Not Sure How This Photo Ended Up on My Phone, But It Pretty Much Does Sum Up a Day

Took dad shopping. Walked Karal. Visited with Casey. Learned more about the wedding and decided on what to cook for dinner. I opted to try my hands on a grilled cheese & meatloaf sandwich. Not bad for my first attempt, and not sure I'll make it all the time. Cardiac arrest with bacon, peppers, and onions, too.

Somehow my phone captured a message while the meatloaf was in the oven.: Cynde's on the phone, and I'm sending news of the dinner I'm cooking for my parents to Pam. (Karal is probably barking at something...probably mom to get more food.)

Also, managed to buy a bottle of conditioner, thinking it was lotion (which my mom requested). She now has several bottles of shampoo and conditioner, as a result. Butch and I tried. 

Ah, but today is Nikki's wedding day to Adamo. It's been a minute since I've been to Altmar Parish Williamstown (APW). Hoping we can see the salmon jumping, too, as long as they don't jump out of the creek and knock my mom on her ass. That's just what we'd need (but it wouldn't be the worse thing that has ever happened).

And so we're going to the chapel and we're gonna get married (married).

After You Hit 80, I See No Problem with Eating Dessert While They Make the Sandwiches You've Ordered for Dinner

Arrived to the parental units by 3:45 p.m., after painful traffic in Connecticut (27 miles takes two hours) and badly timed construction on 81 and 481 in Syracuse -- there's no way to avoid it. I listened to a book on the way, Karal laid beside me and stared at my face as I drove, but we never stopped as I chose to skip lunch to make better time (not that it worked).

We went out for sandwiches at Wrap It Up, where we ran into Jill Marie, a younger Northstar from Almalfi Drive, who played with dolls and stuff animals while I was in high school. Small world, as the sandwich place is small and Syracuse is sort of big. Dad's face lit up...and this is saying a lot because he was devouring a raspberry cheesecake he insisted on having before the sandwiches came out. From what I can tell, the $8 slice was worth every bite. He kept looking over at me and smiling. "Why are you laughing at me," he asked. "It's all good dad. I love that you are eating dessert before we have dinner." 

There was no stopping him.

Chitunga made it to Syracuse at 11 a.m. and he and Lys stopped by before they went to dinner at the same restaurant where they had their first date...Santangelo's in Liverpool. I guess it was a good Thursday of eating for all.

Okay Friday. Haircut for dad...a belt...groceries to make a good dinner, and preparation for the big day tomorrow. Always good to arrive in one piece.

Sporting a Fresh Cut and My "I Was Just Ordained Online...The Wedding Will Be Just Fine" T-Shirt for Wednesday's Marathon. Now for Upstate NY Travel

I did it. I made it through a turbo class in-person, after a spur-of-the-moment switcharoo of a school district not to be allowed in a school - these bomb threats are real and scary. Kids and teachers are processing them, and buildings need to play it safe. I get it. We shouldn't be living as we do in the greatest nation ever to exist in the world, but when we factor back to the histories of our public schools, the inequities in our funding, a nation built off the exploitation of populations of people, and the anti-Department of Education sentimentalities of many in our nation, it's hard to make sense of what schools, especially urban schools, are living through right now.

Cities aren't the only ones getting the threats. Our systems are craving normalcy, support, protection, and trust for educating the beautiful young people we work with. Our politics, however, have gone in the opposite direction (and I'm signed up for the Vicki Soto 5K to support future educators in memory of the teacher who lost her life at Sandy Hook). I would write enough is enough, but the truth is nothing is being done about it. It is stressful and aggravating, and all I could do is try to make sense of it philosophically, historically, and intellectually with my students who wondered, "Why aren't we working with kids like we planned, too?"

I'm afraid it all goes back to the core of the nation: The Problem We All Live With, Birth of a Nation, segregation, and competing narratives of what democracy, freedom, and opportunity mean to different people. To live it, is to see it first hand.

I am, however, taking a short break and heading to my niece's wedding this weekend to be with family, the treasure of love and joy, and the greatness of human togetherness.

Also got my haircut, and although I'm not officiating this wedding, I sported the t-shirt gifted my Dave and Kris after Justin's wedding, "I Was Ordained Online...The Wedding Will be Just Fine."

I'm sure it will. Prayers up, World. We need them to restore GOOD in our every day. I'm ready to be with loved-ones for an extended weekend - I need them and a celebration of goodness.

One Down (YA with a Lens on Middle-School Texts) and Another To Go (Maxwell Greene, Ubuntu) Before an Upstate New York Wedding

It's always a marathon. Too many days are 14-hour days, and I guess it's just a way of life, like the Dean of the Newhouse told me during a basketball game once at a Syracuse basketball game. It is a way of life. Learning that a community-engaged opportunity folded, I had to think fast and began chiseling a way to make class for a 2.5 turbo this Wednesday. I got this.

First, however, I had to do the middle school class - Literature for Young Adults - where I ran the class like a library and everyone read different texts. The selections were classics like Little Women, Hatchet, and Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret, to Harbor Me, Star Child, The Misfits, and Star Child. I suppose it takes a little bravery to trust the students to be independent experts on their chosen texts, but I like the democracy created by choice and sharing. The evening is always more peppy and poignant.

I also gave the students the job of seeing as middle schoolers, hence the Halloween glasses, and fed them Pumpkin Oreos in exchange for their brilliance. Our room has no windows, yet we let a lot of light in. 

