It's Always the Little Things That Come Randomly That Help to Align My Purpose in Life. 20+ Years Later, a Note from One of My Favorite Students Ever

The Class of 2001 will always have a special place in my heart, simply because they were my first fresh-people class and, because of luck and a change of grade level, I had most of them all four years they were in high school. Sad for them, they had this manic, whacky man as their only English teacher and so the bonds grew thick...so much so that I've often named my place int he universe in relation to them. When they graduated, I felt a chunk of my soul left with them and for years I measured my years to theirs. 

Yet time moves on and soon I stopped keeping track of their age and moved onto other classes, eventually a doctorate, and the life I currently live. They now are grown ups with families of their own, so that is why I cherished a note that came my way last night from Turtle....the boy who put wallflower into my spoken vocabulary and who was always at my side being a quiet presence always looking for mentorship, conversation, and guidance. Twenty-two years a tassels were tossed and trajectories went forward as they do. Twenty-two years later a note comes my way to throw me back to a time that once was - one that I've tried to recreate in all the work I currently do.

Hey Geek boy... every year in November I like to reflect on certain people that have helped to shape who I am proud to be today. I wanted to say I'm very thankful for you and who you were as a teacher and are as a friend.

I had heard some crazy stories about you coming into my freshman year and many were true. But right away I appreciated the space you created, not only for me to grow, but for others as well. You lit a fire in me to read and consume books. I loved reading and it helped me escape chaos or helped me endure long Tarc rides. 

You always expected more from me, but you also knew when and how to extend grace. I really found a voice in my writing during that time, I believed that I could do more than run fast or jump far. You stood by my side and defended me when you didn't have to. I remember a school councilor called me arrogant and you stepped in, when I applied for GSP and you helped me with my application. You were always a champion.

You even told me I would be a good teacher one day... something that was never on my radar but today I live instructing and adding value to others. A lot of my passion to help comes from what you modeled. You saved a lot of people from a lot of things in those days and I love you for that!

When I instruct I know that it's not everyone I have to reach; it's the ones that need it or are ready to receive it, and I give them my all as a result of the fact that you did it for us.

Thanks Too-Fly-for-a-Bry-Guy... This is 20+ years late, but your impact has been a meaningful one to me and my family.

The season of thankfulness is upon us and I greatly appreciated a random note out of the blue. Sue McV modeled for me that there's no learning without a relationship and in my bedroom, I keep a picture of Turtle and Eagle (my son, Chitunga) who met at the Clam Bar in upstate New York on one of his business trips to the military base where my nephew was also once stationed. He was a clinical psychologist who worked with soldiers at the time. The fact that generations of Crandall met one another was beautiful, and it's a remind of why I live the life I do. 

Sue always says, "They grow up and we're a part of the process." Funny, Sue. I'm still growing up and learning from you. This is the power of teaching. This is the beauty of investing as a human into another human being.

This world needs more ponds and Frogs who have no idea what they're doing, but always trying their best. 

So, I'm a Doctor Who Marries @Beyonce in NYC, Proud of My Mini-Van & $300,000 Salary While Living in a Mansion. Yup.

This is why I love teaching young adult literature. I don't know how it happened, but while reading science fiction/fantasy novels last night a student wrote the word MASH on the top of her paper and when I asked her what it was about she said, "Mansion, Apartment, Shack, or House," a middle school game she and her friends used to play. Before I knew it, she was up on the white board sketching categories of car, income, job, lover, & city. 

She took control of the class and before I knew it I was in a relationship with Beyoncé. Well, hello. I love middle school. Let me live in that world.

Apparently, it's a trendy game this generation played in their pre-teen years to predict their futures and it all had to do with the spiral. She asked me to make a spiral on the board, which I did, then counted the lines to figure out a numerical pattern to delete possibilities from the random list she asked me to name. 

I ended up being a doctor who lives in NYC, loving a mansion with Beyoncé as my wife, and a mini-van of all vehicles. 

