Awww, @angiecthomas, I Have a Christmas Karal for You (Well, for Kobe). Actually, There's No Singing. There's Just Today's Post (with no audio)

Believe it or not, I'm roasting my 2nd turkey. This one for Tunga, who returned to Stamford - a turkey given to him at his job. I tried something new, and went totally Cajun with this one, and am hoping he can have lunch meat from it. "Oh, Dad. As if."

While it cooked, I completed my 14-hour day with planning instruction for class tonight and tomorrow. Since I'm trapped in meetings all day, there's no time to work in the teaching (which is what I'm technically paid to do). I'm glad I put up the tree on Sunday, so I can now welcome December (oh, snap, that's tomorrow, not today) with lights. I'm also happy to report that Karallyne Caramel Kharma Carrot Cake Crandall is content. She did a tree sniff-down and settled into her bed like a pro. I also have lights in the Bay Window and I'm looking forward to getting photos of her there, too (where she sleeps all day). 

Anyway, I'm enthralled by Angie Thomas's posts on Twitter, as she adopted Kobe about the same time I got Karal. I'm amused by the love she has for her pupperdoodle and I can totally relate (except I have yet to have the secretion issue, even if I know plenty a dog-owner who knows it too well...cough cough, Jake). Karal got a stomach virus, but is doing much, much better today. She's back to her hyper, mischievous self, so seeing her settle in a bed at night simply makes me happy. And yes, I got the bed because she's obsessed with Jake's bed...kicks him out whenever we visit.

A note on the tree: it is a hand-me-down. I went the majority of my adult life without a tree (just my Snowman with branches coming out of his head), but since moving to Mt. Pleasant, I've chosen to put up a tree. I have ornaments from this or that occasion, plus ones my mom has given to me. This year, I have my Flock-of-Seagulls Halloween costume on there, too (the white birds). It's a tree that has been put up since 2015, and I see the ornament with me, Chitunga, and Glamis. This time last year, I had no idea that my 6-year old dog would get so, so sick. It all came so fast, and I'm lucky to have Karal here as a replacement to keep my mind right and to move forward. It's also the first year that the kid is in his first big-boy apartment so it is extra quiet. I should get him a tree so he can start his own traditions. 

I'm laughing at myself, too, because in my head Karal is totally being courted by Kobe. They're the same age and I'm up in Connecticut thinking, "Hey, lady-girl. You can't go wrong with Angie Thomas's dog. I'm all for that. I mean, it's Angie Thomas." 

But then I'm just thinking, "Love is love is love," and I know that Kobe is loved like Karal is loved. I also know how calming, centralizing, and chaotic joy a dog brings to a household. That's where I absolutely connect with Thomas's Kobe posts. I get it. I appreciate it. And I love them.

My next steps are to costume Karal and to make a few holiday carols for friends and family. I am pushing my luck, however, hoping she might settle in her new bed put before the tree. Well, after two days, she did. Now, if only I had a fire place or wood-burning stove....my life would be complete. Actually, if Karal and Kobe became pen pals...well, that might complete it. 

Kidding. Just thankful for any and all dog-lovers out there. It's Giving Tuesday. Who are you giving to?

Repurposing My Flock of Seagulls (Well, Morning Doves) from Halloween 2020 for Christmas Tree 2021 (with Love for Nikkerdoodles)

Oh, the Kentucky days when a trip to Syracuse meant a 13 hour drive or a 6 hour flight with stops. When my niece was a toddler, she had a total aversion to birds, especially a white one on my mom's Christmas tree. What's an uncle to do but arrive from a plane, see her anxious at the airport to see her Uncle Bryan, only to have him cough and flutter a 1,000 white bird feathers upon her. She hated me, but she hated my gift birds even more. Traumatizing, I suppose, but beautiful white birds are just that...beautiful white birds. And they're fake. 

She noted when I sent this photo to her yesterday that she still hates birds. I stopped giving them to her, but when I brought up my Christmas ornaments from the basement and found a pile of my Flock of Seagull birds for my Halloween costume a year and some change ago, I had to snap a photo.

Why not make a post, too?

The tree is up. The bay window and porch lights are up, as well. I will get to the outdoor ones, and although all is usually done the day after Thanksgiving, this year we made our adventure to DC (I am still exhausted from that trip...that beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to drive to DC in holiday traffic to see a one-hour children's play based on the writing of a friend). 

My neighbor's kid told me it was too early to do Christmas, but I love having the lights to get me through the remainder of November and all of December. They go perfect with the holiday baking challenges on the Food Network. I'm addicted.

This morning, I need to post this blog and look at my calendar. I know it is awful, but I was good about NOT being an educator from last Wednesday until last night (although our trip to DC was educational and based on our work, so that argument may be fraught with hypocrisy). 

Yes, it's another Monday. Karal went to bed at 6 pm after her dinner (at 2 a.m. I realized why...she was sick - we were up for a couple of hours until she could settle back down). I'm guessing the festivities and sleepover at Pam's did her in. I'm done, too. But recharged. I need to be so I'm plugging myself back in...3...2...1. Let's go. 

And We Pulled It Off. Six Hours There (Oif) and Eight Hours Home (Oif Oif) but We Saw @KwameAlexander's Barnyard Boogie at the Kennedy in DC

On the drive in, I wasn't sure we'd quite recover, but we did dinner, had a good night's sleep, and the ride to the Kennedy Center in the morning was a breeze. The show was spectacular and Randy Preston has some pipes - the man killed it as the Acoustic Rooster, as did Kanysha Williams as Indigo Bloom. The score was fantastic, costuming out of this world, set amazing, and the love for children an absolute. Nothing made the show better than when the kids were laughing and singing along. Not the kids I brought, but the young ones. Our crew definitely was on the older side.

After the show, we were lucky to be greeted by Kwame and he had to step back a little seeing Abu, Lossine, and Chitunga as their adult selves. Funnier was when the twins pulled down their masks and showed their beards. Alright now. They were just out of high school when they met last. It all flies. They''l be 30 this year. 

I also got a few seconds to chat with Randy between shows (as he had one more to go before the performances come to a close). He truly was astounding and I was beyond impressed with his voice instrument - he should have spent his entire career singing in front of large audiences and working on shows like this. He rocked it.

Then we headed out at 2. Unfortunately my vehicle got all the wrong directions and hit all the traffic. Chitunga went to visit a college friend in DC, but made it back in 6 hours (by avoiding NYC and coming in through the Mario Cuomo Bridge). Will and Jess left 20 minutes before we did and made it by 7:15. We, on the other hand, sat in Delaware way too long, and the George Washington Bridge was impossible. All in all, the 5 hours turned to 8. I was never so glad to get out of a car in my life - Thanksgiving traffic is no joke.

Ah, but as we discussed on the way home...the memory and joy of this trip, especially seeing Kwame again, was absolutely worth it. And we were able to extend Chitunga's birthday a couple more days (which he also enjoyed), with a few more renditions of Happy Birthday.

Today, however, I assign myself rest. That drive did this aging fart in. I am ready to get my soundtrack, from Barnyward Boogie though. I want to sing and dance.

