You Boo, Too - Ubuntu: Welcoming 8th Graders to @FairfieldU This Halloween

I'm feeling haunted. Actually, I did my job this weekend to prepare for middle schoolers to be on campus all day to work with my undergraduate students (and because it's Halloween, I went with the theme of YOU BOO, TOO! a pun on Ubuntu and the literacy community we've been trying to create with the school for the last few years.

That is the plan and fingers crossed it goes forward.

Last night, after returning from a graduate course, I went into panic mode. Why? Well, my computer crashed at the beginning of class and I had two think on my feet to be non-technological to advance the night's objectives with NO PRESENTATION to give.

Lucky, I got that going again.

When I came home, I was finalizing this morning workshop when the computer crashed again! It was down for 60 minutes and I thought, "Oh, No. This is the end."

Technology is scary. We're so reliant on it.

So, this Halloween, I'm praying for 24 hours so I can walk my machine to ITS and actually say, "That email I sent? I was serious. I can't live this way any longer.

Still, I'm excited about YOU BOO, TOO. The middle schoolers have been reading The Outsiders and Ghost so this will be a fun writing day of collaborating, philosophizing, and enjoying Fairfield University together. Oh, lord.

I just want to have a no-brainer night of handing out candy.

Hey, Baby! What's Your Sign? Getting Metacognitive About Lesson Planning with Grad Students

We're approaching the last few miles of the semester (and having taught a content area literacy class for 7 years, I can predict the obstacles that stand in the way of pre-service teachers for designing lesson plans with the intent of best practices in literacy instruction).

They have the knowledge. They have the models. They have the interviews. They have their lived experiences. What they don't have, however, is a lot of experience with the lesson plan genre, especially with pacing out a lesson with students (and this is before announcements, interruptions, bathroom passes, lost homework, parental calls, and coffee spilling all over the plans).

I've become more and more strategic in my backwards planning so that the final product is much more beneficial to them and their student teaching (now in the era of EdTPA). Each year, I'm able to pull parts of the final project into earlier work so that they are building a foundation for their learning:  first with interviewing adolescents, 2nd with genre analysis of a reading, writing, creating, or speaking experience in their field, and tonight - Crandall's model lesson: one to be deconstructed after it occurs.

I have science, math, Spanish, Italian, English, elementary, and History in-practice and pre-service teachers in the class. The reading from Smagorinsky's Content-Area Literacy describes a shift to semiotics and teaching the deconstruction of how words signify.

Signs. Signs. Everywhere there's signs.

I had to get humorous, so am doing a lesson on the validity of Zodiac signs. I found 3 NY Times articles, one we will read together, one they will read in small groups, and 1 they will read solo. We will implement a strategy from Beers & Probst Reading NonFiction. Then, after the instruction, I will hand them a EdTPA lesson plan template where I filled out all the parts with the lesson.

It's a lesson on teaching a lesson on preparing a lesson for the EdTPA lesson plan forma (while hitting instructional practices we read from the research this semester).

Dang. I am thinking about their thinking about the other's thinking, so that I can prepare their thinking in preparation of the future thinking that will happen in their classrooms.

If I was a Warners Bros. cartoon, my eyes would be hanging by my feet, with my brain spinning underneath coo-coo birds.

That's what's happening tonight in my neck of the woods. What about you?

"Hakuna Budd-dha-dha" - All Credit to Dave Wooley For Naming the Phenomena

Over the weekend, there was a brief exchange with my friends Dave Wooley and Kris Sealy about revisiting our youth and what we used to be like in relation to being an adult and what life is like right now. I asked Kris for a philosophical phrase for when one is provided with youthful choices after one has advanced one's self through being young and finding a way into adulthood.

I explained that my love of Herman Hesse's Siddhartha has taken on new meaning as I work with kids who were once the age I was, who do what I once did, but who have no awareness for the youthfulness of their ways.

Here, I'm referring to the period of time when I chose to go out to the night scene at 11 p.m. - socializing with friends, bars, dance floors, booze, and flirting - only to return as the adults in my life were getting ready for work.

I did that, but put an end to it in my first year of teaching because I couldn't go out all night and function in the classroom. It no longer worked.

I explained to them that I now have new understanding for when Siddhartha found the true meaning of Om, knowing that his son wanted to separate from him and to be independently on his own journey. This is not the case of Chitunga...but will be...but with other kids who are totally enraptured by the early to mid-twenties.

Dave's advice, "Hakuna Budd-dha-dha." It was brilliant. The om is found through a total understanding of life cycles and routines that help us to develop at each age, despite the craziness of what those experiences actually offer us. One choice is to be overly adult and be like, "That's dumb...when I was your age, I...."

I recalled my early 20s when I was home in Syracuse and simply went out all night, totally oblivious to my parent's routine. Years later I asked and they responded, "We were too tired. We just went to sleep and hoped you'd be okay."

That's what I did this weekend. I simply went to bed, fell asleep, and didn't worry.

Hakuna Budd-dha-dha. Finding no worries by simply tapping the inner Buddha to find the serenity in the way life develops us all. I loved it.

Shaw wrote, "Youth is wasted on the young." I'd argue that youth is necessary to give us perspective as we age.

Yes, in my 30s I discovered the joy of being home, under a blanket, reading a book and finding calm within my own house. In my 20s, I went for the excitement, because it was exciting, until I realized it was pointless and absolutely stupid. I would never had known that had I not experienced it and grew out of it.

I would never want that age to return either. So, I learned Hakuna Budd-dha-dha this weekend and I'm good with that.

Adulting is difficult, but I much prefer it. Period.

On A Sunday Morning When I'm Already Frustrated by a Computer That Has a Mind of Its Own.

Dear God,

Dear Great Whatever,

Dear ITS,

Dear Interlocutor Who Is Receiving This Email,

I don’t mind rainbow twirls. Wonka’s everlasting gobstopper or even the lollipops from the guild of Oz are wonderful. Still, the twirl of the rainbow swirl has now become a tremendous obstacle with my MacBook Pro - one that has seen services numerous times over the last few years because it is slow, it crashes, and the Skittles whirligig from hell wishes to be my best friend.

We are now at a place of emergency. My emails crash my computer. Grading crashes my computer. I spent 1/2 of my day cursing at my machine because it shuts down while I’m working and when rebooting it takes forever to warm back up. 

Somedays are better than others and I think my frustration is all in my head. Other days, like today, makes me feel like I’m in an Edgar Allan Poe novel. I am drastically in need of a computer that can keep the pace of the work I do. I’m on my machine a good portion of my day and when it gets to the point that I’m working from my phone because it is more reliable, it is a problem. 

