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.