Happy Easter. I Haven't Painted an Egg in a Good 30 Years, and Although I Wanted to Paint My Egg to Look Like Isaiah, It Looked More Like Roy Kent

There are only a few weekends left to share the love of my good friends in the Sealey-Wooley-Johnson households, and I welcomed the Saturday night to paint eggs with the youngest of the crew. I tried to create an Isaiah egg, but it turned out to look more like Roy Kent, and I 'm okay with that, too. We had a fantastic dinner of steak, taters, asparagus, grilled veggies and followed with the egg festivities.

I'm just excited that I painted an egg and gave birth to a painting that is worthy of the egg hunt to come on the Easter Sunday egg hunt thing in Stratford. Thank you, Easter Bunny.

I wanted great curls and and a slight mustache on my Isaiah egg, but the water color paint from Ishy's stash leaked and suddenly smeared to become an egg that looked like Roy Kent from the Ted Lasso series. Not a replication, but a simulacra of his character. 

I'm good with that. I'll take Roy as rebirth and resurrection, especially in the spirit of the holiday. Give me the Neanderthal grunt and precious romanticism every day of the year. I'll also take good friends and a wonderful Saturday night in Stratford with steak, asparagus, potatoes, grilled squash, and nice bread. 

And I apologize to Brett Goldstein for the portrayal, but don't feel sorry for the evening that led to the n egg-painting. Go Richmond, and go the morality and joy of one of the greatest shows ever to come our way during the Covid years. I am thankful for this hard-boiled joy!

Happy Easter and may others enjoy the purpose of this day and it's mythological storytelling (I believe the groundhog sees its shadow, too, and we have a month of showers before May flowers. 

I'll choose the cast of Ted Lasso every time. Believe. 

I stand for hope. 

For Many of Us, It's Our Chosen Ones that Help Us Battle Forward in an Ever-Changing, Always Unpredictable World

Karal had a long walk, play time with a friend, a car ride, more play time, two meals, and many belly rubs, but she's still unsatisfied that she didn't get enough in her day. So, she insists on sitting on my shoulders or in my lap in whatever room I frequent, especially when on the phone and with ZOOMs. Gotta love her (and I caught her standing on the counter licking for scraps. She's a creature of creatures, I'll tell you). And sometimes she does conk out in an embryo position.

I spent yesterday working on grant materials, talking with teachers (who had the day off and, hence, had a rare moment of reprieve in their chaotic lives) and picking up books at Possible Futures. I also settled into NCAA Tournament play in the evening hours and unpacked more boxes of books mailed to me to review. Phew. 

I often tell the dog, you have 3 bedrooms, a dining room, two porches, a living room, a library, two bathrooms, and a backyard that belong to you. Why do you need to be on under my feet every second of the day?  She responds with a nudge of her nose to rub her neck a little more. Not one to give affection, but she definitely craves it.

This dog cracks me up.

Today, it's more nose to the screen and I'm sure it will be a repeat of today with the needs, worries, concerns, and desires of the dog. She rules this household. Who am I trying to kid? 

I shall give in. I know myself too well. Now, to get her in the harness and go for a long, Saturday walk.

And I Finished Listening to Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler (a Revisit with an Audio Version) to Ground Me with Today's 2024

I'm not sure science fiction is the attraction as much as it is great books, storytelling, imagination, and grounding us in the reality where we are today (versus where one might predict we would be today). I recalled that Parable of the Sower was set for 2024  and I wanted to rethink about the story in context of where we are (or could be). 

The humanity described by Butler is not too hard to imagine, especially the cruelty caused by poverty, neglect, corporations, governments, and human nature. To survive, well, it's a dog eat dog, or human eat human world. It's Ramadan and I'm fasting once again with the twins, so I understand the craving for food when one doesn't have access to it. 

I also understand the need for a new vision that comes through "Earth Seed" and our humanity in relation to God. I get the lack of resources, environmental destruction, drug cultures, and the hedonist way of keeping a high going for absolute pleasure. 

But I also get the undying faith that life can be another way, newer communities can be created, and planting seeds for a greater faith is all we can hold onto in a period of barbaric inequities, poverty, and need. The story doesn't make sense, but it makes absolute sense. It is brilliantly written with a sense of history, literary traditions, and spiritual needs. 

To make sense of the cruelty is what science fiction writers do best. It's far fetched, but by how much. What she lays out could be right around the corner if institutions fail us, which they have and will likely do again and again.

We are human after all. 

Still, I like to believe in empathy, even with those who are hyper-empathetic. We all know or have some of that in us, especially if we teach. I'm glad I listened to the book after reading it so many years ago. It was one I chose to drive out-of-the-way with so I could listen more. 

Planting seeds. Preparing for a harsher tomorrow. Keeping faith there's better...there has to be...are my take aways.

That, and there's more work to be done to push against the very systems that abuse the workers and people. That harshness is definitely a reality she nailed. 

Now I'm curious about the series made about the book - I'll be looking into that soon. 

Transitioning to Workdays and an Extended Weekend without Having Meetings or Students. Learning to Breathe Again and Get the Other Work Done

And there's a Cadbury bunny laying chocolate weekends in the near Friday and I just learned that both Thursday, Friday, and Monday are good (please don't play an April Fool's joke on me, Monday. I need you to be a day off, too, because I have a dentist appointment.

Yes, I'm a fool, but I'm okay with that.

I have five days to breathe and I'm thankful for them: Zoom conversations with National Writing Project folk, grant work, grading, my own writing, applications, and dreaming. I need the space to do all of this, especially since fasting is what it is. 