I’m praying to the Great Whatever that I will finish this email in time before it crashes again and doesn’t save my words. I will hit send in hopes that something can be done. At this point, it is becoming impossible to do my job because the Apple of my eye, the MacBook Pro that I’ve been using as my computer-of-choice before I came to Fairfield University, is becoming an intolerable, angry son of a Butch (that’s my father’s name). 

HELP (insert waving white flag here).

Bryan

Great to Have Kanyea Back on Mt. Pleasant for a Weekend. Moving Up In The World

He's back. After graduating from University of Illinois-Urbana, working for me for a summer, then taking a job at Onondaga Community College mentoring first generation students, Kanyea returned to Connecticut to high five before he begins a new career with Bank of New York - Melon.

Funny how it goes, as he applied to the Peace Corps and after a year of the process, many recommendations and interviews, he was selected to serve in Ethiopia. The only thing hindering him from going was trying to give sublet his leased vehicle for the 3 years he'd be gone. I was trying to maneuver any potential submitter I could find in Syracuse, but there were no bites.

Then Kanyea calls me and asks, "Can you give me advice?" He was offered full time work with BNY Mellon and didn't know what he should do with the Peace Corp. I did a Sue McV and only asked questions so he could process what he really wanted to do. In my heart, I thought, "This kid knows the struggles of Ethiopia because he's battled both as a refugee in Ghana and then as a parentless kid in the United States."

In the end he decided on the finance job and I said, "You made a good decision. I think you've mastered the 3rd world struggle thing. It's time you figure out the American dream thing."

Although this weekend's weather is going to be awful with flooding rains and high winds, we'll make the best of it. We walked and talked on the Walnut Beach yesterday and he's good for a day of shopping (he needs clothes for the job - this time in hopes that tragedy won't hit his apartment when he returns).

It's funny how it goes. I knew this kid when he was a freshman and I was doing my research. He disappeared before my study began but always kept in touch. Years go by and Abu and Lossine call me to encourage me to hire him for the summer.

I do. We reunite. The rest is history. It's good to have him back.

Spent an Evening Learning from Carmen Kynard with Project Citizen Youth. So Much To Think About

"What are you doing Thursday night?"

"Nothing. Just got poetry club after school."

"You want to see a scholar who will take this summer's work with #UNLOAD: Guns in the Hands of Artists to a whole new level - a level of academic discourse."

"You know we do."

The College of Arts and Science, under the leadership of Drs. Beth Boquet and Kim Gunter finished up the art exhibition at Fairfield University by inviting teacher scholar and rhetorician Dr. Carmen Kynard to campus. I knew of thirsty youth from the summer who are looking for the next phase of their intellectual journey, especially as they question the education they are receiving in their own schools, and I thought, "Well, this is perfectly in line with what they discussed this summer, what they hope to accomplish in their lives, and how they want to continue to pave their future."

It cost me a dinner and some gas, but truth be told, my Brown School core can't help but guide brilliant young people I meet in K-12 schools, especially when the dialogue aligns so effectively with their own writing and questioning that they presented to CWP-Fairifled this summer.

Dr. Carmen Kynard is doing great work at CUNY and documenting her own narratives with the college students she's teaching: interrogating Critical Race Theories, Racial Realism Afro Pessimism,  and Androfuturism with new geographies. In other words, she's listening to the young people she teaches and acknowledging the linguistic practices, theoretical perspectives and intellectual insight that they bring to her writing classroom.

I knew when the boys had questions and wanted to stay behind for pictures that the night was totally worth it. One is a junior and the other is a senior, both are wondering where they will find themselves in a post-high school world. Dr. Kynard's lecture (more a sharing of knowledge and research through the lens of listening to her youth - a storytelling blending scholarship and practice) was well received.

Now comes the rain, the wind, and the cold predicted for the next few days (and my road to hell with good intensions with a plan to get much accomplished).

Honored and privilege to hear her speak. Looking to the scholars of tomorrow with hope as they take Asante's 'two sets of notes.'

I love / to believe / in hope.

Philosophical Perspectives: Another Great Day with a Class That is Just Making the Semester a Joy

It's always much more fun to teach when all the stores have bulk Halloween shenanigans readily available and easy to grab. I can provide a metaphor for my teaching really quickly, and after I handed back all the educational autobiographies this week, today's class was all about gaining new perspectives: summon Jane Addams, John Dewey, Dianne Ravitch, Jonthan Kozol, Pablo Freire, and the wonderful reporting of Nikolle Hannah Jones who was featured in 2015 in This American Life, beginning with "The Problem We All Live With."

Note: All of us have 60-minutes in our lives to listen to this radio show (which is what we did yesterday in class). The reporting is excellent, and the journalism amazing.

The Problem We All Live

I've written about the show before and as I told my students, every time I listen to it again, tap the books on my shelves, and maneuver in and out of school, the reality simply gets me angry. Fear is the undoing of the United States. We need to be aware of that.

Yesterday, we discussed a lot of reading, we shared educational outliers, we listened to the show, and then I entertained a fishbowl so students could share their thinking.

Of course, my releasing of 23 pairs of goggles into the classroom setting helped us to lighten the mood some, even when the conversation was heavy, challenging, and extremely frustrating.

We talked to bring forward alternative, perhaps agentive perspective on what we might do to make educational opportunities a whole lot better. They are abysmal...we know this.

Yet, I have a crew this semester of urban, suburban, and rural students. They are from private schools, religious affiliated schools, international schools and public schools Some are first-generation high school graduates and others are 4th-generation college students.

They all talked. They shared their voiced. They read and heard about the inequities in American schooling systems and they united on wanting to do something about it. They are armed with their own knowledge and I take pleasure knowing that their perspectives will be what guides the next generation.

For 5 Months Every Year, She's 1 Year Younger Than Me By Age - KdotCdot Day!

It's Karyn Dee Crandall's Birthday!

KC, the Pain, kdotcdot, lil' sis, now Casey Barnwell.

And I screwed up the gift - not like orange sweater Christmas style, but in the too big category. I was good, too - went online a while ago and timed the delivery for the 23rd. It came to her knees.

whomp whom whomp.

Deflated like Sean-man's faulty dinosaur Halloween costume.

So, I decided to resurrect one of my favorite memories from a few summer's ago when, on the rare - very rare - okay, miraculous - occasion I actually took time off. I broke my finger tossing a football around with Chitunga at her house. Yes, that's sweat. Drenched. I was in pain and even with my humor in full check, my body did it's own thing and drowned me in nerves. Without missing a beat, though, Casey (KC, Karyn) drove me to emergency care and guided Chitunga, who wanted to be with me, and Nikki, who is the medical "expert" in the family, while we went to get the dangling finger bones reset. Um, Chitunga and Nikki stayed in the lobby because they gave out free Slushees.

