I See the Warmer Months Coming Around the Corner, and As I Broke Yesterday's Fast, I Couldn't Help But Look Forward to All the Summer Meals to Come

As I write Abu and Lossine daily, "I'm hungry, but I'm hyper-focused and paying attention to what matters most...like a good meal, appreciation for what I have, and how to ignore all the noise and chaos around me."

I couldn't wait for last night's salad, and was even more eager to get protein from the Crandall special. I learned from Chitunga that although he arrived, his furniture and packed belongings have not. They are a week late and lost them, but the recovered them with the promise of a 4 pm delivery today. 

Focus on what's important. Move in the direction of a better world. Be good to one another. Watch Ted Lasso and the Mandalorian. All will be well. 

Yesterday, I worked on two applications to get Literature for Young Adults aligned with signature elements. The University moved to a core curriculum where courses for social justice and writing in the discipline are on the radar of students. I applied for both and will look into writing across the disciplines and interdisciplinary connections in the future. Applying for the two I did was an all-day endeavor. Fingers crossed it will go through.

Speaking of, after several months, much chaos, and too many cc'd emails for any one's lifetime, I believe the course now has my name, the right day, and the right time finally up on the course scheduler. For weeks, it's been a man in interior design assigned to the class. Believe it or not, after all the chaos of trying to fix it, the one woman who never responded, ignored all the cc's, and (apparently) is rarely on campus, emailed to say, "Oh, that's my problem. I'm sorry I did that." Ugh to the YouGottaBeKiddingMe. 

I've spent my entire life holding myself accountable to what I need to get done, to the people I work with, to the students who depend on me, and to the country that relies on efficiency and excellence. I will forever be amazed by the many who cannot be counted on, are rarely held accountable, and make everything complicated for those who are doing the work. 

This all makes me think more about leadership. Perhaps one day I will transition to a leadership role so that I can go through a system and clean out the knuckleheads, the abusers of time, the all talk and no action types, who simply put up road blocks. I've always said I'd be a lousy leader because I can't tolerate the silliness that people pull over on their employers. It's just wrong.

We need to be there for each other, in support of one another, and behind a vision we all believe in (which is another reason I am thinking about one day moving into leadership). I definitely have vision, and it's unlike the lacking ones that have been before me at times. 

We all can do better. Even with my salad. tonight, I might add cranberries, too. 

Applauding the 76 3rd Graders, Their Teachers, Our 39 Undergraduate Students, the Center for Social Impact, and Kate Wellen for a Fantastic Day

"We're arriving early," they said a week ago, so I planned ahead. Then yesterday's text arrived and it read, "Okay, we'll be 30 minutes earlier than we thought." Well, then. Crandall-crazy to the rescue. How do we keep energetic 8 and 9 year olds focused until the big kids come to the arena?

All in all it was a tremendous success, where all the students wrote not just once, but twice (mapping out a space meaningful to the and we discussed the Fairfield University map). 

"Whoa! Y'all got robots!" 

That was the highlight of the day, and to be honest, they've become the norm. Kids across campus can order food from Gub Hub or the Tully, and the robots carry it to their dorms. Swear to God. Been mini-R2D2 creatures all over our campus giving the turkey a run for their money. They are pretty fascinating, actually. I'm intrigued and would love to learn more about them myself.

Special shout out to Keisha Biko (Elementary Education) and Latoya Lisle (Reading & Language Development / Connecticut Writing Project). They were the visionaries who wanted to cultivate geniuses with their young people on campus. Their administration was all on board!

Amazing teachers. Wonderful youth. Impressive undergraduates who stepped up for the day. A win-win-win for sure.

Ah, but fasting and the energy of 3rd graders. Phew. I don't know what my name is any more. But I'm up and at it for another day. We got this!

Bringing a Close of National Woman's Month, 2023, with 76 3rd Graders, 29 Undergraduates Exploring Education, and Tremendous Pride for Community Engagement.

The Kendall College and Career Academy of Norwalk Public Schools has been in partnership with the School of Education and Human Development's Exploration in Education course. In addition to Pequot Library, visits to ESL classrooms at Central High School in Bridgeport, and the stellar K-8 school in Norwalk, we also answered a request for a 3rd grade field trip to visit a college campus. These young people have been reading, writing, adding, subtracting, and thinking about the ways hard work in school leads to next steps in their lives. 

At the last minute, too, the Fairfield University Art Museum created magnificent posters of an exhibit they have in the Walsh Gallery at the Quick Center. Due to some of the content and the long distance to walk there in a short amount of time, educator Kate Wellen agreed to host one of the stations for the special trip between the young people and our undergraduate students. The exhibit features,

Women's Rights Are Human Rights is a very fitting title for an exhibition of women’s rights and advocacy posters, as it is a term used in the women's rights movement and was the title of an important speech given by Hillary Rodham Clinton at the United Nations Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995. In her address, Hillary Clinton suggested that if the term women's rights were to be interchangeable with the term human rights, the world community would be a better place because human rights affect the women who raise the world's children, care for the elderly, run companies, work in hospitals, fight for better education and better health care. 

This exhibition features posters created by both men and women from around the world to celebrate and acknowledge the vital role that all citizens should play in protecting and promoting human rights.

There's much to occur from 10:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. in the Dogwood, today, but it's all planned and ready to go. I'm excited to use Why Not You by Ciara and Russell Johnson (the first time I'm highlighting this book with a large audience) and I love the illustrations by Jessica Gibson. The book is perfect to launch conversations about career possibilities, dreams, and visions for the future - which is the total purpose of the Writing Our Lives event. It's all about the young scholars today.

I can't wait to process how this day goes. It's a great day when our campus opens its doors to the youngest learners and minds. And the best news is the 1 to 3 ratio of adults to kids! 

Celebrated a Dear Friend's 60th Last Night, Although She Couldn't Be There With Us. All Prayers For Her & Her Family

One of the benefits of an English major, I suppose, is reading and delving deeply into Greek and Shakespearean tragedies. Can you imagine this happening? What would you do if this happened? Of course, as tragic as those stories can be, the reality of living life can be equally as tragic. All life is struggle. The Buddhists have it right. Pain is part of the journey, and water falls from our eyes in equal force: when we are feeling deeply sad and when we are overjoyed by story and humor. Our emotions are triggered. 