I'm learning to respect self-control and the way the mind focus on what is most relevant when you deny yourself life's luxuries and privileges. Good being one of them. 

So much of this life-gig is rethinking and repurposing your faith in the world, your philosophy for living a good life, learning (and relearning), questioning, and contending with the hypocrisy of bureaucracies. I maintain my believe in teachers and young people in U.S. schools but grow skeptical of the adult games played by politicians, corporations, Universities, and "non-profit" education groups preying on the vulnerability of schools, especially urban ones. 

I need exercise. I need fresh air. I need my own mind and vision. And I need a break from the nonsense. I welcome the leave, albeit short, and the chance to catch up and rethink my everything. 

Lesson Plan III - Giving Undergrads the Opportunity to Put Their Work Into Action (Because Preparation Never Results in Actuality)

Students in my Expanding Literacy course learn literacy development, grades 3 - 6, and with an eye on student teaching ahead, I pick up the art of lesson planning to give them a transitional idea of how one works with design before they actually set out for action. The problem, however, is that it's hard to see/learn the pacing of a lesson on paper until they implement it with others.

To fix this, each student had 30 minutes to put their design into action. The vast majority of them them finished in 15 minutes and then had 15 minutes of inaction, which was the point I wanted to make with detailing EXACTLY what will occur in a given block of time. Max and his table, however, made it all 30 minutes, which was the model I could then share with others. 

Lesson III needed to be on an independent book they read, with a lesson all the class could implement or think about with the other 15 independent readings that occurred. Max chose to do a lesson for both English and Spanish speakers, which is a mission he has with his own research. 

I remember my own lesson planning days and, if truth be told, nothing teaches you development or pacing better than having a room full of 30 active learners keeping you on your toes. These students aren't there yet, but I'm trying to mentor them for the days that are ahead (I honestly don't know how anyone who doesn't go through a teaching program survives in their first years of teaching - there is so much that can be, and should be, taught in preparatory classes. In fact, I imagine a lot of faculty members could benefit from such instruction as they design college lessons.

This crew is moving on to Easter, though, and I'm ready to have a few days of grading/writing/preparing myself. There's only a short window left when we return and at this time in the semester I feel like I'm drowning. 

Ah, but good news came in stereo yesterday, only adding to the amount of work being done. So, ram horns down and charge. That's the only way I know how to survive. 

They Know When They Are Getting Unexpected Quality Time and Soak It Up When You Find Your Workday Shortened (& Can Watch NCAA Basketball)

I had to remind her that I got home earlier, but this meant that I could also watch Syracuse Women play UCONN for the regional match. After watching both teams on Saturday, I didn't think Syracuse would bring their excellence in the way they did. They fought hard and proved they have excellence that they should be proud of. It was a loss, but I think the Orange win, too. They proved themselves in the circuit and have much to be proud of.  

Karal stayed in my lap the entire time, wanting belly rubs and my attention, even as I kept directing her attention to the television to cheer on the Orange. She could care less. She had her needs, so watched the 2nd half, when I got home early, completely on my lap. She would not have it any other way. 

Great to still have love in the home and a companion for making the work world a little easier. 

Today, I grind for two nights of classes, setting in place the fast pace of the semester when all the students return from Easter break. Blink of an eye and it's over. 

Karal, though, will benefit from more walks, warmth, and companionship from me. Congratulations to the Lady Huskies...I hope they continue to prove their worth in the tournament.

Broke Fast with Creamy Tortellini, Spinach, & Sausage Soup. A Wonderful Break Following a Full-Day of Grant Work & Organizing

I love to cook. I suppose, if I could take a mini-vacation, I might like to spend a week cooking, or in the kitchen, and/or learning new techniques. The problem with living to cook, is not having time to cook. I'm a cheese and box of crackers guy...meaning, I often grab whatever I can when I'm ready. This is a bad idea, I know, but there's only so many seconds in a day.

Now, with that noted, I made soup for the week, thinking ahead to all the days before the mini-Easter break. I'm fasting in support of those celebrating Ramadan and doing my best to complete a fast yet again. On Sundays, though, the call for good food is more forefront, because I'm thinking about what to cook for the week.

I returned to the creamy soup, trying to master the right thickness of broth. The flavors are out of this world and I'm good to go for the week, unless I share with friends (which I'll likely do). 

The bowl above is just a tasting, as I needed more time cooking the soup, but I wanted something to go with the left overs from La Cantina on Saturday. 

I'm in good shape for the week. I teach late three nights in a row, but I can come home to dinner already being made. It does need to thicken up, however. That's for sure. 

It Wasn't Until the Last Quarter that the Lucky Socks Kicked Into Gear (Not Mine, But Chitunga's Girlfriend, Alyssa's - She Brought the Magic)

What a miserable day driving to Gampel Pavilion to and from Storrs. It was a downpour the entire way and we were soaked going into the game, but absolutely DRENCHED coming out of the game. Prepare the head colds. We drove home damp, but happy, the entire way...Pam won $21 in a bet, so she was happy. Arizona State came to win that game and their defense (and offense) was spectacular, but in the end  Dayaisha Fair's 30 points sealed the deal. They looked like Cuse in the last five minutes, but it was a tough battle to move on against UCONN.

The Huskies have the hometown advantage. 

Connecticut, however, is under water. It's almost like we haven't stopped having these downpours since September. The ground can't hold any more and it was fascinating to see all the creeks and ponds saturated and flooded to the game and back (that is, when you could see out the window). 

March, though, is made for the madness of grading and that is what today is all about. That, and hoping my sump pump keeps doing what it has been doing for months.

