If Only We Could Be Fools 7 Days a Week, 365 Days a Year: A Pie-Rat and A Parrot. We Made It What We Could

I have no problem being stupid. I decided a while ago that becoming a pie-rat would be easy, as I have patches for my eye, I found a sword that made swash-buckling noises, and I ordered a mouse nose, ears, and tail online. Easy-peasy. The mouse nose even made squeaky noises. I also handed out mini-apple and cherry pies. I told Leo my plan and he quickly ordered a parrot outfit. 

Pie-rat. Parrot. Parrot. Pie-rat. I handed out pies. No problem.

We didn't do much, but did order Chinese food and on the way back from picking up the order, Leo's "Alphas! Alphas!" was a no brainer. Why not run in, do a shot, and run out. There were a couple of witches inside, too. On the way in, all the neighborhood drunks were at the bar, sans costumes, so Leo announced, "A pirate and a parrot walk into a bar," and all the men raised their glasses to us. The bar tender served us right away. We didn't stay for the band. Instead, we came back for crab rangoon, egg rolls, and rice noodles. Pam and Bev were anti-costumes and anti-bars. Ah, we got out fix without them.

When shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightening, or in rain?

When the hurly-burly's done, 

When the battles lost and won...

Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air. 

Now, it's time to hand out the candy and to do it all over again. Actually, it's time to grade, write, plan, and grade, write, and plan all over again.

Eye Think The Weather is Seasonably Spooky, and We'll See (Perhaps) What the Weekend Shall Bring

Wow. Two wind events in one week, all in time for the spookiness of the holiday. 

I am slowly wrapping up the the mid-term teaching assessments and trying to get my head around the projects that need the most attention. My neighbor, Deb, had surgery on her shoulder, so will be out of commission for 6 months, so I baked the Kentucky cake for her, then spent another part of the afternoon preparing a brisket to bring to Pam, Kaitlyn, and Patrick as they celebrated Pam's mother's birthday. I was unable to attend the funeral because of my surgery, so this was my way of paying respects, with food and flowers.

My costume is ready, but where to go? It's supposed to rain all day, and I don't think anyone has anything planned. Perhaps I'll only dress up for my trick-or-treaters. I'm ready to have a swash-buckling time (with some cheese and apple pie, too). 

I did manage to treat myself to a trip to the store and picked up 4 new pairs of running pants, all with the optimism that I may one day be able to run again. Perhaps from now on it will only be walking and hiking. Either way, I was long overdue for something warmer to put on my legs. Can't wear shorts for much longer.

All is good. My optometrist finally heard from the opthalmologist that my eye is good to go, so now I await a couple of weeks for getting a new pair of reading glasses.

And the winds blow, and blow, and blow. The rain falls and falls and falls.

Bless This Animal...This Bird. When a Friend Sends a Text. I'm There with Eulogy and a Proper Burial. The Older I Get, The More Important This Becomes

Simple text, really. A photo. The back patio.

"Seriously? Again?" 

This happened before. Bird meets window. 

"No, you don't need to remove it. I can have someone get it tomorrow." 

"No, I'm not letting it stay there over night. He needs a proper ceremony."

There was a welcomed 55-minutes between obligations, so I drove over to the house, singing Ava Maria the entire way. I texted my concern right back. This is what friends do. It was an emoji of me that needs more gray painted upon it.

I always think of my friend Kirsten when I see a dead animal. She always said, "Bless that animal," as we drove by roadkill in our teenage years. I admired that and think of it every time I seen something is gone. I should abridge that, as I don't have the same soul-wrenching feeling when I see a skunk or possum. I should be more empathetic.

I also think about the night when driving the boys of Syracuse from soccer practice when we almost hit a rabbit. It got away, but triggered a night of, "The first time I saw a dead body." I am so glad I listened and learned.

When I arrived, I got the little guy onto a shovel and started singing, 

I wanted to let you know, our little feathered friend,

that even though your life did end, and flying into windows is quite the trend,

We love you.

I got him onto a shovel and wrapped him in tissue, then proceeded to walk out to the nature preserve at Walnut Beach. I made Oona say a prayer, but she could only cross a heart and look to the sky as she sipped a martini and talked to her son. She wouldn't kiss him on his beak. Neither would Pam, although Pam did walk outside  in silence to be sure he'd be at peace.

That's when I startled a woman shooting photographs  on the access road. I came through the trees with the dead bird on a shovel. We were really close and she saw my eye. It's okay. I would run away, too, in absolute terror. I gave her a story. I imagine she called the police.

Then, as if I was an Olympian lacrosse player, I shuttled the little guy into the trees for his last flight. Pam prayed, "Good luck on the other side of the rainbow bridge."

And I channeled Jason Reynolds, saying, "If you can, share a feather or two. Many on the ground still need the wings."

 

 

 

In Search of Meaning Here: Logic, Data, Patterns, Predictions, Assertions, Knowledge, Truth, Surgical Masks, & Dog Poop. Of Course That Was My Yesterday

Doctoral studies and participation in research organizations kept/keep me loyal to reading the word and world, seeking out patterns, noticing, and curiosities to name truth and make sense of the phenomenon around me. Knowing patterns helps me with logical decision-making. It's scientific method 101. Don't touch hot stoves. They burn. That will lean ya'.

So, Karal has fascinated me. We walk 3 to 8 miles daily and she rarely stops to pee. I'd estimate on the 200+ walks we've done thus far, including long hikes, I've witnessed her squatting twice to pee...maybe three times Her norm is to wait until we return home, run to the gate, and do her thing in the back of my house...it's a cookie tray of her deliveries that I need to pick up each week. I've never had a dog like this, but it is what she does. 

Still, I always put two doggie bags in my pocket, in anticipation of her doing as dogs do on walks. I want to be prepared. Never once have I used them with this dog; instead, I find them in coat pockets, jean pockets, the pockets of gym shorts, and on tables where I put them because of the lack of use. I just want to be sure I have them when they are needed.

Yesterday, in a short window between ZOOMs, meetings, and courses, I said, "Let's get your walk in, shall we?" She ran to the door, I got her harness on, and then thought, "Shoot. Let me grab a bag."  I was lazy and didn't want to re-enter the house so I grabbed two surgical masks out of my car (there are piles there). I stuffed them in my pocked and we were off. I figured it was a back up if we needed something, but like I said, "The dog is a routine shitter."

And of course she pooped twice on our walk, and I was thankful to have surgical masks for each. Murphy's law, as alway. She totally chose today to be the absolute outlier of her norms and to prove me an idiot. Here I was walking around Stratford with two surgical masks full of dog turds until I could find a can to dispose them. They worked, but it felt odd....a tisket, a tasket, Crandall carrying his surgical basket.

The blame goes to the monsoon on Tuesday. I'm guessing she held in more than I thought because the winds and rain were ridiculous. 

But two substantial piles on one walk? That's just crazy. So out of character. Or maybe so in Crandall character to give him something to write about.

I'm noting this on my notepads just to make the case that patterns, rituals, routines, habits, recordings, predictions, observations, and data often state what they do, but there are always exceptions. ALWAYS. I love to have my hypothesis proven wrong...especially by a dog.

And yes, Mr. Jones and Ms. Brown, you saw what you saw when you drove by. I've learned my lesson. 