The crews I hang out with always have a way to blend both comedy and tragedy. I think we need to, in order to survive. This is why we spent Shirley's 60th on FaceTime, letting her know we are here for her and feel so terribly for the life events of the past two weeks. She was supposed to be on a beach celebrating her time on earth, but a drunk driver killed her daughter-in-law, and she had to fly to Texas to support her son and the children. It is not how anyone wants to bring joy to their time on the earth. It's even harder to keep one's head up. 

This is why Leo created a paint-tape portrait of Shirls and we hung a banner. Someone even bought cake and we sang to her, letting her know this is what we would be doing (as always) if she was home with us. The emotions are heavy and the pain is even harsher. 

We all love our friend so much and would do anything to help her to ease the pain (it's why I told her that we all looked good from the table up (from where we passed the phone around), but were butt-naked from the waste down. It's hard to laugh...but we try. It's one way to find a cure, however shallow and ineffective. 

Another Tuesday is upon us and my night is late. Still, my mind and prayers will remain on those that are going through the nasty stuff right now....it seems to be everywhere at the moment. And we all need each other. 

Many Thanks to William & Jessica for Getting Me Out of the House to Break Fast at Cibus Dos - Yes, That Isn't Just a Bunny Rabbit

Whereas Saturday was a hot mess of winds, sleet, snow, and rain, Sunday turned into an almost 70, sun-shining day where I was able to not only get one walk in, but two. It was a day of grading, otherwise, until William and Jessica invited me for dinner at Cibus, a Latin fusion restaurant where the peppers, steak, rice (all served over French fries) were delicious. 

As we're leaving, I said to them, "I don't remember the Easter bunny greeter from previous visits," in which we soon laughed. That wasn't just a bunny rabbit...it was Santa Clause pretending he was Elvis Presley and hop-along-Cassidy. It was a nice touch to the evening gathering. 

Ah, but today is Monday, and the tire rotation and oil change of last week resulted in engine lights coming on two days later requesting an oil change and change of tires. So, back to Subaru I go (it was the soonest they could get me in). I hope they'll be able to make the electrical adjustments.

I also realize that Cibus uses way more salt than I'm used to intaking and I think I have more salt in me from that dinner than I usually get in an entire year. I'm still tasting it and I'm not a fan (even if the food was good). 

Okay, week...time to focus on all ahead. 

Was Looking for Me, Age 27, to Send to Chitunga, Age 27, and Dove Into My Brown School Boxes...This from 1999. 2nd Year of Full-Time Teaching

It was an interesting Saturday. A student from the class of 2006 reached out to work through her mid-30s, and wanted to touch base with people from her past. I've been nostalgic all week because it's always hard to put myself into the shoes of yesteryear, and I've been trying to think about who I was as a 27 year old. I remember we were partying like it was 1999, because it was 1999. I had a student group that was challenging, but also blossomed a year later into one of the best classes I ever taught. The 2000 crew, but I've been thinking about 1999: the poetry coffee houses we began, the basketball games, the DC trip, and getting my teaching legs (even with a student teacher, Kip). It was my 2nd year teaching and U of L gave me a student teacher.

I remember I met the Danes (the teachers and students) and vowed to take a crew to Roskilde (but that was between 1998 and 1999). The length of my hair is confusing, because I grew it out twice, cutting it twice, and I remember that I still hung out with friends from Indiana, but I was moving on...heading to spend more time with the teaching crew I worked with and severing ties with my drinking buddies (who actually took me to Coyotes to line dance - that was never my scene. Oh, Kentuckiana). 

Actually, I this is the class of 2000, so I'm guessing this is the 2nd half of my 27th year...the first semester. I'm not sure why it's black and white, and all these puppies are now in their 40s. I'm in the middle and look like one of the kids. 

When I left Brown, I boxed two shoe boxes with memories and left it at that. I don't go into it much unless someone reaches out and I am trying to remember. 1998-2007 blur, with the years becoming a blur. So much life occurred in those years and all the kids remain my heartbeat. My admiration for them grows even stronger as they've aged and continued to their share their life stories. And I'm laughing...the girl on the far right, Brandy, was one of the first Melinda and Bill Gates Scholars and I remember her receiving so much money from them that she bought a car. I was so proud to send in that nonination and to learn she received it. I love that kid, as I loved them all.

Zip Zap Zoom.

That's the snapshot of life. 

Participated with My First-Ever Vision Board...well, Collaborative Vision Board...and Like Everything, It Has Me Thinking (Frustrated) About Vision

I spent a productive few hours with colleagues who came for a day-long retreat for planning ahead. At one point we had to collaborate on thinking together about next steps, especially after naming the trees that blocked our way for the paths we feel most strongly about. The trees are many, and they can create quite an obstacle...especially since the institution of higher education, itself, is a tree blocking paths of what's good, possible, and pertinent. 

The theme that kept coming forward was, "It's not @%$#@ rocket science," as most of us have worked in numerous professional settings and have our world experiences behind us. We name what we need and it's not much, but as of date, the institutions haven't been able to help us.

Schools need teachers. Teachers need professional development and advanced degrees. Educators crave knowledge and opportunities, but institutions of higher education have sky-rocketed tuition costs to astronomical amounts, and who would want to take $200,000 in loans (a mortgage payment) to earn far less than that in their careers? Of course, teachers who are in schools would love to advance their knowledge (and appreciate it) but can't afford the investment, because graduate programs are expensive (as if they have life savings to pay for them). We've reached a place in U.S. history where the cost to become a teacher matched with the disrespect of teaching and teachers, coupled with the high stress of the teaching profession, and the testing, industrial complex have reached the summit. It's too much and it needs to change. As a result, programs to train teachers are hurting across the country, and administrators are desperate for teachers. It's a mess that could have been avoided. The same testing, Pearson-manipulated assessments that have ruined K-12 instruction are now at the epicenter to train teachers in higher education. It's mind boggling. 

Learning can't be a corporate endeavor, yet that is what it's become.

One by one by one, colleagues kept saying 50% (I heard 50 Cent) discount should be given to local, in-practice teachers, and we should partner with schools across the state to offer the best programs possible. This, however, does not align with late-capitalistic, for profit non-profits that are cloaked in higher education silks. The University wants money. It's not necessarily about reality and the world beyond the castles.

