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"We shouldn't teach great books; we should teach a love of reading. Knowing the contents of a few works of literature is a trivial achievement. Being inclined to go on reading is a great achievement."
—Burrhus Frederic Skinner

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The man who wrote about quiet woods and drifting snow buried four of his children, and that alone should shatter the soft, grandfatherly myth we built around Robert Frost. America likes to imagine him calm and wise, strolling through yellow leaves, but he wasn’t at peace with nature—he was hiding in it. His father drank himself to death when Frost was eleven, leaving the family broke; his mother chased the dead through séances; Frost grew up sharp, anxious, mistrustful, already carrying ghosts. By twenty he’d lost a child. More losses followed: children dying, one taking his own life, another slipping into mental illness, his wife worn down by grief and gone too soon. He failed at farming, teaching, journalism—nearly everything—until desperation pushed him to England, where the poems finally came, not from comfort but from sheer survival. His verses sound gentle, but they’re lined with loneliness, regret, and the cruelty of choice—the knowledge that every road taken kills another forever. The woods weren’t decoration; they were refuge when standing still meant drowning. And when an 86-year-old Frost stood half-blind at JFK’s inauguration, unable to read the poem he’d prepared, he didn’t collapse—he recited from memory and stood tall, not in spite of his wounds but because of them. Frost wasn’t a cosy old poet; he was a fighter who turned grief into language, who didn’t promise that life would be beautiful, only that even when it’s unbearable, you can keep walking—and leave something honest behind.

{PS}

I don’t often post about student results as I’m proud of every one of them.

This one was particularly emotional for us all. My student sat their English Language GCSE and achieved a 3. They studied for a year in College and achieved a 3 again last Summer. They came to me as they decided to find an English Tutor at the end of August and resat in November achieving a 4 in just over two months of tutoring!

I’m extremely proud of their hard work, determination and never giving up 😀and am now tutoring their sibling.

Just some encouragement for the students doing SATS during this time and GCSE’s.

You’re doing your best and that’s good enough. Talk to someone if you feel anxious, sad or stressed, or all of the above. Remember, your results are not a measure of your worth and you are enough just as you are.

Take care.

I love this piece of writing, wonderfully written!

A good Tutor is like a candle – it consumes itself to light the way for others. –Mustafa Kemal Atatürk