Yuck. I Much Prefer Winter Nor'Easterners More Than the Rain Event We Had in the Northeast the Last Two Days

Always an optimist, I saw a slight window of no rain to adventure outside with Karal for a walk. It had been a morning with winds and rain whipping sideways down Mt. Pleasant. Definitely a monsoon. And Karal wouldn't go outside. She had me up at 7 a.m., but when I opened the door she was like, "@$@#, NO!" She ran to my "ZOOM" chair and curled up before I could get on my first meeting.

A little later, I got wiser and threw a dog biscuit to the swamp and she had no choice but match her desire for treats with her apprehension to actually do her thing. Lucky for me, she did both  and seemed to be proud of herself. 

Then, it was more monsoon time before I took her for a walk. It had stopped. I didn't bother looking at the weather, and headed out. We were about a mile away when the skies opened again. Drenched. Cold. All of this before I had to head to campus for classes. I took a hot shower. I also dried her off with a towel which was a game of chewing, biting, wrestling, and squirming.

Ah, but it's all good. It's midterm time, and after presentations, I promised my students falafel. Not sure where we'd go, but with so many vegans I guessed it would be the best bet. None of them wanted to drive to campus, and I cannot blame them. Leaving was even worse.

Such is life. Better for spring blueberries. The more we get , the plumper they will grow. 

And Wola! MeCha Pho in Fairfield after class for the win. We didn't do falafel and went for noodles instead. Maybe I'm flavor deprived but this soup was perfect for a rainy day. My stomach, heart, and mind are now as happy as can be. Each flavor was stupendous. I wish I could mail a bowl to my parents in Syracuse - it's that good. Perfect dish for miserable weather, and now I'm thinking about the winter months, too.

Definitely recommend it. Bringing students, however, was a little pricey. Ah, we live once. And today I shall go fly a kit. These winds are something else.

4-Bell Alarm for "Only Crandall" or "Only You" - I Know, Because I've Had 49 and Counting Years of Being Me. I Can't Make This Up

I was back-to-back work from 8 a.m. until 10 p.m. yesterday and when I wasn't doing something in person, I was doing it digitally. I had a window from Lowe's of 8 a.m. until noon, where they would come to retrieve the unnecessary dishwasher. It works fine, but after almost losing an eye, my old one decided to work again. I carved space at home to be here for them, working with students, colleagues, and schools via ZOOM. 

At 9, I was called and told Lowe's was coming at 9:15. At 9:45, they still weren't here so I decided to brush my teeth...I had a window before my next meeting. As I reached for the toothpaste, I hear this horrendous alarm coming from the upstairs. Edem came home from his overnight job and was sleeping, but he was quickly awakened...so I knew it wasn't his alarm clock. When I ran upstairs, I found the fire alarm in Chitunga's room going off (so loud). I had a 10 a.m. ZOOM call, so we opened the windows hoping it would stop. There was no smoke...I wondered if it could be carbon monoxide (as my older sister had a scare and I didn't want to repeat that). 

Ah, but this alarm is way up on the A-Frame ceiling and I would need a ladder to get to it. Nope. My ladder was borrowed by a friend several months ago and not returned. I went into a brief-panic mode so called the fire department for a recommendation. I told them, it's not an emergency. I was told to go outside and wait, so Edem, the dog, and I stood out front. Of course, we hear the sirens from far away as they get closer and I said, "Watch. Lowe's will show up at exactly the same time."

Wola! They did. And all my neighbors were outside wondering what the commotion was.

The photo is actually the fireman and fire woman blowing dust out of the alarm. They had to bring their own ladder. The culprit? A faulty fire alarm. 4 years old. They usually last 14 years. The alarm wouldn't stop going off and they suggested I take a hammer to it.

Now, this was all from 10 to 10:15. By 10:30 I was online with students again.

And that was my morning...never broke a sweat, joked with everyone that this is the way my life rolls, and Lowe's drove away with the dishwasher.

Meanwhile, Karal thought everyone came to play with her. She was sad when they left and Edem went back to bed. 

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Ended #WriteOut 2021, @WriteOutConnect, With a Personal Hike. Introducing My Son and Karal to @WeirFarmNPS

It's the time of October to call it quits for the 2021 #WriteOut bonanza, and I made a decision to benefit me: to meet my son and bring the canine, fuzz-nugget to walk the trails of a National Park Treasure...Weir Farm National Historical Park. I'm limited with teachers to the trails that best fulfill the times we have together , but yesterday, I wanted to hike a little further, to take in the scene, and to embrace the brilliant foliage on my own.

In the words of Chitunga, "It really is beautiful there." Indeed, it  is.

Very thankful to Ranger Kristin for coming out to welcome us to the park. We did the waterfall trail beyond the pond, and I am  appreciative with how well-marked the trails were. I've been to many locations where I've lost my way because they weren't not hiker-friendly. Weir Farm is very hiker-friendly.

Before we arrived, I grilled mushrooms, chicken, and steak so that I could send Chitunga off for the week with a few home-cooked tastes. I brought the remaining to Bev, Leo, and Pam in Milford to fulfill a Sunday ritual. I joked with Kristin that I've never had directions to the location the same way twice and that was true yesterday, I got to take the winding, hilly tracks from Monroe to Wilton and the foliage was simply stunning. 

It won't be long before all the leaves fall, and such hikes will not be as inviting and colorful. The ducks were having a field day on the pond, and I appreciated that so many out-of-state guests were also hiking.

Chitunga is Legolas, and he and Karal keep a much faster pace than I do. I have longer legs, but there's something about the way feet and legs hit the trails that make some individuals faster than others. Obviously, this is the two of them. When I finished, they were already resting on a bench. It was all good, however, because I simply had time to commune with Maude, to put different muscles into action over rocks and hills, and to totally allow the oxygen to fill my lungs. Every angle and turn of the head proved absolutely beautiful. 

I'm entering a new work week thankful to MAKE time to get outdoors simply to enjoy the season. #WriteOut 2021, I appreciate the invitation to learn more about the beauty of our nation. I look forward to all still to come next year and beyond. 

Love Taking Advantage of Beautiful Fall Days to Hike with the Pooch and to Get Away from the Computer Screen

Ah, Saturdays. The blessing that gives back as a reward to the work week. We graded for six hours and then we went out for the trails to take advantage of the crisp air and to refocus what is most important. 

Happy Birthday little sister: K. Dot. C Dot. My little "brother" with the beautiful family, humor, and silliness from our childhood. 

Phew. Pushing 50 and feeling the age in a way I've never felt before: sore, cramped, pained, and irritated. I keep thinking it should be more of the same, but it's definitely a different body than the previous 49 years.

I helped put up blinds, got a dinner out of it, and kept myself away from the tasks that needed attention. House needs to be cleaned, laundry needs to be put away, lawn needs to be mowed, and classes needed to be organized, but I got outdoors and that is most important. 

Karal collapsed early at night and I'm sore from being handyman Crandall - it shouldn't hurt so much to twist in screws, but it does.

Today is a day for refocusing, rest, and paying attention to what needs to be done around the house. I imagine aspirin will help the aches and pains from yesterday. I'm also thinking we might want to winterize the house, even though I keep hoping we'll have a few more weeks on the back porch and at the fire-pit. 

