I Always Love the Day After Turkey, But I Have No Idea How (Or Why) Anyone Goes Shopping. There's Decorations to Put Up & That Is an All-Day Affair

Wednesday. Preparation. Thursday: Preparation, Cooking, Friends, Family, Eating, & Cleaning Up. Friday: Lights, Tree, Decorations, & Gifts I Purchased on Clearance the Day After Christmas. In other words, this is a heavy three days of non-stop labors. Of course, we do this with tryptophan running in our system. There's also long walks with Karal, and she seems to be acting as if she did all the work. Lys & Chitunga went out to meet Gino last night, and she simply curled up like a fox and fell asleep. 

The outside lights are out, the tree is up, the knick-knacks are distributed, and a pile of things to be given out and wrapped are stored to a corner. I also folded two loads of Thanksgiving laundry from the place settings and table cloths. Chitunga was good about washing them last night (which I appreciate...today, however, he was moving slow...perhaps a little too much of the bourbon gifts from so many. Hey, it's his 29th year...let him live with joy and the very slow morning that followed. 

The two tables now have their holiday place settings, including the hope placemats I picked up on clearance a few years ago (back when Christmas Tree Shop still existed and there were more places to actually shop. Not many of those types of stores left, but I know where the few still existing are - and I love cleaning them out when I get the good deals.

And it's leftovers galore. We ate well again the day after, but still barely put a dent in any of the food. I think it is because this year charcuterie boars were in every room and you just can't help but snack from them, especially when there's cranberry jalapeño jam.

Chitunga and Lys are taking a road trip to Mystic today and spending the night, so the home-front will be rather quiet. Here's hoping he is not taking my car so I have wheels to live a life. It's all good. I simply love having him here in his old habits, especially seeing how he shares his life with Alyssa ('babe'). I love watching them together.

Now, however, I must get the week ahead prepared, and lay out plans for the grant that was just received. I love having the ability to do for kids and teacher. It is the kindling that fuels the fire & purpose. Happy Saturday.

Accomplished Another Thanksgiving & Remain Thankful to Friends & Family...the Food...the Company...the Gathering...the Joy

But I am stuffed. So much food. So much eating. So many leftovers. 

And I aim thinking of the preparation and the cleanup and I'm thinking, "What if we just gathered and ordered pizzas?"

Ah, but the turkey was good...the stuffing...the carrots....the bourbon. Let's just say that everyone who came brought me big bottles of bourbon. This is crazy, because I have not been drinking for months now, and well, now I have a fully stocked bar. I can open a bourbon store.

The desserts, too, are out of this world...Everyone was so stuffed that no one wanted desserts...in fact, I didn't even make post-dinner coffee. But we are cleaned up now and I should think about Christmas decorations. I also know that we hit all the clearance last year (Nikki and Adamo inspired) and when I bring up the boxes, I should be pleasantly surprised. 

Finally, God Bless the Great Whatever for putting a halo over Ms. Oliwia who fell down the basement stairs as I was slicing the turkey. That could have been so much worse than it was.  A bump on the head, a few bits of screaming, but a wonderful trooper who recovered rather quickly. The alarm is something we'll likely not forget for quite a bit 

Another Thanksgiving season has finished, and once again I am thinking about the excess and why we put forward as much as we do. It's a lot...and we're just one house with one gathering. 

Today, though, I want to move. Simply move and minimize the intake.

This One Punches Hard...Too Soon. Too Important. Too Beautiful. Rest In Peace, Jason. You Modeled Mentorship & Brilliance The Entire Way. I Remain Thankful

Dr. Jason Courtmanche, Director of the Connecticut Writing Project at Storrs, passed peacefully yesterday with his wife, Amy, and his two kids, Cormac and Elsa, at his side. He was 55.

This one punched me in the gut, as Jason has been my mentor, friend, colleague, and spirit since arriving to Connecticut in 2011. He took me under his wings, guided me into the political part of my work, and modeled exactly how you use intellect, wit, a passion for teachers and young people, and beauty to make the world a better place. He was an English professor, a champion for writing, and an incredible family man. For the past year, as he learned of his cancer, he fought with pure hope and devotion (as he always has done). Each and every day, he shared his joy of journalism and news, his appreciation for gardens, light, skies, and trees, and total joy for his wife and kids. Not once did he complain, share any pain, or question this journey. Instead, he maintained happiness and purpose. He wrote. He shared. He championed everyone around him.

This is hard.

Jason and I were NWP roommates at the Annual Spring Meeting where we advocated for writing instruction, our work, and the importance of funding programs for teachers. We lobbied each and every year with Jim Himes, Chris Murphy, John Larson, Rosa DeLauro, Richard Blumenthal, & Joe Courtney. They always welcomed the two of us, and our teaching teams, with open arms, tremendous respect for the work we do, and appreciation for educators and classrooms. Jason showed me the ropes and, together, we have maintained National Writing Project work across Connecticut. We even loved doing shots with John in his office on St. Patrick's Day (although John would probably deny it)

Jason fell during the summer of 2023, thinking it was another bout of Lyme disease, or some aspect of Covid. He kept passing out, and finally ended up in the hospital where they found cancer spreading throughout his body. He couldn't be at his 2024 summer institute for teachers because he was hospitalized, but he continued to take part from a screen so he could champion their leadership. He never let the cancer stop him from what he loved most - being one of the best cheerleaders for writing instruction in our State.

We learned Jason was moved to hospice over the weekend, during the NCTE convention. I knew things were progressing rapidly, simply by his actions on social media. As a man who was constant about sharing news on his feeds, family stories, teacher greatness, and school coverage, his posts began to be more focused on nature...the beauty of a blooming flower or the light that hit a particular leaf in a certain way. He captured bliss daily...simple posts & reminders of how precious life is.

Jason and I live the world of grants. To do what we do, funding needs to be constant...that is, finding ways to invest in teacher leadership and young people. Jason's youth programming was stellar, as he published writers across the state each year and advocated for the excellence of public schools. He remained a lifelong learner, too, always asking questions, reading abundantly (I mean, non-stop), and trying to find solutions for a complicated world. He also weaved a foundation for his incredible work by networking, building infrastructure, and threading excellence in all he could.

