Day and Night: Reflections on a Tuesday with Company, Friendships, Cousins, and New News. Mt. Pleasant is in Transition

 

Morning

There's something comical knowing that Mark's daughters are both in high school, on a college tour circuit, and we were supposed to get brunch but, as teenagers, they weren't ready until 11:30 a.m., so Mark went by himself. Still, they stopped by with Wyatt, hung out in the sunny backyard, caught up, and were absolutely joyful to be around. Zola and Nezi are definitely young adults now, and Papa Crandall has his hands full (as any parent of teenagers). 

They left for Providence, and I immediately jumped on to interviews, meetings, and then teaching. Glamis loved the company. She and Wyatt played for a long time in the backyard and it seems to kick some spunk back into her. 

After classes, at 7 pm, I picked up my high school friend, Melanie, and we got her daughter from Fairfield and ventured to eat at Centro (delicious). It's actually the location I was brought to when I interviewed here - and it was nice to pay them back for the dinner they treated me and Chitunga to on their last visit. I had pan-seared scallops in cheesy risotto with asparagus. I win. It was delicious. I haven't eaten that good in a while. It's also wonderful, too, because Melanie got her doctorate at Syracuse and knows all the people in my old stomping ground (she works there, too). Of course, she also married Captain Northstar of my older sister's class, and I just love the way her story unfolded.

When I got home, Chitunga came downstairs to see how dinner was (he couldn't make it) and wanted to have a talk about his next steps. I've been holding him at bay for a year, because he's wanted to be on his own. I've wanted him to save money. We compromised on a year. He and his friend Roy (Julie's son, my summer co-director) found a place in Stamford where they both have jobs. It makes sense...as commuting their can take over an hour, even though it's just 25 miles away. Even the train takes that long. So, they've been hunting for the last few months and finally got a hit on an 11th floor sky rise, which seems to make them both happy. One has them looking out on the Long Island Sound, or they can have the other side which is looking out at the City of Stamford (cough cough, home of the WWE and where Jerry Springer is/was taped). It's basically an extension of NYC, much more happening than Stratford (and expensive), but perfect for two young men stepping into the world with pretty decent jobs. 

I've been the "But wait just a little longer, Dad, and he's been patient. In two weeks, if the last phase of the application goes through, he's in....and just down the street from the office he'll be working in when it opens up again. Also, great night life, young people, and a human vibe...

I asked, "But how will you do with the crowds?" He's thought of that. Already mapped the ways he can get out into nature and escape the city life. He says, "I can't afford the regions off the Hudson, but there are parks there I can go to and hike." 

Happy day on many fronts. Also, sort of sad, but in a good way. 

Evening.

I told him everything in my house has been earned and brought in over three states, as there was never weddings or bridal showers or baby showers or housewarming parties. I built this over many years (and appreciate my mom for the gift card to Pier One back when I was in KY). I continued, "Whatever you want to take with you, take it. I don't need any of this." 

He's like me. "I only need my bed and a desk to work on."

So, it's time. 

He's endured my home for a hell of a lot longer than I thought he would (and I have Covid to thank for that). I will hate not having him in the house, and will love every second of the days when he realizes what it's REALLY like to live on one's own. The best teacher is the real world...it always has been. 

I'm confident he's ready. He's still here, but I already miss him.

Glamis will, too.

Should Have Known There was a .Gif for Breathing. Needed that. Not the .Gif - I Breathe this Way All the Time (The Reflection). Just Needed the Right Image.

Up at 5, finished 3 hours class/workshop by 7, eat breakfast, drink coffee, deliver, finger snap, applaud, then enter first faculty search research talk, take notes, evaluate, enter departmental conversation (have no idea what's going on), go to candidate teaching demonstration, do National call, go into debriefing session, then look at what needs to be taught tomorrow, see that I have 4 advising sessions, hop online with those, note that no one has a normal trajectory, then go upstairs to check on Glamis, see that she has vomited everywhere (that's two days now). 

And Breathe.

I hope she keeps the food down that she ate last night. She's not keeping anything down.

Meanwhile, my cousin is stopping by with his daughter on their college tour, I have NE Writing Project conference meeting, we have more applicants to vet and I teach, also meeting with high school friend driving through town.

Breathe. 

I just want Glamis the Wonderdog to feel better. It's too much for a furry friend to go through. I drove her to Pam's last night in hopes that seeing Jake would stimulate her appetite, which it did for a few kernels of Purina One. I thought the competition for food might kick the appetite in gear. Instead, she just put her head on Pam's lap and looked up at her with sad eyes.

The vet knows. There might be a need for more scans for pancreatic cancer, because it's just abnormal that this is over a month now, and nothing seems to work. Meanwhile, I've always lived with the motto, "I just don't want the poor creatures suffering." 

My poor mom. She endured that with Baby. Took it all in because my CT life couldn't accommodate a dog at the time.

It's too much. 

Inhaling. Exhaling.

Breathe.

1...2...3...4...5...6...7.

So, I Couldn't Wait Until April...I'm Marching Into Poetics with 4th Graders Today

For several weeks, my Fairfield University students have been teaching fiction and non-fiction lessons with their 4th grade service-learning buddies. It's been tricky with online shenanigans, but we've already met more than I anticipated we would, and Leigh Savoie is a phenomenal teacher to work with. Overall, however, it's been rather phenomenal. I am amazed at what we are accomplishing. 

There was a snafu in the dates between Fairfield's Easter break and their spring break (we have the Monday after Easter off, and they don't), so I'm stepping in today with a kick-off to poetry month, by playing a condensed, shortened a wee-more whimsical rendition of the Magic Box poem game. Tapping Shel Silverstein, we're going to come out of our 'Shels' some. So, here are two silly poems that came forward with the game-play last night as I started putting the presentation together. 

Coming Untied This Spring

Students are like knotted shoelaces, 

always waiting to become undone…

they’re like stars that stumble studiously 

(looking for stability), while stinking 

to fist-fight with velcro, 

making music like mellow jello, 

(and I’m gobbledygook, afishhook fellow, 

cooked in a symphonic buffet 

of buffalo wings and popcorn,

always ready for a new look,

for a reason, to be written in his book

of happiness)(such silliness)

as spring-loving peepers,

giggle with song birds 

in jolly hysterics…

just like the neighborhood children

playing on their swing sets 

sing with their mother’s cellphones. 

A Cesar Word Salad for Batalla

I’m a maniac on Mondays,

smacking my lips at the magical moon, 

writing watermelon poetry, this frog,

turning the frown upside down

before I floss my teeth…

…just a few grape kool-aid lines 

from a pollywog looking for malarky 

beneath the musical mushrooms,

where a smile is made

for a happy heart. 

See, I need to jog words onto the page

(cuz this hog ate all the french fries)

& clogged the screen with greasy rage.

I know. I know. 

They’d rather have a cheeseburger.

