thanks, mr. frost

I'm in a poetic sort of mood today, which reminded me of my most recent trip to New England and a beautiful cemetary in Bennington, Vermont. I knew Robert Frost was buried there, so I begged The Husband to pull over and all three of us piled out of our rented SUV. The October air was perfect -- crisp, not too cold, quiet, sunny. Harper was bundled in her hoodie. There was a gorgeous white church built in 1700-something-or-other, and it was surrounded by gravestones of Revolutionary War soldiers. But perhaps the most breathtaking part of the scene was the bright yellow falling leaves that seemed to be everywhere -- coating the pathways and landing softly on tombstones. Mesmerized by the beauty of the place, I couldn't stop snapping pictures. We slowly made our way through the graves, following arrows that said "Frost grave." And suddenly there it was, and I was practically alone with a poet that filled many of my days as a pupil and, later, as an English teacher. By the time we arrived at Frost's grave, I wanted to thank him for leading me to that place, a beautiful, historic cemetary on a hillside in rural Vermont. I never thanked him properly, so instead, I'll leave it with one of my favorite Frost poems and a hope that one day I'll return.

A Late Walk
by Robert Frost

When I got up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth,
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

giant vermin alert

Sometimes I can't believe that I get to talk about literature all day long. It's really quite unbelievable. Yes, I have to go through the pain and anxiety of grading endless essays and deal with the occasional misbehavior, but I'm so enjoying the process of being able to revisit some of the best books ever written. Since I was allowed to create my own reading lists, I just couldn't resist adding one of my all-time favorite modernist novels, Metamorphosis. And I can't wait (can't wait!) to see my students' reactions. The book is really bizarre and often disgusting. But it leaves you thinking and pondering in the end. It's also quite short and not one of those books that seems to drag on and on (despite the fact that I do teach English doesn't mean I'm one of those Shelley-loving maniacs who swears by bore-me-to-tears epics). So if you haven't read Kafka's great masterpiece, I suggest a trip to Borders. Or Barnes and Noble. Or Amazon. With fall approaching, it's the perfect brisk-weather read.

read me

In my continuing adventures of learning how to be a prep school teacher, I've come to love ambiguity. In fact, "be comfortable with ambiguity" has been a lasting mantra among my fellow teachers. I was hired to teach 9th grade English literature and some journalism courses. But in the name of change (and ambiguity), my role has changed slightly. In addition to the 9th grade English and journalism/yearbook/newspaper duties, I have been assigned ONE 6th grade literature class due to the large number of 6th graders we have. You could not hide my delight when I discovered the first recommended book on the reading list this year: Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.

Carroll's writings are a love of mine, and the Alice books, well, they are quite frankly some of the best children's stories ever written. During my year living in London, I purposely took a train to Oxford just to visit Carroll's haunts, like the Eagle and Child pub (nicknamed the "Bird and Baby"), and Christ Church Meadow, where he imagined Alice's first glimpse of the White Rabbit and chasing him down the rabbit hole. Sigh. Literature is such a splendid thing, is it not?

lifelong love of learning

My posts have been few, I know. But there's a reason for my absence lately. I'm embarking on a new adventure, one I hope I will learn from and enjoy. For the past seven years, I've spent my time as a journalist working in book publishing, newspapers, and magazines. I even worked in radio for a short while. Media, specifically writing and editing, have always been my calling. But this summer, faced with an opportunity to try something new rather than grapple with the turbulent publishing industry, I accepted a job to teach journalism (as well as English). So in the fall, I will find myself standing in front of a room of college prep students. The thought of talking and teaching about words, literature, and writing is something I've grown increasingly excited about. For the last two weeks, I've been embedded in intense training as well as teaching summer school courses. I've also been catching myself up on some reading, such as Siddhartha and other novels I haven't cracked since college or high school. I still plan to continue writing and editing. In fact, I'm working on a piece for the Dallas Morning News right now. I'm hoping I can continue to do editorial projects and still keep my sanity.