Still, we see our work as bridging reality of the United States, the K-12 public, parochial, and private schools we work with, with the esoteric nature of the castle where one must earn degrees. There's so much that can be done. Yes, we have fight in us like Rosie-the-Riveter, but we've been dying with zero support for almost 8 years now. We love what we do, we believe in inclusivity, and recognize that diversity is at the epicenter of excellence, yet work in environments that act counter to these goals. We live this in our community work every day. Yet, this doesn't match the way higher education operates with a different mindset. We need to be better bridges...We need to build better bridges...and we need to clean up the mess this nation has made.

Yet, the tree(s) stand in the way.

There's promise in summer work (as CWP knows) but faculty need summers to rejuvenate and, quite frankly, do their research and writing....so much gets piled on them during the year. 

And so this is where we are....with vision....but many trees blocking our way. Not an apocalyptic post, but one that sees through the trees and realizes the path ahead is blocked by the very map wanting us to find a path forward. Very frustrating.

But I love / to believe / in hope. It's all I got. 

 

Last of the Dinners. Very Thankful to Sir-Grill-a-Lot Dave, His Family, Incredible Guacamole and the Last CT Meal

And he's off. Up and out of here to beat NYC traffic so he can make Cleveland in, well, 9 hours. If he doesn't time the Connecticut/New York Traffic correctly, that can add another four hours.

The Sealey-Wooley-Johnsons invited Chitunga over for dinner on his last night, and we were graced with broccolina, grilled chicken, Cole-slaw, and the best Guac I've had in a long time....maybe ever.

They kvetched while I came home to record The Write Time, and then I returned to pick up the pieces, only to come back to Mt. Pleasant to finalize a last evening before the departure. 

We've done this before. I've done this to others before. 

He's off and we can only away the stories. Karal, I know, will be mighty perplexed...she's obsessed with the kid. I am feeling all sorts of feels, but mostly happy, as I know there's no telling what the next steps will be. 

All I want for this guy is happiness, contentment, and success. There's an entire world out there which will help him find it. 

And with that, this is a Friday, and I look forward to weekend rest. 

Final Dinner with the Milford Support Team - Checked Out the Nautilus Again (And They are Definitely a Big Part of the Village)

Chitunga's doing his rounds of good-byes and last night was for the Milford Crew (Leo, Bev, Pam, and Oona). We went to the Nautilus for drinks and dinner, but mostly they spent the evening pouring love and appreciation onto the kid (who has my house set up in absolute office mode until he leaves....numbers, pads of paper, computers, and calculators everywhere). 

I survived the day of pulling crazy out of the hat, and I like to think it was more than moderately successful. Actually, it was very successful, and I was gifted with a follow-up, because I received a special invite from Disney and Kwame to attend the debut of The Crossover which will be appearing on Disney+ later in April. It was via a special ZOOM call where Kwame and the actors talked to us who were invited. Pretty cool and mad proud of his success and contributions to the world...

...I remember when...

Now time to read his memoir...Several years ago he was telling me stories over dinner and I said, "You know...we teachers need you to write your story. We'll read it." I guess he did.

This morning, I'm up and at a Board of Trustees breakfast early, then the dentist, then meetings, then a recording of The Write Time tonight. Dave & Kris will have Chitunga and I for dinner but I have to step out for the recording. 

And I'm thinking about the many nights Leo and I would sit by the fire, walk on the beach, or stop at one another's house talking adulthood - so many of these last ten years have been about helping me guide Chitunga in the right path (he already went through it with Nick and Kai). The wisdom was/is immeasurable and I'm thankful for it. 

As all were wishing luck for his new move, I felt the love in all directions...the love that it takes to help us all succeed. 

One more day...then Cleveland...Chicago...and DesMoines. 

This is his road to find out. 

And There Are Days When, Well, Crandall Reaches Into His Bag of Tricks and Simply Prays What He Pulls Out of His Hat Will Work

And then he receives a memo that the in-person, school visit with 20 students for 2.5 hours has to be cancelled today due to district-wide testing, so with little preparation, Crandall has to work with students on campus in a 2 and a half hour turbo. Today is a section swap, so he, well I, will be working with undergraduate students that I don't have much relation with. We're going full-out creative, professional development, interactive, and spur of the moment on this one. With only 30 minutes to prep, we will do what we can do.

This reminds me of the time I slipped into a Friday with rambunctious 6th period freshman when I thought we had an hour left of Romeo & Juliet, and it turned out all that was left was the credits. It was chaos, and I know that one's lack of planning doesn't constitute an emergency.

But, I've been planned. I'm always well planned. It's been in the books since January. All was set for today, until it wasn't. Superintendent curve balls brought onto teachers every where by test companies earning a profit to prove over and over again that the one indicator for results tends to ubiquitously be zip codes, yet the funding structures don't change.

So here we go. 

The topics at hand are teaching high school, English language learners, inquiry projects, some poetry, and keeping the energy alive. We have no choice but to make it happen. I have pretzels, gold fish, and bubbles. We'll figure something out.

And I have bags under my eyes...this is why they recommend resting on Spring Break and not editing a journal, writing a chapter, and organizing a dossier 14-hours a day. That was my mistake, but maybe it will pay off. Only time will tell...

...and at this time I need to get to campus. Wait. I just arrived. Took me 75 minutes because of a multi-car accident on I-95. 

I guess it's odd to be so used to the ebb and flow of how it all works. 

He's Home for a Few Days Before Departure, but I Have Night Classes. So, Channeling the Days of Yesteryear Just In Case He Does Choose to Eat

Part of parenting and developing ever-changing boundaries is the food game. I'm am trying to recall my own history. In middle and high school, meals were always prepped with mom working inside and dad giving all our food away to the neighbors outside on the grill. As my sisters and I grew older, this changed some because we had work schedules. At times we'd fend for ourselves, but we usually could get a meal in before departure. On occasion, we'd splurge and treat mom and dad to fast food....a step in the right direction. 

Then, college years, we returned home for more of the same...loved a good home-cooked meal, but work and friends led us in numerous directions. Best days were backyard gatherings with barbecue, neighbors, and too much food.

Upon my Kentucky home visits, I learned that mom was good for cooking one or two meals, and then was looking for alternatives: would I cook, could we go out, what's leftover in the fridge. Of course, doctorate days, I got real good about rotating homes so I always got fed because, well, my income was $12,000 a year and I had no time. 