In the end my socks (and presence) wasn't the lucky charm. It wasn't until Alyssa texted Chitunga and me that she was wearing her lucky socks that the game turned around. Best Christmas gifted ever...so glad I sent them her way for the season. 

Now, for another day of basketball. I teach Monday night, but I hope to catch the 2nd half of the Syracuse/UCONN game on Monday night. 

Wonderful to visit Storrs again, but phew....that rain was something. Could be worse...it could be snow in Syracuse. 

Haven't Filled Out Brackets in Years, But Doing My Part By Heading to Storrs Today to Cheer On @CuseWBB & @CuseCoachJack

We'll be bringing our rain gear and cheer as we head to UCONN today to watch Syracuse Women's Basketball in the first game of their tournament. UCONN plays first against Jackson State, which follows with Syracuse against Arizona. I figured, "I might as well see at least one game since it's in the same state," and the entourage will be heading out soon. 

The Lady Cards were upset yesterday and are out of the tournament, so now it is time to be 100% behind the Orange. I've been cheering on my alma maters for years, and always bite nails when they play each other.

I spent all day yesterday in my writing chair watching the first round of men's and women's games, all the while working through grants, organizing National Writing Project work, and setting to-do lists ahead for the wonderful investment I'm able to make with writers in southern Connecticut.

Karal and I did get our walk in. I need such therapy. 

It's been a minute since I've been to Storrs, and a few years ago the Huskies played in Bridgeport during tournament time, and I did catch those games. There's nothing better than being in the arena and I'm hoping for a great day of action...leaving the Sunday games for the television (as I'm guessing the Monday games will be that much better....yikes, likely with the home crowd of UCONN).

Go, Syracuse! You got this! Your season has been wonderful to follow from afar, and I'm glad I got to live a few of the games through Chitunga's girlfriend, as I got her tickets for Christmas. They one each and every time, and I'm hoping the same will be true for my crew today.

Took Me a Minute, But I Have Moved My Transportive Means to My @initiative211 Bag Gifted By The Incredible Shelbie Witte

Last summer, I had the honor of working with fellow Initiat(ED) colleagues in Nashville, Tennessee, where Dr. Witte offered us Digital Literacy swag to move about town. I had another bag bringing my digital tools from this and that location, but this semester I've been using my new bag which has been a wonderful addition to the work I do (most importantly for conversational purposes).

The work of the Initiative of Literacy in a Digital Age is immeasurable, because it unites so many thinkers, doers, writers, organizations, scholars, and change-makers. This beats a water bottle which I typically store with other water bottles, because I already have too many water bottles. A backpack...now that is something. A backpack designed for digital movement with all the adaptions needed to go location to location...now that is something else. 

Here's to Dr. Witte, her vision, and her moves ahead. It's always a blast to follow the light of visionaries and I know many of us are super excited of all still to come.

Keep on making the magic happen for K-12 schools: writing, communicating, and envisioning all that is possible. 

Yes, it's TGIF, but I'm also TG4SW - thanking God for Shelbie Witte. Woot Woot. 

Why Do You Keep Writer's Notebooks? Because When You Move Them, Several Items Fall Out & Suddenly You're Filled with Joy, Memories, and Hope

Last summer, as always, I had a brilliant crew of self-selected educators looking to be classroom leaders through the commitment of the National Writing Project. It was a  grant awarded in November of 2022 for the 2023 summer institute that still hasn't arrived. So, what does Crandall do? He writes another grant which came in fast to cover the costs. The other grant is still on its way, but not here yet...stay tuned on that one.

Ah, this spectacular group of K-16 teachers will be compensated for all the leadership work they participated with last summer and in the Fall (excellent, brilliant, stellar teachers who do the great work) in support of what they were promised.

We are focused on the joy of teaching, rejuvenating why we entered the career, and bringing happiness back to the profession that lured us in the first place: love, laughter, intellect, criticality, planning, writing, dreaming, and leading was the result. The best way we can invest in the quality of education in our schools is to show support for the people committed to educating them. 

When the photograph fell out of my notebook, I had to pause, because the beauty of this crew is exactly why all of us in the National Writing Project do what we do. Teachers teaching teachers. Listening to kids and families to enhance skills for all students. And more importantly, fighting to make sure curriculum represents the beautiful heterogeneity of our schools. 

It helped me (made me, built me, supported me, uplifted me) when I was teaching in Louisville, Kentucky, and it makes me proud to invest the mission in the same way now in Connecticut. 

Here's to the teachers and all the labor they tirelessly do. And here's to those organizations and institutions that support teacher expertise, creativity, knowledge, and commitment. May more and more of them return to this nation. I'm lucky to know a better word in K-12 education and resist the world being built by many to work against teachers and curriculum. Our intention is to leave their ignorance, stupidity, profit, and hatred behind.

Threw It Back to a Loch Lebanon Classic Last Night, Dorethea Warren Fox, & Reflecting How Instrumental The Book Is To My Adult Being

I often refer to Miss Twiggley's Tree as a go-to literacy memory from childhood. It was at my Grannie Annie's camp and I loved reading it whenever I visited. In short, it's about a woman who lives in a tree with bears, dogs, and cats, because she can't stand people. Everyone in town makes fun of her and other dogs bully her dogs (because they do her shopping for her). She's an eccentric and a metaphor for anyone who is creative, cleaver, well-read, empathetic, and loving. Ah, but she's harassed, especially by the Mayor's wife.

Then the hurricane comes. They're all drowned from their homes and her tree is the only safe space. She saves them all and gives them warmth and comfort...even the Mayor's wife and bullying pups from around town. But she takes of everyone. She shares her goodness and grace. 

