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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 3, September 2012


Glenn G. Coats
Prospect, Virginia, USA


The miles are the same this year as they were the year before and the one before that. Same detour around the highway where part of the road broke into the river. Same bright sunlight, head-on, along Route Twelve. Same pockets of cool air where the forest is dense beside the road. Why does the ride feel longer? Why am I always looking at my watch?

The steady repeat of back-to-school nights and parent conferences like the return of birds from the north. The daily grind of thirty minute sessions, of scheduling the difficult reading problems first to get them over with. Splash cold water on my face between periods three and four to wake up.

Chelsea’s mother says I am a fine teacher. Knows that I helped Adam with his confusions and showed him how to match words one-to-one. It’s just that Chelsea is a little afraid of me. Says that I am her first older teacher.

green of spring
the stop and start
of a new reader

spring dusk
the casts we squeeze in
before dark



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