Stay Strong @JCPSKY @KentuckyWP @LouisvilleWP. The Nation Sees You. #TeacherStrong

Disclaimer: (1) I can't help but be rhythmic with a Seussian Prose (as every student I taught it KY already knows). (2) I once did the math for how much I made an hour while teaching in the state. I figured it was below minimum wage, but after factoring nights, weekends, after school obligations, holiday hours, and summer work, I learned I was mistaken. I made about $6.35 an hour...at the time, it was above minimum wage. (3) Teaching is a beautiful profession, but too few respect it as such. (4) We don't ask for much, but when they duct tape our mouths, tie our hands behind our backs, cut us at the knees, and expect us to swim across the Ohio River in record time, then there's a reason to fight. (5) I'm shaking my head. This is not the America I believe in. Every vote matters.

On Reading Yesterday's Paper About KY Legislation

I write this for the Blue Grass,

for the White Boards, notebooks, & teaching pizazz

     that sparkles across classrooms in the state….

            Put simply, Kentucky teachers have always been great.

Yet the political, nefarious fate brought forth

by the political ingrates

is what I have come to hate

(how do they not understand why the counties are so irate?).

                  Ah, because they haven’t a clue

                  of what educators do

                  each and every day.

So, I write proudly, hooray,

for those choosing to fight the inane.

Let me explain.

They hug, they listen, they plan, and they feed,

choosing a life for others, most they care for in need.

They study, they lose sleep, they collaborate & expand,

they’re always on duty AND always in demand.

They read, they make phone calls, they coach and they cheer,

they challenge, raise standards, question, & make clear.

They worry, they love, they show pride, & celebrate,

Put simply, Kentucky teachers have always been great.

It is a calling, what they do, and they do it with pride –

as for politicians, no surprise, once again they have lied

to the voters, the workers, the young people & families,

they act without conscience and they do as they please…

chasing egos & dollars while cutting teachers at the knees.

For over a decade, Kentucky was my home, 

& I soaked in the brilliance of the stellar palindrome
where students were first, teachers not far behind,
A state known for education & the way it was so kind
to its writers, and readers, mathematicians & scientific minds,
to artists & to dreamers - schools could simply shine.

But now, they have forgotten the men & women who deserve much applause,

the magicians & warriors who chose teaching, a life-calling cause.

They suited up, grew shady, became a well-known Faustian tale,

forgot their population, & lost themselves in the belly of the whale.

So, I write this for the Blue Grass,

for the White Boards, notebooks, & teaching pizazz,

for the exceptional scholars and all their intellectual jazz

for Wildcats, Mustangs, Racers, Big Red, Colonels, & Cards,

for all young people across Kentucky school yards.

Put simply, Kentucky teachers have always been great,

            yet the political, nefarious fate -

                        brought forth by these political ingrates

            is what we all should hate

(how do they not understand

            why the counties are irate?).

                 They haven’t a clue of what educators do

                 each and every day.

For teachers in KY,

I am with you…

although a few states away,

loving what you do for kids.

& celebrating: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!

Get thee to the polls! The kids deserve it.

            

Zooted. Fried. Zonked. Going Into Friday and a Long Weekend Like...

My id thinks it's clever and can drag my ego and superego into a holiday weekend with oceanic dreams, but they know there's papers to grade, projects to look at, and planning to occur. The id says, "You must find time to play and, with extra time, you can be stupid for a couple of hours and chill out," but the other two recognize it all kicks off again on Tuesday and it is a marathon of tasks to be prepped for.

I will get through it, and I will run and walk the dog. Those are my salvations.

Really, I only want a Cadbury egg.

When I was a K-12 teacher, April to May was a hold-your-breath exercise of portfolios, culminating projects, senior trips and graduation. I was FRIED by those events. I realize now, however, that those experiences were preparation for what I do now which is 364 days a year (I give myself Christmas).

I'm of the ilk that the more and more they make the teaching profession an undesirable, impossible job, the more I want to counter them with possibilities, opportunities, and hope for a better world.

Ah, but this morning, I have the good and bad angels whispering in my left and right ears. I want to be on the shoreline soaking in the rays and watching the pelicans and waves. Instead, there's the pulling and resistance.

We got this. We have to!

An Ecology of Me: Exploring Personal Civic History, a 7th Grade Workshop Inspired by @sonianieto

We've had a few snow days in Connecticut and, as a result, several projects with a K-8 school have been canceled. This, of course, arrived with a new Crandall challenge: How does one create a workshop with 25 7th graders from a social studies class studying the Civil War and 25 7th graders studying ecosystems in a science class? How does an instructor of an undergraduate course on teaching writing model how to 'think outside the box' while celebrating the cultural diversity of a K-8 school? How does one hit  analysis and interpretation as presented by Kelly Gallagher in Write Like This?

One breathes in. One breathes out. One realizes that the exceptional Dr. Sonia Nieto is guest speaking at Fairfield University later that night.

I simply asked, what would Sonia do? Author of What Keeps Teachers Going, Finding Joy in Teaching Students of Diverse Backgrounds, Why We Teach, Affirming Diversity, Language, Culture and Teaching, The Light In Their Eyes, and Puerto Rican Students in U.S. Schools, Nieto has always reminded me to put students first.

The skinny: 50 students and 16 undergraduates + two content-area teachers.

The workshop? An Ecology of Me: Exploring Personal Civic History, where young people charted out the multiple communities that make their voices possible. Here's how it went down.

Step One: Two undergraduates were charged with an opening activity to kick things off. They knew analysis and interpretation was the goal and chose to print out several riddles and comic strips for the young people (and my students) to think about and scrutinize over. Both were hard as tables discussed their solutions to riddles and cartoons, but it was a great ice-breaker.

Step Two: Define Ecosystems, Civics, Analyzation, and Interpretation.

Step Three: Do a community building activity where tables of strangers learn more about each other.

Step Four: Ask 4 volunteers to share what life is like in 2017 for 7th graders. They name music, games, families, school, world events as items on their mind (Note: Predict this).

Step Five: Present a chart listing music, games, families, school, and world events with the dates of 1865 (a year of the Civil War) and 1985 (the year I was in 7th grade). Then, in each category, demonstrate what life was like (for me, music in 1985 was Aha's Take On Me, which all the students sang along to). As one goes through the chart, they see that life ins 1865 was different, but also some of it was the same (by the way, they are not amused or entertained by life in 1865, but they love their life right now). On their chart, offer them 2018 so they can list details about music, games, family life, world events important to them.

Step Six: Discuss the Civil War and what the conflict was about. Return to the definition of civility.

Step Seven: Show an ecosystem and have kids discuss how all the parts create stasis and equilibrium.

Step Eight: Show a painting of the Civil War and ask, "What was the disruption of the U.S. ecosystem in this point of history? Why was equilibrium disrupted?"

Step Nine: Read a Walt Whitman poem Beat! Beat! Drums! Discuss the context for the poem. Ask for an undergraduate and a 7th grader to perform the words as they are read.