Hold the pickles, though. 

They’re sizzling and frying

in the alphabet prison of learning,

& melting of ideas with Fairfield U.

These Batalla students.

Hoping the Winter Caps Can Be Retired for the Year (Types an Optimist Knowing We're Never in the Clear Until May)

Yesterday was Shirl's birthday, and we had an outside gathering in the sun frolicking with bottles of water, shrimp, vegetables, and grilled chicken. An hour, quickly turned into an afternoon, and I am grateful. It's been a short while since sitting on a porch hearing laughter and feeling a warm sun on my skin. I arrived a little tense with piles of materials to be graded, sculpted, and assessed, but the spring sun was much more inviting. And I still got to all the materials before I turned on the tube for the Syracuse game. 

I realized, too, I had a photo from earlier in the week when I noticed someone put a toboggan on the James J. Bowler, S. J., sculpture outside the library. I love this sculpture: the seated position, the beard, and the nest with a wing being raised to the sky. The knitted cap just added a little more flare, because even a remarkable spiritual guide like Bowler, and his influence on campus, deserves a warm head. Of course, this is when it was chillier and before the Stars of Bethlehem began to bloom in yards across Connecticut. 

Howdy, Sunday. I see the rain, and recognize the temperatures will be dropping this week. I told Chitunga I was going to power clean while he was away, and I'm hoping that will come as soon as I'm done typing this note to kick-start my day. I did sweep, clean the kitchen, and pick up some. Teaching is messy. It's impossible. It's everything. And piles prove it. But where to store them until the University opens back up to faculty and I can store everything there?

Meanwhile, I also organized the winter gloves, hats, and scarves. The coat closet is good to go, but there's also boxes from two grants than need to be delivered to locations once all this lifts - it's not my stuff; it's materials from others that needs to be put away in their spaces). 

Ai Ai. Ai. No use complaining. I wonder if I can find a local baker with a cinnamon roll to go with my coffee?

I'll Take a Friday Night with Odysseus's Bag of Winds, Sitting in a Chair Looking at a Healing Dog Curled Like a Fox

The best part of weekends are the absence of ZOOM rooms where it happens. The majority of us are without  such space on Saturday and Sundays. It's time for grading, cleaning, processing, and healing. Last night I listened to a dear friend from Louisville reading at a poetry event (seeing names on the ZOOM I haven't thought about in 13 years, and remembering life as it once was, for a brief, yet long, period of my life).

Louisville provided a foundation. I was there, too, when teachers could still make magic in the classroom (oh, they still do, but the powers that be make it more and more difficult...the resignation letters I am reading all over the nation crush me, because I see some of the best throwing in the white flags they've been waving for a very long time). 

I turned off the technology early, and just sat sipping bourbon and letting my mind rest. Edem went to work and Chitunga's taking more accounting exams in Providence. My house is typically quiet, but last night it was extra calm, so I marinated in it.

I also reconnected with an old student...a favorite...almost a non-human soul, and ended up on a voyage of watching his work (via the Internet) over the last 20+ years. He's still 15 in my head, but I know he's mid-thirties. It's so, so strange. 

Okay, Saturday. We need you to keep the Frog focused. The students are about to get very antsy if attention isn't turned to them. You took last night to chill, so now it is time to work.

Peepers are My New Christmas Morning. When They are Back, I'm Overjoyed. Windows Open. Fresh Air. Spring in my Step.

I spared you and myself the 3 hours Peepers recording on YouTube, just so I could post today's thinking. It's Friday. I'm now officially 12 days behind and need the next three days to rectify that. My poor students. Two days, back to back, 12 hours of ZOOM meetings (and these are not course-related) creates for Zero time to attend to what I should be attending to.

Ah, but the universe can be beautiful, and when I think about the people I was in conversation with today, I'm overjoyed with possibilities and hope for a better tomorrow.

The peepers are back. It's Spring. We're over a year with an insane period in history. We got this. We need to continue work for a better world. 

When I lived in Cicero by the swamps, the peepers were a much-welcomed hope after a long winter. Of course, in March/April - Syracuse style - they'd often come out in a burst of odd warmth, then freeze solid to the trees when winter returned. They'd thaw again to sing. I'll never forget the first time I was snow blowing and saw frozen frogs in all my bushes. I was like, "God Dang you, Maude. Not the frogs. Don't kill the frogs" But they melted by May and seemed to be okay. Note to self: research this. It's actually a poetic phenomenon.

So, last night, Tanya Baker and I had Amy Bouch of Pittsburgh interview writer Ann E. Burg. I've been hosting The Write Time for a year now, and every show gets better, but I am truly in awe and admiration of this particular writer...this particular show. And for Laura Roop who recommended Amy....dang...so, so good. What a fabulous recording. Can't wait for it to debut in April. 

Meanwhile...Glamis the Wonder Dog is gaining weight, but also finding new ways to spit out pills. I found one in a planter today. When I think about how much those pills cost me and all the ways she's able to spit them out, I'm beyond frustrated. Still, I have to laugh. 

AND I did have one meeting yesterday that was face-to-face...a special gathering that was with two unlikely individuals who bonded over difficult work we've had to do. We cornered a picnic table on Fairfield's campus, each placed a leg on a different section, and chatted for 90 minutes (all with one Covid shot to our credit...simply to process the year that just was). Human beings. And seeing students walking about in 3-dimensional ways was bugging to the eyes.

The peepers are out; there's hope. Yet They falleth that runneth fast. That's Romeo & Juliet, 101. Patience is a virtue.

For the 2nd Time in My Life, I Wasted 10-Minutes on Tik-Tok as We Paralleled Reading Strategies Across Content Areas

Truth. For the 2nd Time in my life, too, I admitted to graduate students, "I could lose myself for hours watching this stupid stuff."

Last year, when middle and high school educators were talking about the student obsession with Tik Tok I opted to make it a theme for an evening and applied strategies read for the week with Bromley's vocabulary work in Best Practices for Adolescent Literacy and Beers and Probst's strategy work in Reading Non-Fiction. It's sort of a fast-pace, fun, and interactive workshop I put together that keeps everyone engaged, active, laughing, and curious. Everyone wants to know how people make a living simply by promoting these short videos and gaining followers. Ah, found an article on that, too.

As part of the lesson, I go to what's trending on Tik Tok videos in the immediate, making sure not to select any of the raunchier ones. In the chat, I ask students to respond as if they were posting to the App. It's hilarious...from dancing, to magicians, to comedians, to pranksters, to lip-synchers, a half-hour can be lost in a snap of a finger. 

And we hypothesized on (a) why this is a phenomenon, (b) will it last, (c) what biological/psychological function does it serve, and (d) why bother? 

This, of course, all with paired articles where we could develop readers with the inquiry we made. KWL2

I also wanted to think as a teacher and how we might utilize this phenomenon with students, sort of (if possible) finding a purpose for our classrooms (obviously kids could parody any of the videos...why not go viral, quit school, and start a business as outlined by one of the articles we read).