This morning, I'm sprinting to the finish line to prepare for Philosophy of Education, but I'm hoping to bring context to the very nature that we are NOT visiting a school today. Every single moment is more complicated when digging deeper into the layers. We still can target course objectives, but will move the academic reading a little earlier in the course.

After class last night, it happened again. Students hovered around to discuss how unlike their other classes, the one I am teaching them is...I have to stop them and ask them to name what is different (always fearful they aren't learning anything). They assured me it is the opposite and they are learning a lot, but they are coming to their knowledge in different ways than their other classes. I will go to my grave finding this interesting. I am just teaching on the shoulders of many greats whose shoulders I'm sitting on. If you pay attention, you pick up what works and doesn't work to push knowledge along.

Time to post this and put the ram horns down. We got this!

Okay, Tuesday. Monday Night Prepared Me for a Different Wednesday. Now I'm Trying to Figure Out How to Make It Work

The majority of my courses are service-learning, which means I design them in collaboration with locals schools, their administrators, and teachers. It takes several months of planning, carpooling arrangement, and preparation. What we can't prepare for is the fact that public schools are facing incredible stress right now with threats, student anxiety, teacher/administrator tensions, test-down mandates, and the narrative that it's all falling apart. Well, this is for urban school districts where some see money-making strategies to de-publicize the districts to make money for the testing/curriculum/teacher-education avoiding school systems. It's alarming, especially for educators who prefer to go into urban schools to show how awesome they are.

Alas, poor leadership, the national trend of phone threats, teacher stress, and student anxiety have made this back-to-school season a little more turbulent than most. This has resulted in the need to do a 90-degree turn this week and stay on campus. I hate this, because the best education is experience. Working with the heterogeneity of America brings beauty...solutions...answers. I understand, but hate, that the schools have had to cancel our visit this week. Now it's back to the drawing board when I already felt there was not enough time to get everything done so I can head to Syracuse for a wedding.

This too shall pass. I hope. 

I was talking to a few teachers after the decision and all we could think was, "Why are we doing this? Why are we attacking schools and the teachers who have dedicated their lives to bringing up the next generation of U.S. adults? Why are we trashing those doing the good work and not going after the parental groups, well-funded organizations, and politicians fully intent on destroying the public good?" 

It makes no sense. The kids who need school, its safety, its structure, its teachers, and its curriculum the most are the very schools that they're targeting to tear apart.

I'm not sure how I'm going to readjust the teaching this week, but I have to think of something. What else am I going to do?

The Day Began with a Visit from Beautiful Friends and Ended with an Evening of Beautiful Friends for Dinner. I'll Take It!

Kris, Dave, and Ishy drove through town with bagels around 10:30 a.m., keeping me company, rejuvenating joy, and reminding me of why they are special to me (in fact, it created a poem, because Dave had a prompt on EthicaELA and I went for it).

After they left, I went for a walk, worked on a response to Dave's poem (a poem to be two towers in memory of the father he lost on 9/11). That evening, Michelle and Jess came by to celebrate promotions and soon-to-be promotions. It was a good Crandall day, and Dave's prompt was perfect for it. It allowed me to do Frog-brain with a purpose...to capture their friendship, the randomness of time, and the happiness shared by us all. Here's to a new week. 

I'm entering it with grace and caution...I know what is important and can't wait to head to CNY for family time - my niece is getting married. Nickerdoodles is jumping the broom!

Recharged! Rejuvenated! Inspired! Focused! Educated! and Overjoyed! That Was the Power of the YA Literature Panel at @WesportLibrary StoryFest

Ah, Alex! You must be exhausted. I know I am and I slept like a baby.

I'm so thankful to my panel with Don P. Hooper, Patricia Park, and Torrey Maldonado during yesterday's StoryFest event at Westport Library. Had I know that Jennifer Baker and Shannon C.F. Rogers were going to be in the house, I would have included them in the proposal I put forth (Jennifer Baker's podcast with Don Hooper and Shannon Rogers was simply amazing and acted as a catalyst for the panel that followed - she is one of a kind).

The members of the Westport Library are simply top-notch and it brings total delight to bring CWP-Fairfield to be part of the program. As many of the writers commented, the behind-the-scenes labor remains immeasurable and I'm so appreciative of the hard work that makes such an event possible.

Torrey is my younger brother. I knew when I met him we shared an energy and then I began reading and teaching his books. It continues to impress me that he cranks out what he does all while teaching 8th grade! He is the real deal, a Mandaladorian who sculpts the force for the readers he writes for and the young people he educates. The wisdom he puts forth is out of this world, and I was so happy to see so many wonderful faces in the crowd that came to see us. 

I returned home last night and crashed, knowing that this has been a labor of love since last spring. I couldn't be happier. I love working with the vision and passion of those behind the Westport Library initiatives and the weekend was spent envisioning connections, possibilities, storytelling, and support. Ah, but for today, I must slow it down a little...beautiful friends from out of state (weren't they just down the street) and then a much celebration of colleagues I cherish. 

I'll be reflecting on the energy of this work for quite a while, but for now, I need to definitely take advantage of a Sunday.

That is my goal. Torrey, this is the way.

Day Two of StoryFest '24 @WestportLibrary After a Spectacular Day One with Oliver Radcliffe and Roxeane Gay

It's always a pleasure to be part of the vision of Westport Library in support of writers, great books, creativity, and human togetherness. It was a once-in-a-time experience to see Oliver Radcliffe and Roxeane Gay on stage, especially since a year ago at this time, Oliver was on a panel that I moderated and I didn't made the connection that THAT Oliver was the THE Olive that was signed to Roxeane Gay's new imprint. Frighten the Horses is Oliver's memoir that was in draft form last year, and this year he's center stage at the festival with Roxeane Gay. 