Phenomenal show, and I hope it extends beyond DC and travels the country. 

And I can't wait for the trilogy yet to come.

Now where's my coffee?

When a Friend Sends You Tickets from London, You Know You Have to Make a Road Trip Out of It. No Matter How Exhausted You Are

I could be grading. I could be cleaning. I could definitely be folding laundry. I should be sleeping and resting, but Kwame sent me excellent seats for Acoustic Rooster and the "Barnyard Boogie" and I knew I needed to make a field trip out of it. Silly me, when I took the tickets in, I thought it was in NYC. Nope. It's at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, so Abu, Lossine, Chitunga, William, Jessica and I are staying right next to the Capitol building. Back when we used to lobby for NWP, we stayed in this area all the time. I know the good restaurants, the sites to see, and the streets to walk. 

Ah, but I shouldn't be walking in a boot, that's for sure. 

And the traffic wasn't horrendous until we went from Annapolis to DC. The sun was shining in all our eyes and it was stop and go. We also saw a terrible accident, where a man cut over three lanes and caused a pile up. It made me extra cautious to drive smart and to be logical in how we proceeded forward. 

For me, the scariest part fo the drive was going over the Severne River where they were flashing signs that tractor trailers were not permitted because the winds were too high and they were afraid they'd tip the trucks over. That's not fun to read when you' heading so high up in the air. Not a big bridge fan, actually. 

We have the show at 11, and then will drive back slowly and safely. Phew. We live once and need to take advantage of opportunities that come out way.

And I'm looking forward to seeing the Kwamster's. Cockledoodledoo! Ribbit Ribbit!

And That's a Rap. Beautiful Food, Beautiful Day, Beautiful Holiday with Friend and Family. Worth Every Second, But Exhausting

I am sparing the detailed photos, so offer an empty table before the chaos began. The turkey was superb, the Brussel sprouts fantastic, the squash out of this world, the potatoes spectacular, the breads freshly baked, and the desserts good enough for seconds. 

All served by 3 pm. The eating continued until 10 p.m, with football outside, cleanups, Ted Lasso, NFL, and lots of conversation. 

And Karal. Who knows how she has an ounce of energy as she was non-stop play mode and aggressive from 6:30 a.m. yesterday and 11 pm last night. 

The table looks so calm here. Alas, it was loaded with food, loaded with drinks, loaded with conversation, and loaded with a dog under the table wanting all the attention. Actually, two dogs wanting treats and attention. 

But now, I'm off on an adventure. Not sure what will come of it it, but we're hitting the road this morning and will likely be in DC tonight for a quick get-away with an ol' friend. 

Food delicious. Perfection, actually, but now time for something new. 

Happy, Friday. 

Before a Day of Turkey, a Night of Ted Lasso. The Twins are Back. Last Night Whiskey Barrell. House is Almost Ready. Karal is Content. Thankful.

If you read two days ago that I was going to relax yesterday, you probably predicted that it was an absolute lie. Of course I worked all day...just not academically. I cleaned. I rearranged furniture. I prepped. I brined. I cleansed. I drove people around. And I ended with another round of Ted Lasso, as the twins don't have Apple TV, so they haven't see in. 

Today is about being thankful, and I'm thankful to the fact that today is about reunions, feasting, enjoying company, and carrying the traditions forward.

Ah, it is also about Chitunga's 26th. Hard to believe he's this old already, but he's running a Turkey Trot 5K this morning and returning back to Mt. Pleasant after he showers, studies, and checks in with friends.

Okay, I need to get the turkey into the oven, vacuum, mop, and prep the potatoes. Perhaps not in that order.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone. I wish you the best and hope you're celebrating with loved ones. Gobble Gobble Gobble.

Hope you caught the Macy' Parade, or is that a dog show, or perhaps a football game or two.

Leaving the Office. Minimalizing Screen Time. And Thankful to Lynn for Printing the Pupperdoodle for My Door.

Ah, Karallyne is much better in person, even if she is excessively passionate, hyper, enthusiastic, and energized about everything in her life. I do appreciate when she is able to lie still, in one place, and rest her eyes (which is my top priority this weekend...he types, knowing he needs to begin cooking and prepping right away)(cough cough...apples don't fall far from trees).

Oh, the adulting years.

It's all good. I like cooking, I don't mind cleaning, and I am always looking forward to an excuse to do both. 

The office was dead yesterday, but it is most days. I finished up some grant work, finished ALAN, taught my class, and then went to get dinner afterwards. For those that don't know the conference circuit, it is a 12-hour day marathon, Thursday to Tuesday, and the excitement of incredible presentations keep you engaged, encouraged, and motivated to do more. 

But when it ends, you collapse. I shall collapse (or at least try to) sometime today (probably Sunday. That's more likely)

I have a turkey to brine, potatoes to peel, a roast to pot in the Crocker, and tables to set. More importantly, I look forward to a day of music, being less cerebral than usual, and laughing. I'm so looking forward to the laughing.

Happy pre-Thanksgiving everyone. I hope you get space to unwind a little, too. 

And on the Last Day of ALAN 2021, I'm Waving the White Flag, Lying Down a Bit, and Slowly Getting Ready for Turkey

Phew. NCTE...ALAN. 

I am thankful that I will not be doing LRA this year. I just don't have the energy, and I was telling Susan James I don't know if I'll ever have the energy to do back to back to back conferences ever again. I'd rather sit back and chill. My mind is full and I need to process.

Yesterday, our team presented at ALAN and afterwards, I turned the screen off and said, "Potatoes. I need to get potatoes," and so I did. The store was packed, but I was happy to see there were groceries to be purchased and available. Thankful, too. 

I need to wake up, sip my coffee, and put an action plan forward so the house is clean and ready for homecomings and feast-tables. I need just enough rest so that it can happen.

My ALAN books, however, are on campus, and I'm totally excited about digging into them, so I imagine I'll go and stock up for weekend reads. I also have a grad class to teach tonight.

Ah, but this frog is going into a mini-chill mode. It is a necessity.

And with that, I'm leaving today's post short. I need to occupy my energies elsewhere.

Well, @NCTE, That's a Wrap! And @ALANorg, Time to Get Things Hopping. Looking Forward to Learning & Presenting. But This Morning's Note is for @ValerieKinloch

Dear. Dr. Kinloch,

Yes, I think you know much about the sillier side of Crandall, as you've been the feather or two that has been lent to me and so many other for a very long time (That's a Jason Reynold's reference). Actually, it's not just you as an individual, but the collective of individuals you surround yourself with. You belong to a cohort of history, promise, dedication, perseverance, love, intellect, and most importantly JOY. You get kids. You get teachers. And you also get integrity. So do the people you surround yourself with. This is extremely important to me, too:  kids, teachers, integrity.