There was a moment when the nurse said, "I can't get it in place. This is worse than a shoulder dislocation," and she sat me in a wheeled chair and started swinging me around like I was a lasso. It hurt so bad and it was not fun, and Casey (Kc, Karyn) said, "Okay, I think I'm going to pass out." And then we just started laughing like we were at a funeral and our Aunt Rena's stomach was growling.

I thought of that last night as she texted what her boys will be for Halloween and the fiasco with EBay on the dinosaur costume.

Time. Aging. Adulting. Memories. Parenting. Stress. Keeping world order. Worry. Loving, Caring. Fretting. Kvetching. Needing sleep. Making appointments. No time to catch a breath.

My older sister is in a different place. She's almost empty nesting (well, not really), but she's slowly getting a life schedule that belongs to her and Mike alone. It's a transition.

My baby sister is in full-force MOMMY mode driving the minivan to this and to that only to get this and to get that before needing to be here and then there.

I'm just amazed at the stories of 3 Amalfi Drive kids and where we once were...where we are now...what we know we might be one day.

This life thing is wonky, but in perspective of those who have been with you for the longest, it begins to have more meaning. It's a deeper meaning.

As the sands in the hour glass...This Is Us.  And siblings are meant to deliver the Zing. That's what Big Brothers do.

So our the days of our life.

Happy Birthday, Lil' Sis. I'll get a gift right one of these days!

Alas, Poor Yorick! Looking for Infinite Jest & Imagination on a Tuesday Morning

The few Halloween directions that I have are now up. They will be illuminated at dusk and, if somewhat fortunate, will spook a few trick-or-treaters next week. Glamis will have to share her lounge sofa (the bay window) with a few skeletons until the goods are handed out).

When I was in high school, I used to sing in the shower, "It's just another, predictable Bryan day/ You can expect that nothing will go your way," a tune that I still have in my head from my Eeyore/Charlie Brown/Chicken Little days.

Later, as a teacher in Louisville who taught Greek and Shakespearean tragedy, I began singing,

"In the end, I'm gonna die,
 it doesn't matter, so just call me Bry.
 You go to work, you earn some pay,
 in the meantime, you might as well play."

Perhaps a little more upbeat and Wonka-whimsical, I learned to find a festive way to put humor, creativity, spirit, and spunk into the every day grind, just because if I thought about the routine too much, I would get sad.

I prefer to laugh.

That might be why this morning, while showering and singing these songs that popped back into my head, I pulled back the shower curtain and looked at this wonderful, whimsical body the Great Whatever provided me and had to laugh. Instantly, I envisioned my Grannie Annie in the bathroom taking pictures of me as she used to do with all of us as kids. I still don't know how she was allowed to come in and take post-shower, towel shots, but I found myself posing as a 46-year old, some 32 years later, as if she was in there with her camera and humor.

"I always thought the male body looks like a frog resting on a lily pad."

Thanks, Grandma.

Perhaps it is because my mother resurrected the butterfly/frog stories from Loch Lebanon or maybe it's because my baby sis is a year older tomorrow, but I was thinking about my skeletal self - the short time we have while we have it - and the stress of adult life.

I choose love, happiness, humor and wit. It wasn't always that way, but I am realizing that the opposite is hate, sorrow, seriousness, and stupidity. So, that helps me feel like I am winning some as I face the challenges of every day life.

And I'm still singing,

"It's just another typical Bryan day,
 but for now at least I have my say,
 go to work and try to earn my pay,
while it's here, I might as well just play."

Time to get to work.

Balancing My Brain With an Early Morning Bryan Rant, Then Back to Grading

Over the last weekend, I've been reading educational autobiographies from a wide-range of individuals in their early stages of, perhaps, becoming teachers. I am admitting to myself that this semester I have an unusually astute group of writers who seem to be passionate, self-aware, engaged, clever and curious. Often, I get generic responses to why one is thinking about a career in education, but this crew  - a lucky one - has diverse perspectives and a world-liness to them that seems to be more global and conscious of the extreme experiences in our educational system.

Of note, are several who wrote about coming from affluent communities, but recognizing the inequalities and inequities of U.S. schools. For many, they name programs in their successful high schools that partnered them with other schools that didn't have the same resources, and how beneficial this was to how they understood knowledge and schooling. Still, others wrote about coming from marginalized, underfunded schools where they were the first in their family to graduate high school AND to go to college (with all the stress and fear that comes with that). They wrote about immigrating to the U.S. and the struggle it took for their family to get them into an American school.

What has impressed me with this crop is that they are good writers. Almost all of them have turned to words as a way to make sense of their world, often journaling about what they see and understand, while asking questions to pursue later.

Over the weekend, too, I mentored a young man who was asked to write a personal piece about his life before arriving to a college campus. As a relocated refugee who lost his father and a little sister to HIV/AIDS, he explained how writing words with a stick in the ground and later with a pen to paper (which was a tremendous privilege that came with going to an American school) was how he's come to be self-aware and to build-self esteem. The content of what he wrote was truly amazing, even if he didn't have the language (yet) to articulate the narrative in the ways of American English traditions. As I read his story, I couldn't help but think about how language justifies his existence - putting into the global understanding of knowledge that he, as a college kid, is taking care of his mother and brother while going to school and working. He is the man of his house, and he's always trying to make sense of his luck of being in the U.S. given the refugee experiences of his youth.

I know that the U.S. is awash with universal healthcare, but I'm also a fan of universal educational opportunities. It is a shame when children are turned away from nations and denied access to learn like those born into more privileged societies. As I read the essays of my students and mentee, I couldn't help but think of how awful it is that more is not invested in schools around the world. I'm reading from kids that education is all they have ever had to promote them in the world into circumstances better than how they grew up.

I couple this with previous semesters where students wrote of apathy within their college-prep backgrounds and little determination for doing better than what was expected, other than to go to college and get a job.

Education is more that a preparation for a career. It is partially that, but it is also a means to make the world a better place.

I know grading is a pain in the ass, but many of my students are really impressing me this semester - giving me hope that the next generation might be more tolerant, more loving, more global, and less divisive than our own.

Only time will tell.

Sigh, Bry, All This Grading Makes You Want To Cry - Your Eyes are Buggin'

I knew it was coming. Because I spent the last few weeks semi-distracted by large literacy events, I never found any time to keep up with the grading (although I'm proud that I kept up with the planning for my classes). The result? I have been super behind, and my students need my feedback as it is formative to the summative projects ahead.

It's all a puzzle, and my feedback along the way coaches them to get to a stronger final piece (as I teach the National Writing Project way).

With that noted, I've got middle-age eyeballs now. I can't see anything close up and reading on the computer makes my brain go wonky. Maybe it's because I'm simply tired, but doing a 14-hour grading marathon yesterday has my eyes in doobie-doo land. I can proudly admit, however, that I got through the writing of one class, and tomorrow I will tackle the other (which may take a little longer, but will be educational to read).