How does that work?

I was talking to several authors afterwards about how I love when individuals grow big with their writing, but are willing to promote the excellence of others as Roxeane Gay has done. It takes tremendous care and grace to put one's self to the back burner to say, "I believe in this work. I believe in its humanity. I believe in the writer's talent," which is what Roxeane Gay did with Oliver Radcliffe's manuscript. I hope it soars as far into the world as I imagine it will.   

Today, there will be numerous panels at StoryFest, including the one I will moderate with YA authors Don P. Hooper, Patricia Park, and Torrey Maldonado. I put together a dream-team from Brooklyn - three writers who I know have written books that young people love, need, cherish, and inspire. To have all three on the same stage will be one for the record books.

The 2nd day starts early and our panel will be at 3 p.m. and I can't wait. I'm posting for today and then thinking about the most exciting questions I can ask. Although young people (even teachers) may suffer from Imposter Syndrome, True True, it is our Hands that make the greatest difference in the world of the kids we teach. These three writers pen the books that kids connect to, crave more of, and need in their lives.

My test for great YA is when I read a book and I think, "What are the teaching possibilities?"

I'm blessed to have the opportunities that I do and today will be no different. Hoping those I know will make it to the Westport Library for the festival and soak in the magic of the panel. It's destined to be great...I mean, look at what Westport Library is doing for Connecticut!

Three Days of StoryFest Begin Tonight with Roseanne Gay. Year 7 of the Westport Library Collaboration and Largest Literary Festival in Connecticut

Sometimes, I wonder how we make things happen, but somehow all the planning comes together and for all the right reasons. CWP-Fairfield is once again thrilled to collaborate with the Westport Library for StoryFest '24 - the largest literary festival in the State. For me, I just love advocating for young adult writers, advocating for teachers, and bringing forward panels that I hope will rock the occasion. 

I'm super excited to attend tonight's program to here Roxeanne Gay on stage.

Yes, I'm waking up yawing because I'm exhausted, but that's okay....I've feeling a little more centered and focused on what matters most (my mental, spiritual, and physical help). I'm reprioritizing what needs to happen for the work I do, and I'm putting kids and teachers first. All else needs to step to the side. 

And what is with this San Diego weather? Absolutely beautiful out there these days, albeit it dry. Funny how we have monsoons, but then dry spells like we do. 

Here's to the Friday that will be what it is. Be good to yourselves. That's what I'm trying to do.

It is the Tiny Things in Life (Literally) That Help You to Measure a Day's Success as (Finally) Being Accomplished

I was home from teaching by 4, walked Karal, and immediately hammered away at the immediate to-do list. I did a couple of article reviews, returned a few calls to administrators of schools, and (whoa) finally fixed a door knob and my glasses. Both have had loose screws for months (different sizes of course). They've been items that I've said, "It only takes a couple of seconds," but with the pace of an academic life, I've just not made time for them. 

Stupid, I know. 

Reality, it is.

I did the door first and then my glasses. Both were coming apart and was a matter of time before I lost the knob, a screw, or a stem. As I spent my 30 seconds on each, I was like, "Now there is a productive minute. Go, Crandall, Go! You achieved something on your mind for days and days and days now."

That, is the life of teaching. The fact that a minute to accomplish your own goals is a tremendous success. And I also ate a salad by six. The day before I never go around to eating until 10 p.m.

It's a pace that needs to slow down. I'm working on it.

The Notes Still Matter - Handwritten or Via Email, It's Always Good To Hear from Students of Yesteryear

I got an email late last night. A math teacher in her first year on Long Island, successfully landing 4 college Stats class and an advanced Calculus one. I had this student as a sophomore in an introductory class, then in a content literacy class, followed by a research class and then her capstone. When I have the math brainiacs, I simply hold my breath and I hope I make sense to them (I mean, I used to love math, but I didn't pursue it after high school, so I'm lost at the complexities of what they know how to do). In my head, I imagine it is the math faculty they're drawn to and that a mind like mine is outrageous and annoying. 

Not for this student. I received an email that basically wanted to thank me for filling her head in all my classes and how so much of what I had to say was at the basis of what she hopes to accomplish as a classroom teacher. She's confident she'll succeed, although she's scared, but already in the first two weeks, "I've been channeling you, Crandall."

Then, later in the day I found a note in my office from two years ago (one left under my door)...another student going into her senior year, simply wanting me to know that she wishes she took more of my classes, as she keeps thinking about what she learned from me in her sophomore year. "Yes, I'm writing by hand and I know that it is weird, but you're on my mind and I wanted to say thank you. My other classes are very much unlike yours, and that is why I'm thinking about how much I learned from you. I hope I can take you again."

I'm long past the days of (dare I say it) caring of what students think of my teaching because, as we used to say at the Brown School, "We're after something larger and we hope what we invest in you will stay with you for life." Ah, but who doesn't appreciate the notes and reflections when they come, especially in a profession that gets more challenging each and every year (with more hostility and frustrations)?

I'll take the notes. I wish I knew what it is that was so different from the others, but when they take a second to appreciate it, I am fueled. 

As I was leaving last night, another student heading into student teaching ran up to me and said, "I went home last night and cried, trying to find other careers with my undergraduate degree. This teaching one is going to be way too hard." 

I agreed, and assured her it's a career for the tough-minded, the flexible, and the one who commits to lifelong learning. It is true, 29 years in the profession that I look around and think, "What are these people doing? Thinking." I'm amazed by the choices of K-12 educators as well as those in colleges/universities.