Step Ten: Ask two 7th graders to read Kwame Alexander's Seventy-Six Dollars and Forty-Nine Cents, a poem from Ellen Oh's Flying Lessons and Other Stories (from the #WeNeedDiverseBooks movement). Discuss the context of the science classroom and how Alexander creates a story of a young man interrupting the ecosystem by tricking his teacher.

Step Eleven: Model how ecosystems (communities) make up your life: family, education, cities lived in, influences.

Step Eight: Hand out a blank chart for kids to list the communities that make them who they are.

Step Nine: Initiate a conversation about how communities sometimes conflict with one another.

Step Ten: Model paragraphs about each community that you've written. Address how each community is an ecosystem that makes you who you are. Make connections that these modern ecosystems are the result of historical ecosystems (including the civil war and the U.S. mission to try to reach its true democracy).

Step Eleven: Allow kids to write and see what they come up with.

Step Twelve: Bring a few kids up front and draw on what they wrote to model how they might develop this. Share Share Share. Collect these drafts so they can be continued at school.

Step Thirteen: Conduct a human lap-sit challenge. Make a point about community.

Step Fourteen: Challenge the kids and teachers to write essays on the Ecology of Me: Exploring Civic History where they develop knowledge about the communities that make them who they are and they analyze and interpret the histories behind them.

Step Fifteen: Feed them in a college campus cafeteria.

Then smile! 

It worked. The teachers left with 100% success of students brainstorming what they might write next, finding a way for 7th grade history and science collaborating with one another (I bet, too, the ELA teacher might be delighted).

Later that night, kids depart for their homes, but you stay and have the fortune of hearing the wisdom of scholar Sonia Nieto speak about the importance of multiculturalism and student-centered pedagogy. Then you get to go to dinner with her. You pinch yourself.

Then, before bed, you simply thank the Great Whatever (yes, the band in Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess's Solo) and you fall asleep thinking, "Sometimes, magic exists."

Phew.

Big Day Today, & More Than Happy to Hear The Wisdom of Sonia Nieto Once Again.

Last night, my graduates read two short stories, one by Ursulla Leguin and another by Margaret Atwood, as we worked through Gender Theory as presented by Deborah Appleman in Critical Encounters and applied to other conversations we've had about developing readers in secondary schools.

Toward the end of the night, we discussed a couple of articles that tonight's presenter, Sonia Nieto, wrote when she revolutionized conversations about culture in education with her writing and academic career.

Interestingly, the conversation tweaked a bit when we paired the fluidity of gender with a challenge I have for today: writing with 7th graders about ecosystems (and interestingly, although I hadn't planned on it, I watched the new Roseanne and the same conversation was presented). Where do the biological and natural fit in to the ways our ecosystems sustain and rebuild themselves?

We discussed different ecosystems and I kept coming back to the ways our cultural systems are built. It seems to me that in human ecosystems, diversity has always existed and yet has had walls built to keep it from persisting. An episode like Roseanne last night, or Blackish that followed, would not have occurred 20 years ago. Society has changed.

Or has it? Is it more the fact that society has become more accepting of the diversity that exists within it? Are more people willing to be who they are without have to pose as someone they are not?

This, of course, is dynamic, multifaceted, contextual, influenced, constructed, learned and dialectic, which is what Nieto has always expressed.

I am thinking, however, more systemically (and nationally). There's a tremendous backlash to an America that never was, but always socially imagined in the minds of many who, well, benefited from it. It was their history, their traditions, their definitions, and their laws. That, though, was not representative of all people that make up the American ecosystem. Rather, in the last 20 years, the American ecosystem - which is a continued experiment in human phenomena - has grown closer to the voices and perspectives of a multicultural society in recent years. This, I am thinking, might be what is causing all the controversies of the last few years.

Attitudes and acceptance has changed to embrace more pluralism and this....well, this upsets the balance of what some perceive is normal for a society.

The whole dialogue has me thinking about ecological theory as presented by Urie Bronfenbrenner, which also is critiqued for not accounting for the biological or psychological (the complexities of Phaedrus's horses, I suppose). Anyway, I'm thrilled to see Nieto in action once again tonight and holding my breath that my students and I pull of a phenomenal morning with 7th graders. I can't wait.

Longer Light Means Longer Days To Accomplish More of the Daily Grind

Wake up at 6, drink coffee, and get the day started. Write. Think. Write. Think. Write.

Then by 9 a.m. I know I can get a run in before showering, avoiding traffic, and heading to the office. The sun was out and the sky was blue, so I put on shorts. I went outside and said, "Nope." Ran back upstairs and dressed in winter attire. It was beautiful, but it was cold.

By 11 a.m., I was out in schools and by 1 p.m. I was in my office plotting and planning for a crazy Tuesday and Wednesday, including foresight for a presentation that will take place in 3 weeks. I needed to get on that.

By 5 p.m. I was home again and ready to walk the dog (photo left). It was still cold, but the daylight until 8 p.m. makes it easier to get everything done, including a walk and a run during the day.

While walking, however, Glamis and I ran into our neighbor who was walking one of Glamis's best friends. Her dog was diagnosed with cancer on his liver and, sadly, it has grown and the vet told her she might have to make a hard decision soon. That was hard news to hear, and she wasn't feeling so great about having to make the decision. "I will know when it is time. I just don't want him to suffer."

Why would any of us want another to suffer? I ask this of myself daily as I go in and out of schools. Unfortunately, our learning environments are not all equal. In some, suffering is a daily experience, but it is all they really know. The grind is 24/7 challenge and those teachers get used to it: limited resources, a lack of support, difficult family backgrounds, the PTSD of kids, and a lack of time.

Still, they have life. We have life. While it's here, we have to take advantage of it and make the most of it. One of my favorite students of yesteryear posted a good ol' Peanuts cartoon and I have been thinking about it all day. It sort of sums up my thinking for a Monday.

This is what seasons are for. Spring is almost here and rebirth is always in the air. Still, the winter months (and Fall) remind us that everything ebbs and flows. The carefreeness of summer is short-lived. Life has its harder days, too.

I guess it's always best to keep this in perspective. Some day, we will all die, Snoopy...True, but on all the other days we will not.

It's all the perspective and trying to stay centered on what morrow can be slurped while we have it.

Started Out My Sunday with a Little Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu

Over a week ago, I picked up Jennifer Mathieu's Moxie, as it was sent to be by friends at Roaring Brook Press and I wanted to tap into a different genre of YA text that I know that has received a lot of praise from many of the adolescent girls I work with. The story, one of a group of girls coming together to fight the patriarchal machismo at their school is one that was reported to me as resonate to high school female readers. I wanted to see what the story was about and, spending yesterday morning to complete it, I totally understand why it has been a hit. The pro-grrrrrl, tear-down-the-traditions that exploit young females, story delivered as I knew it would. I loved the Zine handouts that stirred a revolution and instantly thought of 100s of girls I've taught (and boys, too) that would love Mathieu's book.