Now, the routine stays the same. One meal when I come home and then mom knows I'll likely be looking elsewhere (and I cook more and more).This all brings me to this post, which is that Chitunga is staying in his bedroom for a few days as he transitions into his next adulthood steps. Now, the Covid years when he returned home, no matter what I cooked he'd always order something from Grub Hub. Mostly Chipotle. Probably his way of resisting that he was once again home.

Now, I know he comes in today, but I'll be at work. Two nights this week I'm obligated to university responsibilities and I started stressing that he wouldn't have a home cooked meal, so I made white rice and stir fried Korean beef with peppers and onions. I also stored them in takeout containers to say, "hey, there's food in the fridge if you need it." I won't be home (except Wednesday - and I'm hoping we'll go out), but I'm channeling Mama Sue's "You have to have at least one home cooked meal. So, that's what I did last night. And this morning, I'm also cooking a pork loin, because that's one of his favorites. I will also cook potatoes. Why? Because, it's food. And that is an act of love, whenever it is eaten or not.

But I am also thinking how out of habit I've been since the crazier days on Mt. Pleasant. For the last few years, if I'm not hosting a party, I'm typically rotating meals with Oona nd Pam. We gather to eat at 6. Sometimes I cook, and sometimes Pam cooks, and then there are time when Oona brings food from the hospital. 

But here I am with a slight return of the past, and the knowledge he will either eat the food or be annoyed by it. That, I feel, is the full circle...as one day I hope all that happens in his household, too.

And if he doesn't eat, I have food to share with others!

This Ought to be an Interesting Week. Yep, It's Monday, the Calendar is Full, and I Need to Get My Mojo in Check to Make It Through

Breaks are interesting. They're not really breaks, except the obligations to colleagues and students subside for a week so you can do all the other work on the docket that you hardly ever have time for: grants, reports, CV updates, publications, grading, organization, reading, and actually taking time for a dinner or two or three or seven. 

Ah, Monday, I see you. And I feel you, too, knowing I need this coffee to kick in so I can get out of this house and into the office as soon as possible. 

The good news is the temperatures will be more tolerable than they were yesterday. Back to the boulder Sisyphus and to you, Bill Murray, for more Groundhogs Day. 

I'm just hoping to learn that what I did accomplish this week will have me further up on the mountains than if I chose to hide away and do nothing for a week (albeit it tempting).

But why I am waking up today wanting a nap?

Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock. 

Ah, the adult life we do. 

Family is When You're Not There Physically, But You're Still There Spiritually, and the Love Transfers through Texts and Photos

Yes, it was/is my spring break (it's about done) and I've hunkered down, selfishly, to get on top of my academic game and goals. Although I thought about heading to CNY for the break, I effectively accomplished more by sitting on my bum in Stratford. I knew Chitunga was heading that way and he'd represent while I stayed behind. He wanted to do a departure tour before leaving for Iowa and while there, he picked up Jacob and Lys and visited Mimi and Butch. Of course, he also brought Papa to his happy space, Chubby's, and sent me this photo as evidence. 

This is absolute joy. 

I could only write back that we are two lucky sons-of-a-Butch, and that both he and I were greatly influenced by Mimi Sue, Papa Butch, and our Kentucky family. Their impact on who were are as human beings are immeasurable. 

I was also excited to learn that Chitunga reached out to Casey, and found a way to pick up J.C. - Jacob Charles - so he could spend time with Lys, mom, and dad. Even better is they all played pool together, which is a family ritual and Chubby's that is always great to see. Look at Jake's form. Can't wait to challenge him to a game in the near future. 

Hard to believe it's Sunday already. Yesterday's balmy temperatures will dip back into the 20s today, which is okay, because I have one more course to catch up on (and I need to clean Chitunga's old room for his one week return to Mt. Pleasant...I am feeling fortunate he needs this space for the week, although I know Karal and I will drive him bonkers). Lucky for him, my week is really frantic and so I don't know how much of a pain-in-the-ass I can be. 

This morning was the last day I could go to sleep without setting an alarm, allowing my body to get up when it wants to...which is the time an alarm would be set, but you know how it is. Back to the insanity tomorrow, but I'm ready. The planning, the lists, the focus --- well, I think(hope) it will pay off.

And the Windmills Keep on Turning, Even on St. Patty's Day, Reminding Me How Time is a Fickle Creature and We Must Hold onto Every Second

I hit send on a book chapter at 10:30 a.m.

I took Karal for a walk, and then accepted an invitation to Stratford's The Windmill to celebrate the holiday with the Kelly crew and to have fish and chips in the middle of the day (which my stomach says, "Um, Crandall. Now it's time for bed, but it's only 2:30 p.m. in the afternoon - not one for fried food and day drinking).

As I walked up to the joint, I couldn't help but reflect on the years Chitunga was a bar-back at The Windmill, where he earned extra dollars from his day job while going to Housatonic full time. He's always been a financial hustler. Many a meal was spent there as he worked his butt off doing all they needed him to do. 

Now, all these years later, that work ethic continues to pay off for him.

Also, accompanying us on this celebration were Ethan and Oliwia, born two months apart, and totally representative of the Kelly genetics. It is remarkable to see Kaitlyn and Patrick wheeling in with all their baby paraphernalia, and trying to juggle parenting with the party. They did remarkably. 

Great meal, wonderful friends, and only missing one thing: Chitunga. He's in Syracuse where he's supposed to be this weekend.

The kids are just precious, so wonderfully behaved amongst all the green and gold. The noise and lights were fascinating to them. 

I'm no man of LaMancha, but I get the fascination of charing windmills. I came home and did another round of editing for a journal I'm co-editing and I'm proud of the authors we've included. Phew.

Here's to the weekend ahead. 

The Soup Days Are Coming to an End: Bluer Skies, Warmer Air, Crocuses Creeping, and Daffodils Dancing. It's Definitely Mid-March

It's finally Friday of a productive week, and I'm delighted to be invited over for French onion soup after a day in the office, writing (polishing), and getting ready to hit send on another project. Chitunga is safely back home, although he's heading to Syracuse for a bon-voyage tour, and I'm heading into the weekend anticipating grading, planning, and angst for the return of students (no one but academics know the joys of having a break from teaching and the incessant meetings that suck the lives out of us). 