It is the students, though, that fuel me. And I'm simply amazed at how many of them are willing to turn the other way and avoid them. Yet, they are the first to preach to others how it is done. 

I guess this is simply the nature of the field. 

Discovered in an Elementary School Art Room: Mirror at Little-Kid Height as They Enter and Exit Each Day

It's the small things one notices - this is an act of love, indeed, as the room was spaced as a safe place for kids. I knew as soon as I walked in that kids would love this location, the teacher knew what she was doing, and the kids would, without a doubt, learn something new each and every day. 

I can't help but flashback to the Brown School where many of the teachers operated in the same ways. Yet, administration and less vibrant (and educated) teachers began to take over and the first thing they did was paint over all the art and creativity with white and cream paint. They neutralized it. They may it bland. And the leaders that be were simply, "Good job. Delores Umbridge approves." Check.

Sick.

Where do these anti-imagination, anti-thinking, anti-human administrators come from? Give the the ones that allows creative spaces like this to create in the rooms of a school (but these belong to the taxpayers? How does this enhance state assessment objectives?).

There is a war in every school between the two types of educators: those who passionately give their all and are supported by administrators who are smart, clever, and understand kids and those who passionately give their all, but are squashed by bureaucrats, orcs, and simple-minded morons with clipboards. Sometimes I think it is that simple. 

Give me love, color, and funk each and every day. Save the clones for reruns of Star Wars.

May the Force be with us all. 

Karal Wants to Know How the #@%%! It Is Already Monday Again and Where this Past Weekend Went (She Doesn't Want Me to Return to Work)

I did read at the beach. I did read at the beach. I did read at the beach. 

Sadly, most of Sunday was spent in NWP, NCTE, and grant world trying to get on top of the responsibilities I have to them (and one article to Writing & Pedagogy). I read over 780 scholarship applications and had to narrow it down to 102, with a wait list of 30. to say that my brain is fried is an understatement. These are for registration to the NCTE '24 conference in Boston. These conferences get more and more expensive every year, and the applications for assistance grow larger and larger every year.

I did take a break to say bon voyage to Sara who has taken a job in Switzerland to continue her research on cancer. She will be leaving Yale for next steps in her studies and, sadly, Rory will be staying behind until they figure out a game plan for all ahead. Oona did a great job hosting the party and I was glad I could stop by. It was also a mid-afternoon bonus of food, because all I had was two cups of coffee up to that point.

Then home to read more scholarship applications. We have so many beautiful individuals teaching teaching English, writing, ELA, and K-12 literacy across the world. It's hard to narrow down to who deserves the financial assistance. 

Ah, but it's Monday and I have to get on top of several grants this morning or I'll miss out on the deadlines. Karal will get her walk. I promise she will, so these looks of desperation are just a front!

Rereading Egger's THE EYES & THE IMPOSSIBLE as Philosophical Discourse with Undergraduate Students (Beach Read Triumphant)

I only had one goal yesterday, and it was to get to the beach and to reread The Eyes & The Impossible. I was lucky to have dinner with Eggers last November during a Penguin-Random House Dinner and am proud of my autographed copy (with a shout out to Valentino Deng, What is the What?). By chance, I assigned it the week after we did an exercise with Allegory of the Cave, so I'm feeling rather majestic that the YA-Newbery Winner was offered as a follow up. We're working with K-12 kids this semester, discussing ideas about why we learn and teach, and I paired the book simply because I always put a YA book in my courses. I feel like I won with this one.

I also won with the beach yesterday. I put an umbrella up next to Leo and Bev, and dug in, pen in hand, while looking at the ocean at low tide, wading in the waters, viewing the trapped minnows in all the wading ponds (um, they scattered like sperm with every step I took), and I couldn't help but think this has likely been a scene for millions of people for 1,000s of years. During the day, feet wandering over sand contemplating the complexities of aquatic life - the glory - and the tininess of our being. We have such a short stint and we need to make the most of it.

Johannes and his eyes. Bertrand and his coda. The quest for freedom and the knowledge there are other words. Perhaps this is a perfect metaphor for why we teach others - to show another word beyond what we think we know.

I actually anticipated I'd still be reading today, but I finished last night after making dinner for a family of 8, but being the only one at home (I was pretending it was a Wooley, Johnson, Sealey Saturday night of yesteryear).

We also at the decaying, leafy time of year where molds hit my nostrils, makes me sneeze, and clogs my brain. I sleep with my windows wide open and it is par for the course, all while hearing I-95 traffic in the distance and the humming of Metro North trains.

Today, I hit the journal articles and grants. Once I get in the mindset, the flow will come naturally. As will the tissues for the season.

And more art to captivate and distract us from time to time.

PS: There is nothing more beautiful than a random gift left on a doorstep. Thankful for Beth Boquet, a stack of 50 poems, a bourbon chocolate bar, and a new birdhouse in the shape of a frog from Mellow Monkey. Human connectivity. Kindness. It gets me every time.

It's the Grading that Gets Ya, But First Week Assignments Finished. Saturday Goal: Me, the Beach, a Book, and Chill-time

Okay, so I'm reading a book I'm teaching on Wednesday, but at least I get to do it at the beach. With my feat in the sand. Under an umbrella. Looking at water. Soon after I post this blog.

