My Name was Supposed to be Elizabeth Ann

— Stories from the Roads (Not) Taken

Before Everyone discovered Someone’s bones,  Someone stored their faces in a box in a drawer in the middle of their dresser and,  mornings when they awoke, tried on each in turn, discarding each facsimile as smallish or loose or lacking in some necessary, elusive detail  heard about but never seen (like unicorns or potted gold), …

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Once upon a time… A good little girl waits patiently for her fairy godmother to return the voice her father stole then buried, unmarked, in the woods surrounding their condo. In this version, they forget about her and she dies. Or, They remember her, but they sell her voice and keep the money. Then she …

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Every September, I have to memorize new rosters, create new seating charts, and manage the needs of dozens of new students. This year, I’m sharing a different kind of roster–a roll call of former teachers who helped me learn not only the kind of teacher but the kind of human being I strive to be. …

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A wooden plaque containing the final two lines of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” hangs beside my desk at work. It is one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets. However, “The Road” is one of those poems that readers can get remarkably wrong, erroneously interpreting the final stanza (and therefore …

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