Given politics as they are now with current administration and the #MeToo movement, I totally understand why this book is getting a lot of press amongst teachers, book lovers, and agentive young women wishing to change the cultures of their schools. The arrogance and entitlements of male athletes in post-secondary culture, I feel, make sense, especially for young girls that get tired of the way their schools treat them and position them as 2nd class citizens in relation to the 'icons' of their schools.

I'm not sure this is one of the greatest YA novels I've read, but I totally see its place in the curriculum and know exactly the students I will pass it along, too. I'm a better man for reading Jennifer Mathieu's book and love how it sparks conversation, debate, frustration, and knowledge. I hope there are many books like this for our students to read. They need this, especially as they try to find the voice to challenge the cultured designed to exploit them.

Ah, but it's Monday already. Really? How did that happen so fast?

Hard To Beat Yesterday's Experiences, But On Sunday, I Have a Day of Refleciton

Yesterday, I took part of the March For Our Lives Shelton demonstration to be part of a National Movement like no other I've been part of. The Stoneman Douglas youth with their intellect, poise, integrity, passion and frustration, garnered an international movement to allow young people to make a case against the insidious violence of our nation and the nation they are scheduled to inherit.

Enough is enough. They've had enough and they are rallying communities to counter the barbaric, pernicious omnipotence of gun violence in our society.

I simply went to observe and listen. I wanted to hear what the young people had to say and, later on when I returned from the march, I turned on the television to learn that our sizeable, yet moderate demonstration, was one of many in the save and 1,000s across the country. The attendance speaks louder than anything I can write.

Late that evening, I had the pleasure, too, to partake in a surprise birthday party for Dr. Kris Sealy, arranged by her husband, a stellar teacher from Westhill High School in Stamford, Connecticut. She was totally surprised and it was a true pleasure to be in her company to celebrate her 40th birthday party.

She was at the march with me all day and I had to keep my mouth shut so I wouldn't give away the surprise. "I guess it will be a night of grading," Beth Boquet and I said as we departed. "Took the morning off and now it is time to think about our work once again."

Hee Hee. Pulled the wool (or Wooley) over the eyes rather successfully.

I think I will be processing March 23, 2018 for some time as the individuals who showed up in Shelton, like those who showed up nation wide, are done with the ridiculousness of where we are in the 21st century in terms of violent acts in our community, often advocated by political parties representing us on a national level.

What I heard is a total revolution. The young people of tomorrow will not tolerate the indifference and apathy of adult communities. They want to make America the democracy it has always claimed to be, challenging the rhetoric of the last few decades.

I guess only history will reveal what comes next. One thing is for sure...in my 46 years of life, I've never seen causes that have united more people. These young people are speaking truth to power and they've had it. I can only comprehend in my middle age state that they are admirable, honest, and deserving of our attention.

Shame on all adults, including me, who have allowed it to get this far.

Change needs to occur. What we allow to happen in this country is inexcusable. Today, I'm beginning to think about what steps I can take to make the U.S.A. the nation it has always promised itself to be.

There's much work to be done.

An Important Day for America: Today, I Will Be With Teachers, Students and Families in Shelton

Today, at noon, I will be in the company of many in Shelton, Connecticut to show support for the youth movement occurring across the United States in protest for safer schools, better supports for youth communities, and ways to counter the violence that has been caused far too often in our nation by the hands of individuals with guns.

My dad was a hunter. He had a respect for guns and a purposeful use for them - to hunt. He fed his family and I recognize the joy he had every October when he took time from work and hunted the woods near his childhood.

I opted in my adult life not to be a hunter, but I have respect for those who take responsibility with their weapons, and who recognize the danger they bring to our society. They understand that violence, as a result of a gun epidemic, needs the attention. It's not the weapons - it's the users behind them. They shouldn't have access to as much as they do. Their needs to be more investments in helping all of us to heal.

I could post the numbers and statistics, but that is not my purpose. The facts are known, played over and over again, and they continue to set alarms for the world about what has become the United States. The data is staggering. Justifying the insanity is inane.

I also know that guns are a tool. The bigger, more substantial conversations need to be held about what's beneath the surface: mental illness, anger, fear, oppression and hatred that is culturally and historically created. Guns are a problem, but so are the individuals that misuse them to harm others in sick, demented ways - events that are far too common in our country.

I sat thinking about the March while doing as I do in March Madness, watching the Syracuse Orange and NCAA tournaments. Sitting in my house grading, too, I felt extremely small. CNN ran a documentary on the Stoneman Douglas shootings and also interviewed families that had their lives changed forever because of Sandy Hook. A father said, "The kids of Stoneman Douglas are not afraid of the adults that have allowed gun violence to get out of control. Too many of these adults have not spoken up enough. These kids are speaking. They are walking to say enough is enough."

Enough is enough.

It's sad to know that such walks have to occur to unite everyday people who do not want this to be our nation. I am hoping to find hope in the presence of others who are uniting to take action.

I am thinking of the families who have lost children at the hands of such violence. I'm not sure how they find the strength to go on, but they do. In the case of many, they redirected their lives to fight the vicious, overpowering anarchy of a gun-crazed society. Regulations and restrictions are needed. Our forefathers never imagined the carnage of today.

It's wrong.

An investment of care is needed. I am marching because I care. I am marching because I prefer a society based on empathy and love.

My Lawn Wishes To Tell Another Story and I'm With Them: Bring on the Crocuses

When I got home from work yesterday, I opened my car door and saw that a patch of purple crocuses were blooming in the 40 degree sun. They're ready as much as the blue sky is ready. We're all ready. We want to be in shorts, outside, and without layers and layers of eskimo fur around our heads and shoulders.

The hint is here. The birds have been piping their performance for a few weeks, even despite the Wednesday patterns for nor'easterners. They want to build their nests.

I said tonight, "It makes all the difference in the world to have clear skies and the orange orb up in the atmosphere. When it is gray, it simply is a miserable display of what the world has to offer.

We are heading into the weekend with possibility that warmer days are on the way. I know the buds want it, the bulbs, and the grass.

I want it, too. I'm ready for the turn-around. It is almost April, after all.

And I'm also looking forward to the pavement, the running, the sneakers, the t-shirts, the sweat, and the ability to sprint without ice, cold chills or snow.

I opened my door with optimism. There's hope yet. Better days will bloom.

And We Need to Embrace the UIEEEEE and EEEEREO Kind of Days. They Matter, Too

 They called for a Blizzard. It was supposed to be armageddon, and so when I woke up yesterday and the sky was only gray I had to scratch my head. Classes were on. Schools were dismissing early, but the University said they were full force.

I went to work. I had a plan of action already made, but with schools getting out early, I had to adapt to a college-only class. I was in my office for 3 hours getting all the materials ready.

An hour into class (wiping sweat from my brow that I got it all settled) the University sends to all the students that offices were closing and classes ended at 12:30.

My classroom has no windows. I anxiously went to 12:29:29 and said, "Okay, this is our 4th storm and I apologize this class keeps getting interrupted." They departed.

When I went outside, however, there was no snow. Even so, everyone was scrambling to their cars to beat the storm.