It's written in rhyming couplets and always was a treasure for my ears. Little did I know she was my first introduction to eccentricity and being a good person (in spite of all the ugly creatures out there). I know that I'd much rather spend time with a Miss Twiggly than a Mayor's Wife. There are way too many of them, actually. 

I'm requiring one class to finish the semester with a story of their own (which they have to create via Bear Books or Canvas). Tonight was an introduction, well a continuation to build for a creative project in the class. Miss Twiggly didn't fail. And I realized that in my elementary years she really was planting a role of the type of person I always wanted to be (although I don't sleep in a hat, invite bears, live in a tree, or have cats (I would sneeze). 

Be well, Wednesday. Halfway through another week of insanity.

Please Tell Me I'm Not the Only One Called to Be a Body Guard for Shenanigans on Facebook Marketplace

I saw this meme and instantly noted, "I feel seen." Been there, done that...perhaps the creepiest of them was to sell off miniature perfume sets a friend collected and, hauntingly, knowing that there are others that collect such things...especially older been from Bangladesh with an irritable disposition. In that scenario, three male friends were hired to make the transition. 

To each their own. 

Finished teaching late last night, came home to make stir fry (delicious), and then to unwind for a horrific Tuesday, but dedicated to the work, nonetheless. 

Oddly, the man in the photo looks like me if you really zoom in, but I don't recognize the scene, the blender, or the car, so it isn't me. I swear. 

Back to my dinner. Phew. Rice, grilled chicken, vegetables, and much, much flavor. I overate, but I was hungry and it was so, so good. Not sure I'll be able to match that in this evening's meal. I'm getting home much too late and will be absolutely exhausted. I might need to improvise to break the fast. 

We've always been a garage sale species and there's always someone willing to buy our discarded junk. And some people go crazy for it, too. 

Ah, consumers. Bless all our hearts. 

And Breathe. Going Into Monday Knowing that Weekend 14-Hour Days are Not Enough to Get All the Work Done. And Here We Are Again. Monday.

My optimism for the week is that I soaked chicken in barbecue and grilled at 6:30 p.m. so it was ready for 7:04 p.m. breaking of the fast. I told Abu and Lossine, it is always easier to fast during the week because you're on the road, moving, and distracted from thinking about being hungry. The weekends, spent grading and planning, is a little more intense. You're home and around the kitchen. Ah, but I knew the breaking would arrive at sundown, so I focused on my classes.

By six p.m., I was in the kitchen fixing lettuce in a bowl dreaming of the apple and tangerine I would cut up. By 6:15 I went pack and lined everything up in the kitchen so it was ready. That last hour was all in anticipation that the food would eventually come.

And it did. And I ate. 

And I'll do the same tomorrow. 

Ah, but back to grading. I'm trying to figure out what a better way there is to do what I do, but I can attest that this generation is not as prepared as previous generations have been. There's that, and there's also a different work ethic and unwillingness to put forward the effort. It's tricky when training teachers because, well, there's certification and then there's the actual job (which requires the best at all times and is difficult on all days). Those of us who work with pre-service teachers are not doing any good by passing students along who aren't meeting the standard of what they need to do. 

Sadly, these are the kids who turn in work. Many don't turn in anything at all. Yes, they pay the large sums to get a degree, but don't do the work. Then they get everyone involved to protect them from turning in the work. It's the behavior one gets used to with 9th and 10th graders, but that has crept into higher education. I'm definitely seeing this in the past two years, and now I'm wondering if it is just the students at my current University or if others are experiencing, too. I have had some conversations with mentors who have noted the same thing.

Alas, giving critical feedback to help a student to grow takes many more hours than simply praising a student for doing a good job right away. And this is where we are. It's a bit overwhelming when you find yourself scratching your head and thinking, "What am I doing wrong? How are the readings not reach them? How have the class lessons and models totally missed their mark?" 

But I believe it is simply a generation of 'can't be bothered.' We have the Covid kids now who learned during Covid. It might be a generational thing.  I've never been one to name negative characteristics of my students, but phew. This is something else. 

Slim Pickings. It Was a Saturday and Without Christmas Tree Shop or Pier One, Open Any More, I Was Talked Into World Market in West Haven

I'm good. I don't have to return any time soon, although I did like the excitement of possibility finding a golden egg near an item that begins with "C". Alas, it was all crap, so fair game, and not one of us found it. I was given a tranquilizer for the journey because Leo bailed out and that meant it was me with all the ladies. I wanted to turn around and go home, but I endured as the man who guided directions. 

I did get clearance rack items: a couple of soup bowls and dish towels, but that was the extent of the adventure. Well, that, and the humor of talk a little, pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more. That was my day, and the cheeping is actually hysterical. They were quite the comedy team. 

It'll be interesting in the future - those of us in the Western world used to our quick road trips to stores having limited selection because soon there will be no stores left. 

Favorite quote of the day...two husbands dragged to the store like me, "This is like a basement of shit we'll never need." 

Yup. 

I did get maple sugar candy, too. Not sure why, but it was inexpensive and been a while.

Today, I grade. I grade, and grade, and grade. I won't feel good about myself until I've graded. That is the goal. That and to get materials that were not properly placed with the boxes after the debacle of others on campus. They are now in my office. I will get them. 

And I will ride Sunday slowly....because I need to.

