It's the Weekend Pho-Real, and I Know I'm in Pho Geeking Out, Big Time.

Although I spent my day in the office doing CWP work, I came home to get Edem for dinner before the Fairfield / Quinnipiac game. Aidas only has/had two home games left as a senior (Sunday will be his last). I want to be there to support him.

Before the game, we took 2020 MLK Student Vision Awardee, Luckario Alcide, out to dinner and he picked Vietnamese which was perfect for me. It's been a long while since I've eaten such delicious food. I got summer rolls and Pho, and every bite and slurp was delicious. I couldn't finish it all, even if I did try.

The game turned out to be a good one, too. It didn't start out that way, because both teams were sloppy - Fairfield much sloppier, but they tightened up in the second half and then it got close. Fairfield took over and then, at a last second buzzer shot, Quinnipiac landeda 3-pointer. It was a tough loss, but you have to give credit to such a split-second miracle when it goes in. You can't help but respect the game at that point.

Ah, but Saturday morning is here. I'm likely to have a sweat-pants, grading, college-basketball-kind- of day. I need to be in ram mode for courses on Monday and Tuesday, because I am jam packed with obligations and meetings from sunrise until sundown on both days. That is why I need to be Uber-planned before the work-week begins.

Plus I need to catch up. I'm way behind.

Pho-real, Pho-real. So good. Perfect broth and I know exactly where I'll take Sue McV if she ever gets to CT to visit.

Yum.

I've found myself a new location.

Ready to Get My Pink Game On Next Fall, as StoryFest Announces Another Spectacular Author.

I had the honor and privilege of spending yesterday afternoon at the Westport Library getting excited about 2020 StoryFest with author Victoria Kann. Her Pinkalicious books are central to shows on PBS and a national treasure for children across the United States (and world). The writer will be with us next September at The Westport Public Library where we will be sure to have a golden pink carpet to greet her. Yesterday was  was the Fairfield County Day of Giving and the goal was to raise money for our Education Day which will be hosted on Friday. On Saturday, Neil Gaiman speaks. I can't wait.

I just have a few presentations, a National Writing Project conference in the Bronx to implement, and CWP summer programs before all energy goes to StoryFest.

Speaking of, I finally saw Shaun Mitchell and was able to give him his celebratory present for his new job in Hartford. Um, that's like 8 months ago. Central to CWP-Fairfield for so many years (Central...ha, a double entendre there), he took on leadership in another district and has been too busy to swing by to pick it up. William, Jessica, Edem, Sean and I went to dinner. The gift is now with him, but it should be for his engagement, as well, rather than his new job. The Mitch is getting hitched.

It's all flying too fast.

And the winds. Okay, I'm complaining and know it could be worse. I could live in Oswego. The winds picked up and it was cold (boo hoo. No snow. No right to complain. Just wind chill).

Okay, Friday, you've arrived. Hoping for a productive day followed by an evening of possibilities. Here's to the weekend. 

In the Murkiness of pre-March Gray, Surround Yourself with the Funk of Friends Who Also Bring Pep to Their Step

The hump-day was successful, in that I got a lot accomplished, even though it didn't feel like I accomplished anything at all. I worked from home, got a run in, worked more from home, then headed to the office for afternoon meetings.

It drizzled all day. It could be worse. It could be ice and much, much colder.

When I arrived to my office there was a package - I knew exactly what it was. A book that will be released later this year that I've been waiting for since I heard it was coming out. Hint: Marvel. Hint Hint: Black Panther. Hint Hint Hint: Shuri. Final Hint: Nic Stone.

It was hard from me to sit in the meeting. I wanted to go home and start reading immediately. That's when I looked under the table and saw Dr. Nicole O'Brien's running shoes. They needed to meet my socks The dreariness of the day required the radiance of the electricity our foot-game created.

Sh'Zaam.

After the meeting, I went to the office to work some more, but I needed groceries and had to cook. I actually found an egg casserole online that came out really good. I will definitely make it again. 30-minute meals are everything.

Alas, it wasn't until 9 pm that I could curl up with the book. There were a few student teachers that needed their milky ways adjusted and universe realigned, and then there were the emails.

I seriously wish there was a job where I could live by the beach, publishers could send me books, and all I would have to do is lay out in the sun reading all day, coming in at night to write my reviews and thoughts.

Now that is a life I could live forever.

You Can Judge Me. You Can Shrug Your Shoulders. You Can Laugh. But I Win. I Treated Myself To a Chipotle Burrito.

I drove home from teaching last night feeling like I was sliding into home plate. I haven't had a second to unwind since my birthday (caused the headache last week, too) and that is why the drive home last night was thrilling. I knew I could come home and simply be...without the pressure of having to be even more in the morning.

That is why I stopped at Chipotles for a chicken burrito (Edem wanted steak...no cheese...no sour cream - how do you deny yourself cheese? The sour cream...that's a no brainer. Nope). I wanted to celebrate the fact that I didn't need to be up until 11 p.m. continuing the day to get ready for tomorrow.

Instead, I came home, watched two of my favorite people: Dr. Detra Price and Dr. Nicole Mirra receive awards from the Initiative for 21st Century Literacies online. I ate my burrito in peace, poured myself a drink, and settled into This Is Us.

I didn't need to create, plan, edit, revise, or write. I could simply absorb.

My mind and stomach loved every second of it.

Yes, I think Chipotle is overpriced, but I have to say they've mastered a good flavor for a quick meal. It put a smile on my face and that matters a lot. So good. Such happiness

And today, I can go to the University without back-to-back meetings, classes, and other demands. I simply can go in, clean a little, and work on the project I've been wanting to work on for a while.

Nerd. Happy nerd. Well-fed nerd because of Chipotle. Very thankful.

Still Laughing. Vygotsky's Sisters. The Rolls Were Flipped For Me - From Back Stage to On Stage. Improvisational Theater.

A highlight from the NCTEAR Nashville 2020 conference was being asked to perform with Vygotsky's Sisters, Kevin Leander's brain-child of a performance troupe. Last year, in Alabama, Abu and I talked to him about improvisation and the 10-Minute play festivals in Louisville, Syracuse and Bridgeport, and he remembered, inviting me to rehearse with others and to take part in a performance in front of academics.

The topic? Of course, the academy.

Because improvisation requires audience participation and shout-outs, when I was called out they casted me as a financial officer for the University named Maurice. I channeled my inner-salary committee and all the expertise I gained from watching administration blame faculty for all the financial shortcomings that come their way.

My solution was to ask associate and full professors to donate 25% of their salary back to the University, and for graduate students to work for Uber and/or deliver pizza. There was also a new organic tofu fee for healthy eaters.

For many years, I oversaw Improv 4 Quarterbacks at the Brown School, and witnessed the power of improvisation for classrooms, originality and writing. I went to as many shows as I could. There, however, I was behind the curtain overseeing the work. We loved the work so much, that we often went to see the Upright Citizen's Brigade in New York.

It was so much fun to be brought on state with Kevin, several academics who teach theater arts and improvisation, and international performers. I could do the work all day long....the games for rehearsing, the time in front of an audience, and the reflection afterwards.

As Kevin said, "We should bring our troupe everywhere just to uproot the traditions of academic settings." Of course, Dr. Kevin Leander is brilliant and comes at the performance from many more theatrical lenses than I do."

I just like being an idiot. I'm good at that.