We're moving away from the stews, chili, sauces, and breads of the winter months into the barbecue realities of spring, summer, and fall. I can't wait to fire up the grill again. 

And it's lighter a lot later, our bodies are adjusting to day light savings time, and we'll be pulling our lawn mowers out before we know it. Of course, now, the sump pumps are splashing the thawing soils as I write.

Thank God It's Friday, although I wish it was the Friday before we were given location to take it easy for a while. I'd love to be starting next week with where I am right now, only to know that I have another 7 days ahead to relax the brain and rest the body. I suppose such rest will come one day. 

Here's to the weekend, although I know my nose must get back to a different grind. I've enjoyed the one of the last week...I only wish there were more days like this. 

Inhaling. It's about to rally take off. 

Okay, Thursday. You're Here. The Grind Will Continue and the Spring Break Countdown is More Transparent, but I'm Still at It

For those of us in the academia, we look for weekends, breaks, and holidays to catch up and actually accomplish the work we're assigned to do. We'd achieve more if there weren't so many meetings that lead to absolutely nowhere but distraction for what it is we're paid to do. I've been ram-horns down to get ahead on all that is piled on my plate, and I am truly grateful it is a space without having to listen to the language of so many others that goes absolutely nowhere. 

It is what it is, and I wish I was as happy as Snoopy. 

I am thankful that the winds are scheduled to die down because Chitunga is heading back this way from Iowa and I wouldn't want him flying with these gusts. I'm also on schedule to accomplish a Friday goal and to transition to St. Patty's Day to grade and work toward the remaining days of the semester (only to carry over into the summer teaching load. 

I tried my had at lime, Mexican chicken breasts and they were pretty decent. It's still cold, I'm still tired, and the little things to make me happy (like having time to cook) hasn't quite accomplished what it was supposed to. I am looking forward to warmer temperatures and less wind, though. 

And thank you Ted Lasso, season III, for putting a smile on my face. Now, I just need to catch the Mandalorian for more hope. 

As always, we got this. 

Making Sense of 6 Years of Feedback on Teaching, All While Getting Ready for Operations in a Digital Age, Digital Literacy Style

The Nor'Easterner was yucky, but it didn't stop me from heading to campus on spring break to write a book chapter and to pull out files from 2018-2019, before 2020 put us all at home. I scanned, I sorted, I tabled, and I graphed, all to count my luck that I've had a rather fortunate drawing from 10 years of Brown School teaching to make me the educator I am. The copier and I were intimately close yesterday as I put copied IDEA yellow forms in their appropriate files.

It is interesting to see the wide assortment of courses I've taught these last six year, always willing to step up for colleagues on sabbatical, to cover courses while new hires were being interviewed, and to take on courses with the largest enrollments so they had an introduction to careers in education. I event took multiple extra courses to cover courses that needed to be taught, but where we didn't have enough faculty to teach them (this doesn't count the independent studies offered so individuals could finish on time. 

And the rain kept falling. The winds kept howling. 

Spring breaks are a double-edged sword. On one hand we should be resting to get ready for the chaos still to come, on the other hand, we have full days without meetings to actually concentrate on the research part of our careers. 

I am very thankful that courses seem to resonate with the students I teach and to know that the groove and jibe with my, sometimes eccentric, teaching styles.

This all leads to the fact, however, that I'm very tired. So, so tired, but I learned how to go ram-horns down at Syracuse while doing my dissertation, and finishing this work during my first year at Fairfield University. 

But at night, I'm tired. I awake like today hoping the energy returns to go at it again. 

Built a Table for a Friend (Well, Put it Together) and Looking Forward to Many Good Dinners with Others...Communion.

Had to do some Subaru repairs, so was in the neighborhood and ended up getting a dinner out of it, but only if I worked some to earn it. For years, Bar Milford on Walnut Beach has not been able to accommodate all the guests who stop by, but now we'll be able to sit at a table to break bread together. Key wrenches are not the easiest, but at the right angle and with the right strength, it all comes together. 

Also had another day of organizing success, but today needs to be 100% writing. I think the beginning sinus infection came with the change in weather, and with it turning cold again, I have swelling in my nostrils and throat. Trying to chicken-noodle-soup my way out of this one. 

Patrick, the son, was able to get the lamps up on the ceiling, so I was brought in for handy man table work. I got meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and asparagus out of the exchange, so I feel well compensated (although it awoke me at 2 a.m. with some sort of stomach bug)

We're not getting the snow of Syracuse or upper Connecticut, but the winds and downpours from this nor'easterner are no joke. So much water....so quickly. 

Okay, Tuesday. We're off!

Okay, Monday. Bring On the Appointments Put Off for Weeks & Take a Break from Micro-organizing Files & Materials

I'm in total organization mode, but whereas it once was getting piles into manila folders and into cabinets, now it is all digital. Click and drag. Copy and paste. Duplicate. Pull. The whole goal is to get all into their right places. But I can say, organizing on a screen is just as tedious and time consuming as it is in physical spaces. I just wish there was game music that went along with it and superstars flashing across the screen when I finished each task (sort of like the noise of an arcade or casino).

Can someone say dossier time?

Actually, I spent yesterday morning packing boxes with Chitunga getting him ready for his cross-country trek. Today, he's in Des Moines siginng leases today - he flew there last night. Rather amazing to see so many of my missing plates, Tupperware, cups, mugs, and glasses in his cupboarsd. I sent them along, because who doesn't love a piece of home with them wherever they go. 

And I'm also thinking about grandma Vera's table. It left Sherburne, came to me to Louisville, then back to Syracuse, then to Connecticut, from Stratford and to Stamford, and now it will be heading to DeMoines. It's such a beautiful piece of furniture (antique) and he's taken great care of it. I still have four of the 8 chairs, but he's a minimalist. He doesn't take more than he needs.

Um, but he's accumulated a lot. I have to put it in perspective. At 27, I was partying like it was 1999 at the Brown School. I lived in St. Mathews, having fled Old Louisville, and I was looking for any chance I could fly to teach overseas during the summer. At that age, I was accumulating, too. Of course, I made 1/10th of what a man in his position makes. He knows what he's doing. 

Sometimes I hope I do, too. 