Anyway, I'm too distracted and have told myself to stay away from the Tik Tok accept when I teach it in a content literacy class. One of the students however, a mother of 4, says she and her family collaborate on making videos together and it's a bonding experience that they couldn't live with out. I so, so, so want to join them, but the last thing Crandall needs to start is a new hobby of entertaining people quickly. I would never sleep again. 

Let me entertain in my slow, methodical way. But, if we're cell-phone buds chances are you get my own version of such foolishness. Not quite Tik Tok, but similar intent.

Quote from Last Night's Research: "This is something that has always puzzled me. I mean, my dog will happily eat cat poop. But a pill? Nope. Apparently that’s where she draws the line."

To be honest, I've never seen Glamis the Wonder Dog eating cat poop, but last night when problem-solving week 6 of this weight-loss, stomach issue, I ended up in a rabbit hole of dog issues. To be fair, she's not vomiting anymore, has pep back in her step, and is her usual, under-the-foot nuisance. She did well with three days of vet-recommended canned food, and even took her pills. Then, well, she rejected the food and wouldn't eat it any more. So, I resorted to peanut butter, cheese, and ice cream to get her to take her medicine.

There's comedy to all this. She will eat the dog food if I don't hide her medicine in it. 

No matter how many ways I hide the pills, she finds a way to work around them...all the peanut butter disappears, but the pills remain (even if they are glued into the bread). Ice-cream. A wash. Cheese, she chew and out comes the pills. I do the chin up, drop them in her mouth thing, and she successfully pierces my skin with her teeth. 

I will forever be amazed at how nimble-minded a dog can be, but clever at the same time. She has out-mastered me after two days and I gave up. That's why I resorted to the Internet. 

So there are these Greenie pill pockets that are basically dog treats in disguise (picture the red pit of an olive...that's where it goes)...the Trojan horse. It's not what you think it is! Marshmallows work the same (but who has marshmallows?). Perhaps, "Treat, Treat, Pill, Treat," might work. I haven't tried that yet. There's the 'if you do a trick for me, then I'll trick you an 'award'. I also love that some people even suggest pretending to eat it from your plate that doing the naughty of feeding the dog under the table, slipping the pill to them, too. A friend recommended proctoring...that is, hiring someone else to trick. 

Then there's YouTube.

I'm laughing. There's got to be a better solution! This just didn't work.

So this morning, I tried something new. As I made my breakfast, stirring around the kitchen, I kept buttering a bagel with peanut butter while making her shake and give me her paw. This seemed to work, although she'd still spit the pill out, in which I'd use more peanut butter. 

I have four more days of pills to give. 

The good news is after this morning ritual she went right to her canned food and ate. Joy.

But, Tom! It's Only Tuesday. When You Realize More Than Halfway Through the Semester There Are No Breaks.

I was on the calendar committee that set the academic calendar for 2020 and 2021, but this was set way before Covid and realize quick changes needed to be made suddenly. For this semester, I remember vaguely hearing about adjustments a later start in the semester and because of this, there'd be no Spring Break; instead. there'd be a tapping onto Easter Break. I put the syllabus together, began teaching, and maintained my other usual obligations. I didn't put much thought into. Perhaps this is why I honestly pulled out the syllabus last night to see if there was a way to cancel this week or next. 

The students and faculty are fried. 

I realized last night that I can't keep my eyes open and my brain is absolutely spent. Humans need breaks, and I know academics are notorious for rarely taking them, but this non-stop go, go, go seems somewhat cruel. There are few windows in the semester to rejuvenate...heal...recoup. And that's the problem. And poor K-12 teachers. It's in the profession to uphold integrity, spirit, and hope. But that can be too much without a little breathing room.

See, I have a zit in my ear and its driving me nuts. That's the real truth. It's so deep in my ear that I can't reach it, and the more I try to reach it, the more I'm afraid I'm agitating it more. Last night when I rolled over on that ear, I immediately woke up and that caused for sleeplessness (and, of course, on Mondays I have my early a.m. class - not sure that is healthy for anyone). So, today, Tuesday, I'm exhausted.

I've told everyone that Tuesdays have quickly become my Fridays, and my weekends are spent catching up from the week, and now I'm realizing there really has been ZERO flexibility since January 2. I'm taping my eyelids open and hoping for the ear zit to go away.

But I did get Covid Shot #1. I have no side effects, except for this blue liquid leaking from my nostrils and urethra, and suddenly my toes are webbed like I'm aqua man. It's all good, though. I like the color blue and the webs will come in handy whenever I go swimming again. 

I do want, however, a weekend in a hotel with no interruptions, no technology, no obligations, and just an incredible bed with fantastic pillows. I laugh at that vision, though, because if I get a hotel, the likelihood I'm in my room is scant...I'm too busy exploring the area of where the hotel resides. I rarely sit still. I think the problem this semester is that I rarely sit still while sitting still in an office chair and on a laptop. The same pace is kept, but it's all in digital la la land.

Okay. I have ZOOM meetings scheduled every hour of the day today until I teach tonight. Fingers crossed I make it until 9 pm tonight. 

How fun would it be just to have an hour to chase a mouse with a broom, Tom?

Glamis Update, Monday Reality, Summer on the Horizon, and Today? Well, I Get Shot #1. I'll Take It. But I Prefer Buddy Boeheim's 3-Point Shot

I think it is safe to state that Glamis the Wonder Dog seems to think she's in recovery mode. Why do I say this? Well, she slept for 24 hours, then ate her stomach-safe, smelly dog food, then proceeded to spend most of Sunday underneath the feet of Chitunga and me looking for handouts and extra food. Of course, we didn't give her any, but she was definitely more curious about eating than she's been in a while. And she didn't leave our sides.

Tunga took her for a walk, and for a two-hour reading fest at the beach. His words, "She loved it there. She seemed to enjoy the fresh air." 

I spent yesterday getting ready for the week, and also super cleaning spaces Glamis has occupied for two weeks, as her fur fell out everywhere. I also went to campus to get my 6th Covid test and I teased the nurses, "I think I'm addicted at this point to the nose-swabbing. I'm desensitized, and this is actually somewhat stimulating and comforting."

I got groceries for the week (after checking offices to see phones still NOT there and deliveries more of a "let us store our junk in your space because we don't want to deal with it" type movement. What a shit show). And, with University athletics in full force, getting on campus for a swipe took 5x's as long. So many people trying to enter campus in a tight, little check-in area. 

I went to get groceries for the week, then returned home to prepare for Monday-Tuesday classes, and to go for an 8-mile hike simply because the weather was perfect, and I'm fully aware of taking mental breaks. I listened to Mathew R. Kay's Not Light, But Fire and I can say I'm inspired. This is a writer/thinker/doer I want to teach with. Absolute wisdom and zero complaints about what he proposes...just admiration. Brilliance. 3-hours of listening in...8 hours more to go. 