I reached out to you a year ago, excited that the conference was going to be in Louisville and stating, "You know anything you need, I'm there. It's a homecoming for me." Or is that a school-coming. I couldn't wait to return to Derby City, to hug the Louisville Writing Project family, and to celebrate downtown: Muhammad Ali Museum, Louisville Slugger Museum, The Galt House, Actor's Theater, and maybe even a hike to the Derby Museum. That is Louisville. It's rich with history. It's beautiful with diversity. It, however, has had quite a year, much like our nation. 

Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all that you put into the NCTE Convention this year: the speakers, the insight, the caliber of programming, but most importantly the expertise. Every session I attended was rich, engaging, and rewarding, and the only regret is that we couldn't physically hug, run into one another in the hallways, compare notes, or make introductions. Digital gatherings work, but they miss some of the humanness that makes our work what it is.

On Saturday night, Dr. Tracey Flores hosted the multicultural celebration and that was probably the most emotional I've ever been at any conference. She made contact with Haitian-born and Louisville-native James Racine and his orchestra, and I knew he was going to perform. I also knew we'd be illuminated as a gathering because the language, poetics, and heart of Dr. Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz was invited to bring love and peace to us all. She succeeded. She always does.

Ah, I arrived to Louisville age 22 and left at age 37. My time there was in schools, with writing instruction, and open to any and all who would invest in me and my students. Funny that one of them was Mr. James Racine...a kid from my student teaching days, but with a mother who worked at the school who eventually hired me and who, in the tradition of the location, embraced diversity, humanity, high standards, and the importance of mentoring every child. I think we all felt it through her son's music. I was blessed. I still am. We all were.

What was evident from that evening is the importance of investing in one another. Reaching out. Questioning, Guiding. Mentoring. Supporting. Challenging. And celebrating what we're able to accomplish. That is who you've been to me. That is who you've been to many. That is who you ARE to us all. Thank you for the leadership.

YOU ACCOMPLISHED SO MUCH and I am thankful. I arrived last Wednesday night to our virtual platform and stayed the entire time. Yesterday, presenting on sports literacy with Bridgeport teacher William King, I chose to wear my Louisville hoodie, but a Connecticut Writing Project cap....my two worlds with so much Syracuse in-between. The day before, I presented with teachers, students, and NWP Directors on a yearlong collaboration about the Anti-Racist Writing Workshop by Felicia Rose Chavez. In my slides was one where I highlighted the fact that I could not be me, if it wasn't for you. Your work made/makes my work possible. 

And so I am grateful to you. I appreciate you. I applaud you. Yes, once upon a time a letter like this would merely be put in the mail, but I'm on year 15 of blogging, so my thinking goes public with the world (and yes, this year's publication of POW! Power of Words was designed with Pink & Green. You were in the back of my mind).

So here's to you, your extraordinary achievement, and the year ahead. President Kinloch, thank you for leading NCTE.

Shoes and elephants. Elephants and shoes.

The for-real, for-real hugs are coming soon.

Bryan

Ah, Bless. @NCTE Behind the Scenes. These Creatures. Bless the Souls. Let the Spirits Fly Over & Protect Us. That Is All.

When I awoke yesterday, there was a possum at the end of my driveway. He was a large creature, and I'm not necessarily a fan of them, but I was trained at a young age to "Bless that Animal" (thanks, Kirsten for the influence), and I can't help but give prayers where prayers are deserved. 

On Friday, I had a ceremony for Spanky the sparrow who flew into my friend's window, and I went to the location, took care of the little guy, held a ceremony with Buddhas and frogs, and left $2 in fortunes for a lottery ticket or two. This is bird 3. I'm the bird man, and our prayer services get better with every bird.

But Oliver, the Opossum...I was a little more reserved. I had a session to give at NCTE in the morning, so left him at the end of the driveway, hoping the town would rid him for me. Alas, when I returned, he was still there, and I knew it was my duty. My road can be a busy street as people cut through from one major artery of Stratford into another. All the cars were steering wide of Oliver. So, I tied a scarf or two around my face and got him in a proper Staples box. I then said a few prayers and brought him to a burial space away from my home. I was sorry that his tail didn't quite fit, but that is okay. His soul was elsewhere. And then I became paranoid that it is illegal to dump dead opossum in an unattended park by the creek. I wondered if anyone called the police on me as I parked my green Subaru (hard to miss) at the ancestral grounds of Stratford vermin. 

Spanky and Oliver, phew. I'm sorry that your lives were taken as they were, and I take comfort that I was able to bring some humanly kindness your way. We humans tend to be what we are, but some of us are paying attention. At times, we can be decent creatures. Not always. But on occasion. 

Yes, I've been online for 3 days now attending and presenting, and have 3 more to go, but when I'm not on ZOOM, learning, being engaged, and growing as a professional, I am thinking of what is right out my door. To do right. To pay respects. To honor the reality that is.

Bless. That is all I have this Sunday morning. Bless.

Gone too soon. A reminder. May you crossover without obstacle, conflict, or strife. This, a dedication to two woodland creatures --- may they rest in peace.

And So I Present This Morning in Tri-Focals, and I'm Not Sure About Them Because I Can't See My Computer Screen. Ugh.

Rant. So I love my new glasses. I love them on, I love seeing long distance, and I love reading in them. Where I have issues, however, is the middle ground. I can't see the computer screen. It's a total blur. 

I had them for a day and brought them back and said, "these won't work." I was told, however, I need to give them time and be patient. Give them three weeks.

Okay. So seeing long distance is not an issue. I can see, too, my cell phone, and reading materials in my lap. The issue, as I tried to tell them, is my computer screen. I'm on the lap top a good 12 hours a day. With the new prescription, however, anything in this range is completely blurry. I can see letters in the middle of the glasses, but I can's read. It's blurry and like I'm inebriated. The strain on my eyes is tremendous.

They say, "Oh, give it time. Your eyes are adjusting."

I want to barf. It makes no sense how everything below and outward can be 100% clear, and everything directly in front of me is an absolute blur. To be told it is an aging eye adjustment is simply wonky. I don't believe it. 

Anyway, I swore to them I will do a few more weeks to adjust and promised that I would keep the new glasses on and not resort to olds ones. Confession: there's no way I could see this screen in the new prescription, I had to put the old glasses on simply to see what I'm typing on the page right now. 

Ugh. I love the frames. I just don't get the middle ground. Yes, looking down I can see. No problems. Yes, far away, I can see, and it's crisp. But looking in the immediate is a vomit-forming hallucination. I tell them, "This isn't working," and they respond, "it's an adjustment you need to get used to." What the hell? 

I see as I see. I get aging. I don't get marketing for glasses (more $$$) that change the entire way I view the world. You're the the experts. I trust you. I love the frames, but this is insane.

And I'm totally wearing the old scripts so I can make this post. Wola! Evidence for the course. Trifocals. Crazy. I only need to see when I write and work on the screen. Yet, that is where they've blinded me.

Because I Don't Have a Printer, I'm Writing a Note to My @CWPFairfield Co-Presenters Here. That's Why the @NCTE @writingproject Thank-You Card is Blank

When it was announced that Louisville would be the host of the 2021 NCTE Convention, I immediately started planning. What if I found a space, brought in Brough Brothers Distillery bourbon, and had Eatz Louisville cater a party? What if I invited the Louisville Writing Project family, my CT teachers, and friends and authors from Penguin House, people from the Brown School, and threw a wild, pre-50 birthday party, all in celebration of everything that LWP & Jefferson County Public Schools invested in me? What would that be like? I made preliminary contacts with spoken word poets, musicians, and artists, too. It was a vision.