In the meantime, I'm thankful that I live so close to the water and can get afternoons along the shoreline for a 5 mile hike. The skies and waterway were beautiful. It really does calm the soul. It's what I carry with me into the week. 

I am thankful. 

All Clear. Phew. The Ophthalmologist Gave the Thumbs Up & Said, "Stop Listening to the Hypochondriac People in Your Life"

The Great Eye Injury of 2021 is not as bad as others led me to believe. I went a week as normal and didn't know I was as disgusting as I am until people freaked out when they noticed my eye was red. My glasses stem stabbed me a week ago when I was rewiring the dishwashersin the pitch black - they fell off and I rolled over and was jabbed. You can't rewire a dishwasher unless you're on the ground.

No pain. No problem seeing, either. Just the grotesque bleeding. 

Yet, friends and family had me paranoid about infection, and when I went to the optometrist for a yearly checkup, I was told by the Dr., "I can't see you. You need to go to a professional right now." Needless to say, the scheduled me for the afternoon, I left from her office to my office, and my imagination began running wild. I was convinced I'd have to have needles stuck in my eye and knives slicing the eye lid. This, of course, made me queasy and as I drove from here to there. I thought, "Oh, I just might pass out."

Then I stopped thinking about it. I worked for a few hours on campus and didn't return to the paranoia until driving to the afternoon appointment. I was convinced my eye would have to be removed (which would be fun because I'd ask to keep it. I'd store it on a mantle).

Nope. The assistant, then the doctor, both came by to say there is no injury to the eye. It's just the way a punch hits, and how the blood vessels release blood around the eye, getting trapped in the "Siran wrap" that encases it. Fun. I was told not to get all stirred up by the worry-warts. I told them, "Well, they made me nervous. They even told me I'd never be able to drive again if I became a Kyklops." 

I feel better knowing that all I need now is moisturizer drops and that I should throw my Visine-anti-redness drops away. They were not fans of Visine at all. I was also told it'd likely get worse before it looks better, which excited me because I want it ripe for Halloween. They couldn't promise me anything, but offered the chances were good. The doc said, "It might even turn green for a while." YES!

Meanwhile, I need to reschedule an appointment for new glasses. I picked out a pair before they said, "Yuck. We can't serve you," and I hope I can find the same ones when I visit again.

Eyeballs are fascinating. 

I Remain a @Saucony Fan & Will Be Loyal for Life, but Phew! The Online Colors Versus the Delivery are Something Else. Hello, Bright Kicks.

Let me start off by saying, "Yes! Brilliant comfort and I'm ready to pick up running again after a 7 month leave, surgery, and slow recovery. These are the ones! They fit like I hoped they would. Super."

Ah, but the color ordered online, versus the color of in-person are almost as if they are two different shoes. I was drawn to the orange and red, because of my Syracuse and Louisville alumni-thing. I thought, "Perfect match."

This orange, though? I deserve all the crazy remarks I anticipate will come my way. Yes, these shoes can be seen from outer space. The orange is like something out of Wham's "Wake Me Up Before We Go-Go" video. They are orange highlighters. 

I'm good, and I can take it, even if my green Cross-Trek which is equally obnoxious is likely to get in a brawl with my new kicks. Call me Tropical bird man. I will be seen when I arrive, by wheel or by foot. 

Again, I'm so thankful to have kicks that feel incredible and offer support in all the right places. But, perhaps the website needs to be a wee-bit more honest. It's pretty intense how drastically different the online hue is to the ones delivered.

Now, I'm still afraid to take off, because I'm not sure I can, but these are the 'feel' for doing so. "Hey, Mr. Can you help me highlight my text with those shoes?'

Why, yes. I guess I can.

Saucony makes the perfect runner's shoe, and I've strayed from time to time and regretted it. These will definitely NOT be shoes I wear with jeans when going out, but will be the ones I move in when sweating. I probably can use them to play Light Bright, too, if they still make that childhood toy. 

Yikes, I'm afraid I will look funny when I start running again. Well, I have the shoes to match. 

For this morning...it will be just a walk. I imagine I'll attract bees and hummingbirds. 

And with a Cherry on Top (Thanks @CarmenOliver) The 2021 @cwpfairfield / @WeirFarmNPS Partnership for Teachers Comes to an End

But wait! #WriteOut continues.

Kristin, Rich, and I have been talking about the richness, beauty, and focus of this year's Reading Landscapes - Writing Nature crew, and how everything seemed to come together seamlessly. I keep telling them, however, that we need to look at the slight changes we make each year, because these iterative alterations are what gets us closer to perfection (which, of course, will never exist). 

Last year we added a YA book. This year, we added two incredible children's book writers. All in all, so thankful to Ann E. Burg, Carmen Oliver, and Rachel Ignotofsky for offering the books to make this year possible. With Burg, we worked with water, history, and poetic narration. With Ignotofsky, we worked on labeling, science, and naming. Then, with Oliver, we brought youth activism and inspiration forward. 

We were blessed last night to have the one and only Carmen Oliver grace us with her wisdom as she was getting ready to work with others in Utah. Her arrival via ZOOM felt like the moment Glenda the Good Witch graced Dorothy in the wonderful world of Oz. She had the magic wand and light that was perfect to close out the day.

I lied. 

She had the magic wand and light which was perfect to begin the day. As teachers signed off, my graduate students arrived to class and signed-in. Carmen Oliver was their introduction to #WriteOut, content literacy, designing instruction with initiations, content, and closings, and strategies to assist students to build literacy. I knew it was a hit when I announced that the books were a gift to every student (and their future classrooms). They were so excited. It was a day built on A Voice for the Spirit Bears.

Ah, it was also a day of Kristin Lessard who helped me kick off the National Day on Writing with her writing prompt. Find a place you love and write, which I did. I chose a sestina and my favorite paths along the beaches of Milford & Stratford. It was another day that, upon closing, had me shaking my head. Sometimes it is simply amazing to do what I'm fortunate to do. 

Don't Judge Me. We Must Be Approaching Mid-Terms. I Begin at 7 a.m. & Go Until 10 p.m. - This Was My Dinner Last Night & I Loved It

My days are always long, but this year they are extra-long because I signed up for a commitment that requires an extra 30-hours that I didn't plan for. I'm trying to stay on top of it all, so when I got home at 9:45 last night on a day that began at 7:15, I thought, "What will I eat for dinner?"

I challenged Lawrence Welk, The Waltons, and Sunday Nights in Utica and Clay. Well, of course. Popcorn will work. I haven't had popcorn in years I hate movie popcorn because of the butter, but I always loved good ol' fashion popped corn. No microwaves. Just the stove. 

Wola. I found a bag of popcorn at 10 p.m. and made myself a gourmet meal. 

Granted, I took chicken out and I thought I'd find time to grill outside between obligations, but when I saw Karal looking for exercise, I ignored my own feeding and took her for a long walk. I feel I made the right decision. 

Trust me. She ate most of this bowl of popcorn, too, before rampaging with her pet monkey and crocodile. It's an energy thing. The popcorn made her happy.

This morning, I'm up at 6:30 and ready to give it another day of 14-hours. I do see a glimmer of light mid-afternoon and I'm packing popcorn to bring with me (and a Diet Coke). Not sure how healthy that is, as I know I need protein, too. It's coming. Just not during the work week. 