A man can dream, right? The funny thing is that 80% of the class were used to the MASH game, which served perfectly for the middle-grade and high school literature we read collectively this semester. I'm fair game for the wisdom of my students, and any chance I'd get to even be related to Beyonce is fine by me.

Truth is, I heard of her, but it wasn't until the Super Bowl halftime show in 2013 that I ever paid any attention. My lord, hands down the best half-time ever. I was sold. Of course Beyoncé would be on my celebrity crush list. Glad she one, although I'm sure she'd feel otherwise. 

It was a perfect, student-centered moment at the end of the class that captured the audience and made the students stay longer. They were intrigued and remained connected. 

Phew. The mini-van, though. I'm glad that never came to fruition, although I'll take the mansion, love life, salary, location, and occupation. I mean, it's so very close to the truth, ain't it?

Hello, Beyoncé. What can I make for dinner? I'm a good cook, actually. I'd love to show you what I can do. 

Science Fiction/Fantasy Night in YA Literature, & Really I Debated Simply Taking the Class to the New Hunger Game Movie But My Wallet Said "No!"

Actually, I had to look up whether or not movie theaters still existed. I suppose this is a remnant of the post-Covid world, but I really didn't know. Tunga took my phone chargers with him back to Iowa so I had to run to Targets to get a new one, and I can't help but let my imagination run wild with armageddon and what would happen if suddenly all our normal: chord, gadgets, accessibility to fruits in the winter, suddenly disappeared. What would we be without the Internet? I'm not sure.

I watched people doing the frantic holiday scramble as I found my chord and couldn't help but think, "This may be normal now, but might be highly improbably in the future." This, coming from the fact that many of my go-to stores have closed down in recent years and I'm trying hard not to let Amazon consume my consumerism. Seems that might be the only way we'll be able to go in the future. The mega-producers monopolizing all goods and exploiting labor to see it all delivered. 

Tunga took off to Iowa, Papa Butch has pneumonia and will remain in the hospital, and my ears, nose, and throat are plugged with good. I want a release, but this isn't The Giver and I don't have a choice. Soup it shall be.

So, instead of going to the movies, students are bringing forward their independent fantasy, science fiction reads and we'll have a go at the 2nd-to-last class for the semester. They've been good sports - reading a book a week for 15 weeks (we read Jason Reynold's Ain't Burned All the Bright as part of the first class). 

I also spent most of yesterday getting ready for the winter-session research class. As I put together the timeline, I resented myself for being the instructor of record for the course - it's too much, but in order to finish this May, it's a course our current students need.

Here's to Tuesday and piles and piles of tissues. Rest, Crandall. Rest. That's what you need most. 

Crandall Clearance Racks to the Rescue - Stored Aways Post-Season Last Year and Gifted to Alyssa This Year So She Has a Santa for Her Home

It was a rough Sunday, with my father being sent to the emergency room for erratic breathing, low oxygen, and more confusion than usual. Chitunga and Alyssa returned from the City and had a spectacular time - in Tunga's words (after she left), I just like spending every second I can with her. The lights and crazy of the Apple were a bonus, but he simply enjoyed walked the streets in her company and he picked the perfect hotel and dinner location. She made it back to Syracuse safely, without incident, and had her new Santa Clause, that I got for 80% off in Clearance sections last January when Pam and I did a post-Christmas stock-up. I'm actually thankful for all the gift bags I got, too, and tissue paper. Sometimes it pays off to be frugal. 

Tunga and I also accomplished some of our own Christmas shopping around town before he went out with a friend for dinner. I'm trying to nurse a cold (more likely sinus infection) that has been dripping in my chest since Saturday. I'm tired of the aches and dry cough, so I stocked up on Mucinex, ginger ale, and TheraFlu, too. Hoping it knocks the crud out of my system.