I did stop grading about 60 minutes before bed, only because I knew if I went to sleep right after, there would be no sleeping. I would be seeing flashes of light and text flying across a word-documented page (it's like this when reviewing manuscripts and quickly judging writing contests, too). At some point, your eyes give up.

Ah, but I'm hoping a good night's sleep will refuel this morning marathon of starting all over again. The prize? Well, another week of coursework and more writing coming in.

"If you don't like grading, then don't assign it."

Well, if I didn't assign it, I couldn't assure you're meeting the objectives of what it takes to be a great teacher and writer yourself.

It's a double-edged sword.

Loved Working with @blprogram for #NDOW #WhyIWrite in Stamford, CT This Week

Beyond Limits
[Bee - yawned Limb-itz]

A place to get life and school support,
over & outside the chains that inhibit us.

As in, 15 young people eating pizza
& attending a writing workshop
on a Thursday night.

As in: Brothers with fros and
frizzy hair focused on their
self-esteem and integrity.

As In: A community of learners
scribbling dreams on
sheets of white paper
together.

(Thanks, Kwame, for the inspiration)

Actually, we were inspired by Jacqueline Woodson, Nic Stone, Rose Brock, and Jason Reynolds, too.
We stole like artists and had a conversation about why writing is not just important for school, but for life.

I was invited to present at Beyond Limits in Stamford after they reached out to me this summer to learn more about CWP and our youth programming. I visited their site, too, and quickly fell in love with their mission of helping young people in Stamford to achieve their dreams through coaching, tutoring, workshops, and tremendous mentoring. The love for their students is everywhere: in the photos on the wall, in the staff that they hire, and in the pride everyone has for the organization.

While there, I met a young woman who happens to be in high school with two of CWP's wonderful teachers and, within seconds, I could see their influence on her spirit (and the National Writing Project's mission) in how she viewed herself as a writer. I love when this happens (so I snapped a photo to send their way).

Okay, Saturday. Today you are officially the National Day on Writing and I look forward to the pre-recorded radio show that will come out sometime this morning. But I'm also thankful that it is not the National Day on Grading, because that is inevitable (I will be eyes down on my keyboard for the next 48 hours as I catch up from Story Fest  - last night I kept dozing off as I tried...and was able to accomplish...the grading agenda that I had). It's the pace that keeps me sustained over long hauls, especially when I've ignored my own students' writing for the last two weeks.

Happy Writing today! I hope you find a place to doodle words across something somewhere. They're important.

Oh, @S_StoryFest, Be Proud - The Story Will Be Told on #NDOW #WhyIWrite This Saturday. Thanks, @WritingProject!

Two scenes from yesterday.

The first was the authentic and heartfelt smiles of two incredible educators in southern Connecticut: Kim Palca Herzog and Rebecca Marsick of Westport Public Schools, who led the charges (after writing a grant) to make Saugatuck Story Fest a reality. I sent them a box of wind-up toys to thank them for all the JOY they brought to teachers, young people, and so many more this past weekend, as they pulled off an incredible literary festival with brilliant minds like Jason Reynolds, Nic Stone, Libba Bray, Ashley Woodfolk, Ibi Zoboi, Gayle Forman and so many more. I tired my hardest to think how I could return the favor of what they provided our literacy community.

Yesterday was a celebration of them, but first I had to help run a faculty meeting in my department and prep for a presentation in Stamford for the National Day on Writing. Their texts brought me ultimate pleasure as I saw them entertaining their students with the little gifts. That means everything.

The second is I followed with an afternoon recording of National Writing Project radio, where Westport Library, Staples High School, Bridgeport Public Schools and CWP-Fairfield were represented. The show will air this Saturday during the National Day on Writing, which is awesome - we, by this I mean the collective Ubuntu that resulted from their vision, brought over 80 writers to southern Connecticut to work with our community with the partnership and collaboration of over 50 organizations. Wow.

Some of the young people and partners are pictured here (the heart), but I don't have Cody and Alex from Westport Libraries, or the other youth who were part of the collaboration.

I loved the stories that were shared in the recording (all of these individuals) and the authenticity of their voices (ah, but there are so many more). There was so much excitement in what all had to say and I hope this comes forward in the production.

I am very thankful to Tanya Baker for allowing us on her show, and I can't wait to hear how it comes out this weekend! Woot Woot for all who are involved. I am, because we are.

But guess what, world? I am FRIED. And with that, I'm out. I am entering this weekend as one of those wind-up toys, needing to be twisted up to keep going, but thrilled to have had an hour upon the stage.

Here's to them and their vision. Wusah!

Writing Friends for Undergrad Philosophers for #WHYIWRITE & NDOW

In the tradition of Crandall playfulness, I handed out finger puppets to my undergraduates to be intellectual partners while they crafted their educational autobiographies, and reflected on their learning experiences from him, K-12 schooling, extracurriculars, and college experiences. I admitted to them that when I write and craft, I need a little silliness around me, including the fact that when I need to be most serious, I often tie a scarf or tie to my head so my thoughts and ideas don't jump out as quickly as they usually do.

It's been quite a couple of weeks and today is no exception: a faculty meeting, a radio show, and a keynote presentation in Stamford for the National Day on Writing.

Yesterday, one of my students workshopped his crafted narrative to the help of all his peers and, with the help of Dewey, Rizga, Nicholson and Greene, we looked closely at imagination, creativity and community (and how the 3 interchange and/or combat in the arena of K-12 education given the administrative construct of most educational buildings.

I am in my 2nd meeting as the GSEAP Faculty Meeting Chair and, because I found the time, I baked a cake to bring chocolate love to my colleagues and friends in celebration of the hard work we do. We had a slight scare yesterday as one of our favorite colleagues got sick and we quickly moved into worry land. I am happy to report that everything turned out okay and that was a huge relief to many of us.

I'm looking forward to presenting tonight to teenagers and their parents who are part of the Beyond Limits program in Stamford, an organization that works with middle and high school athletes to keep their academics on the up and up, and who are very interested in the development of successful writing. The timing is perfect for the celebration of the The National Day on Writing on October 20th. I am looking forward to meeting new youth from a different part of the state.

Then there's tomorrow. I need to hibernate for many reasons, the first being grading, grading, and well, more grading. I also see that NCTE is around the corner and that, well, is an undertaking and then some.

Oh, if you could see the mess that is my house right now. Scratch that. I would never let you in, but after I do pick up, I will gladly allow you inside.

Happy Thursday.

Whoa! Here I come! I am the Hug Machine! Crandall, On a Whim, Hits the Literacy Lottery with @scottlava

Let me start by saying this was not planned.

I had a dream Monday night about an activity to do with math, history, science, Italian, Spanish, and ELA teachers that would involve children's books. I got up at 7 a.m. and was at the library by 8 a.m. only to learn that they didn't open until 10 a.m., so I sat in my car for 2 hours and read.