I Got Away w/ Clean Getaway by @GetNicced - Her First Middle School Text - and Loved Every Second Of It.

First, I admit it.

I had an advanced copy of Nic Stone's Clean Getaway, but got side-tracked over the last few months with piles of other books (too often academic ones). Yet, earlier this month, when I was fortunate to read a copy of Dear Justyce (it comes out next fall), my love of her storytelling came back full force. I knew I needed more Nic Stone, so I flipped my house apart looking for Clean Getaway to bring with me to NCTEAR (National Council of Teachers of English Assembly for Research) so I could read the book on the plane to Nashville. I decided that since I'm an Aquarian and celebrated my 48th year on the 16th, I deserved to give myself a birthday present. Clean Getaway was a cherry for the February cupcake.

When I got home from Nashville, I strategically positioned Nic Stone's book next to my figurine of an adult frog who is reading to a younger frog (ribbit ribbit - a gift from Dr. Susan James) and in front of one of my Buddhas - this is what I've been thinking about since I finished reading..

I am a lover of eccentric grandmother stories. I was raised by one who lived in Hamilton, New York, and, well, Harold & Maude continues to be one of my favorite movies of all time (no, Ruth Gordon wasn't a grandmother, but was a grandmother's age when Harold fell in love with her)(& yes, the Cat Stevens' soundtrack is still astounding)(& no, my grandmother never took me on a road trip - she never got a license drive - but she did worship the trees and steal water pitchers and silverware from Chuck E. Cheese under her coat).

My grandmother was an absolute trip (pun intended?), and I never knew what was going to happen when we visited. I suppose her frog-love became my frog-love and when Dr. Susan James sent me the reading frogs they quickly moved to my mantle of LOVE.  Memories of my grandmother bring me peace of mind. They always bring me a smile. Grannie Annie was the woman who would charge into the bathroom after we showered to take photos of us and the woman who sculpted Feen-a-ment laxative gum into beds of roses on the back of her toilet.

It was probably a good thing she didn't drive...the roads of upstate NY couldn't handle it.

At Grannie Annie's camp I read Miss Twiggley's Tree over and over again until I had it practically memorized. The story of an eccentric woman not conforming to society's standards has been with me since the beginning. Who wouldn't want to live with bears and dogs and cats up in a tree?

That is a Scoob - G'ma philosophy!

Written for middle school youth, Clean Getaway brought me back to my 5th-7th grade days, where I first tasted chapter books, and suddenly sought more stories about kid experiences. Obviously Roald Dahl was an influence at the time and all the girls read Judy Bloom (note: when the boys stole those books and read them, we never got them. Well, I guess I always related to Blubber. 

At that age, however, I was in a hunt for stories that would interest me. There weren't many, and that is why I'm glad there's a boom in the young adult literature world right now (Thanks, Penguin Random House Children's Books - The kids today are so lucky).

I'm not revisiting the plot of Clean Getaway here, nor will I offer a critique or review. Instead, I''m simply doing a daily thought and it happens to be on Nic Stone's book, because it took me back to my youth. The middle school years are always a time where life depends on the whims and fancies of adults. Privacy is difficult, if not impossible, to come by. Yet, the first stages of figuring out the world and a place in it begins.

Scoob's G'ma gets away with a lot in her life - perhaps too much - but he has a tremendous connection with her.  Clean Getaway is a story about love, not only for his grandmother, but that he has for his father, too. More importantly, along the way, Scoob is educated about Civil Rights throughout Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, and Texas. On a map he doodles his experiences, and from road-tripping along his grandmother's memories, Scoob also locates himself along a racial, historical timeline.

It's hard for me to believe that until 1967, Black and Brown individuals who were in love with White and Cream individuals (vice versa with that love, too) were forbidden to marry. I was born five years later. Such disparity and history are woven into the fabric of the United States, and becomes an imprint on Scoob's mind, too. William "Scoob" Lamar learns this from his grandmother as she takes him on the road trip of his life, that skin color has always marked opportunities in good and bad ways. Life has been harsher for those with darker tones. G'ma, a White grandmother, saw it as a young woman and now, as an elderly woman, is doing one last run to make sense of her life.

As a result, Scoob goes full circle between having forgiveness for the mischief G'ma took part in throughout her life and justice, which didn't serve his grandfather well, and that he hates from a caring, but disciplined father. As I read, I wondered if middle school students would do the same. Where would they locate themselves within the rules of society, their parents, and friends? What would they think about wrong and right? Punishments? Fairness? and Love of Family?

Oh, G'ma. Grannie Annie. Maude. Oh, Scoob. You got me thinking.

That so few now dare to be eccentric marks the chief danger of the time - John Stuart Mill

LOVED THIS BOOK. Loved reading Dear Justyce, too - but I'll write about that some other time.
For now, I'm simply posting in appreciation of Nic Stone's writing. I can't wait to learn how middle school teachers find success teaching Scoob's story!

And Heading Home. Short-Lived Love @NCTEARorg, but Fruitful, Joyful, Engaging, and Just What I Needed

I first want to attest how proud I am that I made it through my 20s and 30s without ever being on a rented booze bus to celebrate a bachelor or bachelorette party nor was I a wobbling, puking, YEE-HAW drunk meandering from bar to bar in Nashville, Tennessee (during the time when I could of been). Yes, friends and I visited the city often, but in my younger years, I guess we did site-seeing. We didn't partake in the night scene.

Last night, however, post a day of phenomenal presentations, networking, and even improvisational performing (thanks Kevin Leander for allowing me to be Vygotsky Sister for the night), I went out with SU peeps for dinner and a drink. We started at a bar that served Kelly Chandler-Olcott wine in a plastic cup a few years ago, but it was seedier than a plastic-wine cup dive bar - and we departed quickly. We ended up eating barbecue, which had it share of trashed, wobbling, ready to vomit people, but in a restaurant that was on top of a bar to avoid the shit show below.

Well, there were still shows upstairs, "You lied to me," which was followed by, "We're not having this fight in the restaurant. We're taking it outside."
And they left. Much respect.

Great ambiance - perhaps they were paid actors. I'm simply counting my blessings that I survived the period between 22 and 32 with limited scars.

I'm simply happy that I don't have to work in these locations nor am I drawn to frequent them on a regular basis. The people watching was mesmerizing - all those drinking-to-forget-about-life and the country music blaring from speakers everywhere to accompany them (until the soon-to-be-married bride-mobile came by, then all you'd heard was screaming women woot-wooting to us on the streets.

I think that sums up downtown Nashville. We experienced just a blink of it, and I can only imagine all the joys that the bartenders, waiters, and waitresses have each night to bring home. I can also imagine that as they leave, what's left on the streets must paint a nasty little picture of our grotesque human species. You want to scare kids into sobriety, take them for a tour. "Look kids, this can be all yours one day."

Nope. It's several State Fairs all rolled out in one avenue of honkey-tonk bars. Leaving by 9 p.m. was a smart move (even if I did pay $30 to park).

Pushing 50 - I am admitting. I kept thinking, "Why would these people choose to take part in hell on Earth? What are they thinking?'

And then I flew home, extremely thankful to the NCTEAR hosts and executive committee.

In Nashville for @NCTEARorg, Arrived 5 Hours Late (Airplanes), Was Dropped Off at Wrong Hotel and Spent $20 on Lunch. But I Made It!