But Glamis seems to be on the up-and-up. She truly did rub up against me all day, unless she was in with Chitunga on a walk or at the beach. 

Fingers crossed. It's impossible to truly concentrate on what we're doing with a dog waifing away at our side. 

Wow, Monday. You're here again. It's National Goof-Off Day and we have several plans in place. 

Meanwhile....they almost screwed it up, but they held on...Cuse is in the Sweet Sixteen (somewhat of a slight period of normalcy). I bit my nails on that game. 

And we begin in 3...2...1.

Temptations are High, as are Responsibilities. When the Winter Temperatures Break and the Skies are Blue....Well...

I tried to temper my spring fever by doing indoor cleaning. This was a disaster, however, as I moved my 2 in' cactus (which was never supposed to grow no more than 2 inches and is now 6'4") and it wiped out on the floor, dropping some of its toxic glue and needles. I was home alone, which meant I had to find a way to lift it by myself without too much harm to my skin. I've learned tricks over the years. The dang thing is huge, and has outgrown 4 pots since I've had it. 

Chitunga came in, right as I finished cleaning up the mess and gave up then on wanting to clean my house. I was having one of those days where I was learning the limitations of how my rooms are constructed. There are only certain ways my furniture fits, which is frustrating, because I want to reimagine everything. I ended up putting every back where it was originally.

And I went to Home Depot with a gift card from Chitunga to buy a new pot, more cactus soil, and a new outdoor pole lamp as I broke ours playing volleyball with Abu one day before heading to the beach. We were fooling around and I spiked it at his head, breaking the lamp. It's been that way for years.

Glamis went in for another treatment, and came back exhausted. She slept outside for two hours then came in to sleep for another 4 before coming downstairs so I could feed her. She has special dietary food for a while and we're hoping the hydration, medicine and new food will help her stomach heal. I just want her sad, hurting eyes to be replaced by her more enthusiastic, playful ones. It's been a rough few weeks. 

Today, the temptation to go outside is going to be more severe, but my need to stay inside is going to be more important. Too much to do and I sort of did lose yesterday to Glamis, walks, and the hope of a new season. Meanwhile, we're learning from nations worldwide and our our own, that we can't be too quick to jump to normal. The sun and the possibility has us biting at the bit, but we can't be irrational and return to stupidity again. 

First shot tomorrow. Fascinating to graduate into another bracket of age-hood. Ah, I'll take it.

When Optimism and Hope Come In Threes: Anyone Who Knows Me Knows This Week Was a Little Too Much, but The Glass is Half Full

Glamis was at Companion Animal Hospital for most of the day on Friday as we set out on round two to figure out what was going on. I hunkered down at Pam's, worked from a chair, and ran ZOOM calls when I had to. I was relieved to know she was being released at 5:30 (the dog, not Pam), even if she needs to come in today for another 5 hours of fluid. She has pancreatitis, and we're trying to get her back on the healthier side. 

She was stoned like a Grateful Dead concert when I picked her up. She got in the car with her cone on, and I expected her to get out of the car when we arrived home. Her head was too heavy to lift out of the car, however. We got her inside, but she couldn't lift her head high enough to make it over the front steps. I had to carry her in. Inside, she just stared into space like a satellite dish. Then she cried. Eventually, she wanted to go upstairs to lie on my bed and I was happy she had that memory to recall her comfort place. It was, however, somewhat hilarious to see her try to lift her head up enough to climb the stairs. She couldn't do it, so I took the cone off. I let her jump on my bed where slept for many, many hours. 

Meanwhile, a package of monarch butterflies arrived (Thank you, Sue! Spring!) and I got notification that my laptop that was sent to Apple was delivered almost delivered, but I wasn't home. Long story short, I made arrangements for it to be sent to a Walgreens for a pick-up (since I missed it), but then the FedEx guy says you have 30-minutes to pick it up at the station. I hop in my car to get it. While on my way, a lady calls from FedEx to say, "We can't send a laptop to Walgreens because of the lithium battery. We need to make another arrangement." I tell her I'm on the way to pick it up and she says, "We closed 15-minutes ago. Then she said, "I tell you what. I'll look for you. I'm feeling good tonight and if you make it in ten minutes, I'll give it to you." 

I was 5 minutes away.

That never happens. 

I got my laptop, a zonked dog, and butterflies all on a Friday that started rather miserably. I said, "I'll take it. When I got home Chitunga suggested we get dinner and we ended up at the Blue Goose, which is a local haunt in Stratford where the average age of customers is 76. Chitunga lowered that average by a lot. (The photo is of the Blue Goose mascot). 

We both had fish, he had salad, I had soup, and the manhattans were perfect. I've always said he's an old soul, and an old soul he is. That's his kind of hang-out. 

I'm just thankful to the space I have right now to process the insanity of the week that was. I know it's March Madness, but it's been nothing but madness for longer than that. 

Go, Buddy Boeheim! Go!

Going Into What Should Be a TGIF with the Reality that This Might Be As Good as They Get. This Might Be Exactly What It Is. Now What?

To say this week was a wake-up call would be an understatement. It's a Book-of-Job kind-of week, but I'm a little skeptical of the producer and I'm like, "Really, God? I know I'm at the first religious institution in my lifetime, so I would think you'd have somewhat of a larger plan. I mean. These people live for you." 

Um, Nope. 

Typical human, crazy stuff, under the guise of ethics, morality, equity, diversity, and inclusivity. Welcome to the Wizard of Oz, Toto...the moral of the story is...

There's not enough years scheduled ahead to process the insanity that was this past week, but I'm thankful that I believe in free will, individual choice, and the power of actions speaking louder than words.

Earlier this week I had the privilege of listening to Tara Westover as a University speaker, and it was amazing to put a face to the narrative I got from listening to Educated. The story was gripping, mesmerizing, new, and incredulous and I know I'm a better man for reading it. 

I took from her talk, and the week that just was, however, the following question, "Shouldn't we be undoing, restructuring, and revolutionalizing the very systems that are keeping these incredible dysfunctions, hierarchies, and belief systems in place? Hasn't there been enough abuse?"

And I'm thinking of MLK, his leadership, his vision, and I'm thinking about my very own definitions of good and bad in the world, and I'm wondering, "Why did I have to come to a religious facility to realize how evil human beings really are?"

So, I'm in a place of seeking to restore my faith in humanity. I know there is good out there. I see it in K-12 teachers. I see it in my colleagues across the the nation. I just have to figure out what my relationship to it all is. I have one life and I've never been drawn to anything other than happiness, goodness, and joy. 

It is so strange for me to be in such a place of misery. This I must fix. And I'm looking for the moral compass to fix me. I guess I always knew human beings were weak, pathetic creatures. I just didn't know that their movements would work to maneuver me into their ugliness. 