But truth be told: I don't think I've had such a memorable, delicious dinner in a long time. It works. It was easy. I did it old-school style and it made me happy. I should also note that these posts I create daily are always a reflection of what catches my attention and is most important. I wish I could fill you in on the brilliance of the meetings I attended or the conversations I was invited to attend, but that is not the case. 

Trust me: a popcorn dinner was the most exciting part of my day. 

With Another Eye Patch and My Sister's Frog-Knitted Nose Warmer, I Just Might Make Myself a Super-Model After All.

I've got my Halloween costume planned, but you'll have to wait for that. In the meantime, I can simply glare at you and give you shivers. The eye doesn't hurt. I can see. But it is gross. I had to do a series of midterm teaching evaluations yesterday (two more weeks of them), so I got a patch. I didn't want students to be grossed out or disgusted. It gave me space to discuss adulthood, the need to look like Number 2 in the Austin Powers series, and a final chance to allure Kayla from Days of Our Lives.

"What is this freaky guy doing in our classroom?"

Ah, collecting data to help reflective practitioners midway through the semester on how things are going in the course. It's a wonderful tradition available to faculty at Fairfield University.

I'm starting to look like Woody Woodpecker meets Jack Sparrow. 

I also need to note here that being a CAE Liaison is incredible work and with one day in, I'm gaining wisdom and perspective about teaching across campus. Alas, with typical work, my own teaching, the end of #WriteOut, guest author appearances, and my own projects, it's a lot. The work is rewarding and intense, but the organization and planning is tremendous. So many busy schedules, time codes, technological needs, and periods of reflection to consider....every hour of the day.

It is getting done, and it's good work. I've prioritized my focus to be on colleagues for the next two weeks and I can scratch it off the bucket list. I now have tremendous appreciation of all before me who have done these midpoint evaluations. 

Okay, Tuesday. No time to write much because the day is full. 

I don't think the patch-idea will last, though. It's easier to freak people out than to look freaky by covering everything up. 

I'm okay with being ugly. It's a good conversational piece.

We Like the Days Where We Can Hike Along the Water As If We Are Clouds Floating in the Autumn Winds. #writeout

Waking up on Sundays are best. The coffee goes slower, the chores seem easier, and a drive to Short Beach for a long walk is glorious. It was a day of hoodie sweatshirts and shorts, where one second you felt the fridgity in the bones, and the next second you wish you only wore a t-shirt. The light mesmerized the white and black clouds over the Long Island sound, but the fresh air was great for the soul. 

It is Karal's happy place. Heck, it's my own. As we pulled onto the beach road she starts crying in the back seat as if we're entering heaven and she has remorse for her bites and barks. It is her way of asking for forgiveness. 

Perhaps such walks are prayers for my own soul, as well. 

I wonder about those on sailboats and if they dressed warm for the cooling waters, and envy all who can afford gorgeous front porches that look out to the Sound each and every day. The birds, the stars bathing their nighttime away, and the shifting light would be a perfect way to spend mornings and evenings. 

I wore sunglasses, as not to frighten everyone I passed with my eye. I'm trying not to look at it myself.

At night, we checked out Don Rene Taqueria in downtown Milford and had gourmet tacos flavored with incredible tastes that easily will call us back again. The barbecued Brussel sprouts, guacamole, and briquette were out of this world.

And now I hold my breath for two weeks as Write Out comes to its 2nd week, and mid-term assessments begin for the Center of Academic Excellence. I'm fortunate to be called to duty to listen to students as they reflect on the courses they're taking. I also get to show support for my colleagues. Yes, it's Monday, but I'm ready to go. 

Again. An American Secret. @WeirFarmNPS in Wilton, Connecticut. #WriteOut. Getting Outdoors with @WriteOutConnect

We couldn't ask for a better day. 70-degree temperatures, the right amount of wind, the cascading of Autumn leaves floating to the ground...the occasional walnut clunking us on our heads. And the light, rocks, shadows, and pond. We successfully hosted a 2nd day at Weir Farm National Historical Park and both Kristin Lessard and Richard Novack were amazing. 

The teachers were amazing. 

As Dr. Novack noted, "This is it. Teachers teaching teachers." We wrote, we painted, we participated, we meandered, we rambled, and we shared, and all of us leave with a writer's notebook full of new ideas. 

Carmen Oliver. Rachel Ignotofsky. Ann E. Burg. What gifts to the projects at hand - providing us stories, words, science, thinking, and perspectives. So grateful to the National Writing Project once again for offering us the grace to partner with the park.

It's fascinating, too, when you realize you have the perfect cohort of engaged teachers who just happen to be thirsty, driven, curious, and ready for outdoor invitations. 

Yesterday, Lynn - a teacher from Vermont - asked us to use a third ear (that is an astute ear) to find the words to describe what we were hearing. The winds were singing music, symphonies, and orchestrations that artists of many years have tried to put into words. It's impossible. But we tried.

And we made it to Weir Pond. The stars were sunbathing in the water just as the last of the turtles were sunbathing in the sun. No snakes, but several leaves learning to skate across the water hoping to be warmed and hugged by the winds. It was calm. It was inviting. It was exactly why Julian Alden Weir was attracted to the location.

Not sure if our impressions of the place will ever make it out of our journals, but it is easy to state we were all impressed. We wait until the National Day of Writing (#NDOW21) to share our final thoughts - the 4th day of Reading Landscapes and Writing Nature. With participants from NY, CT, VT, and Massachusetts, our last gathering will be Digital and I can't wait to learn what the teachers created. 

Dishwasher - 1, Bryan - 0. Adding This to the Story of @#$% Nothing Ever Goes As It's Supposed To

I've been without a dishwasher for two years. It's all good. I like to do them by hand. But, I accrued credit card points and decided it was time have a functioning dishwasher again. I've thought about it from time to time, but I just don't operate that way. 

Well, 2 months ago I put in an order and a month later it was delivered. It sat in the middle of the kitchen and I used the giant box as a place to store books, notes, keys, and my wallet. I told Tunga, "Why don't you come over Friday night and we can take care of this?" He agreed, as long as he got dinner afterwards. Taking out the old dishwasher was a breeze. We cut off the electricity and all was fine. Putting in the new one was a monster. None of the parts matched, the instructional manual was absolutely useless, and we sat there scratching our heads trying to figure it out, especially with the non-matching tubes to drain water. 

This is all work on the ground, too, and we were using our cell phones to give us light. At one point, my glasses fell off, and when I rolled over to get them, I jabbed my eye with the stem. It was pitched black and the stem of the glasses when right into my left eye sock. I said, "I shall be blind very soon."

Long story short, we ended up putting the old one back in - the one that doesn't work.  This was needed so we could put the water back on. . So, I said, "I'm calling someone to install the new one."

Alas! Wola! Go Figure! When we put the old one back in, the lights came back on. Everything worked just fine. It was humming as if it was brand new. So, now I have take the new one back, which is fine by me...I just saved a chunk of change. 

Meanwhile, I spend today with teachers and my bloody eye...just in time for Halloween. 

In Tunga's head, "You forgot your computer, you bring me into this fiasco of a night, and now what?"