I was home by 1:30. At 9:41 p.m. I was still looking outside for the snow. The Weather Channel continued to report a warning that 12 -18 inches would fall.

Nothing. Just wet roads. I swept...yes, swept...the back porch. I made an Indian curry dish. I cleaned. I then graded for 8 hours. No snow.

Before bed I played my Words with Friends game and realized that the winds they predicted actually showed up in the letters I had to work with: uieeeeee eeereo. That was the storm - the extent of it.

uieeeee eeereo!!!!

I'm not sure who missed this one. The nightly news reported the storm, the Weather Channel kept sending out warnings, and outside the wet roads remained wet, but clear.

That was the storm that stalled life in Connecticut yesterday. I don't get it. What happened? Did I miss something?

I did get a lot done, but jeez! I wanted a real reason to sit inside all day behind my computer!

Update: It turns out the storm tracked south and 28 miles from here, in Long Island, they got the 18 inches. It was chance. We got a coating. That's just the way love goes.

After a Graduate Course, Day Before a Storm, Inspiration from @likaluca and @nationalbook ‏

You know life is pretty great when you can leave a graduate course at 7 pm and drive to Dolan School of Business to hear Lisa Lucas speak to  150 Stags on campus. The executive director for the National Book Foundation is the youngest leader of the organization and the first to represent diverse readers across the nation. (You can read more from Time Magazine's Propelled by Passion).

I arrived late, but in plenty of time to hear a shout out to Jaqueline Woodson and Jason Reynolds, two writers who I passionately support and who are top notch for CWP-Fairfield. I also loved that Lisa Lucas shouted out to Edith Wharton as a go-to, lifelong inspiration, which I knew would make my colleague, Dr. Emily Orlando, super happy. It was a beautiful moment in English Department history, as we hooted and hollered at Lucas's pick.

Overall, what caught my attention the most (and I was late from teaching...I apologize), was Lisa Lucas's enthusiasm, excitement, and vision for what it possible for readers of literature. I loved the stories of community outreach, applauded the efforts to put books in the hands of traditionally non-readers, and finger-snapped the recognition that all people can become lifelong readers once the right book enters their world. I've experienced this again and again as a high school teacher and a scholar of K-12 literacy. Books matter. They matter more to individuals who make a personal connection with them before joining a community of fellow readers who also share such experiences.

I am frustrated with myself that I didn't take notes, however, and I went to take a photo of Lisa Lucas with the English faculty (who said, "We already did that"). So I said, "Selfie!"

Crandall can handle that.

I think I was most amazed, however, that Lisa Lucas spoke in the same room of the Dolan School of Business where Kwame Alexander and Matt de la Peña have spoken. Everything she had to say resonates with what they had to say. Remove the undergraduate and graduate students from the room, add K-12 youth and teachers, and you have the same message - a message for strong literacy, diversity, and the humanities at Fairfield University. 

Thank you, Lisa Lucas and the National Book Foundation for all that you are doing! If ever the Connecticut Writing Project (via the National Writing Project) can be of service to you, let us know. There's a lot of miraculous work still to be accomplished.

Ubuntu!

Going Into Tuesday Wishing It Was Friday Where I Could Sleep Away the Week

Monday was rough. Something tells me that Tuesday and Wednesday are going to be worse. I barely made it to 8 o'clock last night. I couldn't keep my eyes open as the last two weeks (or perhaps 7 years) finally caught up to me. My eyelids wanted to shut to match my brain that no longer wanted to work.

Today, it's a return to meetings, meetings, meetings, and then graduate courses. To add to the rhythm of the semester, too, there's another predicted snow storm, potentially inhibiting yet another Wednesday of classes - this will be the 4th nor'easterner this season, and the 3rd to hit on a Wednesday.

I've written the other two times that I'm planning for scenario 1, then scenario 2, and of course for scenario 3. It is exhausting having to plot out three ways to run the course, but that is the way it is this semester. Why not make this Wednesday any different?

I will take this morning to sip coffee, to read, to plot out action, and to complete all I failed to do last night because I simply had to crash. All the driving, all the presenting, all the fretting, all the political work and all the traffic - well, it did me in.

I'm in need of ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, and several hours of mindless t.v. (ha, as if I've ever allowed myself such a luxury in my life).

We got this.

3,600 Miles in the Last Week and I'm Glad to Settle Into Mt. Pleasant Life Again

I am, at this point in my life, tired of seeing orange barrels and brake lights, especially as I returned from Towson University and spent most of Sunday stuck in traffic on 95 wondering if the cars would ever move. I can't help but think of stroked and clogged veins as I moved Kermit across the George Washington Bridge through the northern part of Manhattan all the way home. It was an adventure and my payments to tolls has me wary of making the trip any time soon.

Before this, of course, was a drive from Ft. Lauderdale to Key West, another 5 hour trip (there and back) and I can say I am ready for non vehicular movement over the next few weeks.

The good news is that I am home and safe. I get to sleep in my own bed after travel to see 'tives in Florida, politicians in DC and academics in Maryland. It was worth every second, but I am exhausted.

What's up with the Sunoco's having their ATM swipe capabilities down, accepting cash only for gas in Jersey? It made tolls little tricky, but I will pay when the photos of my license charges are sent to me.

Okay, I need to regroup. I've been holding my breath since returning from the holidays and all forces have been on deck for the Divergent Awards, DC work with NWP, and NCTEAR 2018. I need to rethink a strategy for the home front.

Today, however, I can attest I slept in my own bed, with Glamis the Wonder Dog, and with the comfort of my own coffee pot.

The Syracuse win (a surprise) was a wonderful surprise and gift, as well.

Okay, Monday. You're here. Let's get to it.

Eighteen Years, Man! Where Did It Go? How Did It Lead To This Reunion?

So, this kid, Jimmy, Class of 2000, was in his sophomore year when I began teaching at the Brown School. On good days, I would run a 5K with him and the track team across the 2nd Street Bridge, leaving from 1st and Muhammad Ali in Louisville. I had him again when he was a senior and was honored to be a teacher representative when he was chosen for Governor's Scholars. He was brilliant, he was full of spirit, and he radiated all the Brown School had to offer, including an undying passion for everything the school stood for.

He moved on to Western Kentucky University, was a sports caster for years, and now is with his wife working at Towson University, where this year's NCTEAR conference was hosted. The two of us had a chance to catch up over dinner, trying to piece together where our 18 years have gone. I lasted at the Brown School another 8 years, and in that time he became an adult.

Phew!

So much history. It zips by faster than a blink of an eye. Back in the day, I took him to a Syracuse / Louisville basketball game and we had incredible seats 4 rows behind Jim Boeheim. Jimmy was a walking encyclopedia of information, especially about sports, and he still is.

This morning, I have back to back presentations, but I already know that the highlight of this trip is reuniting with him. I have a long drive back home, but I will spend it reminiscing about his senior year, the Class of 2000, and all the awesomeness they brought to my world, including the epic senior trip to Disney World, Ft. Lauderdale, St. Augustine, and Cape Canaveral. I will never forget that trip (for many, many reasons).