And he loved a good margarita, as that was the go-to after lobbying in Washington or leading workshops in this or that state.

There are a million and one thoughts running through my head as I process the news, but the one that keeps coming to the forefront is the absolute integrity in which he lived his life. It was a spiritual strength that was at his core...something stronger than his literary passions and elbow-patched, sport coat meanderings. He lived by actions which were often underscored by his intelligence and question for brilliance. I sent him a collage of the beautiful photos he was posting to Facebook in his final months and wrote that these images were giving me purpose for my life. I wanted to return the favor as he moved back into hospitals and hospice. He hand-wrote a note & mailed it to me, outlining what he knew to be inevitable and naming he'd give the fight his best shot, but was practical by the statistics. He used each and every second of his last days (and entire life) to do good for others.

I always felt like Robin Williams meets Pee Wee Herman meets Jim Carrey when working around him, as he was always poised, articulate, determined, and astute with language, literacy, traditions, and canonical ways of knowing (his heart was always with Hawthorne). At the same time, he loved to laugh alongside me, especially as the lobbying work became more obvious to me and I'd ask questions of the offices. What's the craziest lobbying group you meet with each year? It turned out there is a passionate crew of chicken-lovers who speak for the chickens and raise funds to support them. When I asked, Do they come to the halls of Congress dressed as chickens or do they where suits like us? Jason chuckled and said, "I think of such questions, but Crandall will actually ask them."

We put so many miles on the ground together, walking from building to building, creating folders that advocated for our teachers, and sharing a love for National Writing Project work. We had a brotherhood that is hard to describe, and sometimes I'd look at his face and wonder if we shared bloodlines, histories, and family beyond our titles. Each and every year, Jason won incredible teaching accolades and every student I get at Fairfield who had Jason in their undergraduate days always sang praises of his classes being the best, a life-changing opportunity, and most important classes they ever took.

Phew. 55 years young. Way too soon. And I'm simply thinking of our more egotistical sides - the days when we talked about our own college experiences - when we discovered we both had long, luxurious hair that made us feel kingly and indestructible. When we realized this, we immediately found pictures of these days and passed them along to one another. Generation X hippies, perhaps....nerds who loved words...geeks who found meaning in books and discussing ideas....men who lived in our heads. 

I am feeling for his family right now...his UCONN friends...his teacher leaders. It all came on quickly, and it is true - Dr. Jason Courtmanche is irreplaceable...the shoes will be impossible to fill, as he always took enormous steps in all that he did....a true teacher....a dedicated leader...a profound intellect. And I'm thinking about my first visit to his campus, where we laid out collaborative plans for the future. He knew I was a Syracuse guy and he covered UCONN basketball as a journalist during his undergraduate days. He made sure I could step into Gampel Pavilion, to feel the legacy (and rivalry) of college sport. He loved his work, that campus, and the labor of the National Writing Project mission hosted in the State.

I went for several walks yesterday where I simply let the memories return and the emotions do what they do. The tears are with tremendous respect for a man I admired, learned from, and appreciated. We operated in the parallel, always finding guidance in one another....

this loss will be felt for a very, very long time. 

It is somewhat surreal, but I know the WWJD philosophy of how Jason would get things done: focus, scholarship, a celebration of teachers and young people as writers, and always those reminders that life is beautiful...precious...something to be cherished. Something to be captured in literary forms.

Dr. Courtmanche led by example, and I know his influence lives within me...within Connecticut....across the National Writing Project network, and throughout all the schools he's influenced. I will carry his fight onward and look to the sky, the sun, the rain, the glimmers of hope, and human kindness to do the work as he graciously mentored me to do. This is the Jason way....and my heart sends all it can to those hurting the most from this departure.

I am a better man because of Jason Courtmanche. Today, Thanksgiving, I'm giving thanks for the influence he had on me and for all he brought to our world. Jason's resilience has been remarkable and throughout his fight he maintained a focus on beauty, justice, intellect, and family. He remained a remarkable man until the very end. He leaves a legacy behind...and will now be a brilliant star in the sky.

30 Years in This Profession, and I Still Feel Total Joy in Gifting Students When I Can, Especially with an Autographed Book

I have a student this year who arrived from Albania and identifies as a Montenegrin Muslim. She does not wear a hijab, has never seen girls like her represented in books taught in school, and has naturally used my YA Literature course as a deep-dive into Islamic representation of girls in the books she's selected. One of the books she read early in the semester was Hena Khan's We Are Big Time, a graphic novel based on an all Muslim basketball team that tells girls to DREAM BIG. 

You can imagine my fortune when I was at dinner with Hena Khan at the Penguin Random House author dinner, where she autographed a copy of the book to my student. Aliana borrowed mine, and now she has one, with a signature, for her. In a ZOOM conference later that night Aliana told me she'd never received such a gift and felt so honored that I was thinking of her and brave enough to approach the author. I could only respond that I was thrilled to see her take an approach to the class that is also teaching me. I told her she should dig deep into her own story to argue for why such stories matter to adolescent readers.

I hosted class asynchronously so I'd have time to conference with all the students in smaller groups. They watched 'the lecture' with short assignments, while I met to offer advice on the work they plan to turn in for the final. I love this, because Snap Chat affords me the opportunity to cut into my lectures with varying characters - this week, all from Psy-Fi and Fantasy characters, including a human kushball that could speak. 

I'm heading into this short holiday break with tremendous pride for the originality of all the projects and the joy that reading YA texts has brought them. But for today, I need to brine a turkey, prepare the tables, clean the house (after destroying it with putting Thanksgiving bouquets into vases (the leaves and pedals go everywhere). 

Tunga, too, is planning a break on this day as he awaits Alyssa's arrival this afternoon. I'm always surprised, and thrilled, when I roll back from a conference and am still able to do a decent job while teaching. For the next few days, however, I can take my mind off grading and planning to enjoy company and the many reasons I'm thankful...including hosting another YA course at the University.

I can't believe it is already almost December again. Phew. 