Alas, Covid. 

It's all good though, because I attended a session on speculative fiction last night (love Nicole Mirra, Stephanie Toliver, Antero Garcia, Tiffany Nyachae, and Ebony Elizabeth Thomas) and I re-realized the importance of dreams, possibilities, imagination, and hope. They are such sprites in a world of magic (both the burden of that, and the panacea...I listened).

We, obviously, can't be in a shared physical space, but a crew of the CWP-Fairfield team and I will be together with superstars from across the nation - site Directors and writers, teachers and students - presenting on our work, thinking, shortfalls, and accomplishments early on Saturday morning. So, I woke up and was at the liquor store by 8 a.m. - yes, I was surprised, too, that liquor stores open that early. Go breakfast drinkers, Go!

The National Writing Project family is what keeps me going, and although not all our teacher-leaders were part of this project, several did step up and help the dream to occur. So I made them gift bags. I couldn't get Brough Brothers in CT (yet), so I went with Maker's Mark, Bullet's, and Evan Williams. And I can't afford the gigantic bottles, but I can afford a drink. 

Several years ago, in Bridgeport, CT, a local bar offered what they called a modern Old Fashion. It was simple syrups, a squeeze of citrus, root beer, and a shot of Makers. To say that it changed my life is an understatement. I found my drink...one that hits every tastebud.

Here's the direction.

1. pour ice in a nice glass.
2. pour a shot of bourbon or two over that ice.
3. squeeze an orange or tangerine into the mixture and dump that in, too.
4. Then, moderate with root beer.

Now, we all know how we get at NCTE, especially in hotel rooms before we head out into public. I can only imagine the 'trouble' it would bring us in Derby City. So, that's what the mask is for. If we were there, we'd be able to go incognito as we acted as fools, intellectual fools, while we talked reading, writing, equity, possibility, and literacy. 

Ah, for me, it's the flight. It's the winged hope we  fly with, and the wildness of yesterday's stories weaved into the ones we tell today. Pegasus, is also the name of the parade that leads towards The Kentucky Derby every year. I am thankful that I was welcomed to such traditions while I taught at 1st and Muhammad Ali and Jean Wolph, Director of LWP, took me under her own wings (and yes, the dollar story was kind to me - who would have thought they'd have such horses?). 

And I left the Thank-You card in your gift bag blank. It's for you, as I'm sure you can think of numerous people you'd like to thank that have helped your dedication, devotion, and tireless efforts for so many years. It's a Thank-You from me, but it's also an invitation to pay it forward. This is teaching. It always has been and it likely will always be this way.

Yesterday's sessions left me inspired, as I'm sure another day will do today. I'm forever thankful for the yearly gathering. Saturday night, however, I hope my Connecticut teachers will have a modern old-fashion on me. May they put on the mask, saddle the winged-Equus ferus caballus, and be free from normal responsibilities for just a little while. 

I am, because we are. I so appreciate you being a part of the human togetherness.

Shoes and elephants, Elephants and shoes,

Bryan

And Breathe. 13-Hours on the Go. Now it's Time to Concentrate on @NCTE. We Got This. Exhausted, but Now the Rejuvenation & Joy Begins

Here's to everyone and all who use I-95 to get to and from work, especially the teachers who can't afford to live in the communities where they teach and end up stuck in traffic for hours just to serve the communities they teach. That is Connecticut life, and yesterday Elisabeth Muller and I had the honor of working with the Greenwich High School History Department. I've been at this school thing for 26 years, and doing PD almost the entire time. I have nothing but KUDOS to sing to the teachers, learners, and visionaries of those in this department. I've never seen such a willing, engaged, and ready-to-go leaders in my life. They were just thirsty and ready to do better with their students. 

I was assigned to offer best practices in writing instruction for history classrooms, and Elisabeth introduced the Historian Notebook, an adaptation she made as a Masters student at Fairfield who participated in the National Writing Project work. After I squawked about studies, she put the scholarship into action. Her notebooks sold the day. 70/30. 70% historical interaction and 30% reflecting on new knowledge and writing reflection. 

They were engaged. She had data to prove the point. And she did this to engage the most reluctant learners in her space. The notebooks, she claimed, brought them into history and suddenly they were motivated.

It's been a while since I used a smart board, and it is horrible to have talk to such crowds with masks, but it worked. And it was well received. 

Phew. Then we sat in traffic getting home. All good. I didn't get to go home, anyway. I went to teach graduate students, but let them go early. I was too tired to maintain the entire evening. The steam simply went out of me (and I wanted to prep for NCTE), but not before the content area teachers I have at night named what they feel are best practice gained from reading and experiences in the course. 

• create space for often, structured discussions,
• make connections to the real world,
• eliminate traditional quizzes & tests. Creative projects work.
• make learning more fun,
• choose readings that are interesting, 
• fit readings around lived experience, who students are, 
• build positive rapport with students,
• be excited about material, 
• have good models for what is expected,
• offer flexibility and choice with how you want kids to prove their learning,
• build community between readers,
• represent diversity, inclusivity, and equity in materials offered to youth,
• perform as a reader, writer, thinker, and creator of your own content world,
• build relationships with every kid,
• provide students with background information,
• break down terminology, and
• make students feel comfortable and heard in the classroom.

Okay. Okay. They are getting it. Now, for them to do it in their student teaching: Biology, Spanish, History, English, Chemistry, and Math. Onward.

And onward I go. To Louisville...with my NCTE/NWP/ALAN family. I can't wait. If only it was in person...oh, LWP family, JCPS family, and bluegrass family....the fun we would have!

Shhhh. It's the First Time For Professional Development in Person Since March 2020. I Don't Have To Do This From a Screen!

Ah, but I will be masked.

In March of 2020, upon returning from Texas with teachers and writers, the PD session created with Greenwich High School had to be canceled. Like everyone in schools around the world, a plan of action had to be sidelined as suddenly teachers and students were scrambling for online, at-home learning. Obviously, there was not an issue for me and CWP. We adapt and ride the waves of schools. We listen.

Now, a year and a half later, history teacher Elisabeth Muller of Fairfield Warde-High School, get to visit Greenwich High School's history department to share best practices in teaching writing in history classrooms, and showcase a project she created for her own students - one that one the Fairfield University Library Prize for outstanding graduate research. 

She's teaching all morning, and I'm teaching all night, but we found a compromise in the afternoon. Prayers up to The Great Whatever that traffic is on our side. Lord knows that getting to and from Greenwich can be a Connecticut nightmare (I'm recalling the 2.5 hours it took kids from Ubuntu Academy and I to get to the school one morning several years ago - and we planned for heavy traffic). We're hoping for an easy flow on the way there, knowing it will be a nightmare on the way home. How can it not be? As long as I can make my 7:15 class, I'll be okay. 