Here's to what once was and all that is still to come!

Responding to @PatFox45's Looking Ahead Prompt @writingproject Spring Meeting '18

As always, I'm leaving a Writing Project event inspired, re-energized, reflective, and action-oriented. Yesterday morning's Building New Pathways to Leadership, Extending the Reach of NWP is exactly what I needed after a day of meeting with legislators on the Hill. I had the privilege of sitting with Amanda VonKleist from the Northern California Writing Project to learn more about their online vision for building teacher leadership - a Hybrid Summer Institute Remix. 

As always, I love seeing the NWP family and I have a special section of my heart reserved for Pat Fox who took me under her wings when I first began directorship in Connecticut. The Pop Rocks below are for her. I love Pop Rocks as a metaphor (even though kids find mischievous ways to consume them). Every time I do a NWP event, I seem to experience the same pizazz, snap, and sizzle of Pop Rocks for my soul. I am always grateful.


I am thinking why I have always loved and stayed in the teaching profession and so much of it - perhaps all of it - has been because of the National Writing Project. I was thinking about the importance of investing in beginning teachers to help them to build leadership at their schools and a national network so they, too, can recognize the profession they passionately joined. There needs to be support for these educators and CWP should work with veteran teachers to reach out and mentor these individuals.

I'm also thinking about fusing resources, as funding depletes. Why can't Lehman College work with UConn work with Fairfield etc. to find ways to cross-pollinate ideas, opportunities, workshops, and gatherings? New Pathways may be there.

I loved the hybrid model I learned of today to reach remote areas, and I was thinking about CT's unserved communities in eastern Connecticut. I'm wondering if an arrangement might be made with administrators there to do a hybrid course (maybe partnering with Rhode Island to do this).

I'm also anxious to work with CWP teachers more on the SEED Summer Camp work, to get online playlists out there for young people who might not be able to access a NWP youth workshop in physical spaces. This works excites me.

It pops and it rocks.

I've already headed to NCTEAR with Tonya Perry and Sharonica Nelson for the next 3 days, but I know I'm once again inspired by the NWP family; in fact, I can't do much in my work without shouting out to their research, model, and ability to provide the best professional development in the nation.

Of course, there's sleep, too. I'll get to that.

A special thank you to all who do such amazing work to make the NWP meetings possible for us all. There aren't enough packages of Pop Rocks to thank you.

Okay, DC, We've Met Again. You Know What We Stand For. Appreciating the Support

The morning began at 8:30 a.m. and the gatherings finished around 7 p.m.

Our Connecticut crew met with all 7 legislators and I'm thankful to Representatives Himes, Courtney,  Esty, DeLauro, and Larson as well as Senators Blumenthal and Murphy for meeting with us to talk about teacher leadership, writing instruction, professional development and work with high needs schools. We have a good state: 100% of our public servants stand behind the work and vote to invest in research-based teacher leadership work. Sadly, many other states have the opposite results. They are told that teachers are a drain on the economy and public schools need to be undone. This began with the tea party and is now fully funded and supported by our own Department of Education. You can't make it up.

I've been doing the DC circuit for 7 years. The last two have been extremely different. Everyone is at a loss for words and are totally shocked by the undoing of American democracy. Ah, but that's what was voted in. Be careful of what one asks for.

It is exhausting, but wonderful to spend a day advocating for what I believe in. We are a national network that gains strength from working with each other. It is a reunion that recharges, and any opportunity to talk up the work we do is a great one.

I am, however, sleeping in a little today (and admitting I went to bed at sundown).

Time to drive to Towson University for the next three days. Heading to Maryland.

I Will Calculate the Miles Later, But in the Meantime I'm Having a Manhattan in DC

Well, the snow melted, my colleague at UConn had a sudden emergency, and I found myself driving from CT to DC after heading to my office for the printer. Long story short, today I will be visited with several legislators to discuss literacy, support for teachers, and youth activism. I'm in Washington, and besides a couple mishaps with Google directions, I made really good time. I will never understand why they would misdirect form the chosen path to simply say, "Rerouting. Miscalculating. Redirected," once they gave you the wrong directions.

Either way, I made it. I love DC and I love having the opportunity to meet with CT leaders who are representing our state at the national level, even with the trickery of being a minority in this current administration.

As I pulled into the hotel, I immediately ran into Jennifer Dail who invited me to dinner in Georgetown. We finally got that drink we've been promising one another for months now! We had so much fun (I got a birthday cake, and she got a bloody nose). When we returned, I ran into the other CT people and we problem solved what we will do tomorrow when we head out to the buildings.

In the meantime, I had a great pour at the hotel bar - a wonderful Manhattan, and I realized it is the perfect nightcap before bed. I'm out, as we have a long day ahead of us. This will be a long few days ahead, so sleep is a must.

I actually loved the drive from CT to DC. I'm not a fan of the tolls, but I enjoyed doing something new. DC traffic is something else, but I knew that before I headed out my door.

Here's to today.

The Storm That Was...and Wasn't...But the Movements Must Continue

We got the snow they predicted.

We also got warmer temperatures that quickly melted the snow fall. It barely stuck to the roads (no need for plows) and except for the back porch, I didn't have to shovel as much as I anticipated. I took the snow day and accomplished what I wanted, but there's never enough hours in the day, even when they magically arrive.

Today, I must figure out my next move as I need to be in DC for congressional visits by Thursday morning, followed by presentations at NCTEAR at Towson University. I've decided I would drive this year because of the need to be at another location for the research work. I'm glad that the weather offered some sunshine to make the possibility a little greater.

Now, I simply need to get a house/dog sitter as previous arrangements fell through in the last 24 hours. I need someone to feed and walk the dog (missing my Syracuse proximity where 5388 Amalfi Drive was always an option).

I'm thankful to live the life I do, but sometimes I wish I had the magical nose of Samantha or the genie bottle of Bewitched. At times, it seems a little tricky to make things work in my universe.

Fingers and toes are crossed that everything works out. The University has been closed, too, and I've been without a printer. I need to get materials copied before I head out (and I'm not looking forward to I-95 traffic that has been delayed 24 hours due to a blizzard in the northeast).

Everything will evolve as it will. That's the way it always works. I'm simply going to drink my coffee and let the world unravel as it will.

Phew.

Stolen from @jennifer_s_dail on Facebook, But Still a Gift Nonetheless.

Look! An Ubuntu circle of wind-up toys! And, No! They aren't adult toys as the box suggested, but are toys for adults to occupy their brain in moments where extreme silliness are needed.

With the crazy weather phenomena of Oklahoma City and Stillwater, I wanted to do a shout-out to three individuals who have been rocks for this last year - NWP peeps who get the work, celebrate teachers, and do everything possible to support children. I knew I wanted to send wind-up toys. I had no idea that I'd be able to find collections online.

They were sent, and yesterday (and over the weekend) they were posted as they arrived.

This one takes the case, however, as Dr. Dail's assistant suggested to her over the phone, "You received a package, but I'm not sure I should open it. It says adult toys."