Because I'm teaching undergraduates, I only have two more weeks of classes, which lightens my load by a week, as graduate courses go until the 20th. I am thankful for this, because I'm ready to call the semester over (even if I feel this has been my luckiest semester at Fairfield ever, as the kids are spectacular -- minus a couple of clunkers). 

I'm still laughing that Alyssa strapped Santa in her car. I told her she should keep it in her front seat in case she gets pulled over...I think a cop would find that funny. 

So, for now, it is prayers up to The Great Whatever that my dad overcomes what ever is effecting his health. He doesn't want to be in a hospital, as he's like me - a terrible patient. Here's hoping antibiotics do their thing and he get back to his usual wandering, hard-of-hearing, stubborn self that drives my mother nuts. I simply await phone calls to figure out what moves I need to make.

Okay, This Week Caught Up to Me...24 Hours of Driving, a Turkey Fest, a Birthday Party and, Well, There's the Teaching Thing. Nyquil Take Me Away

I knew after I dropped off Lys and Chitunga at the train station that I was down for the count. I walked Karal and then fell asleep on the couch with Roseanne reruns only to awake and watch Louisville lose to Kentucky. We have a leftovers party at Pams and by 6 pm I was resting my head on the kitchen table. I know the week caught up to me and now I need sleep...lots and lots of uneventful sleep. 

In 24 hours from Thursday to Friday, Thanksgiving came down and Christmas went up. Although it is beautiful, my nostrils and chest are full of phlegm and my mind refuses to work like it normally does. I did get a week's worth of laundry done and found The Hunger Games trilogy to numb my brain at night while I dozed off and on.

Okay, Sunday, we have many items to catch up on, including picking Lys and Chitunga up from the train station. Then there's the grading and planning for the last couple of weeks. 

I work tirelessly, but I know when my body has had enough...I'm going this is the thick of it, so I can be rested by Christmas...the last few years this funk has hit when I'm supposed to be traveling north. Ears plugged. Nose plugged. Throat scratch. 

Rest. Rest. Rest. Crandall. You know you need to sit still. 

And Today is the Celebration of Chitunga's 28th, Although We Celebrated Last Night and Today He's Spending It in Manhattan with Alyssa

We had another night of food, but this time it was Paradise Pizza, salad, wings, and booze with friends (a game night to welcome Alyssa to the CT squad. Funny thing is, Karal was not her usual crazy self when everyone arrive; instead, she was chill and enjoyed the company like everyone else. 

Super happy to have Vochan come, too - a friend from high school who was Chitunga's right hand everything. Like him, he's done extremely well for himself, and I love when the two have an opportunity to get together. 

Today, Lys and Tunga are off to Manhattan for a walk in Central Park, a trip to Rockefeller Square to see the tree from Vestal, and a romantic night on the town. After a week and, especially, two days of celebrating in my home, I look forward to the quiet. It's been a mad house with so much food. 

These two, Vochan and Chitunga, played football together at Harding High School and made a pact to push each other to be their best. It's always great to see the two of them when the get together. 

I suppose I'll spend my day grading and trying to catch up for all the work that lies ahead. We only have two more weeks left in the semester, and then it is time for CNY craziness. 

Ah, and all my Christmas lights and decorations are up. Chitunga, Lys, and I had a wonderful day putting all the traditions up around the house. Bring on the seasons.

It's been such a joy to have Mt. Pleasant alive again this week.

I Probably Should Be Putting the Food Aside for a While, But Now We Have a 28th Birthday to Celebrate. Phew. 28 already.

I'm thankful to the Shirls crew who brought the charcuterie board to our Thanksgiving celebration, which was an an added bonus to a heavy day of eating. Phew...between preparation to last dish wash, we're talking about a 14-hour in the kitchen. Props to all the generations before us who help the turkey-torch go on as it does (I'm thinking about the decade of steaming windows in Sherburne, NY, before my mother took it over in Syracuse).

Yesterday's feast was a success, but it was a lot, especially the dishwashing.