Well, I took him to dinner, so I hope he'll be okay. 

Sometimes, life's just insane, but I will note: from now on I'm ding inside jobs during day light. No use working in the dark after the electricity is cut off if you don't have to.

I think I see the light...or are those floaters. 

In 2011 @richnovack Introduced @fairfieldu Zen Garden to a Cohort or Teachers (and Me). Yesterday, I Paid That Forward. #Writeout

I arrived to Fairfield University in 2011 as an all-but-dissertation doctoral student with a year to get the #@$@ project done (obviously I did). 

I fell in love with the region north of the Long Island Sound, the beauty of campus, our National Writing Project work, and the potential for promoting inclusivity, diversity, and equity in the community work we do. I've always had #NWP at my side. 

I was young. I had data collected, years of K-12 teaching in diverse, equitable settings, and a vision (responsibility) to speak out with representation for the young people and teachers who invested their lived experiences with me. That first summer, I had a cohort of teacher-leaders who signed on to a summer institute. I remember telling the previous director that I was willing to pay the charge if there was one and she said, "Charge? There's isn't a charge. You're IN CHARGE." 

Phew. The reigns were handed over, and to culminate that summer we brought teacher-genius, Kelly Gallagher, to Connecticut. Not a bad way to start.

Here's the funny thing about that time. I had no house. My life belongings were on a Pod, and although I was ABD, I had a huge mountain to climb. I lived in my office...practically slept there as I edited, revised, reworked, and rethought my research. It eventually paid off. I finished and won a doctoral prize from Syracuse University for the work.

That summer, though teacher-scholars Richard Novack and Sean Mitchell were in the Writing Project cohort when I was introduced to the University. I am proud to say that they, like all the others, have moved on to incredible, inspirational work in their own professions. In fact, woot woot, Richard Novack is now Dr. Richard Novack through Columbia University, Teachers College, Ph.D. - how can we not be proud?

I mention this, however, because when I was an all but ABD professor of the practice, Rich was a gung-ho teacher at a local school. From his National Writing Project connection, he went on to further his own degree and, well, he did it with a critical ecological perspective. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When Rich was in the teacher-leadership institute, he did his summer's demonstration on environmental writing and I remember as part of his work, he introduced us to the Zen Garden at Fairfield University - at the time the small ponds were dried up, but still beautiful. We did outdoor writing and connecting with the ways the environment brings us peace. 

Fast forward. 

This summer, I learned that the water ways of the Zen Garden were restored, and it truly is a spectacular part of the Fairfield University experience. Ten years later, the space still invites us to stop, think, reflect, notice, and regroup.

Yesterday, I took a team of new hires at Fairfield University to the Zen Garden to talk, plan, and wonder about their future careers. It was wonderful. 

Upon returning to University life, however, I was stopped by colleagues across campus to see how I was doing. When I told them I was returning from these beautiful parts they responded, "Wait. We have this on our campus?" and I said "yes." I gave them directions and wished them a wonderful, meditative adventure (and these were faculty who have been here many more years than I have). 

All this is to say, I'm thankful to the National Writing Project network, because it attracts stellar teacher-leaders like Rich Novack. He has his ears and toes entrenched in the local enviromental-scene. Not only that, but his dissertation was defended, he's nationally connected, and tomorrow, Saturday, we host the 3rd day of the 5th year of ecological literacy work in collaboration/partnership of Weir Farm National Historical Park. 

I'm amazed to think where 10 years have gone, and what is possible with community-engagement, teacher-activism, and the power of listening to local voices.

If it wasn't for Rich Novack, I would have never known about the Zen Garden at Fairfield University - a treasure on a gorgeous campus. All these years later, wola! a #WriteOut teacher-leader. I hope there will be many, many more to follow.

An Alternative to the "Where I'm From Poem" - Inspired by Acevedo and CLAP WHEN YOU LAND. #WriteOut

Following yesterday's post, this morning I'm thinking about last night's graduate class. I can't help it. By the time we're all out of the room it's 9:30 and it isn't until 11 p.m. when I finally get my mind off teaching. I wake up thinking about it, too. 

Anyway, as part of the class activities, I had students look at 3 distinct poetic styles used by Elizabeth Acevedo in Clap When You Land and, as thieves, we discussed what we could steal for our own writing if we chose to. 

Because it's #WriteOut and because I'm also in love with Ann Burg's Flooded, I thought poetic narrative might be fun to explore. Although we looked at several poems, I highlight only this one here because of its environmental theme and influence (there are several in both texts). Acevedo's first poem, from Camino, p. 1, is a location poem...on place. It begins, 

I know too much of mud.

I know that when a street doesn’t have sidewalks

& water rises to flood the tile floors of your home,

learning mud is learning the language of survival.

I know too much of mud. 

How Tia will snap at you with a dishrag if you track it inside.

How you need to raise the bed during hurricane season.

as it continues to set up a story from the Dominican Republic. I wanted my students to think about what they might steal for their own writing and they named multiple areas, from which I wrote a variation myself,

I know the cold real well.

I know the plows that scrape roads

& the salt thrown at tires,

because snow is the way we breathe.

When will it melt?        April, May-be

never, packed in 6 foot piles that line

Childhood streets. Wind chills burn.

Cold bites the skin with razorblades,

stabbings of 4-feet icicles 

through snowmobile suits.      Hoodies

& a cold with its own soul. Wants to burn

your toes through wool socks & boots.

Runs its fingers along the neck & back.

“Remember hot cocoa,” mom said,

before sending us out to play. The finger-

prints all over us.

I couldn’t wait to throw wet socks

into the dryer, before reaching the hot

shower to thaw my bones.

Defrost the bloodlines, purify the lungs:

They say no two snowflakes are alike.

I know my home, though, is CNY cold.

Blowing ice-cubes.     Skating rinks.

Air-conditioned frigidity. And I long 

for a beach             in another state. 

Here's what we did. We thought of our childhood homes. We thought of a natural tendency in these locations. We brainstormed that tendency with memories of our childhood (e.g., winds, rains, hurricanes, humidity, floods). We noticed how Acevedo used line breaks and stanza. One student named that there's a dialogue piece, but only slight. And we wrote. 

Where are your from? How's the story begin?

The students had several other models, too, and could choose what they were into for the evening, but I took pride when one student who said, 'I HATE poetry," read a childhood piece to us all that was actually beautiful. Not bad for a chemist. She admitted this herself.

And with this, my day begins. #WriteOut

Clapping While I Land. Dang. Finished @acevedowrites at Exactly the Right Time. So Glad I Chose This Text.

Every semester, in most of my courses, I select a YA novel I've wanted to read, but haven't had the time to read. Why? Because I want to model to pre-service and in-service teachers, sometimes you never know what you'll know until you dig in. This was the case for Clap While You Land, a poetic novel written by Elizabeth Acevedo. The Poet X was a fantastic read and I've used it in workshops for teachers and youth on numerous occasions. She is a master of craft, poetic narrative, and engaging story. What I loved most about Clap While You Land, however, is how it helped me to see how ignorant I am.

I fully own this.