I'm Taking a Second to Simply Marvel at the Joy of Traveling by Train Rather than by Car or Airplane

Yes, I traveled backwards, but that was okay, because I had outlets to plug my computer and phone, and plenty of time to get work in. While traveling by car or plane, there is never enough room to operate, let alone have the lap and leg space to accomplish much. I took this photo somewhere between New London and Mystic, knowing the speed would get me home much quicker than I-95. The skyline, the lighting, and the water simply danced alongside me and I enjoyed every second of it.

I opted to give Chitunga the car for the day so I'd be forced to stay home and that would give me time to rearrange furniture and make room for company on Thursday. I also was able to cut down the vegetation, as the frost finally found its way to southern Connecticut. I still need to bag all the dried out debris and am hoping for a 2nd day of work space to do so.

Papi Butch is home. They didn't see anything abnormal after he fell at the grocery store, fainted, after he banged his head pretty bad. Casey was with him and I'm sure it startled her a great deal as she went with him to St. Joe's. I really wish, like schools, hospitals received more help, especially professionally, as weekend care tends to be non-attentive. He has no memory of the incident, but he also doesn't remember eating lunch most of the time (as he makes a lunch as soon as he finishes the one he just made). 

Cynde got him to take a bath, which is a blessing, and now the family simply needs to monitor, pray, and keep a close eye on him (Mom can use her Popeye radar with the one good eye she has). Cynde remains a saint - there are no words for the amount she does to provide care in addition to her full-time job. 

This morning, I'm hoping to maintain my car so I can get the package from Sue that arrived from Kentucky and that is being held at a UPS store. If he decides to go to Stamford, he can suffice with the ol' Metro North which runs every 1/2 hour. 

I need to prep for the finale of the semester and continue readying the house for giving thanks. It felt good to move the house around, clean, store things, and prepare for the season ahead. As for Holiday shopping - we'll just have to see, as my head has not been anywhere near gift-giving. For me, it's just the joy of being surrounded by family and loved ones.

Okay, Tuesday...let's see where this takes us.

Last Year in His 20s...Mr. Tunga Tunchi Chitunga is now 29...so, Onward. I Love That I Get a Return for Turkey and His Birthday Candles

I am sold on Amtrak. It's a great way to travel...convenient, fast, and beautiful. Boston was beautiful, too. I enjoyed the time there and the NCTE conference is always a spectacular gig. I got to come home, though, to Tunga being in from Iowa and, well, the two of us met Vochan at Founder's House and did one of those, "Just go for it," meals. This included smoked bourbon drinks, steamed muscles, and three incredible gourmet meals. I've eaten here before, and I said to myself that I'd make a birthday day of it with Chitunga when he came home. Pam passes, but Vochan was all in. 

We ate like kings. Not only kinds, but well fed kings with the lucky of a really great restaurant.

I also bought him running shoes (Saucony, you know how I roll). I don't spend money, except when I love something, then I'm willing to make the purchases. I found a good style on sale and said, "yup...I'm sharing the greatness with the kid."

Ah, but back to the food. So incredible. 

Tunga got the salmon (left), I got scallops, and Vochan got the Surf & Turf. It was a once-a-year meal (perhaps once in a lifetime). 

I am now home. He is now home. He has my car. His girlfriend will come later this week, and I have a holiday to host. All 25 pounds of a turkey. But today, I must unpack first, figure out the course to teach Tuesday night, and process the weekend that just was.

I should point out that the two of them ordered a weird strawberry  cake for dessert, which was good, but not what I'd selected as my birthday cake..

Long story short, I'm home, Karal is obsessed with having Chitunga home, we had a great meal (beyond great) and we finished the night watching Shrinking. 

I gave up and said, "Take the car." Truth is, I'm fried and the last place I want to go is campus to get into all that insanity. I simply want to read and right from home....so that I shall do.

There's a 1001 Photographs I Could Post to Capture the Past Four Days, But This One Brings Me the Most Joy, Because Most are Already on My Wall of Love

I can't believe it's Sunday already and that I'll be heading back on Amtrak on after 1 pm today. I have two more presentations this morning, and then pack up and go. What a joy to randomly walk into Matt de la Peńa - didn't even know he was hereditary (that was a blessing). Also, first people King and I run into this morning are Gholdy and Yolie. That love fest went on for quite a while, including the introduction of Dr. Tyana Velazquez-Smith who, as humor would have it, has been friend for years because the Syracuse-Rochester network have put us in touch on social media. It was hilarious when we discovered the name to the face and the random moments of bliss we shared before yesterday's festivities began. It truly was magical. 

All the session went well, but Tunga was locked out of the house when he arrived form Iowa, Pam came to the rescue, and my father had to be admitted to the hospital again. I also learned Jason is now in hospice. It's a lot of news to take in while being away, but that is the nature of the beast that is life.

It remains crazy to be that Yolanda, Gholdy, and I all came out of the academic gates about the same time and found ourselves in the careers we have. Those two are inspiration times a million, as is CWP's own Mr. King. It's always beautiful to be surrounded by the best of the best.

I need to head back to the convention center to steady the last two performances before rounding up the troops and heading home. Two nights in a row I lucked out by eating at Tuscan Kitchen. When an Italian restaurant gets it right it is all worthwhile. 

I'm very thankful to Penguin Random House inviting me to dinner and for celebrating the middle school writers. The stack of new books I carried home is remarkable. 

Okay, prayers up for a better day today for the family in upstate NY. I'm looking forward to seeing the kid and taking him out for his birthday. It's his last year of the 20s. Phew. That flew by quickly. 

Another Day of #NCTE2024 & (Lo & Behold) I Finally Get Mr. William King & Mr. Kwame Alexander Reunited. The Best Part Was None of It Was Planned.

The best part of the NCTE is the random bumps of this or that person, simply by walking around. I met Kwame during his Acoustic Rooster tour in upstate NY, and a little while before The Crossover (I know this because I still have the Word document he sent me). Lots of storying and histories later, I simply am thankful whenever I get to be face-to-face with him. In 2013, we brought him to Fairfield University for my first-ever Writing Our Lives conference in Connecticut. We had over 100 Bridgeport youth come to campus for a day of writing (and artists Gordon Skinner designed the artwork). Phew. That was over a decade ago and look at life now. 