But it's transition time. Alyssa's on the way, birthday party tonight, another evening of food and guests, but a complete different feel.

Yet the highlight has been rewatching Ted Lasso for a 2nd time as Chitunga watches it for the first. Yes, it was a Covid show, but it really had its pulse on the world and helped us to get through the pandemic...well, me, anyway.

Now I get the Christmas stuff from the basement and start to bring on the white lites that dazzle my holiday heart. Haven't done much shopping, but look forward to the insanity in the weeks ahead. 

Oh, and Kaitlyn's bourbon maple bars!!! #@$#@$#. They are good. A downfal, indeed. 

Thankful. Simply Thankful. Chitunga is Running a 5K, the Turkey is Brined, and the Tables are Set. Dinner at Two. We Gonna Eat.

I love that the Thanksgiving tradition has fallen onto Mount Pleasant, and I'm more happy that Chitunga returned home for it. Lys will arrive on Friday, but it's all good. We have additional plans for Friday night with Kris, Dave, Isaiah, Ish, and Val. Bring on the games. But for today, I'm simply calmed by knowing that I, once again, can feed family and friends. The turkey has been brined by urban accents once again, and now it's time for pealing the carrots and potatoes. We have our blueberry and apple pies, enough booze to throw a weeklong party, and many more dishes still to arrive. 

I enjoy this ritual. I have it quiet in the morning to prep the turkey, scent the house with its brilliance, turn on the Macy's Day Parade, and simply roll into the arrivals. 

I am thankful, I am thankful, I am thankful.

Yesterday, the 10th edition of POW! The Power of Words arrived, the proof that is, and I did my last read through to be it's all set to deliver to homes this Holiday seasons. The kids and teachers were as brilliant as always this summer.

I'm thankful that I've made it to this point still able to tap passion and find direction without giving up, despite the tremendous obstacles I face with an institution of higher education and the road blocks they put in front of us all (it's about the youth...about the educators...about communities beyond the privileged spaces of campuses and college. 

I love my daily walks, and still dream they will be runs again, but for now, I will walk and enjoy the outdoors as much as I can. 

I appreciate my niece, Nikki, who is hosting the Barnwell, Isgar, Crandall crew while I do the same in Connecticut, unable to get up north until the holidays.

And I'm thankful that yesterday, while putting the final touches in preparation for today, I looked up and saw the last letter that Maureen Polacci wrote me, thanking me for years of support, love, and always being there to make her laugh and smile. It was a letter asking me to look over Laura if she should pass before me....a note I sent to Laura with words, "Every time that cardinal flies by, or the butterfly flutters, or the leaves swing with summer light warming their hope, or the waves lap, or the moon shines, it's simply a reminder of your mother's smile. All the beautiful is a kiss from her."

Happy Thanks and Giving day. I'm not sure I celebrate it within the traditions of the narratives we're told as children, but I do love the time to reflect on what matters most and what love truly is.

It's family. It's friends. It's human together. 

Ubuntu.

I Can Get Used to the Holidays, But I Think Tunga Looks Forward to Having Space...Karal Smothers Him with Love (Like He Deserves)

The last class was taught and now for an extended weekend of getting ready, turkey, and food fest '23. Tunga finished work and, coming home late, we settled into a night of Ted Lass (joined by Karal) who made watching a little hard for him. It's one thing to watch Ted Lasso; it's another thing to watch Ted Lasso with Chitunga's genuine laughter. 

Now I want shortbread cookies. I forgot those early seasons. They're so good and Hannah Waddingham...Wowsa.

I got much accomplished yesterday because I was without the car again. Just me and the laptop equals a day of accomplishments.

Also made the bourbon ginger chicken again. That will be a staple in this house for a while.

But now the transition to turkey dreams. Need to brine the chicken, rearrange the furniture, get all the items lined up, fill the liquor cabinet and get the timing down for a successful food fest. 