I entered at 10 a.m. and introduced myself to the children's librarian. I explained, "I'm a professor at Fairfield University and my students all have to design lessons to showcase ways they develop literacy skills in their content areas. To get their heads around "genre," I told her, I'm doing an opening prompt where they choose to write about a favorite sport, food, book or movie taste (they did this without flaw, which allowed me to discuss the categorization of genres in our every day life - genres are our social glue, as Richard Beach writes). I also was going to read a children's book to them and dissect it for the parts of how we know it is a children's book.

With a few references to course readings, I then  brought forth the delivery of several children's books that were content-specific - written in Italian or Spanish, historical stories topics, math-related, sand narrative. Some read  Funny Bunny Money and others read The Dark Tale of the Tortoise and the Hair. There were 17 different books.

I, by luck of the draw, got the last book which happened to be Hug Machine by Scott Campbell, which I read to model that I, too, was reading for purpose, content knowledge, and genre reliability.
I loved this book. In fact, I passed it to the kid on my right who read it, then passed it to the kid on his right, and eventually it made it around the room. We all decided we wanted to get the Hug Machine kid tattooed over our hearts (and to create our own hug checklist to follow on a daily basis). The illustrations were stellar: whimsical, relevant, and perfect for the the text. We started singing, "I am the hug machine," to the tune of "I am a love machine."

Of course, I then transitioned to a reading of "The Psychology of Genre" in the NY Times - an opinion piece - and we applied a few Beers and Probst strategies. (They NYT's piece is a great read...I recommend it).

From there, we brought forward all the activities that I did in the night and how I used activities and, in a democratic student-centered practice, got everyone on the same page about what genre is. Their homework is to find models of a genre that they are likely to teach (something they will read or something that they will be expected to write). They are to analyze it like we did the children's books.

Ah, but back to Hug Machine. What a great book. It's likely to be a new go-to text to send on special occasions. Scott Campbell, if you are reading this, my class and I send you a 1,000 hugs. Bravo!

Crandall Has a New October Friend Named Wilburt the Ghoul (Nice For This Fool)

And I'm back in my office to get ready for the week, after a breath-taking, incredible celebration of writers and literacy in southern Connecticut (um, Bryan, you stopped in your office on the way to the festival both Saturday and Sunday, so Monday wasn't anything new).

What was new, however, was the delivery of Wilburt, my October Ghoul from my colleague Diana.

"A little nonsense now and then, relished by the wisest men."

Some people get me. I'm able to keep at it if I have little fiends/friends like this to distract me. He is helping me to get back on the grading/planning train, after a 4-day festival of putting the scholarship into action.

• a sports literacy night and film screening for 500 people, 
• 80 writers at a Story Fest,
• substantial audiences at all the panels, 
• collaboration with amazing teachers,
• admiration for phenomenal kids, 

and zero to no horrific obstacles. Instead, I got to meet great writers I admire, to be part of them, and to promote literacies across southern Connecticut. That's how I spent my weekend and I loved every second of it.

Now, however, I need to plan for the courses ahead. I couldn't do that, however, until I reviewed applicant files for graduate school, finished a grant report, and planned a radio show. 

With me was Wilburt and I'm thankful for him. Okay, Calendar, what do you GOT for me today. We can do this.  We have to do this. Let the day begin.

Mini Love-Fest for @getnicced as the @S_StoryFest Closes Down

"I love her," says Kemoy after we drop her off at the Bradley Airport, so she can fly to Atlanta for an hour, then fly back to NJ to spend the night (she tells us, don't ask, so we don't).

Instead, I simply thank the Great Whatever that we dropped her off safely, but more importantly, I'm thankful that Kemoy and Chunjang were delivered home in serenity, too.

Kermit...aka The Hulk...aka known as the Crandall-mobile carried precious cargo yesterday afternoon. We had a writer inside. Scratch that. Remix. We had two amazing young men in that car. Whoops. It's more than that. Rewind. Remix again. The Hulk was carrying full-fledged, passionate, spiritual, brilliant human beings who are on a quest to find answers to whatever The Great Whatever launches their way. I'm not sure about them, but I enjoyed every second of the journey from Staples High School to Hartford. I love company. I love company that shares their stories. I love story festivals and we had a mini-version of our own in the car.

I lied. Stories are sometimes embellished this way. I didn't enjoy every second. We came upon an accident - a 4-car pile up. There was a young driver, a woman driver,  a family, and an elderly couple. The children were okay. They were pacing aside the crash. The older individuals didn't seem like they were fairing as well, and the teenager was on his cell phone screaming in absolute paranoia. It was not fun to see. It was fresh. It was vivid. I held my breath. I was glad Nic Stone's back was to it and she was engrossed in the conversation with Chunjang and didn't turn her head.

Rewind again. The conversation with Kermit. Remix. Revise. Hit submit. I loved every second of it, but sometimes the stories we share aren't always easy to digest. Sometimes they're, well, honest. That's what happens when one drives from point A to point B in a random sojourn through Connecticut, especially with adolescents on the journey.  Stories get shared. There's confessionals. There's reflection. There's, for aging farts like me, memories and flashbacks - luck and contemplation.

So, this morning I'm thinking about the magical, Slytherin-esque, magical and sage-like phenomena that is Nic Stone. I was graced to be with her for a couple of days in person, but I've also been honored to work with Dear Martin with teenagers as well as graduate students (the art work to the right, in fact, is a collaborative piece created of painted essays and Martin Luther King quotes to recreate her book cover) that was presented to her Friday night (if, and, or when you read the book, you will understand the importance of multiple perspectives that went into the creation --- that is, the writing of my students).

I will mail the portrait to her home this week, but this morning, I simple want to recognize what I saw this weekend. Nic Stone is the real deal. She gets that period of time between 12 years old and college when one hits their funky, vibrant, adolescent selves. She writes for them, and she has an ear for voices: the privileged, the pampered, the struggling, the poor, the funny, the athletic, and the mentoring. That's what was put into the story of Justyce in Dear Martin. It was a culmination of many stories and voices - what arrives when you're an individual like Nic Stone. You read people. You figure them out. You hear them. Then, in the complicated spaces that we human beings exist, you try to figure out the justices and injustices of the world. Shrewd. Smart. Brilliant.

This weekend, however, I saw that Nic Stone's writing matches her personality and that she does EVERYTHING with readers in mind. My favorite parts of the Saugatuck Story Fest this weekend were those moments when I caught/observed/witnessed Nic Stone's listening to the questions and stories of young people. She gets them. She hears them. She believes in them. Like Harry, or Hermione, Ron or even Snape, she has a magic wand. She uses it when appropriate and the teacher in me was inspired again and again seeing the wanderlust she has over the youth she writes for.