I'm excited he's promoting Jarred Amato's work, and can't wait for next year when J&K is out (I mean K& J). Also was wonderful to gather with Ellen Oh, Nic Stone, Kim Johnson., and Patricia Park last night, too, and running smack dab into Torrey Maldonado on my way home from dinner (in the pouring rain).

Presented with my Divergent squad, as well as Jessie Early and Kristin Turner via our NWP research-work. Two more day so presentations (two today and two tomorrow) and then it is over. Another successful conference. 

Today, more NWP work and then tomorrow, two special presentations that I'm excited to participate in. I also get to ride the train home, which is always wonderful...the moving office. 

Ah, but now time for the work. Time for more.

Day One #NCTE2024 Was a Success. Tremendous Pride for the Four Students I Brought & Wonderful to See Phoebe Yeh & Patricia Park Again

Everything went forward swimmingly. I was up early to figure out the vicinity, met with the kids to do a dry-run, and then presented in front of a good crowd where Nohea, Max, Jacqui, and Joanna rocked it.

Following that, ran to the other side of the convention hall to present with William King on 14 years of our Ubuntu Academy work. I moved everything onto Padlets for both presentations.

This morning, I have it light and at least now it is not pouring. Looks like the winds died down, too. Last night was a mess, while taking everyone for dinner (Rosa Mexicano - I do not recommend it...hard to mess up Mexican food, but it wasn't very good. Everything was bland).

Now, for three more presentations and the Penguin Random House cocktail party. But first, I need to find coffee. 

Made it to Boston Safely & Looking Forward to Two Presentations on Day One. I Tell You What? Amtrak is So Much Better than Air Travel

I love a moving office. The idea that I left at 3:45 and arrived at 6:30 without realizing any time went by because I had my laptop, a comfortable seat, good Wi-Fi, and great audio book, and a seat to myself was marvelous. In fact, we arrived early and when they called the stop I almost didn't get up...that is, until they cleared the train. It was a quick romp to the hotel (Cab - $30, Uber - $7)...the kids came behind me and they Uber'd so I learned). I received a call from my friend Brendan McGrath who lives in Boston, so we met up for dinner at Committee in Seaport. It was a chilly night, but wonderful walk -- and who does love their shrimped served the heads, eyes, and antennae still in tack? 

Brendan and I met in 2005 at the Breadloaf School of English in Middlebury, Vermont. He was teaching in Alaska and I was teaching in Kentucky. We bonded in a class taught by Michael Armstrong and worked on a project together. We laughed, too, because we wrote letters to keep in touch...no email or text messaging. We've seen each other from time to time at conferences, and see one another on Facebook. He married, had two kids, and is leaving literacy coaching to become an elementary school principal (hopefully by this time next year). 

After dinner with him, I met the kids at their hotel (which was near the restaurant), paid for their room, then returned to my own...an artsy-fartsy mod space across from the Convention Center...No, I didn't know it when I got it. I just knew I needed a room...and awaited King's arrival at midnight. 

I carried many heavy items to hand out, so my back is a little sore. Well, by heavy items I mean books...lot of them. We'll see how long it takes to get rid of them all.

Right now, however, I need to find coffee...and a bagel. It will be a long day. 

Heading Your Way, Boston. #NCTE2024, Soon After Teaching a 3-Hour Turbo and Finding a Ride to the Station (Amtrak Style)

I don't know if I am coming or going, but definitely know I need to be leaving today, as there are two presentations Thursday and a rehearsal, so I need to get there sometime today. I have my Amtrak ticket, so now all I have to do is pack and have an Uber get me to the station. Karal will be going to Pam's and even though I haven't hinted at a departure, I can tell by her behavior she already knows I'm leaving and she's not amused. 

Ah, but before I depart, I had to teach a Tuesday night graduate course, come home to do laundry, and ready a turbo Philosophy course this morning into the afternoon (I think I'm ready...it's the nature of the teaching/conference season). 

Last week, I had students each contribute a teaching absolute that they might wish to defend in their philosophical statements due after Thanksgiving. We've read a variety of philosophers, visited schools, and even found time for David Eggers' The Eyes and the Impossible - which was a wonderful pairing to bring another angle of literacy to the course (and

something Jennifer Dail and I are writing about in an upcoming collaboration). I always love getting the 'statements' from students as they start to position their beliefs about teaching and learning...a document that will pivot and grow over the years as they continue a career in teaching (these students are mostly juniors and seniors, so they have a ways to go). 

The seagull and the starfish are intentional. 

In all truth, however, I'm looking forward to sitting still on an Amtrak train for a few hours, simply embracing a moving office where I can catch up on other materials (including a couple of books I'd like to have in my repertoire before presenting this weekend). 

Meanwhile, Chitunga will be flying in this weekend, Alyssa arrives next week, and there's a holiday to host at my home. For those of us in literacy (and I'm not even doing LRA this year or ALAN) this stretch is rather insane. 

Here's to all of us. We got this.

Tied Up Another Loose End Before Heading Out of Dodge for #NCTE24. You Know You're a Teacher When....Well, You Find the Way to Make Things Right

I've been so lucky to have Dr. Michelle Caruso-Walker in my teacher institute (she's a rock star) and that she sent her boys to our summer program...apples don't fall far from trees because her two boys are brilliant like her. Sammy was in Little Lab, but when POW was published, I noticed that James didn't have his piece in. After investigation, we learned he designed a cover for his novel, but never typed his piece from his notebook for the publication. I absolutely hate that, so I had him send me a copy of his notebook. 

I typed it up and added pictures, then dropped off a framed version of his story and a copy of POW at their home. He deserves to look up at his writing achievement in the same ways all 238 kids published this year do. He put in the time and creative energy and I'm so glad I could find a frame, get it to the printer, and send it his way (well, drop it off).

It crushes me not to see kids celebrated and applauded. His story was about a bear, a tiger, an ape, and an elephant escaping a zoo. It was fun and reminded me of The One and Only Ivan. 

I'm hoping to see his mom in Boston this week as I present, amongst many things, on the work of POW from 2023. It's still too early for 2024. 