I'm just excited to be with adults in their learning environment to showcase what others have been able to accomplish. I'm so used to deejaying professional communities with online tools, so it will be great to experience in-school PD once again. Gosh, might I be a little nervous?

Ah, but then, I'm full force, NCTE-Louisville ahead! But, it will be online. Needless to say, "We got this!"

And we're off!

I Woke Up This Morning and First Thought Was, "Is it Friday Yet?" I'm Ready for @NCTE, @writingproject, and @ALANorg - Ready to Learn and Be Rejuvenated

Yes. It seems odd that I will, year two, be at home, yet traveling to be with colleagues from all across America. For the last ... I don't know how many... Mondays ... and since January, many of us have been working hard across the nation to get to the point where we can present in Louisville.

Ah, but we're not going to be in Louisville. This is hitting harder than I anticipated. Instead, we'll be on screens as if we are in Louisville. 

I think once I get finished with my Grad courses this week, I'm going to spend one day to make gift bags for my CT teachers so it will be, alas, that we are in Louisville (you, know...bourbon nips...some mint...maybe ingredients for a Hot Brown). I was looking forward to all of this....50th year in 2022, a celebration of KY's awesomeness, and of course everything Louisville Writing Project and National Writing Project.

Damn Covid. Go away. Boo. Enough already.

Truth, too, is that the 14-hour days are coming to a head as we slide into presentations Thursday-Monday. Cough Cough. WHERE ARE MY ALAN BOOKS? I'm starting to get nervous. I want my early Christmas friends to be in my house. I know they're coming, but I'm green with envy for all those who have already received them. I jump into paranoia that they will never arrive. 

Grad classes until Wednesday night late, and then sliding into NCTE with a tremendous smile and much appreciation for all the hard work that has gone into the planning. This is followed by ALAN and I'm thrilled to represent the National Writing Project at both. 

It's all good. I know what comes to those that wait. BUT I CAN'T WAIT. 

Is that a UPS truck? Nope middle schoolers on their yellow time machines. Happy. Tuesday. It's all good. 

11 Years Later, I Finally Learn What All the Hype is About. For You Pizza-Snobs Out There. It's True. Pepe's in New Haven. Yup

Yellow, the winged dreamer to my Stripe, invited me for the Patriots' game and to catch up with her and Michael. "We converted our garage for a viewing, and you'll like the turf floor, lights, and palm trees. Come and put your leg up. We'll get pizza."

I always cherish time with Kathy Silver and her husband. Dedicated to kids in Bridgeport, and passionate about sports and good work, they've been advocates and champions for CWP and what we do for kids. 

So, I went. I have to admit, I was skeptical and had a raised eyebrow about the whole Pepe's tasting thing. Michael repeatedly said, "Oh, no. There's nothing better than Pepe's. Trust us." 

Their son, Ethan, was also there, taking a break from soccer and studies at UNH. My guess is football and Pepe's lured him home. Amazing how fast he grew up. He was just a kid when I moved here and I was like, "Dang. He's an adult now. Taller than me."

And then Michael got the pizza. It's true. I'm not sure what they do and why it is, but it is spectacular. The thin crust is amazing, but also puffy in all the right places. The sauce is out of this world. I now know I have a new location to share with people who visit.

"What took you so long, Crandall?" 

Well, anyone who knows me also knows it takes me a long time to get on the same page with everyone else. I've heard it was good, but now I'm a convert. Sort of a shame that it's 35 minutes away. I'll figure something out. 

Happy Monday, again. Why does it always seem like it's Monday?

You Can Come Take Me For a Walk, Since All He Can Do Is Keep His Leg Elevated and Watch Football

I've been the same creature since I was a teenager. Do the school work I can do, then go for a run or a walk to release steam. In better years, I would also go to the gym and lift weights. Exercise has always been my panacea. I'm down for the count, though. Hernias, eye issues, followed by this ankle thing has the routine all upside down and Karal knows it.

"Come on, Dad," she beckons. "I need to move, too."

Ah, Dave Wooley. Should I call you for outdoor therapy as You were there for us in the great crotch tucking of August?

Karal was anxious to get outdoors, even despite the storms that flew through yesterday afternoon.

My mind is alive, and I can do finger-tapping and computer work, even though I'm not moving too much. 

Thank the Great Whatever for the Food Networks Holiday Baking Shows. Karal can care less. She just wants to walk.

I know many have reached out to say, "This is a sign, Crandall. You just need to slow down," but I'm not ready to slow down. I like movement and I see its benefit. Lying still is simply depressing. Leg up, pillows, hot tea to keep the bloodlines warm.

This is not me. Not being able to sit still for 2-minutes is me, and I want the days to return. I mean, I was good with Hendrick, and I shifted to power hikes and walks, but this ankle-shenanigan is simply too much. I look out my window at runners and dog-walkers and I am biting at the bit (not to mention the elliptical that is waiting for me in the garage). 

I'm reading the tea leaves. What's it all supposed to really mean? I am seeking an answer. In the meantime, the contraption is upon sofa pillows and the hope is greater than ever before. Enough. I want to do the Crandall that I've always known. And sooner rather than later.

I'm Grounded. I'm Stuck. I'm Still. I'm Hindered. I'm Crandall. I'm Thankful. I'm in Minor Pain. I'm Lucky

In the tradition of being me, I put off going to the doctor until the very second I had time to go to the doctor. Yes, I'm booted, but it could be so much worse. I've got torn ligaments from my shin to my ankle, but there isn't a fracture, nor a break. After 5 days, when I woke up swollen and bruised, I decided, "Well, you might want to get this checked."

I think they're being over-dramatic with the boot, but for four weeks I'm singing, "one of these days this boot is gonna walk all over you."

I'll deal. 

It hurts, but already I can tell that this contraptions is going to be supportive. I'd rather have it than be regretful. The doctor came in, checked my chart and started laughing. "So, you were stupid, Mr. Crandall. You're an idiot. Do you care to elaborate?" That's what I wrote for incident causing injury.

I gave her the drama of a hernia, an eyeball, my fire with psoriasis, and the need of a colonoscopy, and she just smirked. "You're young. Stop being so dramatic."

Um. This is not my norm. I'm usually hyperactive and all over the place. Sitting still KILLS me.

So, I'm 4-weeks of raised leg, calm, and hope. Then I will be normal. Whatever. Someone needs to rake my leaves and mow my lawn. Who wants to help me roast a turkey and gravy some potatoes? I guess I'm glad that NCTE and ALAN are online, although it's been my mission to return to Louisville this year.

Ahhhhhh. Crandall. We got this. 

The boot is actually comfortable and I always wondered what a lifetime of boots collected by mother was like. Truth be told...I think they get commission for saying, "You're an imp. We need to strap you up." But I will trust them, and next year I will think of a Halloween costume so the apparatus doesn't go to waste."

#ThisIs49. 

Yup.

The Moments in Life When You're Reminded of Nature, Not Just Canine, but the Human Kind. Humbled. So Gross.