I thoroughly enjoyed every second of the Story Fest and feel it was a tremendous success. Like Nic Stone, all the writers were gracious, phenomenal, and - at least in the YA crew - pro-youth. I personally have an intimacy with Dear Martin, however, because I've used it in courses and professional development. As an educator, I see the power of the text and the teachability for the discussion it incites. It worked wonderful with #Unload: Guns in the Hands of Artists, too.

So, I REALLY am thankful that Nic Stone was delivered to the airport safely. Kemoy, Chunjang and countless others need her to keep writing as she's writing (and doing as she does). We are who we are because of the phenomenal human being that she is.

But now it's Monday, and I have my other job(s) to attend to.

Feeling blessed, indeed.

Last Day of @S_StoryFest '18, but Yesterday @akbar_offishio poem for @JasonReynolds83

Kim, Rebecca, the volunteer crew and the youth board are still in amazement of what has occurred at Fairfield University, Westport Library and will continue to occur today at Staples High School. Yesterday was simply one of the most amazing days I've spent as an educator, as so many wonderful writers were so willing to share their wisdom with Bridgeport and Westport youth, as well as teachers and parents across the state, and lovers of young adult literature. I will cherish the day forever and am so proud of all of the students, but will leave this post with the words of Akbaru Niyonkuru, who wrote poetically to present Jason Reynolds at yesterday's Saugatuck Story Fest Keynote.

The Power of Words

(For Jason Reynolds & The Stories Still To Be Written)

All I hear are words,
The warmth of the sun is nothing,
but words to my soul.
The fresh air of today
smells like words in my nose,
and in my brain
They go on and on
in unfinished conversations of the mind, 
“Hey, Akbar, Who do you think you are...
without words in your mouth,
Without stories to tell,
Without a festival of who we are together?” 

We are all connected by words. Ubuntu, I am, because we are.
A Long Way Down..
A Shorter Trek Up. 

Burundi. Tanzania. The United States. 

My words are like dreams,
that show me things about myself, 
Refugee camp, relocation, hope, representing the stones I have sunk into, 
They are the pool of my subconscious, the chapters we must all write together. 

Sometimes the words don’t add up
And all I have is chaotic nonsense
Strewn across a page
and sometimes, I forget them, 
these words, The way I sometimes forget my dreams. 

Hey, but for lovers of words, You, me, them, us,
We can craft them across the page 

To change the world. 

Books, Music, Storytelling
Sharing songs along the Saugatuck, for Connecticut to hear. 

And sometimes words are me and you, talking, 
Celebrating possibilities 
To chase away our ghosts, 
To be Boys in black suits, 

To become the greatest,
Because you are As brave as me. 

The words, These words Are for me. For you. 

For everyone. 

If You're In CT, You Want To Be At @WestportLibrary for @S_StoryFest Today. Amazing Opportunity

These are only some of the Saugatuck Story Fest Youth Advisory Board (with only Shaun Mitchell). Missing from the photo are the teaching divas Kim Herzog and Rebecca Marsick, plus other young people who have made a miraculous literary gala possible in southern Connecticut.

I am honored to be a part of their team and if you want to know why you should visit the lineup that they've made possible for the next couple of days: https://docs.wixstatic.com/ugd/f40150_490656a47671407487e36184494088a4.pdf.

Last night, I participated in one of the most amazing, coordinated literacy events of my lifetime - a special dinner between kids and writers, including Nic Stone, Jason Reynolds, Rose Brock, Ashley Woodfolk, Robin Benway and Gordon Jack. Not only was the catering of Staples High School Advanced Culinary class exquisite, but the orientation of allowing young people to interact with such amazing writers was truly exquisite.

I rotated between being totally star-struck, totally mesmerized, totally studios and absorbing, and totally nerd for most of the evening.

I was fortunately placed by the young woman who designed the logo for the festival and could here here and another Youth Board Advisory member interact with all the other authors as they rotated from course to course (brilliant planning by Kim and Rebecca - I am not surprised).

Today, not only will there be displayed, opportunities for incredible fun, and tremendous panels, but there will be an absolute explosion for books, conversations, and the joy of reading at Westport Library. Tomorrow, too - as it moves back to Staples High School for writing workshops.

I'm still processing the Hoops Africa: Ubuntu Matters event, and now we are diving in to the book fest.

I am so, so, so proud of everyone involved. I think I need to be pinched, because I just might be dreaming.  

TGIF! Oh, But Wait! This Party Is Only Getting Started! Bring On the Writers!

I want to have 100% memory of all that went down last night at Fairfield University for the Hoops Africa: Ubuntu United screening (pictured here: Taylor Sharp, Producer, William King, Teacher, and some of the Ubuntu Academy kids).

Rather, my brain was running as my father would say - "Like a whippoorwill's a@@!" I couldn't keep up with all the details: guests arriving, buses coming in, food being distributed, speakers getting ready, tables to set up.

I guess it was a success.

I counted 375 in attendance, but the Quick Center told Taylor that there were over 600 seats filled, they had someone do a count. I was too busy sweating and reading my speech too quickly so I could get off the stage.

I can't write a lot this morning, as I have to get ready for the YA author's dinner tonight with he Saugatuck Story Fest youth advisory board.

The men's basketball team. Phenomenal. The women's basketball team. Phenomenal. Mark, Taylor, Sydney Johnson, and Jessica Baldizon. Phenomenal.

All the food was eaten, too.

I think it will take me a few days to capture all that occurred last night, and I look forward to moments in my life where I can reflect on the talents of Taylor Sharp, the vision of Mark Crandall, the integrity of Coach Johnson, the joy of the Ubuntu Youth, and the compassion and care of the Fairfield University community that got behind this work.

I am, because we are. I am feeling blessed.

Can't Write Much, Because There's Much To Be Accomplished Today

And so it is finally October 11th, or should I say, "That came fast." Tonight's the big Hoops Africa: Ubuntu Matters night on campus, so it seems relevant to post my cousin, Mark's #WhyIWrite quote in honor of his arrival today. The National Day on Writing isn't until October 20, but I have been doing a tweet a day with a different quote.

The producer, Taylor Sharp, arrived late last night and we got dinner and then chatted until too late at night about everything under the sun. I will probably regret that all day today.

We are visiting Bridgeport Schools in the a.m., the Fairfield University basketball practice at 11 a.m., and a journalist class by 12:30.

The event doesn't begin until 6, with a short period of time to set up before hand.

Phew. This is happening.

Normally, I'd have a lot to say on a day like today, but I'm too overwhelmed by everything needing to get done, so I'll keep this post brief.

Here's to the day. Wish us luck!

In 24 Hours, Full Steam Ahead For @S_StoryFest and @HoopsAfrica with @CWPFairfield @FairfieldU

As I write this morning, my dog, Glamis, stares at me with eyes that say, "You never took me for a walk yesterday. This is not healthy for our relationship."