Friday Nights Are Meant for Pizza: Unwinding, Friendship, Easiness, Weekend Vision, and a Middle Finger to the Work Week

I definitely was hungry by the time it was ready to break fast at sundown last night. This week, like most weeks, bit gigantic weenies: 14-hour days with minimal to no support for the work one is hired to do. Instead, it is putting fingers in all the leaking holes of the system that is ready to burst at any moment. I made it to Friday, but I definitely ended with frustration, aggravation, and a white towel waved to say, "This is no sustainable. It's all about to collapse."

With that noted, friends ordered pizza, invited me over, and said, "Let's just unwind. Next week is another week," and they were right. 

Karal got an early walk and an afternoon one. I still haven't graded, but the house is clean and laundry was put away. The peepers are out very early, singing their April songs in March. They are ready for spring and summer, and so am I. Bring on the joy of CWP work. 

I'm not quite sure where my heart is right now, but I'm trying to work through my frustration and irritation...to make good out of so much awful, but my optimism is turning to pessimism. This is not the way one is supposed to carry out a life mission. 

But the pizza was good and I'm hanging onto that. Friday nights with friends who see it all the same way I see it. There has to be a better way.

Haircut Day. Facial Hair Growing Back (I Know Abu...I Hear You Thanking Allah). TGIF. Payday. And Spring Temperatures.

Alright, hiking with the dog until 9:30 and then heading to the office for a day of organizing, observing colleagues, grading, and enjoying the peace and quiet of a hallway with empty offices. Hoping, too, to find a graduate student or two to help me assemble the Writer's Notebooks for the New ERA Writers grant. They're ready.

It's simply frustrating, though, that every step of the way is met with obstacles. Most of this remains because there aren't enough staff and support for such work. The few who do help me grow more and more frustrated at the lack of others to move the materials forward. I'm hoping to be phone-heavy with many today simply to say, "Come on, now? You know I work with K-12 schools and I have success with grants. Let me get these teachers paid. It's cruel."

I'm also happy that I visited Fade Factory, and lucked out. I thought I made an appointment with Jerry for yesterday, but in truth I made it for today. There's no way I'd make it today, and he just happened to have space. Wola! Hairs cut. And the goatee is back. I shaved it in Syracuse and Abu has been harassing me for a week. I know you want to shave it, but the rest of you have to look at you. You need to stop shaving it off.

I get it. But every once in a while it just feels good to completely clean the face. Alright Friday. Let's get this day going.

A Sad Day For Amafi Drive Yard Art. I Did Some Fixing While in Syracuse, Including Decluttering My Fathers Garden Knick Knacks that Were Ready to Go

One of my tasks while in Syracuse was to fix the flooding in my parent's front yard, which I wrote about already: rocks, soil, and mulch, and the removal of an oxygen chord my father was using to drain all the rain. Newsflash: It wasn't working. In this refurbishment, I also piled many of the decaying lawn decorations that no longer were serving their purpose. Because I didn't want to get yelled at, I stored the decaying frogs, butterflies, lanterns, bugs, and windmills in the back of my car and forgot about them...

...until yesterday.

I opened my trunk while on campus and noticed a trash bin nearby. I said a little prayer and then tossed them. They served their time and they were wonderful friends. It always sad to say goodbye.

Goodbye. 

It only took me a couple of trips, but they had seen better days.

Today is the first day I'm waking up and am not trapped in mindless meetings keeping me from getting work needing to be done...done. So, Karal sees a vet, I get a haircut, and I prep for a new recording of THE WRITE TIME.

I now have my trunk back. And I now have a day to actually think without disruptions for my thinking. Phew. It's been a whacky week already. 

In My Next Life I Hope to Continue My Sticker-Making Agenda (for Writer's Notebooks) for American Schools Like I Do Now. #WOL24

They're economical. Design a thematic sticker to unite 100s of kids across 8 schools all with he vision to write, write, and write for publication. I am very thankful to the Cornelia T. Bailey Foundation and their New Era Writers Program for funding projects that get ideas into the hands of kids. I've secured the schools, the authors, the teachers, and now the notebooks. Writing Our Lives and Cultivating a Collective (The Connecticut Story) where poets, novelists, essays, artists, and script-writers will take their passion for writing and take part in Power of Words (11th edition). 

Kudos to the print shop at Fairfield University for a 24-hour turn-around when they promised 7 days. Now that is efficient, beautiful work. And it's an economical way to unite many kids under one vision.

Yesterday was day 2 of 14-hour days and today is the 3rd. It begins and sunrise and ends at sundown (and I'm pretending I'm young enough to still keep this pace). Lucky for me, Edem stopped by last night so I caught up on the twins and feel better he has his W-9 forms.

I had to wing 30 minutes of my class last night because I simply didn't have the time to finish what I needed to do...yes, the meetings were that intrusive and they continue today. 

It's also day 2 of Ramadan, and in lock with Abu & Lossine and the many students we served and continue to serve, I choose to do the fasting of the month. It's a mental endeavor for me, that helps me to understand the focus it takes, the benefits of meditation, and the power of restricting food during daylight. Overall, it helps to rethink the roles I hope I play in the world, always thinking about sacrifice, prayers to something larger than us, and hope for multiple communities.

And, as always, it's an intent to consume less and, perhaps, shed a few holiday and birthday pounds. It is definitely easier at this time of year than the longer days of summer when the celebration and holiday falls then. Okay, time to ready myself for tonight's class, because the meetings start soon and I only have a couple of seconds to think about the teaching (and instruction) to come.

Channeling the Zen Posture of a Very Relaxed Dog to Help Me Tackle the Impossible the Best Way That I Can

We're back and so are the students with their issues, needs, demands, and worries. This arrives at the same time of meetings upon meetings upon meetings with their issues, needs, demands, and worries. Of course, time is also a factor, and the labor takes a tremendous amount of time which is not necessarily available given the demands of teaching, research, and service. But, it still needs to be done.