I have no idea how she got out, because there's no evidence anywhere. Maybe a couple places where she could be like a mouse and stretch her body in crevices that make it possible, but I see no location where it was likely. It doesn't matter. She got out. That's the point. In dog years, the instinct is to get out and be free from age 1 to age 3...maybe 4...and with leashes, commands, and "human comfort," it's always the WTF?

This is my 4th dog, so I rolled with it (pun, unintended). I got a cup of coffee, went out front, whistled, clapped, and hoped she was in the immediate area. I was lucky. She was down the street wagging her tail at two men digging a trench in a neighbor's yard. Actually, she was smart, trying to get in the back yard of her dog-friend. I would, too. That backyard is all treats, sprinting, toys, and joy. I ignored her, and she saw me bringing in the recycling and trash bins. It triggered something in her, so she sprinted to our front door to be let in, all excited about her mini-adventure.

I saw the wet spots on her back immediately, animal scum....the fluid, black ooze and dripping from her fur.

Karal found her first dead animal. She obviously rolled in it. Possum? Skunk? Squirrel? Raccoon? It doesn't matter. It was decayed carcass and smelled like hell. No, it smelled like oil, fish, and the breath of Satan. 

Obviously the collar had to come off and she needed a bath. Her comedy, however, was in full display. The tailed wagged proudly and with both pomp and circumstance. She was like the ladies I used to watch with their husbands at Estee Lauder and Lancome. 

"Smell me," she seemed to be saying. "Doesn't it smell great? Do you love me even more now?"

Um, no. I wanted to gag. 

She wanted to hide from me. She knew I was going to wash off her perfumed death and give her a bath. She's always good about a good washing, but was resistant this time. She smelled of earth, Men's locker rooms, and 7th grade armpits. Why wouldn't she be resistant? This was divine.

Dog life. Work life. That is, you witness and watch the behavior of others and wonder, "How can they possibly think this is a good idea?" But they do. And they roll in it. And they look around as if, "Look at me. I'm fully delicious and I'd think you'd love me even more."

No. You smell like $@#!, and it's gross. There is nothing attractive about it. I will bathe you, work with you not to be so repulsive again, and hope for the best. She's just being her beastly self, and my domestication counters her instinct. She wasn't sprayed - that's another story of other dogs. But she galavanted upon the fragrance of death with absolute glee.

I can't fault her. It's what they do. And I can only control how I react. It's same in the working life. If the instinct of others is to roll in crap, that's what it will be. The will of how to respond...well, that's up to me. 

Board. Awaiting Bulletins. Took 10 Minutes Today to Make Part of Canisius Hall More Welcoming (Blanked-Out by Covid))

I'm getting used to the patterns of my hallway, knowing when I will see Ryan, Tracy, and Erica, and sometimes others. There's never been a memo or explanation, but before Covid many of our stored items went missing as they redid windows, tiles, and ventilation systems. We boxed things up. Some of us had items returned. Before we shut down, our hallway was recreated aesthetically so it was a more enjoyable space. Since we've been back, however, it was stripped down to the bare minimum. No one knows where any of the materials in our hallway disappeared to: photos, artwork, decorations, etc. It's just been generic and uninviting. 

Last night, with 10 minutes to spare before class, I decided to add color, flavor, and beginning funk to the cork board outside my office. My motto is joy and rejuvenation, and although others may still be absent, I'd like to have life in our shared spaces for the time when everyone is back. 

There are 7 of these cork boards, and with 10 minutes a week, I figured I can return life to our corridor over the next 7 weeks. I have scrapbooks from summer programs and hope to bring joy and possibility to the days still to come, including the fact that I hung the box of cards I've been mailing recently: The Happiest People Don't Have the Best of Everything; They Just Make the Best of Everything. 

I also put up a Buddha gifted to me from Bich Nguyen from way back when and the Vicki Soto ribbon and number from this past weekend's 5K. I just want to walk down the hallway and feel a more welcoming atmosphere. I'll add more CWP items once the weeks get going. I went with a wood theme, because that is what I had. I'll save the mermaids and sea creatures for my colleagues.

Sometimes, I just don't understand work spaces and their intentional desire to be institutionally drab and uninviting. If I wanted to live a prison life, I'd get myself thrown into a penitentiary. 

I want to work, though, where there's vibrancy, purpose, talent, and ... joy. A simple theme, really. Something besides institutionally-bulk Whiteness....

May We All Get the Rest That Karal Gets While Falling Asleep Upon My Chest Each Night Before I, Too, Retire

I've mentioned that Karal was adopted and returned 3 times, before she settled into her 4th home - my home.  She's a jumper, a biter, and super excited, so I can imagine how hard she would be to keep in a NYC apartment or with kids. The last owner, in fact, said, "She's a really good dog when she settles down. It's just we can't wait for those moments."

Well, I've not had a problem, although she is biter and jumper. She has a lot of energy and it takes training and patience to get her to be less enthusiastic at life. In my home, she's almost perfect good behavior (until Chitunga comes home, and then she's an out-of-control little sister who wants nothing but to love her big brother). 

We've moved over the last month from barking like a madwoman when she wants to settle into evening sleep, to my adjustment to the couch, where she lays in my lap and falls into a deep, snoring snore. This is new. Although she likes to sit on my shoulders to surveillance the neighborhood from my front porch and she will sleep in my bed, she's not been the cuddling, affectionate type. 

Instead, she barks. And she barks until I go to bed. 

I'm please to say we've turned a corner, however, and Karal now cuddles with me after I type my last words, and sit in front of the t.v. to unwind. I should note. She's training me. I pay astronomical cable bills NOT to watch t.v.. I have, however, moved to the t.v. set at the time she's ready to fall asleep. She joins me, curls up, and zonks out. No barking. Just rest. Calm, cool, collected rest.

"Crandall, I'm just trying to make you a little more human than you are," I hear in her dreams. "Chill out. Relax. It's all good. You can put your computer away a couple of hours before you go to bed. Free your mind."

And I do. Yes, I'm training her, but she's training me, as well. When she calms, I calm, which I greatly need to do. Rather than work from 7 am. until 10 pm, I am allowing myself 9 to 10 to be her pillow, which in return allows my brain to get some stillness. 

I hope we all get such rest. 

Had a Superhero Dream Last Night Where I Landed on Shore From Being Tossed at Sea & Left a Giant Frog Print on the Side of a Building

My dreams have been extra-adventurous of late, probably because I'm moving around less. Last night was a survivor series at sea, where all these obstacles kept coming at us: sharks, ships, pirates, storms, and our crew was dwindling down. The odder part of the dream was I wasn't the protagonist. I was the aging man at the front of the boat. At one point, I leaped onto land and used my frog-tongue to pull everyone to shore. I also jumped from building to building leaving a gooey frog print in my wake. 

One of the characters pulled ashore said, "There goes Frog, again. He's back."

I could analyze the dream until I exhaust it, but I don't want to think about it too much. I simply like having superpowers and to be the silent, non-important character who suddenly arises with extraordinary abilities...almost like I'm Ben from the Umbrella Academy, #6. I just went ape-shit crazy when I was unleashed. It felt good, actually. 

