Politics”, he declared, causing the class to frown, “...what? You don’t think I can teach History and Politics?”
I admit I felt the sting of guilt, and we all did. How could we doubt him?
“The History teacher will teach English, and the English teacher will teach Biology…”
“That’s not possible”, blurbed a classmate. “Why not?” his voice radiated with excitement as if he’d been waiting for this. His sincerity was unshaken. I began to suspect that we were about to get a profound lesson for life. So I sat back in anticipation while the class started discussing.
Herr Blanke was a man with experience. Besides being a great teacher, he was a simple, modest man with a kind of wisdom that comes from curiosity and caring. Being a redhead made him all the more unique (although you could only guess that he'd once had red hair; whatever was left now, was white).
His body was lean, and he had delicate facial features. On one hand - I think it was the left hand - his middle finger was awkwardly bent all the time. He had lost sensation in this finger after an injury.
A dead middle finger and the importance of competence
The dead finger served him as a tool to restore order or get attention. All he needed was to bang its sensationless joint against the blackboard once, hard and loud. He was famous for that move in the entire school, and when someone didn’t know who Herr Blanke was, you’d simply say, “the one with the finger”.
So that’s what he did now. He slammed his bent middle finger joint against the blackboard, ending the rumbling discussion abruptly. “This is already your first lesson in Politics”, he claimed. Then he turned a bit more sedate. “No, I’m not supposed to do this, and I’m not even supposed to talk about this. But I think you’re old enough, and it’s important that you start forming an opinion on things that matter.”
Herr Blanke believed in discipline. If he was ready to break the rules, something must have deeply stirred his confidence in them. Whatever he was about to say was of great importance to him.
“That’s exactly what the government did yesterday.” He paused to see if any of us knew what he meant. I didn’t. And I don’t think anyone else did.
“The transportation minister is now the education minister and the education minister was moved to be the ….” whatever it was, I don’t remember. “And if they can do it, why shouldn’t we as teachers? We toss the dice and teach whatever comes up, not what we know or what we’ve been trained for.”
We rarely saw him angry, but he was angry now. He was shocked by the random shuffling of responsibilities regardless of one's competence. These people carried responsibility for the public and were now entrusted with decisions on matters they knew very little about.
How and why should we, the public, trust them? How could we even believe them?
He was making a case for the value of knowledge and competence. Moreover, he questioned the credibility of people in influential positions and the quality of their leadership if it wasn’t based on knowledge, experience, and proficiency in the field.
Why do I remember this now?
I’ll tell you. I remember this lesson every time film stars attempt to explain history, aged rock stars try to teach us about global politics, or fashion models lecture us on equality.
Herr Blanke’s lesson comes to mind when the opinion of a teenage TikTok influencer impacts what we think more than a scientist’s analysis. I think of what I learned that day when I read inaccurate or misleading content based on questionable sources written for the sole purpose of gaining traffic.
Here’s the thing: Whatever position we fill, we have a responsibility toward the ones that are affected by what we do and say. Teachers have a responsibility toward their students, politicians to citizens, and influencers to followers.
It’s a matter of values and providing value. It’s also a matter of taking responsibility for the consequences and not misusing influential power.
What it means for writers (and readers and companies)
Marketers have a responsibility toward the consumer. As a writer, I have a responsibility toward my readers. To assume that, I need to be competent. Joe Sugerman dedicated the entire first two chapters in his Copywriting Handbook to the importance of general knowledge and becoming an expert on the product you’re selling.
You need to be an authority on the subject you write about. If it's a product or a brand, you must get to know it inside and out. It helped make Sugerman one of the most accomplished copywriters of our times. And it bought him trusting, loyal customers.
Companies often look for a tool like Herr Blanke’s middle finger to toss at a digital blackboard and get the attention they want. But the class didn’t learn his lessons because of the attention-grabbing bang it caused. We listened because we knew Herr Blanke had integrity and knowledge. We trusted his authority and knew he cared about us.
Writers -> write responsibly. Readers -> read critically. Companies -> be trustworthy.
P.S. I won't turn to Sugerman for questions on politics, global warming or gardening. But I trust him on copywriting.
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