I'm never no why I underestimate the amount of time to grade papers, but I had 38 come in on the same day and it took me two days to get through them. Granted, it was low-stakes grading, but the first assignment for me is always about building relationship and rapport, so I take my time to study class rosters and what the students have to say. I want to know them and how they operate. I'm super excited to have so many student athletes this year, too. Nothing better than a smart kid who also plays a Division I sport - they make the possibilities enormous, especially when their lifelong dream is to teach. The last time this happened to me was when Justin Wooley was in my class. It wasn't him, but his classmates who were on the Women's Basketball team. Loved having them and seeing in their senior year, Ubuntu was all over their team jerseys. It's just magical. 

Also sent an article in for review and need to read two articles for review this morning before I hit the sand (I'm late). I can save the two grants that I need to apply for until Sunday (Yeah, weekend relaxation, and I wonder why I'm at wit's end).

Yesterday, the University did the big fanfare for new faculty and its always great to hear the fun facts and accomplishments, although very few are welcomed as tenure track (I'm guessing is a national phenomenon now). Still the qualifications are always interesting to hear, especially when new scholars come with season pedigree, strong training, and solid promise from reputable Universities. I guess it's just sad that to the administrative side of Universities, the tenured faculty are a life commitment and, hence, a force that can resist their demands. They like to have the substitute categories because it's easier for them to force upon the work that tenured faculty question. I would never have known this as a doctoral student. In fact, we were warned tenure was a thing of the past when we went on the market. It's why I did a Professor of the Practice position, but I quickly learned that stability and prestige comes with tenure; also, publication is what deciphers scholars at the academy. 

And I'm thinking of the brilliant, out-of-this world junior faculty I'm fortunate to work with across the nation and how much fight and zest they will need to get tenure and climb for full professorship (I still can believe: (a) I got a doctorate, (b) I was tenured, and (c) I was promoted to Full (Fool) this year. I also wouldn't have guessed that I would have $1,500,000 in grants and revenue in these years or have even published a blog post, let alone ten (soon to be eleven) anthologies of youth/teacher writing, the articles I have, the poems, or the book chapters. Not sure if it was worth it, but if it inspired a kid here or a teacher there or a scholar I'll never meet, I guess that is a good thing.

It's now looking like sun for the next three days...so maybe I'll have just more than today with sand on my feet. Ah, Saturday...I can't wait until you are each and every day.

Took a Day Off Yesterday, Which Resulted in 14-Hours of Catching Up & Grading, so I'm Not Sure What We Mean by a Day Off Anymore

Truth. I made a salad and ate. Truth. I reheated rice and age. Truth: I took an hour walk. Truth: I spent an hour writing on my own contracts.

Rest of the day was grading: reading student work and giving feedback. It's only been a week and it's hard not to think of the economical, social, psychological, physical, and spiritual reality of teaching. And I have it easy; rather than 120 students a year teaching high school, I only have half as money as a college professor. That than 35 hours of contact time a week with students, I barely have seven. Yes, teaching in high education is a different profession, indeed, but if you have the memory and relationships with K-12 educators, you get the drift. I remember the one research article I read in my PhD program that said the most to me: in order to have K-12 educators develop the writers we expect of college education, we need to totally recreate the structures of K-12 schools. 

Boom.

But bring forward those of us in the academy who also work passionately in support of K-12 schools, the days can be 7:30 a.m. until 9:15 p.m.. Seriously. And if you take that reality and times it by 13 years in higher education with very, very few breaks, you can better understand my fascination of Ted Lasso (optimist with mid-life panic attacks) and Roy Ken (Oscar-the-Grouch, Athletic Grump).

Hmmmmphhh. Make it make sense. And when the Ted side of you meets the Roy side of you, the mental gymnastics are insane, especially when you're trying to be the supporter of teachers in K-12 education, who truly are emptying the ocean with a fork, one child at a time. The best of them love teaching and their students, but the it's hard to maintain sanity and American life in the career because of pay, top down politics, and societal misunderstanding over what kids want, need, and desire for their futures.

For those that don't know Ted Lasso (I'm so so so sorry), it is a show that I came late to. In fact, when I binge watched the entire series, it already won many awards and I was angry that its third year was slighted. I'm a book guy, but if I was to bet on any writing that had/has the pulse of the world and where we are right now, I'd make an argument for Ted Lasso. Also Roy Kent. Perhaps archaeologists of the future will have the ability to super-scan this internet phase of our lives and think, "maybe we should check out the series."

All of this is to say that I truly believe we are living through enormous paradigm shifts as the human species, in which NONE of us understand where it will all land. Technology has begun to match human intelligence, but humans still require/need/appreicate the power of humanity. 

And here we are. Ta da. A Friday post.

Doing Democracy The Best Way I Know How - One Democracy at a Time. The Kids Are Gonna Be Alright

I admit. Yesterday did not take off in the way I intended. 14 years of 14 hour days, 7 Day a Week caught up to me. Yet, I knew that the only thing that mattered to me was a 2.5 hour turbo with undergraduate students. They were the priority and focus, yet I began my day with bureaucratic nonsense. At some point every educator must think, "Enough is enough."

The local scene, coupled with the academic, community-partnership, allied professions thing, simply came to a head in my office while I needed to prep for class. It wasn't pretty. I did what I had to do and returned to the university for the students. 

I had to hide the truth of K-12 education, as well as higher education and think of a philosophical way to justify it. Impossible, but I know the serenity prayer.

In class, however, I know how community is built, purpose is set, and kids work with kids to problem solve. As expected, they stepped up to the tasks at hand, tackled the course readings, and made sense of what they wanted to do with new knowledge (post 9/11, post debate, and pre-what is possible in education). It was something to experience, even as I was having a moment inside. 

