Tag Archives: David Adams

On Year 4: October’s Poems


The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer.  The air grows colder, and I abandon my sandals for socks and shoes.  The boys in my classes are thinking about hunting–some of the girls are, too.  From the windows of my classroom, I can see the leaves turn on the old maples between the school and …

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On Year 3: November’s Poems


November is the month of birthdays of so many of my favorite people, including my two daughters, my poetic mother Laure-Anne Bosselaar, and the man who oversaw my creative thesis in grad school, Ted Deppe.  It’s also, I think, the most evocative month of the entire year: so brooding, like a Brontë novel.  This month …

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On the Second March’s Poems


March, in public school, is the longest of months, and frequently the dreariest, because March is bipolar.  That whole schtick about coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb?  Well, not exactly.  On March 21st the temperatures were in the 80’s–so warm that I broke out sandals to wear to school.  Here.  …

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On the Second January’s Poems


I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate winter.  It worries me terribly.  Everything is so much harder, and darker, and more expensive.  Twice this month I’ve taken a header, once in the driveway, once in the parking lot at the Indian Island School on the way to a basketball game.  Winter hurts.  …

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On the Second November’s Poems


In school, November, traditionally, is the shortest month.  That means, of course, the fewest number of poems for my classes.  November is also deer- hunting month here in mountainous central Maine, so many of the poems I chose for the month had to do with deer, and the woods, and things that the boys in …

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On November’s Poems


Here we are again, at the end of another month of experiments in poetry.  The students in my classes are all acclimatized now:  we cannot start class without a poem first.  So that’s one mindset down.  A boy in fifth period spent days and days frowning at the poems I read, until one day he …

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On September’s Poems


When I came home from my week at the Frost Place back at the beginning of July, I started toying with one of the suggestions I’d heard there:  to start each class period by reading a poem.  That idea seemed somehow radical–most of my students didn’t like poetry; most of the ones who did only …

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On My Living Room Bookshelves, Mostly


Because I’m starting all the senior classes every day with a poem, I found myself at 5:30 this morning crawling on the floor in front of my new built-in living room bookshelves, searching for North Into Love by David Adams.  The book was easier to find this time than it has been–in fact, these days, …

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