Yuck to the ugliness of the systems that rob people's souls. It is a pretty disgusting business. So, the moral dilemma becomes, "Do I want to be a par to their system any more?"

There is a better world. I've lived it, and I can see it. 

Ah, Friday. What an interesting week delivered upon you.

I Love My Orange (Syracuse Grad) But Am a Little Blue As We Figure What To Do with Glamis's Recent Stomach Issues. I Wish Her Drama Was Only an Act

This is a new one for me with dog ownership. Nail clippings, eating stuff that shouldn't be eaten, fleas, skunks, cuts, brawls, colds, etc. - that's normal. So are the ailments of aging, losing energy, graying, and simply not having puppy tendencies. 

Glamis is still a puppy. Well, she's almost seven, but she's full of energy: walks 4 to 6 miles a day with all of us in the house, loves to fetch and play with all her toys, entertains the neighborhood with the model-like performances in the bay window, has healthy dates with several dogs in the area.

But right before the skunk incident a few weeks ago, she was having trouble keeping her food down. I think my earliest memory of this was walking a 7 mile hike with her in January when she spit up bile and laid down in the middle of a lawn. Tunga was at head of the leash. 

It was mild at first, but quickly became every day, and when we finally took her into the vet she was down 14 pounds. We poured $$$ into medicines and she took them like a champ, began eating regularly again, and played like everything was normal. But the medicine ran out, and suddenly she wasn't keeping food down. The only think that seems to sit well in her stomach is scrambled eggs. She's had success for a week with that, so I moved up to boiled chicken and rice. She LOVED it. In fact, she digested, sat with it for a while, and got an energy that I couldn't keep up with: running, playing with sticks, bringing me all her toys, and sprinting around the yard with spring joy.

Then she vomited again. The chicken seemed to be digested, but the rice was rejected.

I did research and went to the store for canned pumpkin. I'm hoping that will stay down. 

It's just weird to me to know that a dog has eaten the same dog foot for 7 years and then one day rejects it. It seems odd and as if something else is going on. I just wish I knew what it was. At first, she was like nah with the pumpkin, but I also put puppy beef products...little cups that were mostly liquid to see if that would work. Once I mixed them in too, she was interested and ate the whole thing. If it stays down, we're making progress. 

And I've allowed her to sleep in my room again, which means she sleeps alongside me absorbing all my warmth. Something brings me serenity knowing that she's comfortable, breathing, and lying safely as we figure out what, exactly, is going on. 

"Sometimes I Wonder If ZOOM Is More Ideal for Teaching," He Types While Thinking About the Fact That, "Whoa. There's a March Madness Basketball Bracket"

Yesterday was strange.

I caught up on who was in or not in the NCAA bracket, I corresponded with a writer I haven't talked to in a year (new children's book coming out, awesome), I attended several a.m. and afternoon meetings, and I taught an evening graduate class. 

Let me start by the teaching. For years, I've been pairing a piece by my Syracuse colleagues Maria Murray and Kristin Munger with "She Unnames Them" by Ursula Leguin. Their chapter in Best Practices for Adolescent Literacy Instruction aligns well with points to be made about content-area literacy. Reading Leguin, and guiding graduate students through it, has always been fun for me. Also, to couple it with lexiles helps me to make a point about pairing the right text in front of readers at exactly the right time.

Difficult texts are made easier to read, when guidance is provided. 

I did a reverse breakout room last night. The graduate students read Leguin and were given a series of questions to ask while I went offscreen and on mute. I simply responded to what I was hearing in the chatroom.

Basically, the students talked through Leguin's difficult text while I listened (almost like a voyeur) on how they processed the story and made connections after working through questions. I witnessed live how good questions help kids (well graduate students) come to conclusions where they make bigger connections and epiphanies. In a classroom setting, I miss this development because I'm eavesdropping while wandering a room. Here, however, I watched the epiphanies as they unfolded. It was miraculous to view. I would put in the chat, "You're doing exactly what I hoped you'd do." What is weird and wonky, becomes clever and strategic. The mysteries reveal itself and the clever writing, a puzzle, unfolds through critical thinking.

And they proved my point. And Murray and Munger's point, too. Complex texts are good, but they really need to be taught and nurtured by an educator strategically layering student understanding. They also have to be coupled with easier to digest and more flavorful readings. A class of only Leguin might traumatize readers, but Leguin as a point to be made, intrigues them.

So, in my end-of-the-day teaching bracket, I say I advance. It is beautifully alarming that we have a bracket again this year. It's almost too hard to believe after the March we had in 2020.

Looking to this as hope. 

Onward. 

Well, That Was Exactly How Mondays are Supposed To Be. Took One For the Team. But Today is Tuesday, and I'm Wearing Bubble Wrap Just in Case. Whatcha Got For Me?

I finally heard back from ITS Help Desk at Fairfield University. The good news, is they responded after two weeks. The bad news is I had to act fast. I drove to campus, got a loaner, drove to Apple, dropped off my computer that is covered under Apple Care for its faulty keyboard, came home, got the loaner aligned with my home system, and then received a call.

"Dr. Crandall, Can you come back to the University? We accidentally set you up as a student?"

You can do the camera angle for my reaction and play the music as you wish. 

I just knew I wasn't functioning from home. Ironically, I was also patient, because I know that ITS took a big hit from administrative cuts, so I didn't expect miracles. In fact, leading tech people across the campus have hinted, "Oh, just you wait."

So, I drove back, and had the computer reconfigured as a faculty member. I bit my lip and remained an optimist and dreamer. We reconfigured for a second time, and I came home only to learn that none of Apple's regulars: Pages, Keynote, Numbers, iCalendar etc. were loaded. I had no way to open up my files. And I call again, only to learn that the loaner I have can't update those files, because those files are more advanced than my loaner can handle. I am supposed to be without my presentations and class notes until I get my original computer back.

I don't think so. To be fair, ITS Help Desk is now run by undergraduate students with an occasional supervisor. They are learning the trades of the field and Tik Tok and Instagram are calling their names. The distractions are much more appealing. 

I do what I know how to do. I cut corners. Read. Figure things out. Then I download the programs I need so I can function as a normal professor for the classes I teach and with the materials I need. "Sir, how were you able to get...." is met with, "don't ask. I have to teach. I don't have time to explain." I called them, as they repeatedly told me it was impossible, I found ways to make it possible.

How do you have a Mac without all the Mac goodies? Non-Mac people can be tremendously obtuse.

Meanwhile, Glamis the Wonder Dog who went a week on $$$ medicine, decided after her last pill that eating was sort of blasé, and that she wanted to go 24-hours without food, and when I made her rice and chicken, she'd eat it with all her glory, but then while walking (to ease my mind after the technological day) she'd vomit it all over the front yard of some poor homeowner. It was rough. And exhausted afterward, she decided to lie down and try to fall asleep in their yard. 