As usual youth saved the day. The dilemmas continue, however, and that is what I have to work through. Every thing is more complex than everything. The more you try to make sense of it, the more maddening it becomes. 

Doing good. Doing Right. Converting the Evil, who think they're doing Right. Trying to make sense of it all. That is much more difficult.

Yet, onward I go.

Bring on the Body Biographies...One of My Favorite Activities in the YA Literature Course I Teach. What is an Adolescent? Who Are These Characters?

I didn't want to but forced myself to be patriotic last night and to believe in hope. Not sure how I'm feeling other than more discouraged by human stupidity. 

On a good note, teaching remains one of my favorite activities of each and every day semester. Working with the next generation remains a joy, especially their hopes, ambitions, knowledge of history, and desire to work towards democracy and truth.

That's why we did body biographies last night while reading Chris Crutcher's Angus Bethune, from Athletic Shorts, one of the first short stories I ever read with teens that had universal appeal, humor, and vital thinking to get kids to question the way a story was/is told. We'll come back to this again through the semester, as it's a great way to get the thinking of others (and I have Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian to thank for the ideas - and Cindy O'Donnell-Allen).

The best part? All the professors in the halls walking by wondering what my students were doing? Well, they were learning. That's what it is all about. 

Ah, but time to teach again. A turbo. I go this. 

Finally Took a Moment from Busy Schedules to Tip Glasses with Others Who Received Promotion to Full Professorship in 2024

Scheduling academics is always herding cats, but we somehow agreed on a Monday night dinner and although the restaurants we tried to go to were all closed (Monday night realities) we found Moto open, a glass of wine, salads, and scallops. It was a much needed celebration of the hard work that led up to the application process and the applause that our colleagues saw our work as sustained leadership, teaching, service, and scholarship. We need to celebrate ourselves more and, for a night anyway, we did just that. 

Now, having taken an evening off, I need to double down on the hard work needed to prep tonight's class and Wednesday's turbo. Organization, as always, is the key.

I also had the day to spend at Marvin Elementary where we were treated like gold, given a tour, and met with fabulous teachers who are doing amazing work with their K-5 youth. What a school and what wonderful leadership.

Faculty across the U.S. crave excellent leadership, kindness, integrity, and joy. Yesterday reminded me of all of that. So rarely do we stop to reflect on the hard work it takes to accomplish what we have, but when the moments present themselves, it is a wise investment, indeed. 

I Think I Am Pushing More Longingly for the Retirement Years. Still Have a Ways to Go, but There's Something Appealing about Spending More Time By the Water

Celebrated Kaitlyn's 39th last night, but I am thinking she's still 25 and in grad school. Truth is, she was the first hire for Ubuntu Academy back in the day, when I was experimenting with a potential summer program for kids arriving from other nations to Bridgeport Public Schools. Just shaking my head, knowing that Abu, Lossine, & Chitunga always saw her and Patrick as older siblings to look up to and even weirder to know that even they have passed the ages of where Pat and Kaitlyn were when I moved here. Blink of an eye it all is. 

Walnut Beach has emptied. It belongs to the locals and their dogs again, and it will be this way until it warms back up. Nice to see the sands resting/restoring/resettling. I already put up the paddle boards, but I thought about going out, simply because it was all so calm and still.

I'm off to Norwalk Public Schools this morning, then onto campus for Academic Council, and then off to dinner with the promoted class of 2024 - all four of us who received Full Professorship. I look forward to the night of applauding one another.

Ah, and the cool temperatures at night (if not cold). So wonderful to have that back: windows open, a blanket, the joy of being under covers. I'm definitely a Fall/Spring person. That's the way my blood can handle it.

Bring on the hoodies.

Borrowed from Chitunga's One Dish: Cuban Rice with Black Beans, Onions, and Peppers (Paired with Salmon, Grilled Cauliflower, and Strip Steak)

It was delicious. I was afraid I'd get Chitunga's rice wrong...the dirty rice...but it came out marvelously and paired well with the grilled salmon, cauliflower, and steak. A great dinner for Pam, Oona, and Rose on a Saturday night where they didn't have any dinner plans. 

The morning started out with a trek to the new Stratford Bookstore, Odobo (meaning Community) where I meet fellow educators and showed local support for a good cause. Karal and I then hiked for 4 miles, before I returned to the Mahoney Arena to see the Binghamton Bearcats beat the Fairfield Stags 3 games to one in volleyball. Binghamton held out with strong teamwork and power. 

I came home to grill before the storms and, well, ended up grilling during the storms with an umbrella...only mildly drenched for the downpour. In the end, a delicious meal was prepared and a solid Saturday was had. 

I woke up yesterday with a stomach bug, and I was thankful it subsided by the afternoon. Ah, but now I have a Sunday, class preparation (life preparation) and reorganization of my everything that is due. I also started a book on Audible, The Anxious Generation, and I'm wrestling with chicken-little paranoia, and/or just another generation of human beings inherited the crazy world that we have. 

I mean, turn on the news and tell me how any of it is supposed to make sense to the adults in control, let alone the kids growing up in it. This too shall pass. Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z, etc. We definitely have been living during a global paradigm shift with migration, technology, mental health, wars, colonialism, patriotism, and the usual insanity of a post-British, post-European empire. Something wicked this way comes. We shall only see. 

