May has arrived, rain is dripping from the eaves, the plum tree is in blossom, I am preparing to sit through my first middle school baseball game of the season, and director Baron Wormser has chosen his featured Frost poem for this year's Frost Place Conference on Poetry and Teaching. So you should immediately sign up for the conference to find out which poem he's picked . . . because once you watch Baron teach a poem, you will never forget it--and by "it" I mean both Baron's teaching and the poem, and by "you" I mean poets, non-poets, college teachers, preschool teachers, ex-teachers, depressed teachers, non-teachers, mothers, golfers, fathers, sons, daughters, tractor mechanics, reluctant owners of cats, people with aversions to spiders and mice, chemists, city slickers, race-car drivers, chaplains, wide-eyed Yankee fans, orphans, voters, aliens, mediocre flautists, professional scoffers, tone-deaf intellectuals, political cartoonists, dog paddlers, gardening enthusiasts, dislikers of Robert Frost, middle managers, realist painters, flatlanders, civil servants, house husbands, Whigs, unscientific cheesemakers, ham-radio operators, Catholics, atheists, flash-fiction cynics, vegans, cattle ranchers, fiscal conservatives, Romantics, people who trip over their own feet, short middle-aged consumers of gelato, baritones, etc. You know who you are.
If you've already attended the Teaching Conference, pass the word to your friends and colleagues. And if you've never attended, please consider signing up for this year's session. It's no exaggeration to say that Baron's teaching has changed lives.