Okay, she did 7 days of good eating, good exercise, and good poops. No incidences. The medicine ended, and she's sick as a dog again. Well, she is a dog. But you get the point.

We have an appointment this morning before my meetings and classes begin. I'm still not sure if I'm able to reach the University website to access the ZOOM account. That's the kind of Monday it was. After I return from the vet, it's time to explore how to get the loaner connected to all my screens so I can have a normal day.

I will say, however, because I don't like to complain, that it is absolutely joyful to type what it is I want to type, without keys sticking to my fingers and flying over my shoulder and onto the floor. That's a tremendous improvement. It's also nice that this loaner has about 2 inches wider on its screen. Because I'm online 7 days a week, usually 12 hours a day, it's nice to have a system that cooperates and is bigger for my aging eyes.

This is where we are right now and I am thinking, "What if I couldn't get the computer running? How would I function with my responsibilities and my students?" 

My response, "Not my problem. I know what what I'm doing. This, however, relies on the expertise and competence of others. That's out of my control and in the end....

...well, our actions will speak louder than words. 

Just Because I Need This In a Space Where I Can Retreat It: I Am a Son of a Butch Who Learned Immensely from Willy (It's a British Accent for the Win)

My education was like most and it began in 5th grade. We got our books to read, the boys were separated from the girls, and if we had any questions we were to ask our parents. I trusted my mother. So I asked her scientifically, "It all makes sense. It's logical. And I understand the biological functionings. My only quandary is, how will you know when you're done?" 

"Um, go see your father." 

It was the shortest 15-second conversation of my life. He tapped my leg a couple of times and said, "You'll know. You'll know," and ran out of the bedroom.

Years later, way after my first memory of screaming, "I know! I know!," my lil' sister would find Where Willy Went at an Ollie's in upstate New York. She knew (a) my love for children's books (all books, actually), (b) the memory of our own sex education at Cicero Elementary and Amalfi Drive (sort of like The Wonder Years where the coach draws a cow's head), and (c) one of the fastest racing sperms giving Willy a run for his money, is Butch. Of course, that's the kicker, because it is my father's name.

Last night, a student of yesteryear wrote me to say she and her husband were talking about similar topics with their sons, and shared how the boys were disgusted by the process swearing they would never, ever do that. Of course, I had to run to my home library to see if I could find my copy of Where Willy Went. I actually looked it up on Google, because I wanted her to order it, and saw there was a video of it on YouTube. It's also read with a British accent, making it that much more brilliant. 

In their junior year of high school, after biology class, I often told my students after they revisited sex education in a reproductive unit, that each and every one of them needs to think of themselves as a miracle and a champion. "After all, I'd claim....you were the best of the batch. The one that made it. The fastest swimmer in the punch. It's pretty remarkable, as are each of you." 

Not sure if that ever resonated, but I can say that good ol' Tiana, my librarian friend from way back when,  always remembers such Brown School conversation and keeps me up-to-date with parenting on her own. 

Ah, a day when life becomes more beautiful. Share away. We only live once. 

Swim, Willy. Swim.

When You ind Yoursel Without an "Eph" Key, Thanks @Apple, You ind Your Universe rustrating, Indeed.

I wanted to awake to a abulous Sunday, with co ee, grading, and inalizing projects but my Apple keyboard is on the  ritz again, as the letters  continue to stick to my  ingers and  ly onto the  loor every time I type. 

Yesterday, I went to Apple a ter making an appointment only to be told, “We’re sorry, you made the appointment  or sales and not with the genius department, so we can’t serve you. We can’t reschedule until  our.”

So, I putzed at home on a  unky keyboard until  our and returned to learn that Apple needs to replace my entire keyboard, on them, because o  a  law in their design. This is on them and they are very aware o it. But they will need the lap top  or  our to  ive days, so I’d have to leave it with them. 

 udge. There’s no way an academic  reak like me can go an hour, let alone  our or  ive days without access to my technology, so now I have to work with  airield University to get a loaner, so I can  eel okay about not having the MacBook Pro that keeps losing its keys at the repair shop  orever. 

 abulous. 

I’ve never done a study o  how many hours I spend typing every day, or how many words I commit in a 24-hour period, but it would be interesting as a sel -study. We are so reliant on technology and when it  ails, we’re basically  ucked. 

So, Sunday, I will continue to go  orward as e. ortlessly as I can, knowing it will be  unky and  reaky as I try to  ind a way to adapt.

 un times. 

Phew. Am I Somewhat Off the Radar for the Weekend? What's That? No Zooms on Schedule? Catch-Up Meetings? Obligations?

Okay. I mythologized a little. I have obligations, but nothing was finalized. I looked at my calendar at 9:30 pm last night and thought, "Oh, My God. I have nothing on the radar. Can this be true? You mean I can grade? Think? Plan? Breathe?

Then I saw the list of obligations and realized, "Oh, it's on the radar, but no one else confirmed, so now I wait for panic-strickened emergency emails. "Crandall, I totally forgot. Do you think we might.....".

Seriously, I'm like, "Um...24 hours without the quest to be in need? Can this be true?" 

I know I have non-social media obligations and responsibilities, but they can occur beyond ZOOM and I'm thrilled about that. I'm also super happy that I can wake up this morning and slowly meander into the work that needs to be done. I realize it's a catch up day and these can be worse, but I seriously have no absolutes in the day, unless I hear from a series of teachers who (like me) have probably not had a chance to go through the 101 unread emails. 

Chitunga took a personal retreat to the Catskills and I sort of wish I went with him (although he wants space away from Mt. Pleasant by himself). I'm afraid to look in the rearview mirror of the week that just was, I'm just thankful that I'm alive to type this wonkiness today.What a week!

And I made it. Tell me, are Saturday cartoons still carefree and mind-numbing? If so, I just might turn them on.

Dear Bry, Note To Self. You Witnessed Something Spectacular Last Night and Wanted to Share with @writeantiracist & Blogged This Instead

I pre-ordered the book The Anti-Racist Writing Workshop - How to Decolonize the Creative Classroom simply because I'm a National Writing Project Director and tend to collect all the books I can about teaching writing. I ordered 3 copies, actually, because I wanted to talk with teacher leaders, Rebecca Marsick and Kimberly Herzog, about how they would read this with their faculty in a predominantly White, and affluent Connecticut School. 

But then I realized, "Crandall, this is bigger than you. This is bigger than Connecticut  You need many to have a conversation with," and did an all-call to several friends in the National Writing Project and to writers of K-12 writing who have also influenced my thinking. Before I turned to page one, I wanted to be sure I created a book club that was super-diverse (Vertovec inspired), regional, and representative of the American landscape: rural, urban, suburban, Asian, White, Black, Latina, and male (because their is a lack of males in literacy, and I wanted some representation). 

We have 36 people signed up, and I'm going for laid back obligation. They must read the book, they must contribute, and they must help all of us, together, to be smarter. 