Finished Off the Work-Week with a Stags Women Volleyball Game Against Boston College. I Will Always Love College Volleyball

The good news for me the last few years is that college volleyball is on the up and up, so there are more and more games televised for consumers like me. I'm also glad to have a faculty liaison position with Coach Nancy Somera, and I'm looking forward to attending more games - tomorrow it's with my undergraduate alma mater, Binghamton University.

Boston College took three games for the match, but the score was always point for point for two evenly-matched competitive teams. I can't offer much for the play-by-plays, but I can cheer them on with my love of the sport, my literacy work, and the power of human togetherness. I am, because we are. Ubuntu. That has been the Skils4Life mantra for Hoops4Hope. I'm hoping that is what I might be able to bring to the team.

And books. I want to find a perfect book for all to read. We'll see. I'm being my usual dorky self with the possibilities. 

But for now, a Saturday. I'm still exhausted from summer work and little break, so I'm trying to choose joy for the semester, which usually comes in the form of a volleyball game, so I'm all in.

I saw the Binghamton team in the stands for tomorrow's game and it made me realize I haven't been back to that campus since I left in 1994. 30 years. Unbelievable. My everything was made better by attending that campus while I did. It launched the human being I am today. 

Here's to a good match today.

Fortunate to Be Able to See Paulie's Push to Ground Zero...One Man's Mission to Honor the Memory of American Heroes of Flights 175, 11 & 77

I can still remember the day. It was my planning and Alice had her sociology students 1st period. They had the television on and knew something was up in NYC. They called me over to watch the hysteria and that's when I saw the 2nd plane hit. I immediately went into teacher mode and focused on the day ahead. Alice twirled her hair and began researching why such a thing would happen, and then teachers around the school played the newsfeed live for their students (definitely not my choice). When kids asked why I wasn't watching I simply said, "This is too much for my comprehension. I need to go home, read, and figure out a game plan of action."

That's what I did, talking with Alice, of course. American Airlines Flight 11 left Boston, was hijacked, and was one of the two planes that went into the towers. Paul Veneto, aka "Paulie," is bringing back the memories of the flight crews who were the first responders that day, and who also perished in the tragedy. It is Paulie's Push and he pushes a flight cart from Boston-Logan to Ground Zero each year and covers 220 miles. He was working on United Flight 175, but left to be off-duty when they replaced his shift with another. It was the the other plane that hit the tower. He, now retired, is committed to keeping their memories alive and the reality of the 9/11 tragedy. This is his mission. 

Yesterday, while working with administrators at Marvin Elementary School in Norwalk, I was fortunate to bear witness to student presentations, celebrations, and speeches applauding Paul Veneto's mission. It is something, especially since American like to move quickly to the next buzzfeed, YouTube posting, or Instagram photo. History, world politics, and U.S. responsibilities are too often dusted to the side. His actions speak louder than any words I could post, so I'll simply leave this with a news story in his honor.

And, most definitely, it was my honor for being in the right place at the right time so I could bear witness to his quest. Phew. 

The First Week Back to School with All Its Glory. Needed to Photograph the Garden Before Getting Stuck in Traffic

Lucky for me, the flowers on both sides of the driveway are in full bloom, so it is easy to take a shot. I had a full Wednesday, but noticed the Morning Glories were in full bloom. And I had to stop and admire them...a shout out to Mia Toney from the Brown School who shared the affinity. I'm glad I got the photo, because I'm thinking a lot of things about blooms, hope, the stories we tell ourselves in the United States, workloads, and rebellion. Another school shooting yesterday. I just shake my heads and, actually, remembered I made a video to celebrate Trina Paulus's 50th Anniversary in New Jersey.

I find myself thinking about Shakespeare, Chaucer, Euripides, and pretty much all literature throughout the ages thinking about what they often named as the human condition. I realize, the only thing we can do is leave the legacy and insight to the next generation. I'm thinking of the Tomorrow speech from MacBeth and Whoops from Blues Traveler. I thinking of children, families and teachers. Whoops. If it all comes down to signifying nothing, then there's no reason for any of it.

But it is something...it's sharing blooms from your own life with others, so those blooms carry one a little while, and your blooms influence their blooms. That is how hope and goodness spread...actions, so much more than words.

At this point, I'm thinking school shootings are simply emblematic of the hypocrisy existing in U.S. politics and what the red, white, and blue stand for. As sick as it is, it's a fight for narratives and whose story gets told. 

Prudence Crandall. Reuben Crandall. Our National Anthem.

Ah, but it's Thursday. I'm heading out to a K-5 school to restore hope and possibilities. May your morning have glory, too.

Question: What Do You Call a Group of Octopuses (Note: It's Not Octopi, It's Octopuses). I Learned Something New Today

 I'm 52 and it's the first time I wondered what you would call a crew of octopuses traveling in the ocean. It turns out that the word is consortium, which I really like. At the last minute, I threw in an octopus theme for tonight's class and learned that even graduate students like to color. It was a 'getting to know you' activity where we colored and answered 8 questions about ourselves, and now that I think about it, I could have kept the conversation going longer because they really liked to color.

I'm intrigued by the cohort I have and we shall see where the entire semester goes - having tremendous joy with last year's lot. 

And I'm off to teach again this morning...Philosophy...of all things. The course maxed at 20 students but being me, I took six extra because I wanted to enjoy the numbers. Unlike many, I prefer large classes. And this one is a turbo, so I'll be on for 2.5 hours (which I have to compare to summer where I'm on for 6 hours with 60+ students each week).

Karal will need to get used to having the house to herself after a couple of weeks with all my attention. I hope to maintain the long morning walks, however, as they are a great place to clear my mind (just not on Wednesdays...they'll have to be afternoon walks). 