I owe my NWP sister, Susan, a huge hug. Why? Well, when I landed in Chicago, I had 30 minutes to connect to another flight, so quickly ran through a Starbucks to get chips, a sandwich and some water. The bill came to $17.50. Um. Okay. I had a gift card from Susan for my birthday. Here she was to save the day.

But then the flight was delayed. Then canceled. Then rescheduled, then delayed. I arrived much later than I anticipated an missed the first night of NCTEAR festivities, including Bettina Love.

Lucky for me, my bag arrived. Phew. That's a plus.

It used to be fun to travel, but holy messy now-a-days. It's never as planned.

On a plus note, I absolutely love the super diversity of American airports. Every one of the hubs is a display of absolute humanity. It is beautiful to see and I'm in awe of the richness of our society. Airports have it all (including many in masks to protect themselves from the virus). That was a bit nerving.

Then, the taxi was $30. I should have Uber'd but thought I'd give taxis a break. I figured it would be comparable Nope.

And this taxi dropped me off at the address I gave him, which turned out to be the wrong hotel and I was on the other side of town. Good thing I wanted to walk. And I did. It was cold, it was dark, but it was a new city (well, an ol' city, but a different part of it - the Vanderbilt part).

This morning, I'm heading to the conference for a day of reunions, idea sharing, presentation, and goofiness (having Kevin Leander to blame for that...more to come).

Packing the extra books was a great idea, too. I nailed 2 of them between NYC to Chicago to Nashville. Another kicker is we made it to Laguardia in 52 minutes from Stratford. Huh? The traffic leaving NYC was a stand-still. Go figure.

I'm off to do this conference thing. Happy Saturday.

Here's One For the Books: Trying to Make It to #NCTEAR20 in Nashville and Ready for the Adventure

By the time you read this, I'll be on the I-95 in hopes that traffic isn't as bad as I anticipate it to be. I'm leaving super early for a late morning flight, simply because I never trust Laguardia, and lord knows the universe is heading in that direction at that time of day.

I anticipated the headache. I already practiced by having one at 2 a.m. on Wednesday night which paralyzed me in my bed and kept me grounded for most of Thursday (so much so that I had to cancel professional development plans I love to do). It was a miserable morning followed by some progress by afternoon.

It was a day of liquids. Many liquids. Flood the body liquids.

Today, however, I'm heading to NCTEAR in Nashville to work with Jarred Amato, Keith Newvine, and Sara Fleming. On the docket, too, is a special Improv performance with Kevin Leander and his local group (scared to death about this, but looking forward to having some fun).

It will also be a weekend of seeing many friends (who I know are already there). Traveling from here to there over the last few years has not been fun, so I'm loaded up with books just in case anything happens, as it tends to do.

Meanwhile, Glamis the Wonder Dog sniffed out the suitcase even before I thought about packing it. Dogs just know, and they let you know how much they hate when you travel.

Okay...time to post. Here comes the traffic of NYC.

Thrilled to be Part of the Center for Social Impact Debut @FairfieldU - Proud to Collaborate and Dream for Community Partnership

Yesterday, I was able to attend a celebration introducing The Center for Social Impact at Fairfield University. Similar to teacher Jessica Baldizon and student Luckario Alcide, Melissa Quan asked me to say a few words (which I post below).

It's also been nice to have Michael back on Mt. Pleasant for a couple of days before he does his Fulbright in Chile (after a solid beginning at Villanova Law School)(pictured with Provost Christine Siegel).

What a wonderful day.

Good Afternoon, and I, too, extend my welcome to you for today’s event and to simply say Thank You. 

My name is Bryan and I’m the Director of the Connecticut Writing Project at Fairfield University and an Associate Professor in the Graduate School of Education. Those who know me best, have followed my work with Urban schools, the literacies of ALL young people, including immigrant and refugee-background youth, and my support of K-12 teachers through workshops, professional development, and presentations.

I arrived to Fairfield University in 2011 and within a year I was swept under the wings of Melissa Quan to collaborate and connect on numerous possibilities. I quickly found myself under the guidance of Dr. Jocelyn Boryczka in a cohort for designing service-learning courses and on the advisory board of Dr. Janie Leatherman’s Jesuit University Humanitarian Action Network, where I also redesigned courses. My undergraduate and graduate students have benefited from numerous community projects with Bridgeport Public Schools in a wide variety of settings, and I have both Melissa and Janie, plus their incredible staff, to applaud.

In short, their support and vision has always been at the CENTER of my success at Fairfield University, especially as I’ve set out to have a SOCIAL IMPACT on the communities I work with. This fall, for example, the Connecticut Writing Project hit the million-dollar mark in grants, revenue, and donations in support of our literacy programs. In addition, CWP-Fairfield’s recently received national recognition through the Coalition of Community of Writing, naming the partnership between Fairfield University, CWP, and local schools as exemplar. On a personal note, having my leadership and scholarship recognized with a Divergent Award from the Initiative for 21^st Century Literacy Research, an Elizabeth M. Pfriem Award from the Fairfield County Community Fund, and a MLK Faculty Vision Award could only have culminated from having so much of my collaboration, belief in scholarship for action, and community-engaged work CENTERED for Social Impact within a mission for justice and equity. Doing what is right that is at the heart of doing this work together.

Most recently, the spirit of social impact has been celebrated by two well-known journals in the field over the last two months. Voices in the Middle featured the program design between CWP-Fairfield and Fairfield University in an article last December called, “Who We Are Together – Emphasizing Community in the Work We Do” and later this month, the Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy will applaud Fairfield University collaborations with teacher William King and Jessica Baldizon in a piece called “We are all Projects – Together We’re Strong” which celebrates Ubuntu Academy, Hope Club, and collaborations with the Saugatuck StoryFest.

CWP-Fairfield has served 1,100 young people during the summer since 2014, and trained 100s of teachers. In addition, our work has provided 1,000s of professional development hours to K-12 educators during the school year. This, I know for a fact, would not be possible if it wasn’t for partnership, vision, friendships, and hope. To me, that is what the Center for Social Impact is all about. I am beyond grateful for all they’ve done to support my work and the literacy initiatives of CWP. Thank you, Melissa. Your vision has been remarkable. 

The Pigs are Flying, At Least on My Feet, And That Is All That Matters. I Know Everything Is Possible

Yesterday, I wrote with curiosity on whether or not a particular activity would work. The evening occurred. It worked, and it was wonderful. Once again, I was mesmerized by the power of students to make meaning from the incredible texts that they chose to read. It was two minutes into the class when I realized...

Yes, pigs fly. Everything is possible when you believe in it.

I'm very thankful for my socks given to me by Shirley Klein for my birthday. Who wouldn't love flying bigs in the air with jetliners? They will now be the socks I wear whenever I need to prove the naysayers long. I will wear them for conference with youth, for workshops with teachers and writers, and whenever I know today I will need to pull up my pant leg to say, "Pigs fly. I know, because I wear them."

I'm heading to two days of professional development in Redding, CT, and will be away from my office as a result. It's two days of the year that are my favorite, but I'm always nervous about starting my day at 7 a.m. - I think, how did I do this for over a decade? I can't get my brain work until 8:00 a.m. after numerous cups of coffee, but this morning, I'll already be in with 60-minutes of work.

With this noted, I need to leave. So, early post this morning. Have a great hump day!