The Power of Unconditional Love is at the Core of Everything. He's Ready. The Road Has Always Been for Him to Find Out. Proud

Tomorrow night, Chitunga heads to Des Moines, Iowa to secure an apartment, his new split position with Ernst & Young (two accounts until August), and the next step in adulthood, hard work, dedication, and personal professionalism. We ate at The Grey Goose in Southport, the same place that launched my new position in Connecticut when Faye Gage, Lynn Winslow, and Kelly Gallagher ate there when I was just ten years older than Chitunga is now.

To say the food is remarkable is an understatement. I had spinach and incredible steak, he had glazed salmon, and Pam had a wonderful halibut dinner. While eating, we learned more about his new position, his thankfulness for Lys, and his hopes for the future ahead. 

Today, I will drive to Stamford and help him to pack up materials (and maybe clean out my garage with some of his sporting goods). Yesterday, I worked on my own stuff, so I'm ready to commit to all he needs for his transition. 

Towards the end of the dinner, I made a toast to unconditional love, which has been central to my life in Connecticut, all the while channeling Lois, who I wish he could have met him before she passed. 

This life thing is short. Time is fickle, and The Great Whatever does what it does. We can only hold on tightly with hopes that we invested all that we could (and will continue to invest) while we can. 

I'm so proud of the man he was always destined to be, and to know with all my heart that he's got this. There can be no other plan for him, because it's always been in his destiny. This is the way. 

Father & Son ~ Cat Stevens

It's not time to make a change
Just relax, take it easy
You're still young, that's your fault
There's so much you have to know

Find a girl, settle down
If you want you can marry
Look at me, I am old
But I'm happy

I was once like you are now
And I know that it's not easy
To be calm when you've found
Something going on

But take your time, think a lot
Think of everything you've got
For you will still be here tomorrow
But your dreams may not

How can I try to explain?
When I do he turns away again
It's always been the same
Same old story
From the moment I could talk
I was ordered to listen, now there's a way
And I know that I have to go away
I know I have to go

It's not time to make a change
Just sit down, take it slowly
You're still young, that's your fault
There's so much you have to go through

Find a girl, settle down
If you want you can marry
Look at me, I am old
But I'm happy

All the times that I've cried
Keeping all the things I knew inside
It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it
If they were right I'd agree
But it's them they know, not me
Now there's a way
And I know that I have to go away
I know I have to go

My Boy is 53. Had a Friday Night Light Gathering with One of the Best Educators, Dads, Minds, and Friends I've Every Known. I'm Lucky.

All week, I knew the culmination would be for Dave Wooley's 53rd birthday. I can still remember when he applied to the Connecticut Writing Project for Teacher Leadership and he explained how hip hop was his passion and that's where he hoped to go with his writing. I asked, "Let's hear something," and he began to perform a piece he wrote about his father, a fire fighter who lost his life during the 9/11 tragedies. Obviously, he was in. And then, during the summer, he wrote a piece called Walls about the 2016 election, the horrific reality it brought forward for thinkers, doers, and minds like him, and how it was emblematic of the anti-immigration and refugee decision-making at that time. At an NCTE conference, as he performed, we are all moved, shaken, and brought to tears. 

Teachers. Teachers who love teaching. Teachers who love language. Teachers who were paralyzed by the hateful movements that ran rampant across the United States (and still do).

Walls needs to be played and discussed with students in every classroom. 

Fast forward (we were once younger) and I can say our families blended because of time, circumstance, and the ways life goes. I am NOT a hip hop artist, and definitely not a historian. Dave, however, lives the work in his blood, lifework, and soul. He's a quiet fellow who spends more time listening and processing that preaching. He, coupled with the philosophical mind of Kris Sealey, have kept me mesmerized. Now, as their boys get older (and they have a MAJOR influence on the boys of Mt. Pleasant), I'm in awe of how much Dave and Kris comes out in the conversations the kids naturally have. 

There are no words. There's only knowledge and creativity. It's in the family.

I love this guy and being a selfish bastard, I asked "What would I want right now as a gift," and it was obvious. My Subaru is a winter mess and needs to be cleaned. So, because he is VIP to me (Yeah, Dave Wooley, You know Me), I got him a gift card for a car cleansing. He has a lot more use in his Subaru than I have. A couple beers and a card, and I know we're good. 

I work with teachers in every school - every school needs the brilliance of Dave. He's reflective, quiet, and observant. But, when he speaks we need to listen. It is wisdom at its core. Nothing will ever be able to replace the magic of his mind, and the way it goes forward with Kris, Justin, Isaiah, Val, and Ishmael. They are a study in how to raise kids in intellectual traditions and debates. 

In short, he's a class act. Period. So happy to celebrate another milestone with him. 

I Just Want the Universe to Know that I Operated with the World's Most Beautiful Footwear Yesterday and I Am a Better Man Because of It.

When the going gets tough, the tough head out the door wearing banana sneakers with a pair of socks given to him with his older sister's face (a gift from the younger sister). I sported Cynderballs all day and that makes everything that much better. Yes, it's okay to take photos of such wear because it's beautiful and that is what matters most. 

I am thankful to both my sisters and for them centering me on  humor, family, and a remarkable sense of style.

The head is from a photo with Santa, circa 1975, and the sneakers are from Saucony. I couldn't leave my house with more pride.

Three wonderful events this week with great scholars, minds, and conversational possibilities and during the last one, I sported the best of the best. I hope Grannie Annie, Grandma Vera, Gramps Ken, and Grampa Spencer are looking down with familial pride.

It is Friday. I may wear the same gear today, too, as I prep for the weekend and work ahead. 

I need this joy and humor to make the days blissful. I couldn't be more thankful for the gift of socks and what they mean to my heart, mind, and soul. It's a Crandall thing...you wouldn't understand. But if you know me...then you totally understand. 

@CWPFairfield Loved Having @aprilbakerbell Visit @FairfieldU Faculty Yesterday in a Dialogue of Linguistic Justice

The best way to begin this Thursday morning is with total appreciation for April Baker Bell. Sometimes the work we do truly relies on the brilliant minds, leadership, and trajectories of others, and for me, Dr. April Baker Bell has been an all-star for many years. When the English Department asked, "Does the Connecticut Writing Project want to help sponsor a visit for our faculty?" I was like, "Um, Yeah." It is an honor to work through her brilliance with so many across our campus. 

Truth is, I used some of the time to catch up, rather than work through the workshop, simply because many of us have been using her brilliance in our work with K-12 teachers for many years. 