Over the weekend, Karal fell asleep and was postured in a beautiful ways of total relaxation and, as Dr. Beth Boquet named it, the 'oh, what a feeling' rest she was getting (a reference to Flash Dance). I'm channeling her calm as I try to tap my own Zen. I still sing, "In the end, we're gonna die, in the meantime, I'll just try to be Bry" and move with humor, hard work, strategy, and hope. 

Always, hope.

Returning from break where most of us simply caught up with the work that pushed us behind is merely met with more work needing to be done with no time to do it. We can only control our attitude and that is what I'm focusing on because there's only so much I can do. I never have been able to walk on water. 

Praying for serenity, and the ability to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Oh, boy. All of this is merely fascinating.

On Walden Pond in the Backyard of Mount Pleasant. Okay, Rain. Our Sump Pump is Getting a Little too Pumped on Its Steroids.

We've had a wet season. Not an icy or snow season, but a rainy one. I believe my sump pump has been running since Thanksgiving, and walking Karal around Stratford yesterday, realize many are experiencing the same (many who had their sumps fail and a bathtub of water in their basement). Been there. Done that. We are in need of a drier season.

It's hard not to go apocalyptic with climate change predictions, but driving to Walnut Beach today I learned that our beach go-to has washed away and there's not the sand bay that we used to have. Instead, it's water, creeks, and oceans mixing in anti-human glory. There will be much competition for the limited beach space this upcoming this summer (and I hear it is worse down south). 

We were supposed to get more rain last night, but it was lighter than the rain events over the past couple of months. Still, hoses are running from everyone's homes out to the sidewalks as water needs places to go. I've always hoped for beachfront property, but I'm too far inland. The rainfall needs to cease.

Yes, today is Monday of the week following Spring Break and that means back to the 14-hour days. I did catch up with he grading, besides the late work sent to me overnight. Ugh. I will get to it.

But for now, I'm going out back with a fishing pole hoping I might catch a dinner to grill later this week when I have time again to cook. 

Here's to the sun and its heat to dry some of this sludge. 

Congrats to all the Oscars winner. Let's hope such self-importance maintains itself in the future ahead where people will have time to celebrate entertainment and not worried about individual survival of their families and communities. 

And now for another work week. 

We're Back in Connecticut. Always a Bit of a Transition for Karal, But She Knows Her Spaces (But Misses Her Grandparents Severely)

It was a wet drive. A gray drive. A drive just like the one I took for a week-long stay in Syracuse, New York. I wouldn't trade a second of it for the world. I didn't mind the tropical weather (it was 50 degrees three times during the week) and there's nothing wrong with full-on parental time. 

The drive home exhausted Karal, though. She wanted in my lap for most of the night, then crashed in her bed for the final hours. Fine with me. I was unwinding, too, going through mail, book deliveries, and combing through the cabinets for anything to eat. Yes, I purchased food for my parents thanks to my mom's credit card, but I came home to empty cupboards and didn't feel like shopping for my own needs. 

I settled in to a night of pre-March Madness with end-of-the-season-madness, caught up with Pam, started laundry, and settled in for an evening of low-key basketball and responses to texts I've ignored for a week.

I have to applaud the traffic. I've been through much worse, and I'm thankful to Octavia Butler who once again captured my brain via audiobook while I drove home.

As for the McDonald's road trip meal. YUCK. When I have McDonald's...I want it to be sick, delicious, and worth the wait. Nope. Route 17 McDonalds in Liberty was like licking slugs. Nothing appealing at all. Not even the Coca-cola. What a disappointment on all fronts.

Of course, it was a few steps ahead of what I scrounged for dinner in a house with nothing in its cupboard Happy Sunday. May the hour you lost in sleep make up for itself with a joyous hour in this Sunday. May the light be with you (even if it will be gray and murky in the northeast).

Well, That Was a Fast Week & I Want to Get Out of Dodge Before Winter Returns. Better End Spring Break on a Good Note.

This week wasn't about a break, but to give others a break...get the groceries, keep an eye on dad, cook, organize, run errands, and help. I imagine this will be how I spend any and most of my free time as I really am able to multitask and so much of Syracuse is my core.

I was blessed with a lunch with Kelly, followed by the discovery of Mrs. Kelder's Cakes in Manlius, where I purchased a 1/2 dozen gourmet cupcakes, followed with playtime with Malia Celine (Kanyea's such a good dad), followed by a Trader Joe's run, followed by a Wegman's run, followed by grilling burgers, and finishing with having Abu and Lossine stop by for dinner and to visit with Mimi and Papa Butch. 

Absolute joy, and another day of 50 degree weather and sunshine.

Alas, the rain returns this morning and after shaving my father I need to get back to the chaotic grind of University life. Fortunate for me I have flexibility if needed, but I need to get on top of my game for the second half...especially the grants. I think I opened my sweet tooth, though, because I can't stop thinking about those cupcakes. So good (and as I figured, dad grabbed the red velvet one before I even had a chance to tell him I got him treats...he sniffed them out...this man who never ate such things in the past). 

I think I know why Karal loves visiting...it's constant attention coming at her in stereo, which she loves. Speaking off...I took a photo of her last night and my phone asked, "Do you want to know more about black-mouth curs?" I was like, "Huh?" Then I looked it up...I'll be damned. The adoption place said she was terrier and collie mixed. Um, I think my phone might be onto something. Check it out here!

