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....