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.