Last night, 24 of us entered the arena with the task of facing 5 locations we wanted to talk about in Chavez's text. Now, I know that was impossible, as I had 104 places, but being a geek, I collapsed those spaces to make 4 assertions I want to ask educators...

...note, our crew is working to adapt Felicia Rose Chavez's thinking into a protocol or one-pager or two-pager that prompts K-12 teachers to think about their own practices to establish anti-racist workshops.

I was interested in how after the meeting, a multicultural medley of thinkers stayed behind to talk about the book even more, especially as we negotiated the category of racist, Whiteness, Blackness, and all the other-ness we see in our schools: classism, ableism, regionalism, ageism, sexism, etc. Many concurred that it's not enough to be anti-racist, but we need to be pro-diversity, pro-uniqueness, pro-individualism, and most importantly, pro-every student. 

But it's hard, and I think that is why so many hovered behind....a representation of multiple voices.

The one take away was that after reading the book, we realize that the institutions, the traditions, and the habits are so, so thick, that it seems impossible to redo them, rethink them, and most importantly restructure them. I discussed briefly the Australian Film Flirting and how, as a 19 year old I saw it in a film class and realized....as a kid, really...that the infrastructures aren't only American, but global. 

I loved how an aboriginal young woman and a nerdy White boy flipped storytelling on its head. 

Anyway...this is a blog and a rant as I begin my day. I like to teach by listening, processing, and offering additional wonders into the world. 

Felicia Rose Chavez and her citing of Lerman and Borstel (2003) brought me back to my Annenburg days and Critical Friends Training at Harvard. I went to the National School Reform Site now hosted at Harmony School and recalled all the protocols we worked on and reformatted. I loved finding the ones on equity and diversity that I want to revisit. 

In short, I want us to write a protocol Lerman and Borstel used, influenced by Chavez's book, that initiates conversations in our K-12 schools.

And that is why I summoned so many others I trust and learn from. I think the power comes from community, and working through the complexities together. We are doing this, of course, to help others to do the same. 

On Doing Whole School Professional Development in a ZOOM Environment. Phew. Interesting, Indeed. & Rewarding. But Strange.

84 educators received a copy of Matt de la Peña's Milo Imagines the World, illustrated by Christian Robinson. The funding was for higher order thinking skills (HOTS) with the arts, as administrator Kathy Silver (Yellow) leads conversations on what is possible, doable, magical, and incredible if kids are given the opportunity to find their voice and express themselves....especially in creative, imagined ways.

I've been doing professional development for 26 years. Even when you do it with the colleagues you know, it is never easy work. When you do it with strangers, it's even harder. What can one possibly do to appeal to all the content needs of a single school? As soon as you aim in one direction, you alienate all the others. PD is doomed to fail at the get-go, so when you try to appeal to the masses, you never know what will result. I mean, dang. I hate being pulled into meetings that don't help to push my work forward, so how might I lead meetings that might be slightly appealing to the majority?

Of course, I am literacy/ELA/writing inclined, and I knew I'd get faulted for that (comment; this is irrelevant to what I do). Still, I do pre- and post-surveys and try to gauge my audience before I begin, and after (how much did I screw them over?). Of the teachers that attended yesterday, over 65% rated their previous PD experiences as 1-3 out of 5 (1 being "Huh? What's the point?" and 5 being "Hey, cool. This was rather useful"). I was afraid of the results from yesterday after almost 3 hours, because I know what it's like to have to participate in PD after a day of teaching, and also that the stress of this year is insurmountable. Add the fact that it was totally via ZOOM, too, and most didn't have cameras to turn on. Very few had audio. So, how does one implement PD to black screens?

He works with his fingers crossed. 

I created a Padlet (thanks, Susan James), had people do things off the camera, and used the chat feature to discuss. They were also were broken into break-out rooms, and I witnessed then most turned cameras and mics on. They talked. They broke out for over 50 minutes total during the 3-hour block, and they really did talk. They were engaged, especially with the dialogue books I created for Milo.

The result? 92.5% rated the PD as 3 or higher, with the 86% at 4 or 5. There were 7.5% that were like, "Give it up. You shouldn't be doing PD at all," which I expected, as administration figured there'd be a few. Still, the written feedback was valuable, and I get the critique, "This is very useful for ELA, but not so much for content areas" which was one comment. Another stated that having teachers write at the end of a long day is "never acceptable," and having them respond to a prompt about de la Peña's books was too personal and unprofessional. I'll take that, too. He writes on heavy issues, and that's the point. Higher order thinking cannot avoid the complexities of who we are.

It's tough out there right now, people.

Still, the emails I received (even poems) and commentary given to administrators, coupled with the online exit survey, is a moderate success story. I owe the applause to Matt de la Peña, though. He wrote the platform in which conversations could be held yesterday....he was the source for all of us to (re)imagine our worlds. And Christian Robinson....those illustrations, not only from Milo but from is entire portfolio. Brilliant. JOY.

I will be reflecting on the ZOOM-style platform for PD for a while. The good news is I didn't have to travel, worry about sweating, and deal with teachers who sit as far away as possible grading papers. They kept me from seeing anything, actually. 

Proud, too, of my ex-student who teaches at the school as a new English teacher, Joanna Warren! She was stellar in he reading debut and contribution. They have many challenges that face them, but have a phenomenal facility, excellent educators, and tremendous hearts. I look forward to the additional work ahead. 

Jammin' Between @ignotofsky (Rifting, Actually) and Ann E. Burg in a Graduate Course. Houston. We Have Success

The course is actually a content literacy course for middle and secondary educators, where the goal is to highlight best practices for teaching reading, writing, and critical thinking. Each year I choose a different YA text and, as anyone who reads me knows, I'm currently obsessed with Ann E. Burg.

Anyone paying attention the last couple of days, too, would realize I'm enthralled by Rachel Ignotofsky's non-fiction children's books. I'm a literary guy (who loves reading) but also a fan of visual communication who found himself to Ignotofsky's work (she hates reading). She's just fantastic for scholars like me trying to make points.

This post is about two great writers who I love teaching write now, but also a flipped class assignment I did to begin class. Rather that talk toward my students, I had them (a) watch a great TedX talk hosted by Rachel Ignotofsky, and (b) read What's Inside a Flower? The first 30 minutes of class was given to them to be offline (but online) doing just that, then meeting me in a Google Jamboard, where I gave each a page to construct their thinking. My question was, "What did you connect with in the video and book? Additionally, how does this knowledge connect with Flood by Ann E. Burg.

I rolled the die. I didn't know what to expect.

What I received are several collages of thinking, which resulted in an additional 30-minutes of presentation and conversation which (I pay attention) resulted in much note-taking by the educators. They were making connections to their own practices (which I love). Each student made unique, remarkable observations and I was amazed at how science, math, 2nd language, language arts, special education, and history teachers could make such brilliant insight. If we were face-to-face, and they drew (which was the connection to Goudvis and Harvey, and Beers and Probst), I'm not sure we would have received the quality. 