Never Too Late To Teach An Aging Dog New Tricks.- Trying Something New With a Grad Course, Adult Literature Circles

I admit it: I couldn't make up my mind which book to.choose for this Spring for The Literate Learner because I wanted to position three different books on the front burner of my thinking for a semester. I've been strategic about putting YA texts in my courses that I plan to be writing with and about in my own academic work. This fall, however, I couldn't make up my mind because the three books that were immediately on my radar had different appeals (New Kid was a no-brainer).

Alas, my textual self was a little skeptical of putting a graphic novel into the syllabus for a 'developmental reading' course, only because they require a different kind of reading. Then I was like, "Uck it," I'm after story and Hey, Kiddo and New Kid deliver in phenomenal ways. But then I listened to Jason's Look Both Ways and I thought, "Shoot, I just want to have a middle school semester and see what comes of it." Instead of choosing one, I chose all 3, and have given graduate students to gravitate to the book that most appeals to them.


Lucky for me, it was an even split. Tonight, I will be hosting my first-ever academic literature circles where the graduate students not only discuss the books, but think about teaching them to middle grades youth. Strange, too, is the fact that the majority of in-practice teachers with me this semester are also middle-grade teachers. I had no plan of this when I chose these books to think about. I'm a little bit scared of how this evening will turn out, but I'm optimistic and hopeful that it will work out smashingly.

And I must admit that I listened to Jason's Look Both Ways and didn't read it. I know that listening is good, but it's not always the best way to capture the nuanced writing that occurs. I'm hoping that will come forward in the conversations.

Yes, Yes. I know. I know. I am usually good about offering girl authors, too, and I fail this semester. They are 100% boy stories and I am calling myself out for it.

The early teen years out of childhood into adolescence is such a peculiar, odd time. I'm thankful to know, however, that there are writers out there aiming their texts at these readers. Hey, Kiddo, is probably the most mature of the three, but when you break down New Kid and Look Both Ways, those narratives/stories are equally as complicated, especially when you take a socio-cultural view of the story-telling.

I am willing to take the gamble with a new strategy after 25 years in the classroom and in front of kids (I can officially say that is has been almost half my life). What's probably scarier, however, is the fact that the graduate students with me today, were in elementary school when I was teaching high school.

I don't want to go there.

Instead, I'm simply hoping for a successful Tuesday, stress-free instruction that goes smoothly, and wonderful transitions for the work-week ahead.

Starting 48 Feeling Great - I Couldn't Be a Happier Frog-Man. I'm Thankful For The Life I Live

A book chapter submitted, a six-mile run, an afternoon hike with friends, drinks, dinner, frog cup-cakes, a round of Kiss the Frog (like Pin the Tail on the Donkey, but it's put the lips on the frog), Alexa and Scary Pockets, and laughter. That's what makes for a great birthday.

While I was out running, the post office dropped off a package, so when I returned, there was a styrofoam container on my front steps. It didn't say who it was from, but it was this coffee mug of my frog painting in my office. It turned out to be my baby sister and it is most definitely my favorite gift of the season. It's been wonderful sipping from him this morning.

My older sister also sent a frog and he is now hovering next to a toddler picture of Chitunga and a few Grannie Annie butterflies looking over the kitchen table. Apparently he has a brother, but it was sent to Cynderballs in Cicero.

It seems the Frogster has resurrected in Stratford, Connecticut, and my alter ego will be with me for life. My house is loaded with frogs and, to be honest, I kind of like the company they keep. Every corner I turn, there they are.

It's not easy being green.

Today is President's Day and the University is closed down, but then decided to announce it would be open for classes and students. Strange. Long story short, I followed the original schedule so my hard-working, teaching, graduate students (who are on holiday this week, too) are given the night off. I'm not making them come in because of a calendar mishap.

Tuesday, I'm not so kind, however. We have class.

Although no one could find the cherry chip cake mix available at Target and Walmart for my birthday cake and/or cupcakes, Pam was able to make cherry/chocolate chip mix in yellow cake, with a cherry, whip cream/sour cream frosting. They were delicious and the cupcakes matched the kiss-the frog game.

Mae Mae was visiting Jake, so Glamis was extra happy to have extra canine play-time. As usual, the Facebook birthday postings were overwhelming, but I took pleasure in feeling the love, joy, and memories.

I need to be proactive today, however, with starting on another writing project, and I believe Michael is coming in from Philly for a short visit. Additionally, several teachers are stopping by to say hello - ones I really love and need to see.

Phew. I ate too much: grilled vegetables, Mac n Cheese, Crandall special, hummus, Guac, BBQ Bean dip, chips, and of course tequila.

I over indulged, but that is what it is all about. I will run a couple extra miles today.

Thanks everyone for the love and wishes. I truly appreciate it.

With Thanks to Poppi Butch and Mimi Sue Who Gave Me Life - Today Begins the 48th Year and I Owe It All To Them

Birthday Happy to Me!

It's hard to believe that there are only 730 days left until I'm 50, and trust me, the colonoscopy has been weighing heavy on my mind! But it's coming, and today I'm 48. The alien-probing can wait a couple of years.

May the force be with me..the same way it was with my parents on a May-night in '71. That is when my parents got (as Grannie Annie would make the frog's say), "In the mood," and I was created...well, begun. Started. Conceived in a womb. An unnamed Sperm (we can call him Butch) wiggled its ways into Momma's Fallopian tubes and Wola! Bryan Ripley Crandall!

I've always been nostalgic, but at this soon-to-be mid-point (I hope), I seem to be a little more contemplative than usual. Last night cooking dinner, I started to think, "Jeepers,  48 tomorrow," and after a day behind the laptop writing about Kwame Alexander (yes, I'm back to that - a chapter written two years ago launched 3 books, and my chapter goes into book 3 so I had to wait to revise), I'm looking to spend some time working on me. Well, I'll go for a run and bought a game called, "Frog Lips," where others have to try to kiss the Frog. I look forward to seeing others plan their lips on a giant frog poster.

 In the meantime, here's 48 for 48. Phew.