And I'm hoping I get my car back today. Would be nice if I have to run an errand, ha-ha. This is the new way of being, as flying in comes without his own car.

So, here we go.

Thanks, Aunt Shirls! You Delivered Me Home Just in Time to Greet Chitunga and It Was Absolutely Wonderful to Have Spa Treatment in Your Home

And the Savior Award goes to Shirley who took Karal in while I ventured into NCTE/Writing Project Conference Land. She was cared for, cuddled, played with, and entertained and that makes all the difference. 

Poor Tunga waited up for my return and then did a 14 hour day at EY. I'm not sure I've been a good role model for stepping back and giving myself boundaries with work. I've heard that accounting is brutal to its workers and I'm sad he has a professional life to daily demands, too. It seems to be the American way and it is a total shame.

Also shout out to Dave who picked me up on his own grocery shopping excursion while Chitunga had my car. It's always difficult to do holiday weeks, because you need to buy in preparation of the day, but also ask, "What the hell will I cook until then? We still have to eat!" I was also amused that we're in a generation of constant contact so people shopping were on their phones airing all the dirty laundry while they picked up stuffing. He'd better not bring that bitch. If she comes, all gloves are off. I'm telling you, I already have an ulcer thinking about the political fight that is going to go down. Oh, Oh. I bet you they don't show. I get all this extra food for them and they stiff us every year. Everyone was in fantastic cheer at the Big Y.

Poor Dave, too, had to teach all day and run the school's newspaper after school. I sure hope he has an early bed time tonight. He, more than anyone I know, deserves amazing rest.

Last class will be taught tonight, then I can concentrate on preparation...and not the kind with an H. 

Happy Tuesday, World. Time to get the work done. I was thrilled to see this mini-interview in a Center for Academic Excellence newsletters. Scroll down to where my ugly mug shows up.

And 12 Hours Later, @NCTE, the CWP-Three Arrived Home to CT (with an Additional Oberlin Kick Picked Up for the Turkey Festivities.

And bonus, I came home to Chitunga, who stayed up but needs to be in Stamford by 9 a.m. (taking my car). I will be working from home today, which is okay, but the last four days have been work. Congrats to all who successful led a wonderful conference and kept the spirit of English teaching alive and well in Columbus.

I was excited to drive to Oberlin to pick up Isaiah, although the campus wasn't nearly as foo-foo as I imagined. I have sent some of the brightest and creative minds there, so I imagined glitz and glamor. It was, however, a college campus in the Midwest. We did see an Amish horse and buggy on the way in so this was part of the charm. We also returned through Pennsylvania. Although the speed limit is 70 mph, it is total hell. What a long drive. I was better this time and let Dave and Rich split up part of the labor, but sitting in the back seat of your own car as a passenger just feels weird. Falling asleep is impossible. So I stared off into space and, at times, played cellphone games with the college kid returning home to family for a week. 

We also stopped for dinner which as friend food festival which I knew was a horrible idea, but I ate anyway. Traveling with all that grease is simply dumb. Should have been wiser about that, but we went where we could find food when the time presented itself to eat and get gas. 

The Hulk put on some miles this week. 

This morning it is about catching up on the million and one emails I ignored for 4 days...and I need to think about cooking later this week. 

For now, however, it feels good to be home and to have Chitunga home. Happy Monday, laborers...at least it's a short week. 

Well, @NCTE and @WritingProject '23...That's a Wrap and I'll Take the @AAKnopf @randomhousekids Dinner with Dave Eggers as a Bonus

Anyone who knows me know my story with Valentino Deng, several men from Sudan named in the West as "Lost Boys" and my love for What is the What? This past spring, I received an advanced copy of The Eyes & the Impossible and loved it so much I ordered it for teachers in the summer institute and kids I love to work with. A few weeks ago I received an invitation for dinner to meet the author, but figured it would be an assembly hall. I didn't imagine it would be a sit down dinner and talk. Wow. I will be pinching myself for several years now, but also hoping he will agree to be on The Write Time. 