Alright, I need to hit I-95. It all begins anew.

And Once Again, It's Another Fall Semester - the 29th Year of Being an Educator & I'm Feeling the Labor in All My Bones.

Input 47th grade. Year 29 of teaching…next year will be my 30th, and I’m wondering if I will make it to the 50th year. I would be 72. I highly doubt it. Maybe. Because one thing is for sure…I’m tired. I know much has changed, things will continue to change, and change is inevitable. Last night, when I sat down to work, the Internet went completely down. Alexa played. Cable worked. But connecting to the Internet in Connecticut was a bust. I realized how much it’s become an extension of who I am, as an educator, and I was not pleased that I couldn’t get to the locations I habitually go each night (and morning). Bollucks. 

Welcome to the 29th year. Same amount of input necessary, with 50% less of the muscle, mind, and energy to do it. Actually, that’s not true. I still am at 100%, but am desiring respite so I can reflect a little, soak my bones, let my mind go to nothingness, and reconvene my intentions (and I do this while my OCD keeps checking to see if the Internet is back up) (writing offline now because I want to be able to post as soon as I can). That is the pace I am used to keeping.

Happy Birthday, Torrey Maldonado. Looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks.

Yesterday, I worked on syllabi, vacuumed the car, washed it, walked for 4 miles, did laundry, and prepped for classes. Because Fairfield begins after Labor Day weekend, it’s kind of hard NOT to labor, even though I tried hard not to.

I’m reflecting back to my Iroquois High Schools days, Louisville Nature Center and Beargrass Creek Task Force work, and eventually finding my way into the Brown School. I’m also thinking that the vast majority of teachers who graduated with me from the University of Louisville have since retired, yet here I keep going, because I have to (I turned over my State system benefits when pursuing a PhD). Ah, retirement at 52 sounds great, but I need to find a way to survive another 13+ years. I am unsure if I can make it that long.

And back to the Internet outage last night. Fascinating to use the phone to learn Optimum is the culprit…all that money each month for television I don’t watch, but justify with the Internet Service…I think not. 

Okay, onto the classroom I go. I want a summer off! Actually, I just want one week of floating in my parents pool like the ol’ days when I would visit from Kentucky. 

Glad to wake up and have the Internet back on. And post. Ta da.

Not Too Many More Weeks of the Easy-to-Nab Flower Arrangements. They're Slowly Dwindling and Drying Up, But For Now, Some Color

I figured I should begin the first week of school with a little flare, as it's hard to know that so much of m mental space needs to transition from CWP Teacher-Leadership joy back to the routines of meeting, bureaucracy, hubris, and power plays. I just want to teach, do service, and continue the research I came here to do. I have no desire to be pulled into all the other games.

I'm still thinking about my first year at Fairfield when senior colleagues said to me, "the river is splitting for you soon. You'll have to choose sides." I never did. I simply kept my oars down in National Writing Project, NCTE, NCTEAR, and LRA waters and didn't get into the local politics of my school. Yes, I found those across campus that did the same and have always been quick to jump on committee work with integrity and a purpose. All else is a distraction, but it takes a lot of might to put up a resistance to their distractions.

Inhale. Exhale. I'm here for kids, teachers, and the communities I belong, too. 

Last night, the Silvers had me over for barbecue and corn hole (how is Ethan 23 already) and I ate my fill and then some. Fantastic chicken and ribs. I definitely owe them a meal or three, because they always include me in their family shindigs. I also love have school administrators in my world, helping me to see what research doesn't detect....especially for those who dedicate themselves to urban schools. 

My psoriasis flare-up is definitely aware that it's about to start back up. I should remember, though, that the summer months are 100 times more demanding that Fall and Spring semesters...it's just the bureaucracy is amplified by all who disappear in the summer returning with their demands, needs, and power trips. It is something.

Ah, but I have the flowers blooming, use of my front porch to make magic happen, and my best intentions to ride along with me. 

As Kathy said tonight, "Just do you, Crandall. Nothing else matters." 

And with that...I have a motto.

The Fine-Dining Days Will Soon Be Ending as a New Semester Kicks In, But For Now, When I Have Time, I'll Spend a Day Cooking

I had four-cheese tortellini and bacon and made the mistake of typing that into Google. I found a creamy dish (like my creamed potatoes), and had asparagus, mushrooms, onions, garlic, and spinach, too. The result? Well, I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen making a dish to see how it would turn out. It was fun to make (after the bacon...not a fan of any grease). 

Pam matched the dish with chicken glazed with apricot jelly and with a little Italian bread, we had a quality out-to-eat experience but from our own labor. Two nights in a row we've been eating like we're food influencers on Tik-Tok trying to get fans. So, so good. 

Today is supposed to rain all day, so I'm hoping to go into grant writing land and book editing mode. I worked on syllabi all last week and laid low with the academic labor Friday and Saturday. I suppose I should get back to it today...I don't mind the work I like to do. I just don't like doing the silly work that goes no where with committees. I remember my colleague Rona once said, "I like to get shit done," and I couldn't agree more. Unfortunately, the majority of University work is meeting after meeting talking about what might be possible without every getting anything done (or listening to this that get the work done). So, I try to chisel my time for what I know I will accomplish with colleagues beyond campus in National Writing Project work.

Lawn was mowed. Karal was walked. Kitchen was cleaned and dog poop was removed. This was followed by another awesome dinner, so I'll call the day a success. 

Okay, Sunday before Labor Day....be a good one. Hello, September. We meet again.