Her friend Jake was with her for the day, so she did run around again outside and have plenty of space in the house to play (sometimes, I believe home ownership is paying a mortgage so she has a castle all to herself).

Here's what I didn't accomplish yesterday and thought I would:

• I didn't respond to 128 emails that came to me needing my attention,
• I didn't grade the graduate student work I planned to,
• I didn't eat lunch and failed to cook dinner, 
• I didn't put together the gift bags for the writers that I planned to, 
• I didn't clean my house for out-of-town guests,
• I didn't mow my lawn, 
• And I didn't walk my dog

I can take a breath, however, because my friend and teaching colleague Brynn Mandel sent me this photograph of a Connecticut Truck she saw in Cheshire with an UBUNTU license plate.

Then, when I talked with Coach Sydney Johnson about final plans, outside my window,two Monarch butterflies decided to pay me a visit - I took it as a sign.

What I Did Accomplish:

• I did finish my opening for the Hoops Africa: Ubuntu Matters event, which was needed three days in advance,
• I did get the photographs to the Quick that can be included in the program,
• I did get the set-up arrangements for tables, 
• I did check on catering, 
• I did put up lawn signs for the event around campus,
• I did submit an $80,000 grant for potential programs beginning next year (gotta dream, right?)
• I did get items for the gift bags I intend to stuff,
• I did work miracles with converting a jpeg into a vector and high ppi resolution, by finding the perfect human being to help me at the last minute in order to get the right banner pull-up to for the Saugatuck StoryFest events, with 30 seconds to spare,
• I did attend the last meeting for the Saugautuck Story Festival where all personnel and volunteers were instructed,
• I did edit the writing of a few who will also be presenting at these events, 
• I did edit a piece for a colleague who is writing about CWP's influence on his work, 
• I did get gas,
• I did confirm that the film producer has already arrived to Connecticut,
• I did make copies for some of what is needed, 
• and I did have a glass of bourbon to calm my nerves before I went to bed.

Okay, Wednesday...you have work with 21 undergrads and 200 middle schoolers from 11-1:30 today, then you can get back to the film for Fairfield University and the writers coming to Saugatuck. 

I hope this doesn't sound like complaining, because I am absolutely enthralled with having the opportunity to work with such amazing people. 

And Glamis, I promise you - your time is coming. You only missed 1 day. You'll get over it.

Best Friends: Glamis the Wonder and Jake the Zoolander Dogs

With the extra day off from work to, well, work, I was greeted with a visit from Glamis's best friend, Jake, as his home was being remodeled with new windows and sliding glass doors. The day was overcast and drizzly, like a visit to Niagara Falls, so I spent the majority of it writing, grading, and reading dossiers (a new responsibility that has come my way since I'm on the other side).

Note: While going up for tenure last year I was so immensely appreciative of any and all who wrote on my behalf. The process is grueling and in the exhaustion there's never enough time to truly thank all those that went the extra mile to write in support of you. My work over the last couple of days is paying it forward to all who wrote for my promotion. It is another unnamed service that doesn't get named until you're on the other side.

I did get a great run in and between the naps, the two monsters did go outside to wrestle and wear themselves out before cuddling again in the house. I have to say, sometimes when Jake sits and looks at you it is easy to get distracted. He is such a good looking dog and that one blue eye, a little creepy, but very magical, puts this regal element upon his head. He's also extremely well behaved and attentive. At one point, though, I should have filmed Glamis's bullish behavior as she was trying to play when he was napping and she grabbed him by the neck and pulled him across the four. 

Both dogs are 28 in their years, so I don't know why that is her play-of-choice. You'd think by this point they'd be having a couple of glasses of wine, stopping at Targets for a couple of items, then settling in to a sports program or something. 

Nope, It's all puppy play. Then sleep. Puppy play. Then sleep. And if Bryan gets up from his compute to go to the bathroom, it's trip Bryan on his way by walking in front of him, between him and under his feet until he's finished. Then puppy play and sleep.

Okay, Tuesday, although there are no students the agenda is thick, wide, and long. Here we go.

And we're off (insert Kentucky Derby horns here).

4 Days Until @HoopsAfrica @FairfieldU - a @CwpFairfield & @Hoops4HopeUSA Story

A part of me is very excited that I coincidentally scheduled this week's Hoops Africa screening for the Saugatuck StoryFest kick-off during a time that coincided perfectly with Fairfield University's Fall break. It has given me a couple of extra days to piece together the agendas, the events, and the celebration. I've also been able to find time to grade, to plan, and to get everything I need in order (including a clean home)

Around campus, Hoops Africa has been advertised on screens, lawn signs, and with posters. There's also a banner hanging in downtown Fairfield. We've launched the collaboration with the Saugatuck StoryFest, and pushed it out via National Day of Writing tweets, #WhyIWrite, as another means to get the message out there.

Las night, I began working on my 5 minutes of talking that will begin the celebration on Thursday night. The message is UBUNTU, and it's almost impossible to articulate all I have to say in 5 minutes, especially when I want everyone to realize that it is the community of togetherness that makes everything possible: Saugatuck StoryFest, Fairfield University Athletics, Hoops4Hope, the teachers and youth of CWP-Fairfield, my colleagues, the Quick Center, Basketball Power of Lithuania, and of course all the writers that we're celebrating this week.

One writer, who was behind the scenes for what was composed, is Taylor Sharp, who will be with us at the event this Thursday. As the producer of the film, and a firm believer in Ubuntu, he will add incredible perspective to the work we're doing. Of course, all of this is made central because of my cousin's lifelong passion for Hoops4Hope - and his international vision to use sports as a vehicle for youth advocacy.

I'm waking up this morning motivated for all the work still needing to be done, knowing that all the guests begin arriving this week. It came fast, but somehow I knew it would.

Here's to everyone making this possible.

Taking Advantage of the Extra Day to Catch Up and to Unwind. If Only We Always Had 3-Day Weekends

I loved having an overcast, cloudy Saturday to stay inside and to do marathon grading, catching up on the frantic pace that was set in place since the semester began. I awoke yesterday at 6 a.m. and went right to work, grading until 1 p.m. before finally finding a place to take a break and go for a six mile run. I went by Bunnell High School, that was setting up for the Cavalcade of Bands and I thought, perhaps, I might get enough accomplished that I might go.

That didn't happen, however; instead, I graded until 4 then took Glamis the Wonder Dog for a long walk, heading back by the high school where several local field bands were in the field banging their drums, whirling their banners, tooting their horns, and tossing their rifles. I couldn't help but recognize the scene, remember days with Cynde from 1986 to 1988 and then years with Nikki decades letter, when I was in CNY and would occasionally go with Cynde and Mike to see her perform.