1. A start in Westmoreland.
2. Childhood trips to and from Sherburne and Hamilton, NewYork
3. Loch Lebanon: fishing, marshmallows, games, walks, twigs, books, and love.
4. Victory gum ball machines during the days of Madonna plastic bracelets
5. Ice Cream with Grandma Vera and hints we wanted diner food
6. Waiting for Grandpa Ken to come home.
7. Pageant of Bands
8. Mr. Nu, Grampa Spence's jokes, Grannie Annie's creativity
9. The Ripley Reunions and all the laughter (and all the booze and smoke)(Kim, Keri, Holly, and Jeff were so cool)
10. Miss Twiggley's Tree
11. Visiting Aunt Rena on the St. Lawrence's river, fishing, and watching the boats
12. Star Wars, Caveman, E.T., 9 to 5, Bo Derrick in 10 (the first boobies)
13. National Geographic nudies taped to the back of my closet door (they'll never find them)
14. Laughter from having National Geographic boobies discovered by my dad - that's my boy!
15. Peter-Boy, Mike Messina, Bobbie, Tony Ferrio, and Jimmy. Wiffleball, football, frisbee, pool games, board gams, Chief's games, Little League, and riding bikes
16. Penn-Can Mall and Pavone's Pizza
17. Don't get caught in Future
18. Trips to Selkirk shores with the Marley's
19. Casey's softball games and Cynderballz's band and color guard shows
20. 9th grade idiot - why grades? Why not pass out trashed in a snowbank on a Sunday morning?
21. First job at Spera's (lasted a day making hot-dogs) then at KayBee Toy and Hobby
22. Better job at Sibley's, then Kaufman's, selling women's shoes and saving crazy amounts of money unusually for a kid at that time,
23. Learning to drive. Driver's Education with Tammy Conway. All those trips to Price Chopper
24. Taking over my dad's Nissan Sentra and naming her Cecilia before I was brought a Toyota Tercel I named Joan Popper, My Lil' Blues Traveler
25. Freedom that came with a license, independence, parties, and responsibilities
26. Knowing that Binghamton was definitely for me
27. Prom with Kirsten, then 4 years of college with her, Matt, Mike, and Twippy
28. Going to London as a 19-year old, meeting Carol Boyce Davies, Judy Liebman, Lena Weatherbee, Rachel Moriello, and Ted Simonin (guides that are still with me)
29. Moving off campus with 7 other guys and holding our first college parties,
30. Settling in a calmer house the year after with Matt, Ace, Craig, and the crazy girl who I absolutely loved and feared at the same time
31. Knowing adulthood was coming and choosing a life in Louisville
32. Two degrees, a career begun, Alice, Sue, the Louisville Writing Project and the most incredible students ever - a tale told over ten years
33. Walks and talks with Sue - the mentorship continues: Vietnam Kitchen, the River Walk, a love of dogs, the tears that come when it's time to say good-bye
34. Travel to Japan, Denmark, Cambridge, and the Bread Loaf School of English Experiences
35. Working with the Kentucky Refugee Mission
36. My Lucille - a gas-guzzling Ford Explorer with the works that I loved to death (replacing Ethyl Betty, my Ford Ranger, after Joan Popper died)
37. A need to return to the 'Cuse: A doctorate degree, living on $12,000 a year and some savings, meeting the boys that would change my life forever
38. Knowing my sisters and parents as an adult, and free-loafing off of them just when they were sitting down for dinner (what a coincidence, you have food and I'm hungry)
39. Watching Nikki, Dylan, Sean-Man, and Jacob Charles grow up as much as possible
40. The influence of the RLAC at Syracuse University - my doctoral fellows and the sages that mentored (and continue to mentor) me
41. Choosing CWP-Fairfield as the next step and almost immediately meeting Chitunga, adopting him soon after
42. Working with a team of incredible teachers who continue to grow CWP-Fairfield's programs with me
43. Meeting Lois, then Pam, and realizing they were sisters. Losing Lois and having Pam say, "You need to be my lil' brother now." And that is who I've become
44. Being welcomed by the Walnut Beach Crew and our silly weekend rituals (Leo, we will get a puppet party if it is the last thing we ever do)
45. My own dogs: Juliette Catherine Allanna Madonna Potato-head Scrappy-Doo Olivia Dennis (phew), Baby, and now Glamis (not to mention all the other dogs central to our lives)
46. Houses in St. Mathew's, Clarksville, Cicero, and Stratford (lucking out with the one on Mt. Pleasant)
47. The boys, Chitunga, and all the pond creatures of yesteryear who continue to make me whole and centered
48. National Writing Project friends, author friends, irreplaceable critical friends (the Pelican in Pensacola)

48 items in almost 3-minutes. It was eerily easy to do. 48 simple snapshots up to this point and all because my parents made me, and brought me into this world 48 years ago in 1972.

The milestones are many: 1990 high school graduation, 1994 college graduation, 1996/1998 graduate school graduations that I didn't attend, 2012, the doctoral graduation. Cousins and aunts and uncles, and The Hamptons, and a love of basketball, and the whacky, wild world that is currently what it is. 

It's all so amazing and I'm a lucky son of a Butch and Sue. That is what I'm most thankful for. It's rather, "Wow," when I stop and think about it. 

But now I'm heading out to find cherry-chip cake for my post-Valentine's Day birthday celebration. I will blow out the candle and eat the cake, too. Why? Because it is officially the Day of Me and I'm going out to celebrate.

Shouting Out To Jerry Simeon at Fade Factory, Stratford - One of the Best Finds in Connecticut for the Mt. Pleasant Household

I have to admit (and I owe this to Abu and Lossine) that having the right barber to give the right cut on the right day is always fodder for awesome. Ali, Abu, Lossine, Kanyea, Chitunga, Edem, Akbar and Robel all benefit from the clippers, precision, love, and care that happens at Fade Factory in Sratford.

I know, too, the Wooley-Sealey-Johnsons, also benefit: David, Isaiah, Justin, Ishmael and Dee. I can always tell when it is barber day for them, because when I see them they are strutting with a little more pride, a little more oomph, and a whole lot of class. Jerry knows what he's doing.

And I remember the first time Abu sat in the barber chair instructing Jerry on the cut he thought I should have (inspired, most likely, from S. American and European soccer players). I was doubtful at first, but now I admit that coming out of Fade Factory on fresh cut days is my favorite day of the month. It's probably vain and obnoxious, but I can't help but instantly send a photo out to the boys to say, "fresh cut...feels good."

If you have not read Crown by Derrick Barnes (author) and Gordon C. James (illustrator), I recommend you do. If the boys didn't introduce me to the craftsmanship and skill-set of barbers like Jerry Craft, I probably would have zero context for an award-winning book like Crown. Once a month, I leave the barber feeling like a king. Yes, I'm an ethnic mutt with bloodlines all throughout Europe, Russia, and the Baltic Sea, but the appreciation to be crowned once a month by an artist barber is 100% appreciated. Gone are the days of Cost Cutter and Bargain Harold Haircuts. I'm a convert, loyalist, and tremendous fan.

Happy Saturday, World. I power-housed a day in the office at Fairfield yesterday and am likely to do the same, today, from home. I have my agenda and I know I will meet the deadlines I've set for myself.

In the meantime, I'm going to take advantage of 1 day of 30 for loving the cut of my hair. Day 2 may be okay, and Day 3 iffy, but I know whenever I leave Jerry's Fade Factory I'll at least have 24 hours of looking good.

For Almost A Decade I've Booked Flights/Hotels Through @Expedia. Never Again. I Am Still Shaking My Head

The skinny is easy. I always make my travel plans with Expedia, and typically don't get insurance for travelers, unless I know that there is a chance I'd have to cancel.

20 hours after making travel arrangements, I had to cancel. I had insurance. Expedia's website wouldn't allow me to do it online.

32 hours later, several phone calls, much frustration, I finally got through to have flights canceled, but the reimbursement is not guaranteed.

Phone calls began around 7 pm and ended about 11 p.m. First off, the cancellation on the website came up with the fact there were technical difficulties and to call a 1-800 #. Sure. No problem. The first woman I talked to could not be heard. She turned up the volume but the accent was thick and it was very difficult to hear her. So, she sent me to a supervisor. This was fine, until that woman started to get angry and hung up on me. I was asking for clarification, because I got insurance and I needed to know what to do. Nope. Had to call back. And call back again. And call back again.

I went through the series over and over, and eventually was given to what the woman claimed to be corporate office. The guy was kind, but explained that they book flights, but don't insure cancellations. I explained the fact that I tried to cancel on Expedia, but was given the 1-800 numbers (you know what that is like). In the second go-around I had him. He walked me through how to make a claim 48 hours after booking a flight, which I did, but the website for the insurance company they use wouldn't allow me to complete the entry, so he suggested I try another browser. So I tried one. Then I tried two. Then I tried three. No luck. He advised me to call the 1-800 number.