What a day, NCTE and National Writing Project. A special shout out to Kristen Turner who put together a phenomenal round table session of NWP dreamers. Also, all love to Jennifer Dail who is just cool and let me attend her session on navigating the academics of higher education. 

Alas, I need to depart. I have many miles to drive all day today and I hope I'm in my bed by midnight. It feels like I just arrived, but it's time to go. 

No more leafy walls and dragon-lined ceilings. Good-bye swords, video games, and Winterfell castles. It's time to say goodbye to Columbus. 

Yesterday was a fantastic time and I'm looking forward to Boston '24. But for now, I need to concentrate not the precious cargo I'm transporting across country. 

To all satay for ALAN, enjoy. I wish I could stay. 

For Me, It's Hard to Top. This @NCTE @WritingProject Conference Has Been About Reunions and Connections with Literacy Families

Even with the ridiculousness of little to no WiFi in the conference (holy insane for anyone needing digital tools to present), we found a way to do good work. Phew. It took hours to get online, and then I was immediately booted off. I felt like I was back in the 2000s when hotels were first starting to figure out Internet services. The most horrible thing is it made email impossible, too. In fact, I replied to an extremely important email only to find out that -because of the horrible internet service - it didn't go through. I didn't learn this until I got to the house I'm renting.

The result? It was a timely, immediately ask and, well, I lost the opportunity - one that will never come my way again. They needed for an immediate response but had to make a quick decision. "Sorry, Bryan. We love you, but we had to go with someone else because we needed an immediate commitment.

Whomp Whomp Whomp. NCTE '23, it is. 

I also think I ripped Harvey, hernia #3, too, as a result of running from one end of the complex to the other to get to my next presentations. I was carrying a ton of books to give out for free. It's all my fault. I have this weird balancing thing on escalators lately and escalators it is in Columbus.

With these complaints over, I have to say that the truest joy came from a miraculous pairing. In the spring of 2007, I met with LWP director, Jean Wolph, to share that I received a massive award to do my Ph.D at Syracuse University. I accepted, but didn't tell anyone: my students, my friends, not even my family. I went to talk with Jean to have her process what this might mean for me - always with a vision to one day have my own National Writing Project site. The PD model and support was THE network that kept me in the profession, because they actually treated teachers AS professionals. I'm so thankful to her, my time in the teacher institute, and the leadership she always modeled. The photographer said make a funny face and I did...Jean must of missed that message. 

Then, later, I presented with Liz Lewis and Tanya Baker who I was able to make the connection we all are connected to Kelly Chandler Olcott. Kelly advised both Liz and me in our doctoral studies, while Tanya opened up her classroom for Kelly's dissertation research back in the day. Now, Liz, Kelly, and I write about our work with youth from the NWP's influence. Yesterday we had a session on our varying youth programs. 

These are the moments that are saving me from the insanity of having no internet to do the work we do. Two more days of commitments, then a 11 hour drive home...which is extra special this year because Chitunga returns for Thanksgiving - I'm not a fan of him growing up and moving across country (which I did to my family once upon a time...so it's revenge). I can't wait to have my intellectual buddy on Mt. Pleasant for a week.

Okay, time to get back to the conference, but first, a post. National Writing Project all the way...the labor of love is what matters most. 

When All the @NCTE Hotels Are Booked, We Get Clever and Go with AirBnB. Found the Perfect Space for @CwpFairfield...Winterfell 3-Bedroom Estate

We have dragons, swords, arcade games, knights and a wide variety of painted winter scenes that you'd find in the man-caves of 70 year old men. Each room is bannered with a t..v. and arcade games (board games) along the house. The backyard has a 10 foot skeleton with body parts strewn about the yard...the decor is leaved ceilings and walls and electric guitars with disco lights.

A man empire indeed, and it's all our for the next three days.

