By Dan Elliott

We’ve all heard the idiom “Never judge a book by its cover.” It’s as cliched a statement as they come, and at the risk of beating a dead horse we continue to use it throughout our daily dialog with one another. Yet it’s been able to weather the several centuries it’s been around because of the indelible truth it contains in its message: Outward appearances can be deceptive. We can apply this statement to a variety of things, but often we use it in reference to other people. After all, to be human is to compare ourselves to one another.

When you first meet Professor Jim Thatcher, you might initially describe him as a soft-spoken man of small-stature. Upon discovering more about him in conversation, you would find that there is more than meets the eye to the adjunct English instructor.

Hailing from Lake George, New York, Jim spent his early years immersed in two things: the beauty of the Adirondack wilderness that the mountains afforded him, and his love of reading, a love that would help guide him down the path of his chosen profession. He excelled in reading and writing at an early age, and strongly considered a career in writing while in school. By third grade, however, Jim’s attitude toward school had soured, as he had become dissatisfied with the shortcomings of the structure of the public school system. Math, in particular, did not interest him, and he spent many arithmetic classes daydreaming. This disinterest would become so great that Jim dropped out of high school and enlisted in the Army, which stationed him in Darmstadt, Germany.

After the Army, Jim would begin work towards obtaining a degree in writing. Schools he has attended include Adirondack Community College in Queensbury, New York; State University of New York; LeHigh University in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where he did graduate work for a history degree he was ultimately unable to complete; and Vermont College of Fine Arts in Montpelier, Vermont, the school where he would earn his Master of Fine Arts. After beginning his teaching career at a private school in Maine, he would move to becoming an instructor at Central Maine Community College, followed by a position at Andover College, before he began his most recent occupation as an adjunct English instructor here at SMCC.

Thatcher also battled his personal demons, which took the form of alcoholism, a subject he is comfortable being honest about. The illness would consume him so that he was unable to complete the graduate work for his history degree, a subject that he is also fond of. Alcoholism, as Jim described it to me, was not something people generally talked openly about during that time of his life. He finally was able to find the courage to overcome his addiction and complete his MFA in Creative Writing in 1998, while attending Alcoholics Anonymous.

Jim is happy to say he has been sober for a remarkable 32 years, seven months and 22 days at the time of writing. He uses his stories of past trials and tribulations in a positive way, helping those who are struggling with the very same problems, encouraging them against going down the same path he had previously traveled.

These days, Jim spends his time doing what he loves best when he is not teaching in his English  course at the Midcoast Campus. His writing has garnered several accolades: He has placed first on two occasions in New Millennium Writing, a literary magazine. He also has had another eight honorable mentions, two of which were short-listed for first place. In addition to his work in New Millennium Writing, Jim also writes freelance for the Lewiston Sun Journal, mostly doing art reviews. His collection of poetry, entitled “Lesser Eternities,” has recently been published as well.

Despite his age and quiet demeanor, Jim Thatcher’s story is one that is easy to relate to, regardless of one’s own background. In essence, he is indicative of the qualities we experience in our own lives — the academic strengths we focus on, the weaknesses we shrink from from, personal crises we must find the strength to overcome, and prestige that arises from our accomplishments. So lest we submit to human nature and categorize people based on our outward perception of them, we should, at the risk of feeding into a cliché, not judge a book by it’s cover.