I can only imagine the imagination that was sparked by that one.

I believe permission was given to open the package and lo and behold, this wasn't a gift from Hugh Hefner, but this clown with his heads in the clouds. Cumulous Crandall creativity.

I'm simply thankful that they found their ways to the homes they were purchased for: joy, funk, spunk, humor, silliness, games, and happiness. That is what I've received from Drs. Shelbie Witte, Jennifer Dail and Susan James this year.

I'm thankful.

Yesterday, I was enroute from sunshine and heat to cold and a third nor'easterner in 11 days. Bring it on. I have plenty to do, including the perusal of several books sent to me by Crown Publishing. I love my Penguin Random House ARCs, including Nic Stone's Odd One Out.

Tunga made it safe to Syracuse and I am sheltered in Connecticut. The toys are with their winders and all is well in the universe (if only for a slight time).

Play on, kids! Play on!

From Jimmy Johnsons in Key Largo to Slackers in Ft. Lauderdale. We Out Now. Going Home

We ate two-for-two yesterday. There was a crazy accident that shut down the highways out of Key West right in front of us...like 4 cars in front of us. As a result, we were stuck in traffic for an hour before we could move over a bridge.

Tunga didn't know though, because he was asleep. We drove forward and when he awoke he was hungry and I said, "Pick something." This kid got lucky because we ed up at Jimmy Johnsons in Key Largo. It was a perfect pick, as we sat outside, ate blackened fish, watched jet skis, para-sails, and boats moving along the coast. It was a stunning blue sky and the water was magically green.

He decided we needed to see Miami, too, so we ventured off track slightly and wandered the streets of Miami - crazy busy, ridiculous traffic, but stunning. It is a city I'd like to stay more than one day finding something to look at. It''s beautiful and huge. He was satisfied, so we headed to Ft. Lauderdale, which was easy, but nerve-wracking, only because of the insane construction and heavy movement of cars.

I'm glad today we found our way to the hotel without incident. He went to the gym (to run a 2nd time) and I walked to scope the area). The rental was returned, we paid a cab to return to the hotel, and then Chitunga announced, "I'm hungry again." Of course he was. He found a bar called Slackers near the hotel and we walked over. Crazy, but they have Sunday night cheeseburgers for $5. Seriously - like the really good cheeseburgers. They loved Chitunga so much that they also gave him a free slice of key lime pie. I don't know where he puts the foot or how his tiny frame can digest so much, but it is what it is.

We depart for the airport 6 a.m. and arrive in Hartford at 11. He needs to get to Syracuse before we tackle yet another winter storm. Looks like I will be resting a lot on home the Tuesday.

There's a lot of reasons I wanted to get away, but #1 on my list was to make the kid get away, too. Yes, he did Excel sheets and nerded out from time to time, but he totally absorbed the moment (as did I). We ate well, sight-saw well, were hosted well, and had a great time.

I ran 4 miles this morning and then he did. We found each other by the pool. My memory from this trip is seeing him swim laps, taking more risks in the water, and feeling totally free with how to spend his time. Funny to recognize how a trip is made more special when you watching everything from another's perspective.

Saw My Chickens and Found My Six-Toed Hemingway Cats. I'm All Good.

 We got out of the house early, so we'd have time to reach the southernmost region of the U.S. without having long lines to post in front of the buoy. We also walked to the Ernest Hemingway house, where all 47 six-toed cats graciously greeted us, and the tour guide seemed to have an affinity with them (let's just say Crazy Cat Lady to the nth degree). It was a beautiful property and the cats - who live a better life than all of us in the United States - seem to be doing better than 9 life. They have it made with their own veterinarian, health care, in- and out-door housing, and full feeding regimen. Being a Hemingway cat is definitely a luxurious way to go.

We also visited the the Little White House, President Truman's abode, and did a tour of the premises - such an interesting way to spend the morning. We learned a lot in a very short time, before heading out to the water for a long walk and later the pool for a swim.

I knew I'd regret not booking a longer time. Tunga needs to be back at school by Tuesday (after calling it off for a day) and I have to be in DC by Wednesday. We got our mini-break, which it has been about all along, and a little more bonding time.

I think I did better about staying away from work than he did.

Another highlight from yesterday was going into Judy Blume's bookstore, although she wasn't working. I'm hoping I'll be able to catch her tomorrow morning before we drive up to Miami before getting a hotel in Ft. Lauderdale.

This could be an easy life to get used to, but this is also what I say when I visit Amagansett. My Aunt and Uncle have figure out the exact way to live in retirement. Wake up, sun, breakfast, a walk, more sun, lunch, a tour or two, a walk, more sun, the pool, the news, a late dinner, and bedtime. Repeat.

It's quite a great way to spend time.

Just Wanted To See a Key West Chicken (and Maybe a 6-Toed Cat)

I didn't know much about Key West, except for a few stories about chicken-take overs and how the island was inundated with feathered bird looking to cross the road. Since arriving to Key West, I've been looking for the peckered-creatures hoping I'd see these infamous aviary wonders.

Well, we went to Old Town today and there were a few chickens, yes, as well as tourists galore.

It wasn't until we went into a shopping plaza on the way back, so that Sue could get blueberry muffins for the morning, that a Rooster (wild-n-out) in the bushes of Key West decided to cockle-doodle-doo and let his presence be known. Sure enough, I found the stray outside a Ross's and Publix.

It took me a while, but I got his photo.

Yes, there are wild chickens and roosters in Key West. Today, too, I hope to find the 6-toes felines at Ernest Hemingway's hold home.

Poor guy just wanted to be left alone.

Ah, but the sunlight allowed for a 4 mile walk, a 3.5 mile run, a tour of the downtown aquatic areas, and two games of because volleyball for dessert - it wasn't just about the chickens.

Lots of tourists in these parts: traffic, noise, a mission for partying, and a need to get away.

The hospitality of the 'tives, too, is stupendous and we can't go wrong with the view, the kindness, and the willingness to show us around town.

The stay is short, but we will soak in as much as humanly possible in such a short array of time.  I honestly could lay on the beach for several weeks, if not forever.

Looking around, am thinking that many people have decided to do just this. Florida definitely has its shares of beach bums.

Made It! That's Most Important! Blue Skies! Palm Trees! Wind! And No Snow! Phew

Somehow, Some Way, the Great Whatever found a way to get us out of Connecticut after the storm and after the last couple of weeks that just were. We made it to Ft. Lauderdale and then did the 4.5 hour drive down to the Keys. Not sure what we we drove over, because the last few hours were in the dark.

Thrilled to visit with my Aunt and Uncle, to have food prepared for us, including homemade key lime pie and fresh guacamole, and we are sleeping with the windows open. Fresh air. No ice. No frigidity, and no snow.

I can't wait to wake up this morning to see the view: the skies, the creatures, the sand, and the ocean.

I had to laugh at how much more awesome Chitunga is over me, as a year ago, my aunt gave him a copy of WONDER, the book, and he brought her a copy of WONDER, the movie (which I haven't seen). Love that he thinks this way.