Truth is, it was a stress dream, as I'm trying to survive the month of November. I promised myself that I would not eat gummy frogs for dinner, and I'd be good about picking up good foods so I don't eat crap lying around my office. I need to look good in my superhero tights, should I start running again (the ankle. Oi Vay).

It's fun waking up to dreams that I have to recall and piece back together. I'm impressed that I could project myself as the mysterious man sitting in the corner of the boat not participating in the struggle to survive...just watching. Then, I leaped into action and I was a mad-man taking down the obstacles. Felt good that I was able to accomplish anything in my life these days. My arms were outstretched, I grew gigantic, and that tongue was lethal....a variation of Ben, but green. 

Anyway...another 14-hours a day week, so I need to get my behind in gear. I'm off...limping, but off. 

I Am My Mother's Son, That's For Sure. I'll Call This #3, & Will Keep My Leg Up For Another Day. Dang, Crandall. Ease Up.

Karal thought winterizing the home was a game. Everything I pulled out of the shed she barked and attacked, and everything I moved into the shed she barked and attacked. She definitely feels the need to protect her yard. All the tables, planters, ornaments, and chairs were stored away, and all I had was one more ceramic flower pot and I was going to jump on the elliptical. She and I already walked. 

Alas, Karal was biting at my pant leg, I reached down to get the pot, and when I stepped off the bottom step onto the lawn, I hit a divot that made me twist my ankle and fall to the ground. She has two spots where she digs, and I filled them both. Obviously, I didn't pack it deep enough. I'm on the ground and she's jumping on me like it's a game. It's all good. I got the pot to the shed and then walked into the house. I thought I heard a snap, but there's no bruising or swelling. It's just extremely painful. 

I tied a scarf around wrapped ice to subdue the ankle. I sat for a couple of hours and the pain went away, until I dragged the snow blower to the garage, limping and being cautious. Nope. The pain is there. I then met Chitunga in Wilton at Lil' Pub for a burger. It is fine when I'm not putting pressure on it. 

Definitely not a fan of this mid-life klutziness. 

I am choosing to work from home today, resting the ankle while I do ZOOM calls, grade, and prep for the rest of the week. 

I just want to be in my 20s again where I could run 11 miles a day, felt no pain, and didn't worry that every move I make is going to result in a medical issue. I never even thought about it back then. I just was.

For a short second, I said, "Great. Now a broken ankle," but it doesn't seem to be that bad. I think it just needs a deep massage, more ice, and elevation for the day. I'm rolling my eyes at myself. I hate when such stupid things happen --- and my eye is finally rid of the bloodiness from the snafu three weeks ago! 

Crandall, "You're a mess!"

My Allegeries Thank The Great Whatever For an Extra Hour to Sleep...Those Dang Leaves

It was a beautiful day for the Vicki Soto, and all though I'm disappointed I didn't run, the 5K was was beautiful, especially as we came toward the Long Island Sound and the American flag flew between two firetrucks. There was just shy of 3,000 runners, and it was wonderful to get outside in the morning for such a cause. I'll always be a fan of organizations that invest in teachers and their students, especially with literacy initiatives.

In the evening, we celebrated Oona's 60th by heading to Oxford, CT, for tacos, a frigid evening outdoors, and her tremendously large family. The Kellys go on and on and on. They're everywhere.

Leo made neon on glasses which I sort of liked because they gave me superpowers to fight the cold and to maintain sobriety in case anyone needed a ride home. I am sure a few are feeling very, very rough this morning. 3 to 10 pm is a long time to be liquifying in booze.

Today, I need to complete my NCTE uploads, grade, and finish winterizing the house. It's NYC marathon day and I'm thinking how perfect is for those doing the 26.4 miles between all the Burroughs. The idea of it excites me. The reality of how my joints, muscles, and bones are currently working horrifies me. I wish all my friends who are running a tremendous day. 

The change of time for Daylight Savings had Karal up at the usual time and she'll have to get used to the new schedule. I'm sure she'll figure it out. She and Jake were well behaved while we were away at the party. 

And the turkey rub arrived. Year ??? and I'm still hosting Hard to believe. That food fest is just around the corner. 

Kicks Came In, T-Shirt Picked Up, New Running Pants Ready to Go, But I Don't Need Herman Coming After Both Hendrick and Henry

It kills me, but I know I won't be able to run this morning, although I'm still giving my support to the Vicki Soto 5K - one of my favorite races each year. I will walk it; in fact, I probably can walk it 5 or 6 times. My worry is for the pounding, and re-tearing the tissue wall where my intestines want to emancipate themselves. Even if I was cleared to start running, I know from the few attempts I've made that it's not the wisest idea. 

We'll see how I feel. I've gone a few blocks with Karal here and there and usually stop and say, "Okay. That's enough for today."

In truth, it's the spirit of the race: 1,000s of runners, all the blow-up palm trees and flamingos, the bagpipes to begin the race, the National Anthem, the pinks and green, the beautiful shoreline, the marching bands and cheerleaders - it's just a fantastic way to spend a morning! 

It's also the first year I didn't organize a crowd to run with me. Sad, but okay. We'll get there again.

On a better note, jury duty was canceled by the court. I was thawing the car when the message arrived. That allowed me a day in my office simply getting things caught up. 

Happy Saturday, World. Hope you're finding a way to give back in positive and productive ways.

I Don't Think It Will Work, So I Won't Be Wearing White or Princess Leia Hair Buns Today (Although I Thought About It)

Personal hell is having to sit around on a chair waiting to be called. I'm not a fan of DMVs, doctor's offices, or Jury summons, although I'm dutiful enough to respect courts, should they select me this morning. I am bringing both audio and physical copies of Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower, something I want to reread before Ibi Zoboi's poetic biography, Star Child, debuts in January. I will be the geek with pods in his ears and a book in his lap at 8 a.m. this morning.

I have vivid memories of my mother's selection to Grand Jury as a kid and how stressed it made her, and how quiet she was and still is about the experience. If selected, I will do what I'm asked to do. A year ago, the case they called me for was dismissed and I was let go. I had no idea they'd quickly be knocking at my door once again. Chitunga, too, has said, "I'm just waiting my time. I put off two-years of summons while in college." His time will come again, too.

Is is good to wish such things for your family members?

Okay. Truth telling time: I'm running a 5K tomorrow (NOT). I'm walking. I don't dare run, but it is a good cause and I want to show my support for the Vicki Soto foundation. I also have a birthday party that follows. I'm not committing to what I'll be doing, but I'm exhausted, and imagine I will celebrate bitgtime. Those of us presenting at NCTE have to have materials in by Sunday, so I know many of my friends are also working on that...nothing like presenting live, and anticipating how you'll be lively two-weeks from now. I'm getting closer.

And, if I'm selected, I have to rethink everything in my life. Something tells me I won't be a desired juror, but maybe I will be. Who knows?