Anyway, this photo made my night last night, as it also made Max's day, who edited and proofread all of POW for the team. Not sure how we missed the fact James never had a chance to type his work, but the power of community finds away to always pull together.

Got My Hairs Cut to Ready Myself for @NCTE #NCTE24 This Week. Been Grading Like a Madman so I Can Be Fully Present When It Begins Thursday

After Nikki's wedding, I quickly got on my barber's calendar for November, knowing I'd need a fresh cut before NCTE. It's been a marathon arranging for presentations, keeping up with classes, and arranging the return when Thanksgiving begins. Not sure I have all the parts in place, but I am trying to pretend I do. That's why I snapped a photo of my haircut as I was leaving. 

I have such a pin head, just like Juliette Catherine Alanis Madonna Potatohead Houdini Scrappy Doo Olivia Dennis used to have (that was my first dog). 

I still need to trim the eyebrows. I'm getting the Crandall caterpillars with tremendously long hairs that grow overnight. It's so weird. 

It was a beautiful day yesterday, so I cooked on the grill so I had food before I depart and also got a wonderful hike in. For the most part, I graded from 8 a.m. until 10 p.m. finally finishing before I went to bed. It really has been a fortunate autumn this year, and even with a frost or two, the flowers are still finding away to bloom...even neighborhood roses. 

This morning, I have to get laundry in, pick up my sports coats from the dry cleaners, and find something red to wear for a special event in Boston. I'm also biting my teeth that all the transportation and accommodations are good to go, as it's not just me but an entourage of CWP folks attending. I imagine Wednesday night my phone will be blowing up that people arrive to the hotels and I'm told, "They don't have a reservation." 

Now I know they have one, but these are things Directors worry about. 

That and eyebrow hairs which I should be trimming in 3...2...1

When You Run Into a Previous Young Adult Literacy Labber in a Parking Lot (She Drives Now), You Do a Selfie

Well, at least I do, because I also work with her mom, and I hear how the senior year is going and all the complexities of applying to college. Wishing Frankie the best with her applications and the decision-making. She deserves all her heart desires as she's always been one of my favorite readers and writers, always engaged with the storytelling around her.

I spent all of Saturday grading, with a short lunch at Centro in Fairfield with two graduate students who are full-time teachers. I don't have them this semester, but we wanted to catch up on thinking, teaching, writing, and doing better for the world. 

Frankie just happened to be in the same parking lot stopping to get Starbucks coffee. I had to snap a photo for her mom. 

I graded late into the night and will go back at it today, as these essays need to be finished (as they lead into the final projects due in December). I know my time to be there for them will be short this upcoming week and next week is short because of the turkey thing. 

I also need to cook for the week today, so I can pace myself and the packing for Boston. I think I'm ready with presentations, and it will be great to see so many colleagues from across the nation to catch up on classroom practices and strategies. I love, too, to have a Fairfield entourage with me.

Okay, weekend...you flew by too fast, but here we go once agin. 

Counting Down to Getting Rest & Time Away from the Hustle & Bustle. I Look So Forward to the Winter Break

I realized something last night as I was yawning and trying to keep my eyes open. I'm exhausted. This body has gone 13.5 years with little, to no break, especially with 3 years of R&T winter break commitments and another 3 years of covering winter session for classes that needed instructors, as well as May/June classes that needed the same. This preceded the July/August run of CWP work, only to be followed by two semesters and more winter sessions. There have been zero moments to simply "let it all go." 

This year, I've said, "No." I'm not teaching all those extra courses and I'm giving myself a mental break. Now I'm seeing the conference season, followed by the turkey break, followed by Fall semester closure, and then time to rest. My countdown has begun and although I'm not used to unwinding and sitting still, I am looking forward to not have to be in pre-mode 24/7 and/or grading what comes in. 

I'm taking a mental break and I can't wait. 13.5 years led me to the promotion as a full professor and I'm rewarding myself by separating from the work for a short while (well, the teaching part. I will always be writing and planning). I just won't have to do that on a clock, especially when I should be getting rest. This time, I rest...and Chitunga and I will plan a way to do this.

I see the light (in all this day-light saving time darkness). Bry-time, sleep, and not the constant need to be on my computer sorting through emails and responding to students who are also exhausted from the demands of winter/summer sessions. 

I'm prepped for NCTE next week and now need to grade so I'm ready for Tuesday/Wednesday classes, then travel to Boston. In my yawns, I'm counting in my head. Things will and must slow down.

I Finally Put a Month's Worth of Laundry Away. I Probably Wouldn't Be So Bad If I Got Rid of a Few Baskets

I think my problem is that I know I have four baskets, so I simply pile the laundry into them into the laundry room, until I realize, "Crandall, you have a problem." It's sad, but I see such rituals as a waste of time getting in the way of all the other things needing to get done (mostly mind-oriented, finger tapping stuff of the keyboard. The laundry can wait.

Ah, but it's all put away, and I was dog-sitting Jake, so I had to mongrels insisting that lying on huge piles on the bed was a game that involved them (Karal especially thinks playing with the dryer balls and socks is extra-funny). 

Also funny, was the competition of both dogs lying on top of me while I tried to work. That's over 100 pounds of fur thinking they possess me...like I belong to them.

I do...well, I did for the day.

Next week, a CWP-Fairfield crew and I head to Boston for NCTE and I spend most of yesterday getting the presentations together. I know we're only supposed to have one presentation, but somehow each year I end up being placed on many. My intention is to uphold the greatness of the teachers and students I work with, but still the National Writing Project remains at the epicenter of the conference season. We tend to congregate together and find spaces for one another in our sessions. 

Now it's time to factor in travel, making sure everything is packed, and that all are able to get onto Amtrak and into their hotel rooms. We don't leave until next Wednesday, but the preparation actually begins in January as everyone scrambles to get a proposal or two in. It isn't until summer you find out so many others put you on their panels/round tables, too. It's all good. It keeps me honest (sadly, not young). 

But now it's a Friday and I really need to grade, so that's what I'm going off-line to do for a while. Then comes the weekend which is typically more of the same. 

30 degrees last night. Yes, I'm becoming the Weather Channel because I'm feeling the temperatures drop in my bones. 