Her grace, integrity, devotion, and forward-thinking intellect is exactly what educators in our schools have needed for some time.

I could talk to her for hours and hours and hours. I love hearing how she thinks about English Education, demographics in our schools, the lack of diversity in higher education, and the future of literacy studies. 

Her work allows so many of us in the The National Writing Project to succeed in the ways we do with teacher leaders across the country. 

I'm starting my day today with a love for the power of language, the variety of ways we use it to be successful in our world, and the advocacy she's paved for the work many of us do.

Here's to a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

Celebrating My First Purim Gift (Given by a Colleague) and Am Excited to Say, "Just Three More Days & The Week is Over."

After I ran yesterday's SEHD Faculty Meeting (yes, I called it GSEAP....old habits are hard to break and I liked GSEAP), my colleague Emily Shamash came by to give me a Purim Gift. Purim is a Jewish holiday which commemorates the saving of the Jewish people from annihilation at the decree of an anti-Jewish official of the Achaemid Empire (via the Book of Esther). The treats were much appreciated and I'm thankful to have her as a colleague and the random gift. Kindness and joy. That's the solution.

The back to back meetings followed by a graduate course also went well, but I'm waking this morning with no energy and knowledge I have a turbo to teach, followed by a National talk. I just need to make it until 5. 

I did the S'mash. I did the monster Shamash. Loved the noshes that helped me to sustain my day. I'm now intrigued to the greatest level. 

And I think I might benefit from another tomorrow around 2 p.m....the tentacles can only go so far each day. 

But looking at the clock, I need to head out....even though I want to close my eyes and sleep more. It's coming. It has to.

The Crawl to Spring Break is Always the Same...8 Tentacles Flopping on the Sand Desperately Looking for Water

I themed tomorrow's Explorations in Education class with tentacles, only because we're halfway through, time is running out, a break is coming, and I don't want the undergraduates to lose all the items they've been juggling. They'll need to pace themselves and focus intently. 

Actually, Chitunga's plate of calamari got me thinking about eating octopus, which I don't mind, but it does freak me out a little bit.

Today is impossible, but I will make it possible because I spent the last three days organizing for it. When one has meetings all day, and also classes to teach, it becomes extremely frustrating.

I know my tentacles are squirrelly (did I just mix metaphors there or do my arms really have rodents on them). There's much going on, a lot of held breath, and of course the leadership I typically take in the work I do. When the #$@#$@ gets going, you quickly see how others handle the $#@$@#. Always amusing to me to see the ways such work gets defined.

Just like students, the vast majority of adults love to complain, but very seldom do they act to make things right or better. Our crew is trying...really we are. 

I just pray I get a walk in this morning before the chaos begins. I can't wait for it to be Friday.

The Weekend Belonged to Gorgonzola (and Probably the Beginning of the Week, Too). Not Sure How Good It is for My Bloodstream, But It's Delicious.

I'm proud to say I cooked enough meatballs to host two dinners this week - the first at my house and the second with all the strays that end up at Pam's on a Sunday night. She had sausage and squash, I had salad, pasta, meatballs, tomato sauce, and gorgonzola (which I made into a cream sauce). The end product was a delicious, Sunday-tradition meal where everyone ate way too much and we licked out teeth afterwards.

Don't tell too many people this, but I also caught up on grading (almost said finished, but it's never finished). Jessie and I also finalized an introduction for a two-issue special of Writing & Pedagogy, and I did my laundry. I'm feeling rather amused with myself for being so productive.

Ugh, It's Monday, however, and I see the agenda ahead. I need to pace the days so I make it to another weekend without too much exhaustion. 

But the sauce. A block of gorgonzola, heavy cream, a little flower, and butter. It is sort of like making creamed potatoes, but with a much richer flavor than ultra cheddar. It's delicious over vegetables and meats...a fancy addition to an otherwise ordinary meal. 

And I appreciated the blue skies and sun for the hike yesterday, even if it was cold and the winds from Canada were colder. I can't complain, though. We've had such a mild case of winter this year. 

Okay, time to drink this coffee and head out the door. Here's to the week. 

It's a Beautiful, Yet Sort of Sad, Countdown. The Kid is Moving on...to Des Moines, Iowa. I Couldn't Be More Proud of the Man He's Become.

Chitunga brought Lys back through town and we met at the Bridge House with Pam so she'd have the opportunity to congratulate him on his relocation to Iowa and his next steps...following the path of his vision and the road to find out (as we've both allowed Cat Stevens to sing to us). Father and son. Father and son and Papi Butch. 

Our time together in Connecticut is growing smaller, but we had practice when he went to LeMoyne for his undergraduate and graduate degrees. I've been blessed to have him nearby in Stamford as his career launched and his hard work has paid off. It's next steps, and I get that. I've always followed the road where it has left me, two roads diverging and all. His choice to walk the path less traveled is exactly how I've always rolled. 

What I will miss most are the talks by the fire pit, the complicated conversations of making this or that decision, and simply knowing he's a short road trip away. Even Syracuse was a short road trip. Now, he'll be 18.5 hours away, but this is okay. He's doing exactly what his destiny calls for, leaping so the net will appear. I can't help but be proud. I love this kid for the integrity that resides in his brain, heart, and soul. 

We only have a few more weeks to celebrate him close by, but he'll be celebrated forever and always. This is what family is all about.

Shoes and elephants. Elephants and shoes. That is the core of who we are. 

And At 10:30 p.m. on a Friday Night, Karal Finally Says, "Okay. I Can Rest Now. I Have No More Excessive Energy to Give."

I always know when Karal is going to be intensely spastic. She gets what I call her ADHD lines on each cheek and they come whenever people visit...tonight, Michelle Farrell, and Dave, Kris, and Ishy Wooley. All the candy in the world to Ishy for being the primary caregiver to Karal when she's excessively excited about being alive. He has the same energy level, of course.

I gave up on the work and said, "I need a night off of the computer, so I made meatballs, gorgonzola sauce, pizza bread, and a walnut/goat cheese salad and broke bread with friends. 

It was blustery outside, the temperatures dropped, the laundry was done, and I made a mess of the kitchen, but I enjoyed the company and conversation away from the chaos of my work, which is great. And I think Kris and Dave do this with two seniors and a 4th grader. A meal on me is the least I can do. 