For All the Students Who Made Fun of Me in KY for Never Coordinating or Matching Clothes: Check This Out

It's the cinnamon apple donuts. It has me in love with Autumn like never before...so much so that I bought a couple dozen for my grad students last night. Feeling festive, I chose to dress as the colors I see out my front window. I put the socks next to the sweater, pocket square, and jacket, and I was like, "Dang, Crandall. You can color coordinate, after all. See. That wasn't so hard."

Of course, my goatee looks like the scraggly ass of road-kill possum, but I guess the grays sort-of pull out the colors in the shoes. Well, maybe I need white suede.

I'm just thrilled to be able to dress myself at all these days. Yes, Thursdays are like my Saturdays. I'm exhausted, and typically I work the weekends to get ready for the week. Alas, it's another 7 am. until 8 p.m. this evening....I need to award my jury duty tomorrow with some sort of fanfare. Losing a day to the courts will be hard to recover.

Last night, I had an awesome class teaching text complexity and used Ursulla Leguin once again by pairing it with my SU fellow doctoral pals, now Ph.Ds, and their work on teaching text complexity (woot woot Maria and Kristin). Sometimes I wish I could video tape this particular lesson so Critical Friends could say, "Crandall, what a crock of shit that lesson was," or "Dang. Do you see what just happened in there? That was amazing." 

Bottom line...I navigated the room as the students connect research to practice. The fluidity is amazing and the lightbulbs pop up as if halftime at the Super Bowl. Sometimes I sit back and think, "I can record this and next year they can hit play. It will allow me to move to something else." But each year I change things, tune it a bit, make it better, and watch what happens. 

And last night. They got the swell-dressed Crandall, as opposed to, "Nutty professor with mismatching socks that don't match the tie, Crandall"

Okay. I need to write. Like seriously write. So in 3...2...1

Small, Yet Powerful. Tried a Trick I Used to Do with Seniors Last Night Since So Many Were Absent. We Filled Up the Whiteboards with Possibilities.

Accidents. Covid. Exhaustion. Stress. I'm not sure what's going on, but post mid-mester they are calling out left and right. As a result, I had to change plans a bit with content delivery, so I went with an old favorite: Let's design a question we're asking for a final project and instead of answering that question, let's all go around the room and ask questions of the question. Because we are few, I said, "You need to do at least 4 laps so that every Whiteboard is filled." 

The reading was on Writing to Learn, Writing to Inquiry, and Writing with Exploration, so this oldie, but goodie, activity seemed to work. We used to do it by passing papers with seniors in high school, but there was enough Whiteboards for all in attendance, so we passed our selves around the room.

The activity helped tie course readings to action for the week, while also aiding initial thinking for the final project where they must think like writing instructors, designing lessons and curriculum that will best help students achieve written outcomes. As always, I'm pushing them to think through, "How will you help ALL kids to reach the outcome you desire?"

I'm always amazed how quiet it gets when doing this activity and how helpful it ends up becoming as students design their projects. "Hey, if someone asked the question of your question, you might want to have an answer for it in the final project, no?"

Meanwhile, day 3 of 14-hours is ahead. The cherry on the week is jury duty on Friday. I look like I was hit by a truck because, well, it's that time of year. I know this because my psoriasis are on fire, spitting dragon flames through my pants. Nature's way of showing stress when I simply want to appear like I'm on top of everything. 

Okay. Better post this...have to hit the first meeting by 8. 

I Donut Know How I'll Get To Everything on My Agenda This Week, But I Do Know I'm Inspired by Apple Cinnamon Buddies as I Work

It's November. I haven't turned on the heat yet, but I've made it to the 1st and know that it's okay if I do. I made it to the target date. No, I don't adhere to the sticker that my dad kept above his downstairs thermostat, May all you ecological bastards freeze to death in the dark, but I am a bit apprehensive of doing winter before I have to.

And I'm thankful for bakeries that have hosted freshly made cinnamon-apple donuts at their counters because I've indulged and been eating them for breakfast each morning at 7 a.m. with my cups of coffee. This is joy. Absolute joy. The taste of fall and the flavor of the season. I'm not a Starbuck's pumpkin sort (latte what?), and I don't go berserk for pies, but I do love the seasonal donut (in the evening Winterfest brews). I welcome them to join my home. 

Conference season is upon us, as are the end-of-the-semester, second-half games. It seems to be one meeting after another in anticipation of all still to come.

Exhausted? Getting there. But how can I complain if I keep a stock of apple-cinnamon donuts in the house?

Of course the grass needs another mowing, and summer tools need to be replaced with winter ones. I spent a portion of a break I took yesterday putting together an elliptical. I'm hoping it will give me reasons to sweat during the colder months, even though I'd rather be running. I'm just not there yet. In fact, I picked up my Vicki Soto 5K bib yesterday and was sad to know I'll likely have to walk it, rather than run it. My spirit will come from participating in the back, but I'll be there...

...perhaps carrying a donut and a mug of coffee, even though I shouldn't. Ah, it is what it is. Happiness wherever and whenever I can get it.

I Always Snap Photos in Anticipation of What I Will Blog About, But When I Looked at This One This Morning...Well, I Have a Definition for Life. These Moments...

Halloween turned out rather great. I woke up, binged on a Facebook Marketplace purchase (a gym elliptical...I love when rich people indulge and don't really need things), grilled for the week, and hiked with Chitunga along the Sound. I also gave away 420 pieces of candy and 120 books. Great to see life moving forward again. 

Ah, but the photo. I'm always snapping images because I never know what I want to write about at the end of the day, and Chitunga came in from Stamford for father/son time. I was photographing the clouds, when I asked him to step in. Ironically, we were talking about The Great Whatever, a purpose to life, regionality, having an intent, and the power of love. This morning, when I was going through photos I took yesterday, I thought to myself, "Dang. This photograph captures everything I believe in.

I think I might be recovering. I was able to keep up with Chitunga and Karal's Legolas-pace and I enjoyed every second of our conversation and bonding. I love the water, the sky, the colors in the rock, and the way the light hits. I welcome anyone and all who can paint to replicate this picture for me. I am now thinking this is exactly the color scheme I want in my bedroom. It's this...the way light hits the Long Island Sound and the kid...well, adult. 

My purpose and meaning. My meaning and purpose. All of it.

I have to say, of all the trick or treaters who came to my house last night (there were 100s and it ended at 8:15 p.m., thank God), the moment that captured me the most was from a group of 4 African American, middle grade males...perhaps junior high. I gave them each a book and they said, "This is interesting. Can we have another. We all like to read." So, I opened up several boxes for them to choose. One kid said, "This is like the magic house." 

That's totally why I wanted to give away books. I did give away candy, too. There was the girl who said, "Books are stupid. Can I have another Snickers bar?" Of course. Just make your heart happy, kid.

I'm just thankful for today: my new elliptical, time with Chitunga, the happiness of kids, most kids, getting books in their bags, and the fact that the temperature, sky, waterways, and winds were simply perfect. 

Yes, I am going to regret spending two days this weekend avoiding work and responsibilities, but that photo of Tunga. That's all I need.  

Don't forget to vote tomorrow.