Ah, Kathy Silver. At least my dog and I weren't skunked this week. That would add a bonus I don't think I'd want right now.

I'm Late to the Trader Joe's Phenomenon (Resisted Since Santa Fe, New Mexico), But I Get It Now, Especially the Convenience of Good Treats

Trader Joe's currently has miniature pecan pies. They were inexpensive, so I got four (well, they come in four) and I thought I'd bring them somewhere as a treat. Nope. Tried one. Ate one for breakfast four days in a row. Then, I brought some to one of the classes I teach...that, and their gingerbread sandwich cookies. 

Lethal. 

Dangerous. 

Should be barred and made illegal.

They were devoured in a matter of seconds (note: those with nut allergies abstained, as they should). And I'm thinking of my mom and dad, and how I brought them Trader Joe's groceries ONCE and they got hooked. As soon as I had a miniature Pecan pie, I knew I wanted to share with my parents. So good...like a love nudge from the kitchen. Tinier than a bagel and more than a cookie. Dang miniature delicatessen wrapped in a package of four. 

Amazing. 

Ah, but today, I need to move from teaching and into writing, planning, delivering, and dog-sitting (Pam's having a book club meeting at her house with finger foods). I get Jake which is a total treat. And my class of 28 was thankful for the snack midway through dissecting educational philosophies. 

I call it a win-win-win-win (that's for each pie in a box)

Brought Out the Play-Do Last Night to Simulate Sudanese Cow-Crafting, a Dinka and Nuer Tradition Amongst Children

Last night was refugee and immigrant young adult novels, and asking questions about home, identity, location, and global struggle. Although no one opted for Ger's book or John Dau, one student did read Luma Mufleh's Learning America and another read Victoria Jameson's When Scars are Scattered, and all the stories depicted the narrative of relocation, societal change, and global conflict. The conversation was based on other ways of knowing and the interconnectivity of global history. 

So, the students sculpted cows as the men used to to every Sunday at St. Vincent's Church in Syracuse - a fundraiser we held for Sudanese immigrants. They sculpted, we fired in a kiln, they painted, and we fired again. These were sold to help them pay for books at the community college and to enroll in classes. A couple of the kids mastered their tiny little cows (a hands-on opportunity).

This year, the students' independent projects are heading in a variety of directions, but one is looking at portrayals of Muslim-background girls in YA literature. She's Albanian and on the University cheer team, so had to leave before class ended, but she's been super excited the books she's selected all semester, and loved the Luma Mufleh mission and story. I'm looking forward to seeing where she takes the writing.

Hard to believe there are only two more classes left (as we have turkeys intervening once again). Semesters fly by. Years even faster.

I'm off to the turbo now, and another week of Freire and philosophy. Needed a winter coat on the drive home but didn't have one. It got chilly rather quickly. 

And with that...another cup of coffee is needed.

Chalking It Up to the Leaves, Lack of Rain, Dryness, and (Perhaps) the Inevitably of a Time-Demanding Lifestyle in Teaching.

And he sneezes again. Tis the season of dry, clogged nostrils and slow, post-nasal drip to the back of the throat. The ears are clogged, the forehead pounds, and it makes me want to sleep. I have a difficult time napping, but I'm growing comfortable with retiring my mind early with no computer, just a few phone-games (I've back-played Wordle to August, 2023), and a decision to go mindless (in the work sense, not the active brain sense). Down time. Unwinding. 

Blow my nose. Drink tea. Have a glass of ginger-ale.

I always measure such episodes against the years of living in the Ohio Valley, where such allergies were crippling. How many times did I have to heat towels in the microwave to place over my head? How many times did Alice get rushed to the hospital because she couldn't breathe. I don't miss those kind of allergies.

But I get them in Connecticut, too. Tissues are a friend.

I hate brain grog because I've made a career of brain use. When it doesn't work as quick as I want it to, I need to find an alternative (and I can hear Kirsten from high school and college saying You don't know how to relax). I do relax...when I walk or run. That's my downtime and a location for rejuvenation. 

Mom has been hounding me for years to watch Soap from the early 80s. In fact, she bought me the complete DVD collection back when we used DVDs. I never opened it. I do have memories of her laughing around 10 p.m. on Thursday nights when it came on. Perhaps it was earlier. I don't remember. She called to say she found all the episodes on YouTube, so last night I decided to binge watch to catch up on 40 years of her harassing me. So, last night that's what I did...analyzing it, however, will come from another day. 

I've got to get ready for the 14-hour days ahead, and I need to take it all slowly .

Ha-choo.

And Now Aging Has Me Questioning My Food Choices. Okay, Popcorn is Not Meant for Dinner, I Know

Last week, I forget what night it was, I ended up making a gigantic bowl of popcorn for dinner. What was left over was thrown in bags for snacks to bring to the University, which I did driving to the Fairfield University volleyball game yesterday. I do love popcorn. I don't indulge much, but from time to time I do (maybe once a year, if that). I did forget, though, about the way the seeds get between teeth and gums. Older, it only gets worse.

I spent most of yesterday trying to get a little kernel flake out from my teeth and gums. My tongue kept going to it wondering what it was, but when I flossed, it wouldn't come out. I couldn't get it with a toothpick either. I kept trying and even convinced myself it was probably just part of my tooth. But, I get obsessed and kept at. I was so relieved when it finally gave way. It really was wedged right against a tooth, deep in my gums, and it didn't want to let go. Sly little devil...but it is now gone.

I will unlikely have popcorn again for another year or so. 

Besides grading and creating for the upcoming NCTE conference, the only other remarkable thing I did was listen to NCAA volleyball games (it was on in the other room and I could hear them) and put the two sleeves into both tables in anticipation of Thanksgiving and a house full of guests (this year, with three toddlers...maybe more). I will need to child-proof my house and make a play area (I'll never forget when Ishy and Sydney Johnson's little girl got into my RISK game and hid every little soldier and tank there was. I found those little figures for months. They loved them, though, and had so much fun playing with them (but they're tiny...glad they weren't still in the eating everything phase).

And look at that...it's Monday again. Not that I didn't stop working all weekend, but it is nice to know that you can sit home and distract yourself every now and again.