So, I did. She laughed. She was like, "You can't cancel the flights with us. You have to call Expedia back."

I simply wanted the flights cancelled. I got insurance in case this would happen. The Expedia employees explained they were a 3rd party and had to go through the airlines. Insurance is another party and we can't make decisions for them. Etc. Etc.

It was 48 hours after the original booking. I got insurance just in case something had to be cancelled (because that chance was there). Expedia didn't do it and sent me to the insurance company. Their insurance company laughed and told me to call Expedia again. What a cycle.

So, I did. Same story. This person leads to this person leads to this person. Eventually, I got the flights cancelled. It should be noted that they offered me $100 vouchers to apologize and I simply said, "I don't want vouchers. I want to cancel the flight and move on with my life. I want them to do the right thing. That's why I got insurance."

The right thing? I don't know, because I now have to call a 1-800 number in the morning. 48 hours later. A passenger can't travel because of illness. It should be something simple. Instead, I lost an entire evening and a morning.

I am in absolute awe that any company would work this way. Up until this point of time, I've had little to no problem with Expedia. It's the first time, however, I was smart enough to get insurance just in case, because we knew medical issues might be an issue.

Their insurance company took all my information but said they couldn't make a claim because they didn't cancel the flight. So, we called back. Now I await until people are at work in the morning.

Life happens. What an unbelievable night! I'm just one person, making arrangements for another to travel and it didn't work out. 48 hours later, this is the reality.

I have learned my lesson. Normally, I don't air such grievances on my Blog and in my writing, but I've never experienced anything this unprofessional in my life.

And here we are...another day.

When the Queen of Mt. Pleasant Gets Her Way, Crandall Finds Typing To Be a Difficult Task

Edem has taken over the Crandall spot for evening work, so Crandall resorts to the Crandall chair for writing until he brain shuts off, and then Crandall moves to the couch.

Unfortunately, Glamis the Wonder Dog and Queen of Mt. Pleasant, likes to believe that the couch belongs to her. Keeping her off the couch last all but three months.

So, when Crandall comes to the couch at 10:15 for a few minutes of mindless t.v., Glamis the Wonder Dog and Queen of Mt. Pleasant, feels it is her priority to climb onto Crandall's lap until it is impossible for him to work on his laptop any more. She then snuggles as tight as she can, falls asleep and instantly falls into doggie dreams.

Meanwhile, Crandall feels guilty about going to bed, because it is obvious that Glamis the Wonder Dog and Queen of Mt. Pleasant, thoroughly enjoys snuggle time on the couch as the evening goes forward.

Last evening, Crandall made beef stew in the crock pot, but due to national phone calls and delayed preparation, the dinner was not to be ready until after 10 p.m.. Glamis the Wonder Dog and Queen of Mt. Pleasant had a difficult time sleeping because the entire house smelled incredibly delicious and she was hoping she'd get a bowl.

It's the first time Crandall made a beef stew, but agrees the house smelled incredible.

Here's hoping it tastes good, too, and she'll move over on the couch.

For The Love of Reading Informational (and Fictional Text). A Shout Out to Valentine's Day with Graduate Students

The goal was simple. Tonight, we approached multiple texts from numerous angles and I have Nic Stone and Target's LOVE glasses to thank. The glasses were in packages of 6 and very inexpensive. As I handed them out I simply said,

• you must nurture a love of reading,
• you must share what you love to read,
• you must help them to love their worlds by giving them relevant reading material, 
• and you must remember, that most won't come to your class loving to read and write (your job is to offer them a lens to do so)

We started out the evening brainstorming world events that stopped us in our place and made us think deeper about this life thing. On the upper-age scale of the trajectory, I was interested in some of the news that held this generation's attention,

• Amanda Knox
• Casey Anthony
• 2016 Election
• Kobe's death
• Michael Phelps (then Lochte)
• Kevin Ware's broken leg against Duke
• Obama's Election
• Bin Laden,
• Janet Jackson's Super Bowl Goops
• Berlin Wall
• 9/11
• Sandy Hook
• Challenger Explosion
• Michael Jackson's death
• Hurricanes
• natural disasters
• Jeff Dulos
• 2012 Mayan Calendar
• Tsunamis
• Mike Tyson's Ear
• The Stamford Woman Who Lost her Face to a Chimpanzee
• Anita Hill Hearings (#MeToo)
• Y2K
• Sandy Hook

The fact that there are times in the world where "office cooler" talk occurs, and people simply are abuzz with global affairs (although these tend to be national) is what I wanted students to brainstorm. 

We did a short reading of Nic Stone's 1st chapter in Dear Martin, and I shared the ways I would chunk reading/ viewing/thinking experiences to introduced the novel (hence their glasses, and the ones I also put on the author). We looked at supplemental texts, commercials, Colin Kaepernick, Trayvon Martin, etc to bring a frame to the introduction.

We did a lot of reading about motivation and information text for the week, but I argue that it is the teacher's job to bring investigation, curiosity, possibility, and world connectivity to the reading experience. What good is learning if we can't help young people to make the connection to their personal lives? 

As for the glasses, I simply think they'd be great to have in the teacher drawer of every classroom for therapeutic reasons. "Hey, I can see you're"having a glum day. Why don't you put these on for a while to see if your day grows a lil' more lovely?" 

"Hey, I can sense the rage coming in with you. What if you wore these and spent the next 60 minutes thinking about what you love most and hope to accomplish in the next few years?"

Basically the glasses were 20 cents a piece. The possibilities are endless. I prefer an optimistic, hope-filled vision to a bitter, spiteful one.

And that was my Tuesday lesson.

Valentine's Week - 8 Years Ago. Okay. I'm Entitled To Repost Because It Seems Aging Is The Theme of the Day

No grays. I am in my kitchen on Nichols Avenue in Connecticut and I don't see too much white in my sideburns or goatee. I only mention this because today, colleagues and I were talking about the last decade and how much we have aged. In fact, at one meeting we were sharing photos and I came across this one in 2012 and I thought, "Who is that young guy? It seemed like yesterday, but it was 8 years ago."

We've been teasing each other about colonoscopies, walking down the stairs, needing help getting up from chairs, and the strange morphing of our bodies.

Ugh. When I see photos like this I'm instantly reminded, "Damn. It goes fast,"

I remember cutting this heart out, and I think I sent it to Lois. The heart was part of an art project and she, being artistic, was helpful in the design. I sent it to her, "Elephant Shoe," for feedback. It was my first year at Fairfield, a month after defending the dissertation, and a 2nd semester into a new career. Of course, looking at the January date, it was also post-holiday break, MLK time, and right before I learned I had to put together my dossier for the Peer Review Committee of GSEAP. I'm sure I wanted to tear that heart right up during the first year of doing that work. Crazy.

Time is such a whacky creature. I always see myself as forever 15 (thanking Lossine and Abu for that), but it's true that with this Valentine's week coming on, I'm getting closer to 50 than ever before. Looking at this photo, I don't see a 50 year old...but knowing my father's genes, I see that I was lucky to have them, too. He looked like a baby until his late 40s. That was my journey, as well.

Well, Crandall. That's where you are. Same love...more grays.