Although I went to college in Binghamton and had many Dominican friends, especially after I wrote a poem for La Voz Latino, I never learned much about Dominican culture and history. Knowing this semester I would have Spanish teachers, I wanted a YA text where there'd be language I wouldn't know. I knew there'd be history, science, and maybe even math, too (it's a content literacy course). Yes, I have language arts people in the class, but my goal is to break all content areas out of bad habits and to follow Freire's reading of the word and the world. I wanted to put Ogle's KWL to work. What do we know? What do we want to know? What have we learned? If I was the expert, I couldn't model this.

I brought Acevedo with me to the beach a few times (not the actual writer, but the writing) and finished half the book before the semester began. Life took off, there were zero seconds available to finish it, so I finally carved out a few hours last night to bring closure to the book. 

WOW. It's simply a stunning text. 

Harper Teen also did a miraculous job with the hard cover of the book. The two-toned, two-location design of front and back is simply brilliant. I've been using these images as Keynote slides in preparation towards reading the book: articles about the plane crash, Dominican history, stories of Dominican baseball players doing environmental justice work, articles on water pollution and eco-tourism, and trivia about global demographics.

I've been straight up with my students, too. My work and research has been with African-born refugee youth, 26 years of working in urban, public schools, and a labor-of-love with the National Writing Project. I've learned much, but never about Dominican culture. That's okay. I'm almost 50 and still ready to learn.

Acevedo was there.

The book is not just the factual information of colonial histories, politics, and global diaspora...it's about the humanity that should be within us all. That's what I gained from reading Clap When You Land. We need family. We need others to look out for us. We need to share our truths and stories. And, there's tremendous importance in challenging the single stories we too often hear (that is, if we are listening to the universe at all). 

I have to note, however, that as I was reading, Karallynne Karma Cupcake was adamant about getting my attention. She kept barking and growling so I would pay attention to her. I noticed, but I was so engrossed in the story, that I paid her no attention. So, she jumped in my lap and watched me read the rest of the book. Some of the pages I read to her, but most of the time she just stared at me. I told her, "I can't teach you to read tonight, but I promise to give you lessons as soon as I can." 

Bottom line is that Acevedo is a gift to us all. I'm in love with the story-arc, poetics, trivia, imagination, and human exploration. I cherish, too, the strong womanhood displayed throughout, and the fact that the father, albeit flawed, is more complicated than the daughters can imagine. That, coupled with spirituality, traditions, and economic realities has me thinking this is one of the best books I've read in a while (and that's saying a lot...I spent time after reading emailing numerous kids, families, and teachers wondering if they've read this yet - another missing link in the MANY missing links within the "American" storybook collection). 

The conclusion? I am a better human being after reading this. And I'm thankful. I can't wait to teach this tonight and see where my graduate students take the learning!

It Must Be October! #WriteOut, @WriteOutConnect, @writingproject - I'm a Little Behind, But Here's a Post. Get Outside. Take a Pen & Notebook. Think.

Truth: National Writing Project Directors may take a 'day off,' but they're never really taking a day off. 

Truth: I saw a small window of opportunity to visit my parents in my childhood home this weekend, so I went there to take care of them.

Truth: It was a short visit, and if you read my post yesterday, you'll realize I left my computer there and had to retrace steps to retrieve it (after being on the road for over 2 hours heading back to Connecticut) (turned around...got the computer).

Truth: I did get outdoors, and I grew nostalgic. 

Truth: Also sad. As a boy, my backyard was shaded and protected by huge Elm trees behind our house, long before a newer neighborhood was built behind us. The elm trees were warriors that stood guard over our my wiffleball games and water balloon fights. When I looked out at the northern sky each night, I'd always say good night to the Elms, as they seemed to grow taller each year like I did. They provided shade on humid days and beds of leaves we loved to pile up and ravage. They tempered lake effect snow, thunderstorms, and severe winds. Most importantly, they were the only view we had in the back of the house.

A few years ago, however, the trees fell victim to Dutch Elm disease caused by Elm Bark Beetles. The row of trees is eerily non-existent now. They've been vacated. Yes, squirrels still climb them in hope of building nests and crows lounge on the top branches, but the trees no longer produce leaves. Their souls disappeared a few years ago.

I learned recently that it isn't the beetles or the fungus that kills the trees. In truth, the trees actually kill themselves from within, shutting off tyloses that transport water as a way to keep the beetles and fungus from spreading upward. In this sense, they take their own lives to protect themselves and dry up out.A couple of the trees have been taken down, and others remain as skeletons to paint the skies with branched lungs that used to be - their veins and arms that used to hug my friends and I.

This Saturday, our teaching crew will once again meet Dr. Richard Novack and Ranger Kristin Lessard at Weir Farm National Historical Park for a third get-together in support of ecological literacies and outdoor learning. During our first night - inspired by NWP colleagues across the nation - I offered a "water" narrative with prompts to get our teachers thinking about the ways water has impacted their own outdoor life. I repost it here, however, in case you'd like to choose one and respond in your own writer's notebook. There's nothing better than October air, and in the northeast that means t-shirts and shorts during the day, and hoodies, sweatpants, and thick blankets at night - the perfect sleeping weather.

And I know I have more to write about my childhood Elm trees and I just might take them this Saturday at Weir Farm. Find a way to connect with a National Park near you.

#WriteOut is a breeze, but you have to get outside to feel one.

The Blame Falls on ME 100%. I Screwed Up and I Paid the Consequence. Tunga Had to Be a Wingman for My Stupidity.

We were 2 hours and 15 minutes away from Syracuse when it occurred to me. I never packed my computer. After my morning coffee, I found the only open outlet in my mother's guest bedroom where she keeps the ironing board, began charging the computer, and then took my dad to Wegmans, cleaned up the dog droppings in the backyard, and awaited Tunga to come get me. The laundry basket, dog toys, and computer bag were in the garage ready to go. I almost forgot my Wegmans goods, but Dad reminded me. My laptop...that's the other story.

Tunga and I were listening to Intelligence Squared when it occurred to me that I was unintelligent. I called my mom and she said she'd mail it, but a computer has a lithium battery, so that may take a while. The only reason why I did a quick trip home was I have much due, and to do, on the Columbus holiday we have off. I called my older sister, Cynde, who was willing to meet us half way...in Marathon.

Tunga said, "It's all good," which it was, but it wasn't. I inconvenienced everyone, and poor Karal had to stay in the car 3 hours longer than usual. We turned around and headed back.

Lucky for us, traffic wasn't thick, and there was no parking lots on the return. Still, we had to retract our miles by 100 and get the computer. Ugh.

Then, we had to get to Stamford, took back roads from 84, and that took a lot of extra minutes.

My driving joints are sore. I drove the entire excursion and the lesson is well learned. We are always so good about double checking all my steps before leaving and I was only there for 48 hours. But I goofed...

...big time...

It could be so much worse, but it could have been better.

So, the projects I had to complete last night will have to be completed today. My lord...what a day...an 8 hour, on-the-road kind of day that I won't want to talk about it any time soon. 

I just want to be still for a day. 

Happiness is a Pain in the Ass Dog Entertaining a Pain in the Ass Father

Short-lived trip to Syracuse, but enough time for my father to start howling at Karal, and Karal to howl right back. They kept is going for a while, each trying to out-sing the other.