We got this.

Pepped My Step with @StagsVB (Leading the MAAC Once Again) Yesterday Afternoon - They Energized My Weekend

The transition from Fall towards Winter is always rough, as we need our vices to keep us going. Since coaching volleyball (albeit horribly) in Kentucky, I've grown extremely fond of the game, especially when matches are close and both teams are fighting for the 'W'. This was the case yesterday on campus, as the Stags came from behind in all three games to win the match, maintaining their #1 status in the MAAC. I've been lucky to meet with Nancy Somera as a faculty liaison for the team and cheer them on whenever I have a free moment while they're playing. Yesterday, after writing all morning and knowing I needed groceries, I opted to attend the game in the arena. Play by both teams in previous games let me know it would likely be close...and the games were.

Officiating was a little wonky, but so were the number of challenges from the head coach of Canisius. I get it...volleyball is a mental game and a missed call can throw everyone off...change the balance and pace (including the patience of the audience). He won the challenges at times, so it definitely is worth it, but in the end the Stags proved to have the better teamwork.

I haven't been back to see them since the pre-season games, but now that all teams across the U.S. might have the NCAA tournament on their minds, I thought it would be great to see a live game again. Sadly, I'm in Boston the week they're in Albany for the MAAC tournament. But I do watch every NCAA match I can and feel fortunate to have most of them on my ESPN App...perks of having an Apple T.V.

It was also senior week (and Graduate Students)...I always feel lucky to catch these, especially because family members attend and you're reminded of not only the commitment to the student-athlete life, but the dedication of parents and loved ones having the back of their athletes.

The Stags have another game today at 1 pm against Niagara. Their last two season games are in New Jersey, which I'll have to miss. Ah, Sunday...I hope it is productive as yesterday was. Even came home to make a great dinner (which is always a plus for a weekend night).

Here's to the fight given yesterday by the Fairfield University Women's Volleyball team. It's wonderful to watch when things come together. 

And They Arrived. The 11th Edition of @CWPFairfield's POWER OF WORDS, the Anthology of Writing Project Programs is Ready to Go

It's hard for me to believe that we are getting ready to mail the 11th edition of POW! Power of Words to the wonderful teachers and youth who participated in the Connecticut Writing Project's programs to the incredible young people and teachers who spend so much creative energy working on their own writing projects. This year, we include the Cultivated Collective, a cohort of 96 writers who participated in school programs to nurture their writing talents (with thanks to the New Era Writers program sponsored by the Cornelia T. Bailey Foundation). 

It always is a source of pride to work with incredible educators in Connecticut as they bring forward their love for big imaginations, colleges essays, novel writing, and support for students of multiple languages through Ubuntu. There have been so many who have worked tirelessly to bring these traditions forward at Fairfield University within the National Writing Project tradition. 

I know most have moved beyond their summer vacations and camps, already hustling and bustling with a new school year. I'm hoping this year's publication will bring them memories from the work they did last spring and into the summer. 

Portfolio assessment in the State of Kentucky, and all the support of the National Writing Project helped me to realize best practices for teaching writing across all genres and subject areas. The best teachers, too, are writers themselves and POW! is our culmination of tremendous work - a testimony to the research, vision, grant-writing, and teaching in which we stand for.

I know it's Saturday and time for the weekend, but yesterday prepping the mailers to be in the hands of teachers and kids helped me to remember why it is I do what I do. Words matter, especially when nurtured within a community of other writers.

Throwing an Aging Fa#t Photo Onto the Cyber-Galactic, More Because of the People Behind the Work Than to Show I'm No Longer a Pup

The Lucy Katz crew, that awarded the Fairfield University Women's Basketball Team with the 2025 Award, sent me this photo yesterday and it makes me proud. I wasn't able to make the entire ceremony...actually arrived as they were departing (because I taught a class), but I loved knowing they were getting the recognition and, sometimes, we do the good work of celebrating those doing the better work. 

I had nothing to do with any of it, other than being a fan of college sport, a supporter of K-12 education, and an admirer of individuals (or teams) doing just and socially-important work. It was wonderful to meet the coach and to applaud the team (and yes, this is a throwback to a post from two-weeks ago).

Yesterday, an entire day was spent working and reworking our education programs in promotion of certification at the undergraduate level (to meet the needs of schools craving certified teachers). Cheers to Drs. Alyson Martin, Anne Campbell, and Emily Shamash for leading the way, and a 1001 thanks to Laura Whitacre who is a champion for it all. The work tirelessly to meet the needs of the State and our students, despite the incredible obstacles thrown our way.

It was a long, long day, but much was accomplished. 

I got a walk in, cleaned my house (some)(in anticipation of a deeper clean tomorrow), spent three hours answering emails, and put laundry away. I'll call that successful.

Today, the 11th edition of POW! should arrive to campus and that means we have to frantically get them in the mail and to the writers of summer. Although I had an October goal, a hurricane got in the way. Damn warming climate.

And I'm looking forward to the weekend...just to catch a little mental break. 

Daniel, I Am thinking of the Class of 2003, the Stars, All My Years of Teaching, and All the Advice About the Profession

Yesterday was rough, but I've had rough before. 9/11 occurred in school, live, as the nation began to process the complications of an interwoven world. We were awestruck as educators, but we focused on the kids..what they would need...how they would process. The same was true at times where we lost members of the classroom community: parents, brothers, and even those we taught. I was thinking about Daniel last night, a young man who had an allergic reaction to penicillin and lost his life at age 16. He was just a junior and his early departure devastated his classmates. As a reader of his writing, it also crushed me, especially because like any 16-year old human, he was working through transitioning to adulthood, cultural expectations, his religion, and not being able to live the life he felt deeply inside - his church would ostracize him. Before he could was ready to share his story with his family, he wrote it to me. I had the letter in my to-be-graded pile the same day he passed. I'm not sure his classmates ever got back into their groove, but they got together and bought a star. They named it Daniel and every time I hear Elton John's song, I think of that time. I think about the heaviness every classroom teacher experiences simply because they chose a profession of nurturing the next generation. Counselors, too. We feel the world as we teach it with words, numbers, art, and projects.