He retired before I did (same time as the 'tives, but I followed soon after. Long trip yesterday and definitely a very long February. I am looking forward to a couple of days of R & R. Hard to believe this actually came to fruition.

Either Way, I Will Make Today & Every Day, The Best It Can Be. But Man We Need a Break

I taught my undergraduate course, even though the University closed once again on a Wednesday. It was not even raining or snowing, so why they closed is beyond me. I also got a 5 mile run in while Chitunga went to the gym using my pass. I said, "If they question you, you simply tell them you and I have been prepping for Key West." He had no problem. And I ran great thinking, today I might not have to dress like a Syracusian to run.

It started snowing at 2, but it didn't start sticking until around 3 or so.

I looked up fast chicken recipes (after I had a pulled chicken/omelet for lunch -Pam said, "That's a little too before and after for me. How could you eat an egg with chicken? Never thought of that before), and settled with one that was easy. Stuff a chicken breast with spices, Feta and Gorgonzola cheese, cover in a parmesan, tomato sauce, and bake for 45-minutes.

It was killer. I will do it again.

While it baked, I shoveled. It took me around 45 minutes to get the snow off the porch and driveway. The first hour was slush, so shoveling was playing with Snoopy Snow Cone Machine. It was heavy, but I got it done.

Chitunga and I ate (I love when I find time to cook), and he went back to his world of numbers and I went to mine with words. I looked out at 7 pm and it was a white out. By 9 pm it looked like it stopped, so I headed out to the driveway once more. Another 5 inches fell followed by freezing rain. It was heavy, but I figured if I got rid of it at night, it would be easier to get out tomorrow.

We're so hoping we're able to get out. We want sun. We want a small break. We deserve it. We have no clue what will happen. The storm is supposed to do until 4 a.m. and at 11 pm, it seems to have stoped. Fingers crossed. We've received no alerts yet from the airlines.

I know my lily-white legs and psoriasis will love the opportunity to get vitamin D. We shall see. If it doesn't happen, it's good. Chitunga is such a great sport and already has ideas to make the best of it no matter what happens.

Something will happen. What? Well I guess tomorrow's post will be the answer. 

C is for Cookie, C is for Crandall, C is for the Grade He Gave Himself on Tuesday

Okay, Crandall. You've slid into Wednesday morning and there are no words for the last 48 hours but I will give it a try.

I woke up with duck lips from trying to suck water through a hose to drain the basement at 2 a.m. - my dad does is it with the pool. No luck in a house fiasco.

By 9 I had a portable sump pump pushing water out of the house.

By 11, I got the heat to kick back on.

By 1, Henry the aquatics man was back (from last year's flood) to name that all the parts were under warranty. Phew.

By 2, he secured a fix for the flood, attached a new part that will keep water from the pipe returning down the pipe, and secured the sloppy job he did the hear before.

By 3, I was ready for class and mailed copies to campus.

By 4, I arrived to campus to realize that the copies made by my graduate student for class were every other page, so they had to all be redone.

By 4:45, I was teaching. I told the students, do not expect much from me and I replayed the last 48 hours. Actually, it was a great class, because it was Reader's Response and we began to apply it to a wonderful Poe Ballantine short story, and because the Notice & Note book has been extremely helpful.

By 8, I was visiting a class at UNLV and doing a presentation about digital literacies with at-risk populations.

By 10, I was home and trying to find out what the latest prediction for snow actually is.

I am waking up this morning wondering what direction today's class will take. The middle school students have a snow day so they will not be on campus. Now we await a Fairfield decision. I'm hoping there's food to cook.

I want a cookie.

That is all. 

And You Can't Make This Up. I'm Shaking My Head. Somehow Will Get Through It.

Had a great time doing the lecture series last night but didn't get home until 10:30 p.m. -

Chitunga was returned and was on the couch under a blanket.

"The heats not kicking on."

I checked the settings and went upstairs to change.

Nope. No heat. No hot water either.
I made a sandwich and then
I instantly thought, @#$#@#@.

BASEMENT!

Sure enough, everything I fixed last year from a flooded basement is gone again. The sump pump that was replaced has been working fine. It went. Now there's a swimming pool in my basement again.

I came upstairs and Glamis ate my sandwich. Seriously. Gone. I hadn't eaten since the morning.

Of course, you can't do much at 11 p.m. but we drove to Walmart. They only sell sump pumps online. That's convenient.

So, now Tuesday will be spent waiting to get assistance. Two days of classes and I'm unsure if, with a snowstorm and now this, we'll be able to get out for a little R & R.

I never like good things to happen, because they always balance out with the bad.

I'm waving a white flag. This is unbelievable.

Just call me Job.

Oh, But Happy Birthday, Dad! That's one positive thing about this day thus far.

No Ice! No Earthquakes! No Tsunamis! No Nor'easteners! Today, It is @ShelbieWitte's Vision

First off, Go Stags! Congratulations Sydney Johnson on getting this year's team to the championship game of the MAACs tournament.

Second, and more importantly, 21st Century Literacies Lecture Series: Literacies for a Better World, Redux!

We got this.

I'm thrilled to be part of tonight's conversation alongside Anna Smith from Illinois State University where we will both have the opportunity to shout-out to the many communities that have made it possible to do the work we do. It's been a ride, but anyone who knows my world and has been with me from the start recognizes that the previous cancellation is a Crandall reality. The ice storm that hit Oklahoma was 150% my fault. It wasn't Dr. Witte's karma - she has been nothing but exceptional for her entire career. Nope, the gray clouds follow me. I take full responsibility that the state of Oklahoma was paralyzed when we previously were scheduled to me. Sean Connors and Kathy Mills, too (who will present on Thursday) need to know that the storm was following me, and I apologize. I should have warned everyone that this is the sort of thing that has simply become Crandall world. I'm used to it, but I feel bad for others that get caught in the crazy.

Tonight, however, at 7:30 CST/6:30 EST the lecture series continues. I am beyond excited to be part of this event, and can't applaud Shelbie Witte enough. She is miraculous.

And last night I was part of another event - a more local one - when CT teachers gathered to discuss argumentative writing through the C(3)WP; I had the pleasure of catching up with stellar educators, including Rich Novack of Fairfield Warde, who have been working with the incredible tools offered by the National Writing Project. I'm always amazed when K-12 teachers give up a couple hours on a Sunday night to reflect on practice and to share their accomplishments in the classroom.

Yesterday, too, I achieved a morning run, but then spent a vast majority of my day making sure my i's were crossed and t's were dotted (yes, that was intentional). I prepped for classes for Tuesday and Wednesday knowing that (1) Chitunga is coming home for Spring Break, (2) I have another ZOOM session after class on Tuesday night, (3) 30 7th graders will be working with my undergraduates on Wednesday (if the weather permits) and (4) a flight to warmer weather is awaiting the Crandall's later this week - if only for a couple of days.

Also: a winter storm is chanced for Wednesday, too, so I have the usual 3-tiered preparation: ZOOM class, class with just Fairfield University students, or class with Fairfield University students and 30 7th graders (which is the optimum way everything will roll out).