It's another long day of classes, meetings, and reports. I am, however, thinking of all my fellow (cough cough) late-forty-year-olds and the fact that we are the age of our parents once were when we were in high school/college and, well, we need to hang on to every second, because it preciously, desperately, beautifully, and habitually moves way too fast.

Wow. I love it, but also hate it. Blink of an eye. Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping, into the future.

Hello, Monday. Good Thing I Took Care of Myself All Day Sunday....But Still Got Sick.

I'm waking up today hoping that the ugh I went to bed with is illusionary, and a part of my active imagination. I don't want to get sick and I never like to feel tired. Yesterday, I got up early and prepared for a long run, did a long run, then sat in my house working off the adrenaline on my laptop and in preparation for the week.

Then I got cold. Really cold. I knew I needed a hot shower as soon as possible. When I got out, the cough was there. So was the exhaustion.

No. No. No. No. No.

We did make it out to get coffee for the morning and Sriracha sauce (you never know when you will need Sriracha sauce). Lucky for us, too, the store with the cheapest Sriracha sauce is by Pam's and she made us a home-made beef potpie. It tasted great, but didn't make my throat, nose and chest feel any better.

Ginger ale. Ginger ale. Ginger ale.

Hot tea. Hot tea. Hot tea.

And I wish I could say: rest, rest, rest.

That's impossible until this week is over (unless it becomes impossible and then I will throw in the towel).

I will never understand how I can wake up, feel great, go for a fantastic run, and then at the snap of a finger I'm congested, crusty and achy. I thought running in below 30 temperatures would kill any of the Mucinex monsters trying to find their place inside my rib cage.

Bastards.

The calendar is not my friend today. I'm lined up from the second I post this blog until 8 p.m. tonight. Then I need to plan for Tuesday.

Okay, here ends Crandall's pity party.

I will feel good. I will feel good. I will feel good.

Then There Is The Night When Crandall Decides He Wants To Learn How to Make Thai Mango Chicken, So He Does

I only had one fresh mango, so I used a cantaloupe as the 2nd. It's all good...I like to innovate. I put the fruit, spices, soy sauce, turmeric, garlic, etc. in a blender and made a sauce. It was sweet, so I added hot pepper and Sriracha. Then it was sweet and spicy.

I cut up the vegetables and stir-fired them with oil and spices, adding chicken to the mix, before I added the sauce.

Edem was on rice duty. No, it isn't essentializing of Togo-ese culture, it's just that anyone who has ever stayed with me has always said that I suck at making rice. I know I have gotten better, and the complaints are now rare, but I'm all for everyone contributing to the dinner.

He made brown rice and I read up on how it is bulkier, but not as healthy. Actually, it's healthier, too. The Internet goes gaga over that debate. Brown vs. white rice. Who cares? It's rice.

Then we added the sauce. I didn't know what to expect, because it was the first time attempting the dish.

Perfect. In fact, it tasted like Dao's Thai, which is what I was after, but didn't want to pay $20 a plate. So, I said, "Crandall, make it yourself."

I guess the day was productive: I built a website for the Northeast Consortium of National Writing Project sites, did groceries, ran, dropped off a birthday present to Dave and Kris's kid, walked the dog, read two books, and cooked a meal. I am okay with that. I followed with college basketball and (well) I hate Duke. They somehow always get everything in their favor.

Now it is the Lord's day of rest. I won't rest, but those who are lorded upon will. Instead, I need to read ahead for the week, plan out my classes, do some writing, and continue to hit the streets with my Sauconys.

Did I say how much I hate Duke basketball? I do.

So, I'll end this Sunday post with a photo of Glamis watching SU play Wake Forest.

Oh, Friday Night...If Only You Were Shoveling Snow in Syracuse. Instead, You're in CT Feeling Like a Lucky Son of a Butch

Sometimes I don't shower, but go to work anyway. Well, on Fridays...there's rarely anyone in anyways. I got up early, bundled in running clothes, and headed to crunch numbers and once again arm wrestle with Work Day. I'm glad I did, because a package arrived from an editing friend who sent me a few books that are due out next Fall. Reading the titles and authors, I was like, "Oh, Great. The pile of advanced books I've ordered for weekend reading now needs to be adjusted."

Holy cow. I can't believe how fantastic several young adult novels heading to press really are. I came home planning to immediately go for a run, but I sat in my Crandall chair and read until I fell asleep. I felt like I had a secret obligation to read the books as soon as I could (and to write the authors to give my review - THEY'RE AWESOME) (Of course, I also learned I got the advanced readers before they did. Oops).

It's all good. I know to count my blessings where I can. I'm a lucky son of a Butch which has been established on my blogs for several years. I just wish I could immediately start teaching these books, but I have to wait until at least spring semester, 2021. UGH!

On another note, I went to work yesterday with warm weather and left in cold weather, snow, and an actual February performance. I wonder if it will last.

But truth be told, it doesn't matter. I'm staying curled up with the piles of books that have been sent to me. I can't put them down and feel somewhat grateful that I get to settle into words now in a way that won't be available to others until this time next year. I think I have a responsibility to that (and I owe the Great Whatever everything I can do to deserve such luck).

Here's to the weekend!

Yes! You Can Make Ganache with Vanilla Yogurt and Chocolate Chips. I Have The Proof.

First of all, I'm going to admit something. I got home last night at five and instead of going right back to work, I simply stared into space for like an hour trying process all the crazy in the world right now. Actually, I played mindless games, read for a bit, procrastinated by browsing the world's newspapers, and eventually cooking dinner. The stack of books that are calling my name are calling even louder.

But I need mindlessness. I texted a friend and said, 'Oh, how I wish there were like a year's worth of This Is Us episodes to catch up on. I simply need to veg into an alternative universe for a while.

I can't. And that's okay.

Because I also didn't want to go to the store yesterday morning to buy heavy cream to make a chocolate ganache for the faculty birthday cake I made for February. I had vanilla yogurt, however, and started thinking about heavy cream and consistency and 'sure enough,' I figured out a way to make a chocolate ganache that hardened quite nicely. It actually was good. I also sprinkled a crushed peanut butter cookie and crushed Reese's Peanut Butter cups on it for extra oomph.

This recipe may be the greatest lesson ever received from my friend Alice in Kentucky. It will go with me to my grave.

And we're heading towards the weekend, which turns out to be like my Monday and Tuesday, because that is when I power drive to get things done. I simply lost all ambition and enthusiasm for doing as I do when I got home yesterday.

My brain is fried.

So, I chose pleasure reading (which is always academic in disguise - I get to read YA novels), and playing with Glamis as my priorities. I see you, Calendar. I know what's ahead and I need to veg out where I can because #@$# about to get really crazy.

And the cake. Yum. I love when colleagues eat a slice and then cut another one for later in their office. Good for them.

Puppies and Broccoli Cheddar Soup with Chicken...Fueling My Soul After a Grueling Five Weeks

 "Puppy Breath Alert...Puppy Breath Alert"

That's what I heard from the Graduate School of Education and Allied Professions Office yesterday. Linnea, one of the administrative assistants, was given a puppy as an early birthday present. I didn't make it down to see her (crunching numbers, doing grants, and fist-fighting with WorkDay), so she brought her fuzz-nugget to come see me.

I instantly fell to the floor and she ran to my lap and tried to fall asleep. They named her Sailor.

MELTED.