Many kids emailed they didn't have them to attend class. They're empathetic humans who work with immigrants, refugees, the LGBTQ2SR+ community, and love families that are interracial and beautiful. I'm at a faith-based institution and their understanding of God, prayer, being good, and doing right by others wasn't making sense as they began to recognize that history is ongoing, and the ugly side of yesterday isn't only in textbooks, but a foundation for who and what we are today.

But I had to teach. I had to model and act on what I feel a good teacher should be. Mostly, I was present, offered room for conversation and folded in philosophical foundations as I had prepared from the readings. 

Last weekend, too, in preparation of an ever-changing world, I went through their educational autobiographies and typed my favorite lines into a presentation, so we could do a choral reading were all voices were heard, recognized, and celebrated as part of the community (a lesson I picked up from my Annenberg days from the Critical Friends training I attended with fellow teachers and Ron, my principal). The choral sharing builds community and the blending of their voices applauds democracy. 

As we read citations from writers on education philosophies, they began to see that the battle for school spaces and what an education is and should be has been part of the war of the United States from the beginning. Teaching truth and history and knowledge and critical thinking and possible ways to make sense of it for a career in the future is enormous...there needs to be balance between what is written and what they're living and experience. There needs to be space to process.

I'm remembering a professor at the University of Louisville once said to our class that a school doesn't stop for the kids. They need that space because it is part of who they are. They see our actions and, if we're lucky they learn from them.

I did a lesson on the layering of thick skin that evolves from protecting the heart from the time we're born - one from Cindy Debotis's 12th Grade Tools for Change class. I draw on those lessons often as they impacted me intensely at the time and have proven to work as times have evolved. Kids need to realize that just because we're older, doesn't mean we have answers...we may only have perspectives for understanding what is going on and tools for rebuilding for a better day.

Last night, I took two colleagues out to dinner to celebrate their birthdays. We're all in the sandwich years with aging parents and ever-evolving kids, and the evening turned into a release of a whole lot of heavy, especially for one who has been doing all she can to be a superwomen for her family, parents, and students. I wouldn't say she broke down, but I would say she trusted us to let go with the bottled emotions she's kept inside...an overdue release of pent up emotion from living live in her last year of the 40s. 

It's something. The stars are still shining at night...I see you, Daniel...and the perennials are still blooming in November. I've been paying attention to the bees that are feeding with gluttony and glee for two months of extra juju. To me, they represent life...just doing what they do, in the same way I hope I was able to model with my students. Reading everything they can is one solution. Participating and not giving up is the other. And keeping our eyes to the sky will always be a reminder.

Channeling Cyndi Lauper this Morning, as My First Shot of Tremfiya Arrived in Icepacks Left on My Front Steps in the Middle of the Day

Deliver was to be 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.. I had a meeting at 1, so left at 12:30. It was dropped off at 1:15, so at 2 p.m. I came home, unpacked the medication (as it was iced in a giant styrofoam box) and put it in the fridge so I could return to campus to teach. Interestingly, it came with all sorts of paperwork, but how to administer the shot (I have to do it myself). Alas, I was too friend to search online because I needed to prep for class.

In class, we discussed verse-novels, as each student chose a different one for their semester projects (a book a week). Assuming they would hate poetry, I did a poetry workshop where I showed how educators read poetry as writers, and help students to play with language so they, too, can understand why writers do as they do...especially poets.

Patrick read Keisha's House, so challenged them to give me six words (they chose blue, pencil, pajamas, prosperity, pasta, and chocolate). As they presented their books to each other, I quickly drafted a sestina (which is a style used in the book Patrick read).

Truly, I was simply trying to keep my mind occupied on anything but the drama of another election year. But it showed up in my poem, drafted in 15 minutes as they also worked. And with that, I'm off to teach my turbo.

The Day Before Tomorrow (modeling an impromptu sestina)

I can’t sleep past six. Yellow sun, skies blue,

and my manic brain needing to create,  to find a pencil

as I make my coffee and begin a ritual in pajamas

(lord knows I don’t do this for the prosperity

…but energize every night before…mostly pasta

 and, dare I admit it, chocolate. 

Today, however, I ate the chocolate

driving from home to campus feeling blue

because it’s election day & I am twirled like pasta

on a fork ready to be dipped in tomato sauce (where’s my pencil?

I might want to save the spaghetti for another poem…more prosperity,

Crandall. The poet drinking coffee & eating meatballs in his pajamas.

I’ve scanned social media for the Djs, Bobs, Mollys & PJs -

those I once went to school with (kids who sold chocolate

with me to raise money for sports, bands, so Norhtstars could prosper.

Kids dressed in varsity jackets of green and blue).

I’m thinking about voting…needing to bubble with a #2 pencil

(why wouldn’t I reflect on meals of yesterday, kids from the past?).

Our school was mostly Italians…I know because of the cookies and pasta

during holidays (way before kids were allowed to wear pajamas

in school). This morning, I want to note with a pencil

how I didn’t grow politically until I moved away (tried the chocolate

in Belgium, ate the Magnums in Denmark, and dyed kimonos with Tokyo blue -

I got an education, climbed out of the Syracuse cave, & sought intellectual prosperity,

as if I was learning from Caliban through books. Just call me Prospero…

and bury my yesterdays tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…keep me pasteurized.

This isn’t an English teacher poem, though: it’s political. Red, white, & blue

knowing that some of us where clothes to bed, others in other or just pajamas,

and life is rarely like that Democratic box of chocolate,

even if Gump wanted us to believe otherwise (sharpen that pencil).

Back to classmates of 1990 — the days of doing math with pencil

and thinking how if you could afford Gap or the Limited, you lived in prosperity.

Back to the days where we trick or treated for milky ways and chocolate

fueled from cheese and macaroni boiled in our youth (all that pasta)…

when it was cute to wear Star Wars & Cabbage Patch pajamas

before growing up and having to vote red state or blue.

Before taking a pencil to stab the eyes & vomit from the media’s pasta,

as our land of freedom & prosperity need a lot more nap time (prepare the pajamas).

All  I want is to bake a cake, chocolate, & to listen to some Coltrane…his blues