The road trip was boring. Pennsylvania is the biggest buzz kill in the universe.....driving and driving along nothingness, although when we were detoured of the highway for a while it grew more exciting. We stopped twice, making the entire trip 11 hours, which was two hours longer than I expected. I was a jerk and insisted on driving the entire way (just to say I did it). On the way back, I may not be as selfish. 

We walked around THE Ohio State University looking for a place to eat, but mostly found bars filled with frat boys and sorority girls. We finally found a Brazilian tapas place which was delicious but skimpy. We got pizza slices when we walked back hom.

This morning, I'm waking up ready for the adventure to come. I have back to back sessions beginning at 12:30, and am free after 5. Woot Woot. I haven't planned out Saturday yet, except for my presentations and dinner with Penguin Random House. 

Alright...need to keep it short because we have to find a breakfast place and get our butts moving to the Conventions Center. 

I already know that our abode will definitely be the highlight of the trip. How can it not be? Who the hell decorated this place.

And if you want to smell Pinesol for the rest of your life, we have your location!

Well The Road Trip from Stratford to Columbus Is Here. @NCTE, @writingproject, We're On Our Way, But First I Wish to Reflect on the Day That Just Was

I'm thankful to Sarah Donovan who posted, honestly, about the thrill of coming to a national conference but an admittance of also seeing the appeal of sitting home. I most definitely am extroverted by nature, but the boys know (as do many who know me best) that I'm also introverted (I know. I know. I know. That's laughable). Seriously, though. It's my introverted nature - the non-committal one - that those who know me best understand. I have no problem being alone, getting work done, in the company of my imagination. I much prefer spending energy writing, planning, editing, and dreaming. When I have to implement, I bring out my inner Jim Carey meets Robin Williams, but the truth is, I spend most of my time living inside my head. I prefer it there. 

Alas, that's not what conference season requires.

Yesterday, although I planned on NOT being in class and worked with a colleague to take over, a Thursday departure meant I should be in class, so I was there, conferencing with the 20 Honors Writers I have about their midterm opportunity (a narrative or a sestina) while Julie brilliantly led a conversation on border crossing, the Palestine/Israel conflict, boundaries, and humanitarian action. Before she got there, however, I threw back to the brilliance of @Othello88 (Dave Wooley) and verse he wrote in response to Refugee Trilogy - the artwork of Rick Shaefer created in 2017. With finesse, insight, and mad skill, he crafted Walls while participating in a teacher-leadership institute at Fairfield University. 

Walls

I hear the carnival barker screaming stranger danger– What ever happened to love thy neighbor?
They’re chantin’ build that wall–I’m hearing hate and anger, Lust and excitement and calls to violence,

Our discourse morphed to inciting riots
This Christian coalition’s a fiction–did they hear Christ? Celebrating biblical journeys in their church lives,
From Noah to Moses to when Lot fled Sodom,
Abraham in Canaan, Adam and Eve leaving the garden, Our huddled masses now, where’s their asylum?
Where’s their clear path, where’s their Ellis Island? Awaiting trial within detention center confinement?
Or in the clutches of a Coyote steering clear of la migra? Or a girl living in the shadows where nobody can see her? Now we’re swooning from our America first fever?
I thought we were supposed to be a beacon of freedom...

And on the other side, a child fleeing for his life,
An offer to join a gang at the point of a knife–
His sister’s caught the leader’s eye, he’s gonna make her his wife, So he grabs her, gathers some things–he doesn’t think twice– They hop the fire-breathing beast in the dead of the night,
La bestia, the death train, their ray of light,
They ride on top of freight cars--no room inside,
Gangs, police, and pimps got ‘em in fear for their lives,
Hunger and dehydration keep their bodies deprived
And they cling to one another, keeping each other alive
And it’s still 1400 miles until the end of their ride
And there’s still a border crossing, coyotes and extortion
A raft across the Rio Grande, US Border enforcement–
They’re the only family they’ve got and they’re out of choices,

And these are the kids that you’re tryin’ to keep out?
There’s no wall that their love and desperation can’t surmount.