Ready for Another Day in the 50s in Syracuse, NY. It Really is Like I'm on a Balmy Spring Break Like Most of My Faculty Friends

Every year I hear the listing of beautiful locations my colleagues are going to rest their minds and to rejuvenate for the rest of the semester. Mind you, these are the same people who have summer off and don't lead teacher institutes and literacy labs for youth during June, July, and August. I've been in the habit of coming to Syracuse whenever I have space so that I can care for the parental units, walk the ol' stomping grounds, and simply go mindless.

Sure I cook (last night it was horrific kielbasa found in the freezer), do chores (like creating a barrier for the flooding puddles out front whenever it rains), and trying to keep the sink empty (which is nearly impossible). But I also come to simply let the day go where the day will go.

Yesterday, Papa Butch and I sat for several hours talking to Bob Ryan on a rare, sunny, March afternoon. In like a lamb this year...don't want to be around when the lion comes. 

Spring Break '24. Clay, New York. Yes, every once in a while the sun does pop through all the wet and gray. It was fortunate to experience such a day yesterday and it looks like another one is coming our way today.

The week flew by.

And It Was a Successful Celebration of 82 Years! He Got His Blackberry Pie, too, Thanks to Casey. Now to Rest Some

Birthdays are busy. Dad didn't necessarily know all that was going on, but he did well, including his insistence on walking his urine sample into the 4th floor of the medical facility before I took him to lunch. He got his 'soft steak' (prime rib) and they even treated him to a brownie sundae which he devoured (that's usually my mom's thing - not his). 

For dinner, mom ordered pizza and wings and the whole crowd came to Amalfi Drive. Funny how the grown grandkids take up more space than they used to and things get crowded fast. 

Of course, it exhausted Dad and he wanted to go to bed at 7 p.m. (we kept him up until 8 p.m.). Mom zonked out soon after. It's exhausted celebrating the 80s, especially after a horrific medical week where his health fell fast. He's in recovering and doing great, and his stomach scan this morning showed he's having twin girls. Nope. Not really. Just a beer or two from yesteryear.

And I caught up with grading, so now feel ready to tackle the writing project I've put off for too long. I can't have an excuse. I need to get moving on this as time is of the essence. 

In the meantime, I'm simply happy I had the day to sing, to celebrate, and to be grateful for another birthday.

No, Butch. Your Chin Goes on That Strap. Not Your Nose. Your Chin. Put Your Forehead on the Lever. No, Butch. Not Your Tongue.

Actually, Papa Butch did very well at the optometrist, after he lost his glasses and became fixated on getting a new pair. They are the ol' Empire Vision crew and said, "We haven't seen Butch in 15 years." He instantly pulled out four pairs he liked and then we let the workers finalize the best fit for his face. 

I was also impressed at how well he made it through his letters, considering a week ago he didn't know where he lived, the name of his grandkids, or what year it is. He definitely has stepped up his head game since I've come home, although he doesn't remember asking for a girl puppy dog for his birthday. 

Papa Butch is 82 years old today...a 1942, WWII baby (grandpa Ken keeping an eye out for Nazis raiding Sherburne, NY cows). He's not too cognizant it's his

day, but he also ordered steak for the day and got into birthday donuts rather early. It's all good. He's entitled to a powdered donut with the jelly filling if he wants one.it's supposed to rain all day, so it won't be front porch people watching or walking up and down the street putting garbage bins at the sides of houses.

Grandma Vera and Grandpa Ken's baby boy is 82, and he left his Sherburne mischief to his youth. 

Wish we could take him to Chubby's for a bear, but they closed down for good, and with that went most of the hobbies and habits of this birthday boy. He may be a little sore today because he got on the ground to play with Karal yesterday while Mike was visiting. AND he got himself up without any help from the rest of us.

Yes, it was a very good day and we're hoping today will be more of the same with a homemade pie baked by Casey.

Here's to my dad!

The Evening Dinner When Dad Couldn't Figure Out How We Made the Potatoes so Happy To See Him - He Just Couldn't Figure It Out

I really wanted kielbasa and pirogies, but there were no sausages in the house....just Steak-Ums and peppers, and McCain's happy fries. I also made a great salad with goat cheese and candied walnuts (you do what you can with you have lying around). 

Dad lost his glasses, so we spent most of the day searching for them. Tore up the house, but they still haven't appeared, so not sure what we can do to rectify the issue. He insists on going to the eye doctor today, so we'll see how that goes. We just might be able to arrange that, although I can't imagine how he'll do behind an eye machine. If Tricia was still in the area, I'd have her services stop by as she made a killing on working with senior citizens who weren't being served in the area. I know she sold the business, but I'm not sure to whom. 

And I gave myself the burned bun. Figured I'd take the smokier one, given that I tend to make food they normally don't eat. 

Stomach doctor comes tot he house today. Temperatures begin to drop again, and rain returns. Tuesday in CNY, but without a Tuesday night to celebrate at Chubby's. Almost makes ya feel naked not having a dive bar to saunter down to with the locals on a Tuesday night. 

Ah, at least Papi Butch got his happy faces. We told him, "The potatoes were just really excited to see us tonight, Dad."

We should have such happy meals. 

Still Walking Toward a Rising Sun, but Not Doing This as a National Performance this Week...Just as a Memory of the Weeks That Simply Were

Loved presenting twice in the last week on literacy work in Connecticut - ten years of CWP's redesigned of programs for teachers and youth. It amazes me to see how much we've accomplished in such a short time and how the Brown School's mission, Kentucky Writing Portfolios, and the National Writing Project way helped me to logically set forth with work for K-12 writers and what is possible.