Today I want to grade all day and feel like I have some control of the insanity. I can pretend, can't I?

And I wish I could simply curl up with the dog on the couch and say, "I feel you. I'm doing nothing today." But that's impossible. 

I also look forward to the Spring when Karal can get a bath, not freeze to death when put outside, and where I can get rid of her doggie, winter stench. 

Here's to the weekend. I need this one more than most. 

It Was a 14-Hour Day That I Know Is Impossible to Capture in Words, But I'll Try...and I Applaud My Colleagues, Alyson Martin & Emily Shamash, for Their Awesome Work

Seriously. I was out in schools for National Read Across American Day by 9 a.m., and after running back-to-back 4th, 5th, and 6th grade classrooms. It was a joy. Why? Principal Nicole Brown runs a magical show at the school. Remember how announcements were made by the secretary of Grease? Let's just say Ms. Brown brings this to a whole new level with a xylophone, guest speakers, and homeroom call-in shows. I was mesmerized. 

This turned into spending time time with Brianna Martone and Attallah Sheppard at Amistad High School, where I was able to deliver (finally) copies of POW! for their student writers. 

From there, I had the honor and privilege (and I emphasize it was an honor and privilege) of joining Drs. Alyson Martin and Emily Shamash with their phenomenal work with the TOPS program assisting young people from high school to the real world. Tonight, we went to the Fairfield Stags Women's Basketball game. It was a blast, and then some. I was so impressed by the social justice commitment of the girl players and their dedication to equity, diversity, and inclusivity. The entire evening moved me.

Then, I went back to my office to record April's episode of The Write Time with Nikki Grimes and Barrett Rosser. Holy cow. I am speechless. The graciousness of both, and the interview, was stupendous and I can't wait to get the show in the hands of classroom teachers and their students. Barrett Rosser is someone to keep an eye out for and Nikki Grimes is simply amazing on all levels. ALL LEVELS.

Okay, Friday. You need to unwind a bit with a haircut, meetings, and gathering your thoughts. Yesterday was an amazing day, and you need to count your blessings to do the work that you do. 

It is something else. 

Too often the good stories, the hard work and beautiful efforts made by Fairfield University faculty and staff get overshadowed by other directions. Yesterday, however, reminded me that there is amazing work occurring by wonderful people. That's where I get my fuel. 

Nice job. Stags. The Women's Basketball team rocks! So do Alyson and Emily!

Oh, a Fantastic Day @PequotLibrary in Southport with their ABC Children's Literature Exhibit, and YES! Cocoa the Bunny was the Hit of the Day

There are times when I just love the way things work out in this teaching career. One of them was the rotating squads we had at Pequot Library yesterday, with some poetry writing for ESL students at Central High School, some 1st grade drawings and writing for Kendall College and Career Academy, some rearranging of children's book shelves, and a tour of the incredible collection of the earliest primers in the United States on display for individuals to think about literacy during the beginning. 

When the children's librarian mentioned the library had a pet bunny, 3/4ths of the students ran to see the little dude (or is it dudette). I didn't realize bunnies were a thing, but apparently many kids miss their pet bunnies of yesteryear. I find it kind of bunny that Cocoa was their highlight of the day. 

I am overjoyed by the kindness, grace, expertise, and intellect of the Pequot Library staff and I am thrilled by all they offered my undergraduate students. 

I'm also happier than can be of my Community Engaged Learning Associate, Meghan. Phew. What a natural leader.

And seriously...these students rocked with their poetry. They only had 30 minutes and they knocked it out of the park. 20 original poems today, inspired by no other that the genius, Kwame Alexander. Thankful to Steve Bickmore and Shanetia Clark for offering me a space to celebrate this guy in their collection of influential African American writers in the 21st century. 

But today, I need rest. Well, I'm heading out to school of National Read Across America Day. It's March 2nd, and the invitations have come my way. I can't wait. 

Thrilled to Be Part (Take Part) in @PequotLibrary's Alphabet, Bedtime Stories, and Cautionary Tales Exhibit with Undergraduate Students at @FairfieldU

The hard work of brilliant minds at Pequot Library have paid off in their Spring Exhibit, Alphabet, Bedtime Stories, and Cautionary Tales, in Southport, Connecticut. 

The 18th and 19th centuries witnessed the emergence in England and America of new attitudes toward children and education at the same that that America was casting off royal authority. The result was a booming market of print materials that, for the first time, contained text and illustrations geared toward a young audience. The exhibition draws from Pequot Library's extraordinary Children's Historical Collection to explore how children's books published int he years following the American independence reflect the changing political, economic, and social climate of the young nation.

The exhibit runs from February 18th through May 6th, and I'm fortunate to be part of a panel on new debates for children's books later this spring with colleagues from Kendall College and Career Academy. 

Today, I bring my cohort of 20 young people thinking about careers in education in participating in a walk through the exhibit, a service learning project, and some poetry writing (with kids in mind)(and to be used with students at Kendall College and Career Academy, as well as English language learners at Central High School. I'm looking forward to the off-campus, community-engaged learning. 

Of note, the Humanities CT grant also brought forward Prudence Crandall & Sarah Harris: Race and Reform in Early Connecticut with Joan DiMartino, Curator of the Prudence Crandall Museum. As serendipity would have it, I've also been thinking about Prudence Crandall in my own genealogy, as I wrote about a few days ago.

I am super excited to work with Cecily Dyer and Charles McMahon with their wisdom, foresight, and interest in the earliest books of literacy known to Connecticut school children. Of more interest to me, is the family roots of this region that are also unfolding on a daily basis. I can't wait to have my students think about this work in relation to their own families, histories, and possible futures as classroom educators. 

I'm also looking forward to connecting the Norwalk teacher and administrator who we're also working with about the talk to be hosted later this spring. Something tells me I might need to donate a copy of Miss Crandall's School for Young Ladies and Little Misses of Color to further enhance the collaboration.

As a young man taught me in my research with relocated refugee male youth from Somalia, Liberia, and Sudan, "History should come first." Indeed, I believe this is truth no matter what angle I choose to look at it from. 

Here's to unraveling history (and literacy). 

Onward we March! Happy National Women's Month. Go, Prudence. Go, Cecily Dyer, go Latoya Lisle, and go Dr. Nicole Fletcher for making all of these conversations possible - strong, intellectual women who make these conversations much more rich.