In 2005, I visited the main public library in my hometown of Quincy, Mass., south of Boston. I was there to speak about my new novel for middle school students. After my presentation, a man approached the podium trailed by a half dozen boys and girls. He said he was Ron Adams and that he taught 100 extraordinary students at Broad Meadows Middle School.

I glanced at them; they didn’t look that extraordinary.

He wanted to know if I’d be willing to return to Quincy some day and speak to his classes about writing.

I assumed we were making conversation, but it turned out we were making plans.

I’ve been back every year since, although each fall I’m sure this is the year I will say no to Mr. Adams.

It’s certainly not convenient; I live in New York, a five-hour drive away. For years my work and family schedule were so tight that I left my home at 4:30 a.m., spent the day at Broad Meadows, then drove back afterward.