Truth be told, I watched the Purina Puppy Bowl for the first time this past Sunday and I quickly got that itch for another fur-bomb in the house. I know that is stupid, because all I do is cuss about Glamis's shedding and neediness, but when you smell a puppy's breath, you simply can't help but wonder, "Hmmm. What if Glamis had a sister or brother?"

Sailor swiped any and all stress away and I was thankful.

Meanwhile, I returned home to take Glamis for a long hike because I simply needed to decompress the day. I try my best to stay productive and with the right mind, and after all the frustration, I simply needed to clear my mind on a walk. I try to live a life without regrets and without resentments. Sometimes that is very hard.

The walk, and then a bowl of Broccoli Cheddar Soup with Chicken made everything alright again. Of course, the puppy started the rebirth in me. And even if the soup looks like something Glamis upchucked on a bedspread (well, she has...hence the analogy), I can assure you it was the warmth I totally needed. And all you anti-carb heads out there can go to another blog. There's nothing better than 'everything' bagels and using them to scrape the remains in the bowl was simply incredible. Delicious.

Okay, Thursday - tis a day of meetings. Truth be told, as part of the anti-regret and anti-resentment, I spent the rest of last night baking for our GSEAP faculty meeting. Sometimes I picture myself in The Matrix and I like to swirl all the negative energy that comes my way and twist it into a ball that can be pushed aside so that more positive energy can enter my universe. So, that's what I did. I baked for others. With all the ubiquitous hate put into fashion these days, I will aim for love. That's the salvation.

“Roma urbs aeterna; Latina lingua aeterna" - We Weren't in Rome, Per Se, But What a Great Conversation About Language

Last week, on Friday, I visited Hope Club at Bassick High School and watched Mr. King do incredible after-school work with 20 immigrant and refugee students (English as an Additional Language, EALs). It was superb and beyond the call of duty.

Last night, readings for my graduate course included Readicide by Kelly Gallagher, but also a chapter on working with EALs in a book on teaching adolescent literacy. The one makes the case for relevant, student-centered and world-minded readings that offers choice and the other highlights how the Common Core State Standards have mandated new rigor for language classrooms, which is even harder for EALs. They seemed in total contrast of one another - one naming the problem, and another adding an additional problem.

So what does Crandall do in class? He draws on his teachers-teaching-teachers philosophy and shares work from Louisville, Syracuse and Connecticut. In other words, I modeled what these teachers might do in their own classrooms.

I shared several of the posters created while in graduate school and we read as writers, pulling out themes from what we read. We then asked questions of the students, which lucky for us, we could ask Edem, as he was a classmate of the kids. So, we had him to field questions and tell his story.

Of course, I drew connections to the course readings, but with one Latin teacher in the room, I decided to pair the conversation with an OpEd, A Vote for Latin. The author makes the case for teaching Latin and he does a good job with it.

It was interesting, however, although I didn't interrogate with the students, to note the colonial, imperialist argument to make for teaching Latin in a world where, well, it is no longer spoken. Still, the case is made that in high-powered, suburban schools, families demand the language to help students to get into elite colleges and programs. I see this. The author makes this case, as well.

But then I'm thinking about what I witnessed in William King's room and in my own work. I suppose I make the case for all languages, as they are just interesting.

For example, I asked Edem what his last name means and he said, hope. Well, that was a coincidence. He then explains that it means Coconut in the hole. Hope? I then here the story of ancestors and their farming history, and how planting coconut trees provided coconut milk during dry times, hence bringing hope to others during periods of suffering. His family provided hope.

I'm empowered for knowing this, although it will not necessary do much for me other than with storytelling.

My case is simple. Should we be learning the stories and words and cultures of everyone, so that we are wiser in our own worlds? It was a great class, with many objectives met, but I drove home wondering about ranking languages for their worth in the world. I surmise that the language wars follow the military ones. I personally am a champion of multilingualism. It simply makes sense.

Okay, Tuesday Morning! I'm Channeling the Books and My Teachers! We Simply Need Space To Write

What happens when you say to a room full of graduate students, "We've read the 2nd chapter on action research. The experts say that we should write for 15-20 minutes a day, but the biggest obstacles for in-class teachers is time. So, I'm giving you the next 20 minutes to write what you're thinking...."

BOOM.

We go over the 20 minutes and everyone is closer to the goal they have in mind. They wrote. It was quiet. The writing was reall.

Seriously, as much as I hate NOT to monopolize a class with my thinking on this or that topic, it truly is remarkable to simply hand over the class space to allow teachers to compose. Less preaching. More space.

This is no different than a K-12 classroom. There are so many obstacles pulling us in numerous directions. Educators, like their students, simply need silence and quiet, safe spaces, and room to gather what they are thinking.

And it pays off.

After 30 minutes or so, I had a class full of focused, more directed teachers ready and willing to move forward with individual action research projects. Yes, some see the research course as a hoop they need to jump through, but all recognize the importance of having space to pursue a project that can make a difference in the lives of their kids. They value the study I'm requiring of them.

And I'm exhausted. MLK Youth Leadership Academy, Edem's 28th, followed by Run For Refugees, did a lot to my weekend. I wasn't able to catch up, and get ahead like I usually do. I entered yesterday with total sprinting to get everything ready and done (I know. I know. An extra birthday party shouldn't cause such a ruffle in a week's worth of work, but it does).

I'm just thankful that I am not an untenured faculty member having to work on my materials to submit to my department. Those days added a whole other layer of insane to my January / February. At least that is off my plate. They are gone.

Ah, Tuesday. You really need it to catch zzzz's from the weekend, but at 6 a.m. I'm up writing and getting ready for the day.

We got this. There's no other choice.

7th Year - Running For Refugees in New Haven, Integrated Refugee and Immigrant Services. Bigger and Better Every Every 365 Days

I think, this year, it was the Yale Gospel Choir singing The New Colussus at the opening of the Run for Refugees 5K race in New Haven that sparked the most emotion. This was my 7th year running, and it began with Kaitlyn Kelly. Now it has expanded to a wonderful team of students, staff, faculty and administrators from Fairfield University. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to take the lead organizing this year, but others at Fairfield University stepped up, and we had a record-number of participants, as did the race on the whole. It was their biggest crowd yet, and it is imagined it will continue to grow. CT is only one state, but people are listening. They hear. They are looking to do good in the world.

The New Colossus (as on the Statue of Liberty)Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,With conquering limbs astride from land to land;Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall standA mighty woman with a torch, whose flameIs the imprisoned lightning, and her nameMother of Exiles. From her beacon-handGlows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes commandThe air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame."Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries sheWith silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Chris George, Director of IRIS, is a saint. When I contacted him Saturday afternoon to say that several of the Ubuntu Academy kids wanted to run this year, he simply said, "Of course, Crandall. Tell them to come to the VIP table when they arrive. We'll get them signed up."

They were signed up. They were thrilled. They loved every second of running in support of refugees and immigrant services, all in support of the American Dream. They are living it.

It was also Super Bowl Sunday, and I can't say that I was interested in either team, nor that I was going to watch, but there seems to be an American responsibility to at least try. I had papers to grade, books to read, grants to write, and reports to make. The game did what it does best - provided background noise (I'll catch up on the commercials and controversies later...I listened, but didn't watch much).

It's another Monday. The weekend was sort of packed and I need the morning to get ready for everything ahead, because I didn't do as much as I planned.

All will be well. I have faith. It's the hope I need to survive.