Teaching in the northeast, I tell you.

But today, besides a faculty meeting, a BHEA meeting, student advising and more classroom preparation, my mind is all about Oklahoma and the incredible opportunity they've allowed me through the Divergent Award.

I can't wait!

Now, to wear a tie or to wear a box that I can think out of....hmmmm.

A Cluckingly Ridiculous Saturday...With a Cluck Cluck Here and a Cluck Cluck There

Before I settled in for a night of grading (yes, I looked like a crazed chicken by the end of it), I served as a bodyguard for a perfume sale at a Starbucks in Orange. Pam needed company from a twin brother because she was selling a substantial perfume collection to a man who drove down from Boston. Just in case, Patrick, Kaitlyn and I came with flexed muscles.

The sale went down, but on the way there and back, the Kellys began communicating in clucks - a family tradition I had never heard before. Patrick and his mother clucked their conversation with one another, before it turned into "Name That Cluck," a series of songs sung to one another as if chickens.

"Only Bryan would join this ridiculousnesss," said Kaitlyn. "He doesn't even blink an eye."

Of course I joined in - why wouldn't I? Singing the Star Spangled Banner in chicken voice is absolutely a brilliant way to spend one's life and making clucking noises in stores is absolutely how I roll.

Kaitlyn later did a search for YouTube videos with the hypothesis that others probably have uploaded their own clucking talents.

Of course they have.

Included in her finds was a whole channel by Big Marvel dedicated to his rubber chicken harmonizing to popular songs like Despacito (see below).  I haven't clucked this much ever.

Yep. That's how it is in Crandall's world. Clucking ridiculous.

When Academic Brain is in Full Force, Sleep, No Matter How Hard I Try, Disappears

Around 11 a.m. yesterday, I needed to take a cat nap. I can't nap, but sometimes I pretend I can. I wrote yesterday that my goal was to sleep in on Friday morning, but the truth is I couldn't get my geek brain turned off. Meeting deadlines and prepping for the weekend, which means MUCH prepping for the week ahead, meant that I tossed and turned all night.

I got maybe three hours sleep, so Friday in my office (and I was dressed like a reject super hero in running pants, shorts that didn't match, and my hoodie). I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes in humor, because I couldn't look at my screen anymore, but I quickly woke myself up. Three national presentations next week, two classes, and several meetings. On Thursday, however, the kid and I are heading for sun - a much needed Atlantic ocean break that neither one of us are accustom to. Palm trees, penguins, dolphins, and sand. 85 degrees, too. Yesterday's weather was a metaphor for the week. Winds, rain, chaotic branches flying across the streets, and closed schools.

At least it wasn't Syracuse. There was no snow.

Perfect day to work in the office, which I did until 5, before coming home and almost falling asleep on my front porch as I went to get the mail. Talked to my mom, then decided to clean and do laundry. Somehow I got a second wind and I rejuvenated for Friday soap operas: Scandal and How to Get Away With Murder, which I watched on demand. Nice drama to end the week - a little hyped and a lot of shark-jumping (Fonzie), but I was entertained.

The winds still blew. Glamis chewed her bones.  I thought about a Manhattan. Made one. Made my bed. Fridays for aging people. Enoy.

But today, it's Saturday, and there's more work to get done.

If I Wake Up This Morning, It Will Be Miraculous Because I Deserve a Deep Sleep

It's Friday and I believe there's a storm coming (but I have no idea if it is bringing rain, snow, or a mixture of both. I just don't want it to be cold).

It's Friday, and my brain needs to take some time off (just a little break to stop the spastic, cerebral, non-stop labor that has been the week).

It's Friday, and last night at the very last minute, I was able to submit to the Literacy Research Association a paper proposal for the 2018 December conference. Although much of my academic family is there (especially my Syracuse peeps), I've been too active with NCTE and NWP to find a way to make LRA each year. Still, with Marcelle in such a tremendous leadership role, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't submit a paper).

Miracle of all miracles, I somehow got a paper in - not sure if it makes as much sense as it would if I had time to work on it, but it is what it is. Fingers crossed it is good enough for reviewers so they give me space to be able to hug, applaud, and admire all of Marcelle's vision in California for the conference.

Ah, but yesterday. I was in my office by 8 a.m. preparation for a conversation about service learning and community-engaged scholarship. By 11:30, I was back in my office chiseling away at the paper. By 2, I had a meeting with librarians from two high schools doing a cool, collaborative project with young adult literature (mixing two school communities where I will be brought in as a consultant and guide). By 3, I was meeting with the financial officer on campus about final touches on a grant I needed to submit. By 4, I realized I had to present at Central High School's Family Literacy Night and needed to get my thought in order. By 4:15, I realized 135 unread emails came in. By 4:16 I read a rejection email for a piece I wrote in collaboration with teachers about Ubuntu Academy, and by 4:17 I read that I received a $15,000 grant in support of the summer writing programs. By 4:18 I realized I had an hour to get to Central.

By 5:30 I was presenting (and I went over m allotted time - imagine that).

By 7:00 I was home working on the proposal some more and by 11:00 I simply submitted it. By 11:30 I decided to write this post so I wouldn't have to get up and write it in the morning.

Bring on the storm and the weekend - any days that are free for creating and not kidnapped for meetings and face to face commitments are productive days.

This guy needs sleep, but I sure did love working with the Central High School teachers, parents and kids. It is a special school and I wish I had more time to hang out with them!

Midterm, They Sort of Squirm, and The Early Bird Gets the Worm

I think I was a week early. This is the first time I've taught the undergraduate version of my teaching writing course, and looking at spring breaks, partnership work, holidays, etc. this was the day for the midterm projects - which for the writing course is to teach a book about teaching writing unassigned in the course or, because this was an undergraduate course, a young adult novel you wanted to read and haven't read.

100% chose a YA novel to read. My graduate students never do that; they always choose the teacherly and pedantic. I'm sort of impressed that they went with fiction.

As a means to show the containments and constrainments of genre, I had the students take all their thinking about the book and 'shrink' it into an informative brochure to sell it to other readers and potential teachers. We discussed the genre - hell for some, but cleverly challenging for others - and the application for classroom practice.

Different this year, however, was the fact that I wanted to save time and new I couldn't have 20 presentations because we would be there forever, so I split the groups into pods and let them present their work to each other. I simply sat in the middle and took notes from what I was hearing in stereo (I admit, my brain was a bit frazzled trying to hear three ways). They did present quickly, enjoyed the time, took notes on each other's work, and allowed me 45 minutes at the end to make a case for why I do midterms this way.

Phew. Glad I slid into this success. I didn't know if it was going to work because I'm not used to undergraduates, their pace, or where they are developmentally. Still, I think it was a success. I honestly could have left the room and they would have continued the maturity - they were that engaged and I didn't even need to lead the way. Kudos to them.

Okay, Thursday, I see you. I know what you have in store for me and I will do what I can. Promise. But I can't guarantee anything.

It's March already? Ugh.