Dad has new jeans, there are now three detergents for the washer, and we had a great dinner from Cicero Country Pizza. Aunt Bobbie, called, too, and wondered if dad was on the same medicines she was. He wasn't. I then asked her if she was on Viagra and Cialis like my father. I don't think I've heard her laugh that hard in years.  

Karal had two walks, played with all the neighborhood dogs, and wrestled non-stop in the house. By 9:05 p.m., she finally collapsed and fell asleep on the pillows lying being my dad and me while we watch Shawshank Redemption and mom played her arcade games.

Sad loss, Syracuse. For a little bit, there was hope for a win. Good game, nonetheless. 

But we are returning to Connecticut because books need to be read, projects need to be edited, grading needs to occur, and Tunga has EY to do in Stamford. 

Love you Syracuse.

We Made It to CNY Without Incident. I'm at the Folk's and Tunga's at Paul's House (His Old Boss). The Ride Was Stunning

Karal's a fan of Papa Butch. He wanted to ride up to the store, so I took him, and he returned with $50 in dog treats and more jam, "I ran out. I need more." So we picked up two jars, so the other 7 jars already in the fridge could meet new friends. 

Also scored a roast beef Wegman's sub, so how could a day be better? 

The hardest part of the trip was the drive from Stratford to Stamford. 24 miles and 60 minutes. Connecticut traffic. 

Mom and Dad are in their routine of yelling at each other...Dad playing pathetic invalid who never gets any attention, mom screaming at him for doing everything wrong. TV on full blast. The way it is supposed to be. Loud. Comical. Predictable. Wonderful.

Not sure what to expect from today. Dad wants to go shopping for new jeans. Mom is getting her hair done. I'm just going to fly with the openness and chaos of it all, needing to get away from the CT nonsense to relax a short while with a different routine.

Ah, but the changing of the trees...so beautiful. We timed it wonderfully. 

Juxtapositions. The Way a Day Starts. A Choice in Ending It Correctly. Mental Well-Being. Looking to Find Hope.

I started an email at 6 a.m. and it was never finished until 2 p.m. - the distractions kept coming, and coming, and coming. I had three meetings on campus, 11 miles away, but I-95 was a parking lot. There was no movement and I was trapped in the left lane for 90 minutes, having to make the first meeting by car phone. I didn't (and don't) miss the insanity of traffic that we were spared for the last 18 months. Working from home saved an immense amount of time. On the road, it was nothing but trucks. By the time I got home at 4, I loaded up the dog and said, "I need to see water."

And I did. For 75 minutes, Karal and hiked the Long Island Sound. The serenity so needed.

On the way back, I delivered 100s of copies of Kwame Mbalia's Black Boy Joy to CWP teachers, and took true pleasure in the smile of educators who listed the book on their Go-Fund-Me pages, in which I delivered. I love the partnership with People Get Ready.

Then, at night, I thoroughly LOVED another episode we recorded for The Write Time with Carmen Oliver and Kristin Lessard for #WriteOut. The show was all I expected and then some. 

I've been at this work for 11 years, and vacations have been next to none....364 days a year it's go, go, go. Even so, there's not enough days to fit everything in. There used to be assistance for helping out, but in addition to the full-time CWP work and full-time ESTP work, I now have full-time CWP Administrative Assistance work added to the grind. I love what I do, but at some point you have to wave the flag and once again announce, "This is ridiculous." 

Hence the walk. The water. The blue sky and clouds. I needed to be re-centered and as a result, I'm prioritizing and going to go see my parents this weekend. I know what's most important and that remains central to my mission in life. 

There are tremendous flaws in K-12 teaching and higher education that need major change. Not sure if I will see it in my lifetime, but I can hope. As always, I'm summoning 9 to 5. The workers need to push administrations to the side so they're doing what is right. Frustrated by all the talk and zero action.

But if there's free will...

...well.

Channeling Calm. Seeking Self-Care. Looking for Introspection. Damn Bird Shits on My Head. It Must Be Teaching.

Facebook and Twitter are funny, the way you can gage national trends, speculations, and moments just by glancing over a feed for a very short time. Yes, the conspirators and their bots will throw forward insane reality as truth, but I'm talking about teacher posts. That is, yesterday sucked for a majority. People were checking for full moons, satire abounded, and kids everywhere must have just eaten way too much sugar.

Meanwhile, I was trying not to hit panic buttons because my nature of saying "Yes" catches up to me and then I wonder, "How am I supposed to keep up with it all." 

It's all good. Why? Because in a period of 10-minutes you start a ZOOM training, you get an email that a zany teacher and her stuffed-animal friend (they're in therapy together) contacted the federal government about you...long story, and the truck shows up with a dishwasher you haven't had for 4 years all at the same time. Well, of course they accidentally let the dog out during the middle school dismissal so she was in canine bliss. You, however, were trying to keep control while thinking @$#@$@ in your head. 

Ummm. Birds shit. 

It's the story of most of our lives. Well, those of us who chose to be teachers...not just them, but those who spend their life actively working to support teachers. We get it. It's normal for us.

So today, I chiseled for personal space with only one meeting, but that quickly became a lie as the day was inundated with student requests for meetings, advisement, help on projects, and graduate school advice. There will be no deliveries, Karal will stay at my side all day, and I will grade as soon as I spend a day cleaning out an office so others can borrow a cart they need. 

I also signed up to conduct Mid-Academic Term assessments for colleagues (which turns out to be 12 in the next two weeks). This all should be interesting. 

Crandall, learning to say "no" might need to be practiced in the near future. You're getting old, fella. And this weighs on you now. 

And when you get home from campus at 10 p.m., check emails, and respond to inquiries, it's midnight before you can go to bed. Enough.

Affirmations. An Interesting Ritual Initiated by a Graduate Student Writing Prompt That Has Tremendous Potential.

One of the things that I love about teaching graduate school is when I invite graduate students to help us write into night with something that they want to do. Tonight, a graduate student said, "Look over last week's readings, and pull words and ideas that resonate with you. Then, from these words, write an affirmation to yourself"

Okay. 

We read Felicia Rose Chavez, a chapter on motivation from Best Practices in Adolescent Literacy Instruction, and Kelly Gallagher's chapter on writing to explain and inform. 7 minutes for word searching, then suddenly I had the following affirmation (from the prompt), and I really like it.

Tomorrow, today, and always, I, Bryan Ripley Crandall, promise to maintain personal interventions to hold my tongue when surrounded by competitive institutions that accommodate ignorance, all while remaining motivated for joy, playfulness, mutuality, and safety to promote real membership in a democracy of human togetherness.

I pulled words that resonated with me and made a testimony to myself for what I stand for. I suppose the conundrum that results from such a testimony is the fact that I have become complicit in the very institutions that reify the behaviors  I detest.  In a world of Allegories of the Cave, but also socio-economics, we can declare affirmative statements, all the while becoming complicit in the very systems of which we spend all energies fighting against. How quickly the chains return.

I love the prompt, the conversations we had as a graduate cohort, and I full-heartedly recognize the hypocrisy in claiming to believe one way, while being part of a system that exploits so many. All of this is to say, "Affirmations are dorky, but also clever."

In an exercise, I asked students if they watched SNL daily affirmations with Stuart Smiley. As anticipated, they didn't know who this was. So, I pulled up a video and "wola" there was this. I'm not sure what the meaning is, but there is this video and, well, all the wackiness of what an affirmation actually is, especially when connecting it to larger realities.