I'm also glad to have a week off from presenting and teaching, so I can give my brain a little rest (after all, year 11 of this work is right around the corner. 

Spent the day putzing about the ol' parental grounds, enough to tucker out Karal who crashed on her bed rather early. It was a busy day of cousin dogs, neighbor dogs, and relatives. 

It's Monday, and I'm sure Butch and Sue want a slower pace without all the hubbub, so it is my intent to finish the grading I've put off for several weeks. There's no excuse, except that there's no time to keep up with it all (as more and more has piled on faculty making the work that much more difficult to accomplish what we're supposed to get done). 

Funny, mom and dad were listening to the MOMS OF LIBERTY squawking about how teacher unions and unions, in general, have set a bad precedent for education and work places across this country. Perhaps there's truth to some of that, but I'm experiencing top down exploitation of workers in almost all industries and I'm merely wishing for more powerful labor movements to put the rich and ridiculous in check. It's insane. Ah, but this morning I'm channeling Oklahoma sunrises as I used that as a metaphor via Ger Duany....Walk Toward the Rising Sun. Sun gives us life. We should always be walking towards a better life, not only for us, but for those around us.

Made It To Syracuse With the Canine Giving Me Dog Eye the Entire Way...Are We There Yet, or What? Foggy, Wet Travels

I'll be in Syracuse for "spring" break from Fairfield, although I need the week to catch up on grading, as I've not accomplished much this semester. The hills of 17 were fog factory and I kept hoping I was still on the road in places...definitely needed the white lines on the side of the road. The trip went fast, though, as I simply wanted a rendezvous with minimal thought.

I presented online to the Oklahoma State University Writing Project conference then immediately jumped in my car to take off. They were running 30-minutes late, so I was too. Didn't get to Syracuse until after 6 p.m. and had mom's scalloped potatoes, ham, and beans (which I thought was pasta at first and was like, ma...these are undercooked).

I believe the temperatures are going up today, so it will be good to hike around the ol' neighborhood. I washed Karal's bed that I brought (skunk remnants), but in truth I think I ruined the bed...stuffing lumps. Well, I tried. 

It is funny to look over to my right and to always see Karal staring at me as I drive. I'm not sure if she thinks I'm going to disappear and that is why she holds this glaring position, but I am used to it. It's sort of cute the way she stares. 

And she knows where we're going. As soon as we get off the exit she starts to cry...a longing, desperate cry to share her happiness we've returned to Amalfi Drive. 

We here. Now what? That's for the week to decide. 

Belated Birthday Gift. Thrilled to Have an Easter Island Nose to Place the Lenses that Too Often Get Misplaced (But Hopefully No More)

I have one more big shindig, and then I can concentrate on what is most important: family and self-care. I am thrilled to present on ten years of CWP-Fairfield work, but then I need to meditate (self-medicate?) and have some down time of not controlling any of the narratives. Instead, I'm going to succumb to the larger stories life has to tell me.

I am super proud of my undergraduate student, Max Limric, and the investment I'm fortunate to make with him on following his own intellectual interests and trajectory. Pay it forward. Take what you have learned and share it with those coming forward next. 

I'm thankful for Pam for feeding me a Friday dinner and giving me mental serenity (with a slightly, if not faint, skunk-smelling dog) and to have this morning to make last minute adjustments for a teacher and researcher conference this morning. 

After years of not finding my glasses, misplacing them, and outright losing them, I am happy by this belated Birthday gift from Kaitlyn and Dominik. I now have a place to locate them (as well as a duck lamp for beside my bed in case I have to pee at 2 a.m.). 

It's been too go-go-go to process how many people I'm indebted to, and thankful for, but I'm hoping a long drive to Syracuse will help me to refocus, rethink, and recalibrate. I just need to download the right book for the journey. 

In the meantime, safe travels are wished to any and all who are free to take a little time away for a week. I am good to go this afternoon and I look forward to the quiet on the road (with a good audio book).

Happy to Debut a Student Presenter This Afternoon at the YA Lit Summit Hosted by Oklahoma State University for Scholars and Teachers

Ah, this one isn't necessarily my gig. I was selected to take part in the Corrigan Scholars program which brings undergraduate students together with researchers on campus to mentor a two year project. The young man who approached me is a junior, Max Limric, and he was sent my way because of his interest in children's and young adult literature, but also teaching bilingual students. My expertise is not with Spanish-speaking populations, but I'm able to share all the work of Ubuntu Academy and the writing research I've been fortunate to lead with CWP-Fairfield. 

The project is still young, but he has a semester of YA Literature under his belt and is currently taking a children's literature course and several Spanish classes (his mentors are everywhere). When I was paired to be a mentor, I said, "Why not aim high early?" Lo and behold, his paper was accepted and he enters the world as a young scholar. 

His title is, "Spanish my first language, / bachata a reminder of the power of my body"; Exploring YA Texts for Spanish Speaking Students," and the bachata dance above is the perfect metaphor. He's at the beginning phase of the project (and trust me, I already contacted Tracey Flores about the work)(part of my mentoring). 

I actually have to prepare for another conference in the a.m. tomorrow, as I'm on for 40 minutes before I head to Syracuse for a week. Funny how digital spaces change what is possible in a given day. This will mean five national presentations in one week. Yes, I'm tired.

I'm excited about this one, however, as I'm channeling all who encouraged me to take chances early on...I mean, while I was entering the profession, I was already leading conference presentations in Kentucky (and I hadn't even entered the classroom). 

I'm paying it forward and it feels great. 

March on everyone. March March March. It's already the 1st of March.