This was the routine, and whenever I hear drum cadences I can't help but recall the memories.

I graded some more then head out for a glass of wine, conversation and the assembly of a new gas-lit fire pit, which I helped to put together, then enjoyed for a Saturday evening, before I realized I'm much rather be home in bed.

There's so much to be said for feeling on top of one's game, and I am very thankful for Columbus Day and the extra Monday to stay on top of the work needing to be done. I can't help but think of all the high school kids and their parents who are caught up in the marching band season, spending so many nights, especially Saturdays, in support of the art.

Those were the days, and without any real need to be part of it, it was easy for me to shake my head and say, "I'd rather sit by a fire pit with a glass of wine."

Still, the music played in the air and the days of yesteryear came in through my windows.

Here's to the occasional night off and the evenings of enjoying them without any guilt.

Love Celebrating @S_StoryFest By Getting Great Books in the Hands of Youth.

I spent my Friday between finishing grants, organizing new ones, and picking up boxes of books to distribute to classrooms that are too often forgotten in the conversations about literacy, academic achievement, youth empowerment, and the power of words.

Yesterday, I finished my work day by driving from school to school handing out books written by writers who will be presenting at the Saugatuck Story Fest in southern Connecticut and that, I know, would truly appreciate the wisdom and brilliance of YA authors.

Yesterday, Jason Reynold's Ghost was delivered and the smile on their faces brought smiles to my own. I was especially glad to drop books off at schools that feed into Ubuntu Academy, where immigrant and refugee youth crave stories that are relevant to them. These books, coupled with stellar teachers, makes for incredible instruction and relevant pedagogy that changes the lives of kids.

I'm heading into this long weekend with a book bag full of papers to grade, presentations to complete, and radio shows to organize, but I'm fueled by the happiness of kids who, yesterday, were so thankful to have new books to read, discuss and write about. They love the inspiration and, like them, I am extremely grateful to writers like Jason Reynolds who are crafting the stories that young people enjoy reading.

If only such curriculum was an every day practice in our schools where educators were given the freedom to encourage their reading, writing, and intellectual lives. They crave such work, but unfortunately our systems fail them. One day at a time. I love / to believe / in hope.

There's Nothing More Annoying Than Hiccups Right Before Going To Bed

I ate too fast. It was chicken and it was delicious, and I don't think I drank enough water to wash it down. As a result, my diaphragm got caught and I spent the rest of my evening in hiccup hell. I couldn't get rid of them and the more I tried the more severe they came.

They ruined my evening because they were annoying and painful. I slept horribly last night and I really needed to get a lot accomplished, but I was burdened with the ridiculousness of HIC and CUP. HIC and CUP.

AHHHH. So annoying.

On a more positive note, things are falling into place for the week ahead and we have a 3-day weekend to give this grader another day to catch up with the piles he has not had a second to look at.

The laundry may be folded and put away. The broom and mop may come out, but in seriousness, I need a few days to simply lie still, slow down and regroup before the insanity of a beautiful week falls upon me.

But damn,

the hic

cups.

Curse that chicken and my tendency to eat too fast. I did this to myself.

Well, That Was an Unexpected Surprise! Love to Be Annually Reported, Especially By The Organization I Love.

There's the to-do list, and then there's the distractions. I came home from walking the dog and received the 2017 National Writing Project Annual Report. I knew they sent their photographers to capture the work CWP-Fairfield does in the summer and I was somewhat curious by what they were going to do with it. I also know they interviewed several of my teachers, but was oblivious they took photos of me.

Well, they did, and I made the Annual Report (wish I was in a tie and someone did my makeup).

I can't complain, however, because the essence of the National Writing Project work was captured and they told so much of what teachers across the nation love.

https://ar17.nwp.org

I was thrilled, too, that they shared the story of William King who is featured on the National Writing Project Website. He is an amazing educator who I have had the fortune of working with for several years now, especially in relation to Ubuntu Academy.

Next week, October 11, he will facilitate a panel of Coach Sydney Johnson, Producer Taylor Sharp, Teacher Jessica Baldizon, and International Non-Profit Organizer Mark Crandall after a screening of HOOPS AFRICA: UBUNTU MATTERS, all part of the Saugatuck Story Fest.

I'm not sure what the event will look like, but know the crowd, as well as excitement, is growing. I am, because we are. 

I was talking last night with an organization in Lithuania and simply stating, "Ubuntu is truly remarkable when you stop and think about what you can contribute. You take what you can do and you unite with phenomenal others to see how, together, the community can make the world a better place." I continued, "We live in such divisive times where so many choose hatred, walls, divisions, anger, and mockery. That's not me. That's not Ubuntu. We are human beings. My duty is to take the talents I have and to unite them with the talents of others. Human beings need human beings."

I am forever grateful to the National Writing Project to share the story of our Connecticut site on the national level. I am only a slight part of the story - it is the 17 teachers I hire every summer and the 200+ kids who participate in our programs that complete the chapters. Of course, there are also phenomenal writers who encourage the young people to read, too (and many of them are coming to Connecticut October 12-14). 

I can't write much this morning, because there's still too much to do. Even so, I am thrilled to see the professional reporting that was sent my way. I wish I had such talent!

Humpday, My Brain is Doing The Chicken Dance Day, and I Am Looking for Days Ahead To Think

This will be a tradition for me on Tuesday nights as I come home from one class and prepare for another class in the a.m. - both of them extended. I get home, think about the conversations that were just had, then instantly jump into the instruction that has to happen 12 hours later.

Of course, this used to be the way my brain had to work 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, with back-to-back high school classes.

Developmentally, the planning at the graduate and undergraduate is a little more intense than it was for 9th-12th grade, but it is always taxing. I sometimes sit back and remember what it was like to have a 130 students a year, hour by hour, 30 hours a week. Now, it is a fraction of that number in my courses and teaching is also only a fraction of that time. The planning and assessments, however, are just a taxing. Then there is all the other work - work I love, but that makes me go bonkers at certain times of the week.

Tuesday nights to Wednesday mornings are such moments. So much is packed into that short period and my brain goes bonkers. Actually, it does the chicken dance. Perfect metaphor.

Meanwhile, when one leaves the University at 8 pm and it is pouring and it takes an hour to get home, and then the dog follows every step you take because she wants to go out, but won't because it's raining, it makes for a frustrating evening.

Why? Because as you try to dot t's and cross i's (intentional) she's whining, and begging, and crying and doing everything she can to get attention because she wants to go outside, but won't because it is raining.

I simply want to make it to 2 pm today so my brain can stop the dance of making sure everything is set. It will still be working, but it won't be so immediate. That's the pattern as it goes.

Yes, I'm whining. Yes, I realize that K-12 teaching is intense all the time. Yet, I'm recognizing that teaching in higher education has its moments, too.