26 years in education. 15 years or so left. My biggest issue remains holding my tongue. I don't know how. And I need lessons on being patient where the impatience grows thin.

With that, off to another 14-hour day.

 

 

Maybe It's The Rain. Could Be the Darkness Arriving Earlier Each Night. Perhaps It's the Aftermath of Monday. I Want What She's Having.

I was up late last night, attending to the to-do list, trying to send-off items that have been weighing on my mind, but not what I've chosen to attend to (you know, the recommendations, article and conference reviews, final edits of a teacher/student anthology, open house for collaborators, and the creation of new lists). It was all fine and good. I feel moderately successful.

The entire time, though, it rained. And it was pitch black. The air coming through open windows grew colder and colder, and I wanted to join Karal as she curled up as close as she could get to sponge my body heat. She got to lie still with closed eyes and dreams, while I typed over her back and legs on a computer stand I purchased for at-home work.

Phew. If only I could be her, and she could be me for a day.

There were a couple of lightening bolts and thunder claps, too, that startled me from where I sat, but they didn't seem to bother her. 

Meanwhile, I awoke today with an onslaught of meetings, a graduate course, and a Majors fair for undergraduates. I'm booked from the second I finish this post until I come home tonight. I'm watching colleagues across the country committing to 40-hour work weeks, promising not to work more than 8 hours a day. I'm curious how they will do that. I would drown in the work I wasn't completing. 

But I think we're all supposed to be sleeping now, as the leaves turn redder and the lawns grow less. With pumpkin pie, aren't we also supposed to have more pillow time? Or does that only come when the turkey's tryptophan in November? Lord knows I wait until that month to turn on the heat. In the meantime, there's blankets. They will suffice. 

Enjoy your Tuesday.

Not a News Flash, but It Is Another Monday and We're All Entitled to Our Grumpiness. Mmmphhmmm

Lawn mowed. Weeds pulled and whacked. Bedroom cleaned and laundry completed. Kayak moved from Walnut Beach to Mt. Pleasant and advisees advised. I wake up and have to take a friend to the doctors, then I must grade like a madman. Exhausted. But it's all good. It's Monday and that is what Mondays are for. 

Keep calm. Hate is okay. Weekends are too short, but they allow time to catch-up and to feel human. 

Psoriasis a mess. Post-hernia surgery still pinching and annoying. Kitchen sink cleaned and dishes put away. Never managed groceries, but I'll adapt. Great sleeping weather with cool air outside at night. Two days of rain ahead. Happy happy, joy joy.

Still wondering why I pay for cable and a t.v., but love my Ted Lasso. No more Big Brother, so that saves time (well, the excuse to take a break...which is sad...but also rather pathetic). Halloween baking shows are back, which means the Christmas ones will follow. 

Okay, I need to organize the week and not whine on a blog. Inhaling. Exhaling. 

Onward. 

Getting Ready to Hit "Send"...8th Edition of POW! Power of Words, an Anthology for Teacher and Student Writers Heading to Print

I went with AKA colors, to match the POW! I found. 

As I read the writing of students and teachers over the last few months, editing, revising, and polishing for our annual publication I couldn't help but be proud, but also a little sad. Last year, the first summer of Covid, families wanted their kids to have summer enrichment, but this summer, the data showed that parents of younger writers, and the community of immigrant and refugee youth we serve, weren't ready for another round of digital composing, so we will have a slimmer anthology of years past. We missed the little ones and the EAL kids.

Even so, we had 75+ participating, which given the state of affairs, is okay. We heard in stereo that families wanted in-person experiences, but we had to follow State and University policies and we weren't able to deliver as such. The online work was still amazing, and we did meet in person with the teacher institute, but we didn't have the large numbers we've experienced from 2014 to 2019. As I wrote in the prelude, it's evidence of the time and data for our shared history.  This was not easy for anyone. And, Dr. Jessica Early of Arizona and I have conversations ahead about how we brought NWP youth programming to our states, even when all seemed to be falling apart.

Special to this year, too, is the crew of College Essay writers - many of whom have attended CWP programs since their early elementary years. Their writing also shows that times for young people have been difficult and challenging, as a generation caught behind screens is not what they desire. In the words of Jessica Baldizon, "It's the human togetherness that has always made CWP literacy labs what they are. Such togetherness is more difficult when pushed online. It's there, but distant. Not the same."

Jessica, William, Chitunga and I went to dinner last night. They were our hiking buddies throughout Covid, but we haven't seen them much because of social distancing and the realities of the year. The company is always loved, thought-provoking and rich. And the food at Bistro Basque...too good for words.

Okay, Sunday. Grading, advising, editing, and writing are all on the to-do list. 3...2...1....Let's Go!

Centering the Soul on What Matters Most - Taking a Break from the Chaos and Communing with the Shoreline

After a day of meetings and writing projects, I decided that a walk with the dog takes the upper hand, and no matter what cards are played, I'm following the advice of Varian Johnson, to go with the ones I'm dealt (and channeling a little Willie Nelson, too). I took a break and pushed myself to do my longer hike along the Long Island Sound. 

I chose to move. I know when it is time to walk away.

I'm one man trying to do what it is best for teachers and kids, but have obligations to the systems I belong to. With psoriasis breaking out all over my body, pain from post-hernia surgery, and 26 years in a teaching profession, I recognize that colleagues who advocate for self-care are absolutely right. The best way to deal with the insanity of systems, is to get away from them. These systems will chew us up, lie to us, manipulate every maneuver, and spit us out. They don't care for any individual worker, not when there are larger initiatives and agendas at play. There is little care for democratic principals, even when equity is the buzz word used at the center of it all. 

So, we must make decisions, and I chose to go for the walk and it was beautiful. The clouds and skies were amazing. The water, as calming as it always is. I learned as a young boy that this matters most. Being outdoors, paying attention to the rhythm and flow of tides, and having fresh oxygen in the lungs is the healthiest choice I can make in a day. Yes, I get refreshed. I calm the nerves down. And things become very clear.

I had nirvana for several years - stellar leadership, phenomenal colleagues, superb and diverse student populations, and a state system that was focused on the good of all kids. Of course, politics changed all that and I've been searching for doing what is right ever since. I wish I could claim that higher education was a solution, but I've learned in 15 years that it is instrumental in all that is wrong. I know I have another 15 years left. Channeling Horace, I have to concede to complacency, or find the strength to speak up and speak truth to the misguided, power-hungry, and sadly insignificant views of the few who muscle bad intentions into the every day upon everyone else. 

I just wonder, at times, what are they thinking? I imagine it is that they are well-payed, privileged, and comfortable. They dance on the song of doing what is right, because lip-syncing is all they ever learned to do upon the stage. But, it's weak. It'a also pathetic. Especially when their actions are the opposite of what they say.

And in the end, there's water, sky lines, natures, and the ongoing cycle of the world. Human systems are dysfunctional because they are human-made. 

That is what I'm able to conclude. God bless any and all who are abused, manipulated, and overworked by such systems. They are rampant. And they are wrong. But they are what we have available to us. 

I'm just thankful to be able to take a long walk. It brought perspective that there's so much more out there still to see and do.