Seriously...for this work, being digital and online was actually more effective. In fact, the 2.5 hours flew by like a snap of a finger, which is exactly what everyone talked about at the end of class. Interactive. Engaging. Thought-Provoking. Inspiring.

Then I hit them with the secret..."Notice how little I had to do with the amazing - I created the learning processes, yes, but I said little. I simply shaped the epiphanies I hoped you'd get to." 

And they did. And I thank great writers for this. And I thank digital tools.

I simply loved every second of last night's class and the scholar in me wants to go back and name all that happened. We are experimenting here...and when it works...

BOOM...

it works. 

It's Been a While for Stripe & Yellow, But We've Reconvened with a Little Imagination & a Zest for Teaching @_silvergal

Glamis had to go in for more bloodwork, so I took a selfie to send to Kathy (aka Yellow) and as soon as I went to send it, I get this one from her, "The glasses are in!" She ordered a pair for every teacher in her school and as luck would have it, they are round just like Milo's. We are so ready to imagine our worlds with educators at Harding High School.

Using Matt de la Peña's Milo Imagines the World and Christian Robinson's brilliant illustration of him, she lucked out with the rounded spectacles (now, if only we thought to get green toboggans). On Wednesday - yikes, tomorrow - we kick off round one of professional development as she brings Higher Order Thinking Skills through the Arts to her teachers. I am there for funk, fun, literacy, and hope - fortunate to emcee the events (all online). 

I can't wait. I have a few more angles to chisel for the debut, as I want the opening act to be as interactive, clever, and timely as possible. When I do PD, I want teachers to say to their administrators, "Why don't we have more of that?" Of course, I can totally bomb, too, but this time, I have a team of crayons, young adult literature, and student voices to guide me. And I have theory...

...plus a sense of humor.

It turns out that Glamis doesn't do jelly sandwiches like she does peanut butter ones. They aren't her jam. With peanut butter, she devours the pills. With jelly, she licks the jelly and pills off the bread and simply eats the bread. I learned this by stepping on the kitchen rug a few seconds ago. I should also point out that walking her and Jake earlier today turned into a disaster after a doggie-bag began to leak like a pastry bag used to decorate cakes. Not a fun walk for Crandall, especially with two rambunctious dogs. 

I am excited to join Fairfield University forces with Harding High School (excited about my hat, too). A few years ago, Kathy and I worked to build a superhero summer camp for graphic novelists and I didn't have a costume. I think I have now found my look. 

I need my morning to continue the work, so I'm cutting this short (besides....so many meetings.....whaaaaaaaa). Here's to your Tuesday. We got this...

We have to. Otherwise we have nothing.

Another Shout-Out to @ignotofsky's What's Inside a Flower & Other Questions About Science and Nature. The Seeds Are Planted

Illustration from What's Inside a Flower 

My undergraduate course on extending literacy in grades 3-5 is transitioning from fictional texts to non-fiction and soon they will be teaching non-fiction lessons with the 4th graders we partner with. I looked to my shelf for new arrivals from Penguin Random House and Crown Books, and pulled out What's Inside a Flower and Other Questions About Science and Nature by Rachel Ignotofsky. Actually, I went down a rabbit whole that introduced me to brilliant illustrations, poignant knowledge, pro-women discoveries, and beautiful, purporting wisdom (thanks Beers & Probst - it's now in my spoken vocabulary). I plan to transition from a poem, "Regimen," from Kwame's Becoming Muhammad Ali, and to highlight two points: (1) Like Cassius Clay, a writer like Rachel Ignotofsky is a warrior and champion and (b) flowers are part of a regimen, too - intelligently crafted in What's Inside a Flower? 

Last week, I wrote about a poem Ann E. Burg wrote for me and my colleague Susan James, but I didn't share a poem I wrote to Susan and Ann as a response. It seems pertinent to share here as the last lines comes from Ishy Wooley (named after Ishmael) who heard me complaining about the rain one day and gave me his beautiful wisdom. Of course, he said, "fwowers," instead of flowers...but I didn't think it worked as well in the poem (instead, it looked like a typo). 

Springing Forward

for Ann and Susan

Fat boys hate summer sun,

yet forgive it in winter, 

despite necessary squints

from the blinding light 

that ricochets across fields of snow…

a bright reminder 

there’s always Pandora’s hope.

In summer,

fat boys hate heat, 

especially on mile four

when humidity 

soaks the socks, shorts, & shirts,

leaving a Gulf Shore 

of sweat

under each 

armpit.

He welcomes gray clouds then, 

to bumper and stain raindrops 

& cold possibilities across his face.

“You can’t hate the rain,”

says a little boy

trampolining through the puddles.

“How else you gonna get the flowers?”

Rachel Ignotofsky details exactly how flowers are flowers, and I can't wait to work with my pre-service teachers and the kids today. She has crafted the PERFECT text. As many remarked yesterday on Twitter, this is a must have for every library and school. I actually think it belongs in every environmental science and biology classroom, too. 

Shoot. It's is a textbook for florists and botanists. 

It's simply a remarkable gift for readers of informational, non-fiction texts. Each and every illustration is a discussion on its own. I can't wait to dig in this morning with others. New life goal - to read more of this writer's craft!

I Am Like an Episode of Seinfeld, but Nobody Watches or Pays Attention But My Dog (Who Adds to the Kooky).

When Glamis was having stomach issues, I said, "She's being dramatic. After a year of Covid, she wants attention, and knows eventually life will be normal, so she's looking for ways to distract us.

The skunk episode? That was real. The nausea, yellow bile? I personally think it's because the dog food I always get, which I got this time with "Lamb flavor," was not her thing. She doesn't like it so we have theatrics. A week of "Let me eat," "Let me poop," then "Let me eat grass," so I can "also vomit yellow bile," is over. It worked. I was nervous enough to take her in for X-rays and tests (cough cough - two car payments - cough cough). And they found nothing. 

Drama. She's good at that.

Today, especially. She likes these big pills because she knows she'll also get a giant peanut butter sandwich with it (it's the only way to get her to swallow the pills). She's so clever. 

She did lose weight...I'll give her that. But she's also had 3 walks a day for over a year, now that Edem takes her, I take her, and Chitunga takes her. She has us all hoodwinked.

I also know that my mother's plot of giving her toast crust is also Glamis's trick, and she gets the crust from all of our morning toast. 

She doesn't like Purina One Lamb? Okay, drama queen. Hack up the yellow bile and have me remortgage the house. No more crust. You get pills instead. 

And we all will play like we always do. We're watching you, though...Diva, and canine Queen. We see your performance. If you keep playing the stomach issue with nothing found, we will know you are simply dramatic and loving the fact that you had all this money spent on you. 

You love it, don't you?