The broken vestiges of an empire fallen
The thing that makes us great is what they find abhorrent
The consequences of our actions are knocking on our door and We’re afraid to look through the peephole and see who’s calling a new generation of Americans coming to our shores– American dreaming–building bridges and not putting up walls. So, no, I’m not listening to the carnival barker
We gotta knock down the walls, be a light in the darkness– Putting up walls only makes you a target and
Reaching out your hand seems a whole lot smarter.

This morning, very early, we are hitting the road with Rich Novack, Reading Landscapes and Writing Nature, and heading west to meet with English teaching sages from across the country. In my head, the road trip is a much needed break away from 14-hour days of being introverted and on my computer screen, to be in company of others.

Ah, but to get to this point takes labor...exhaustive, immeasurable time and coordination to take time away from others to attend. Sadly, a large cohort of our teacher-leaders could not get time from their districts and had to pull out last minute. This is the reality of our K-12 schools right now. Of course, Covid gave us opportunity to learn that much of the work can be done from screen (which was weird, but it worked). Now, with face-to-face returns, I'm very conscious on the toll it has on mind, body, and spirit, even when it is fabulous work. 

So, here's to all making the adventure. The highlight for me is swinging my Oberlin to pick up Dave and Kris's son, Isaiah, so he can do the gravy train with his family - the whole reason we're going with four wheels over wings.

This post is for family: NCTE, The National Writing Project, and neighbors who I love dearly.

And we're off!

Man Vs. Door - How Crandall Has Been Living the Weeks Up to the 2023 @NCTE @WritingProject Gathering in Columbus, Ohio

It started about a month ago. My back, sliding glass door that leads to an oasis for dog zoomies, poop festivals, and sniff bonanzas, has a faulty lock. The issue is that the 'metal fastener that attaches to the lock (which is between the door handles) keeps detaching. So, when I go to open the door it either is stuck in lock position (and can' open) or it is stuck in open position (and can't lock). Every time I use it, it turns into an episode of Home Improvement. 

And it turned cold, so when it's open and I'm fixing it, I'm getting hit with blowing leaves and numbing winds. Every time I repair it, I hope I'm good to go for winter. My tools have been a screwdriver (obvious for the handles) and tweezers to play Operation with the metal lock. Yesterday, however, I added a hammer to tap the lock a little tighter to the click-thingy that goes in-between the handles. 

I would be okay with my repairs, but it seems to keep repeating itself, whenever I open or close it. Home ownership is annoying - the things you never imagine yourself doing when you're in school. 

Okay, I have a 3-hour turbo to teach, packing to do, dog arrangements to make, and one more sleep before I hit the road to NCTE....now, more of a reunion and celebration than a conference. I do have a list of literacy areas, however, I want to learn more about and think critically on. It's hard to attend sessions, when I'm in sessions, but if I show up to your presentation it's because I'm working on something and really want to learn from you....I imagine I will be full of questions (the tragedy of being a life-long learner). 

Safe travels to all departing today (and I'm sad I miss all the greatness on Thursday), but I'll get their, driving to be safe, rather than sorry.

Now, about today's turbo. Time to get working. 

The Irony is I Am Going Into Tuesday Dead Serious: Exhausted, Hopeful, Performative, Stressed, At Wit's End, and With My Sense of Humor. Can't Make Any of This Up

We had a team of 20+ presenting in Columbus, Ohio this week. The CWP-Fairfield team is down to 3. K-12 schools simply are incapable of supporting professional educators to work on a national level at this time. Meanwhile. a major grant I've been working on with STEM people just got diverted, because the funders are willing to work with community-engaged initiatives, but K-12 classroom educators are not part of how they define community-engagement. Monday was spent in 6 hours of meetings, the majority of them too comical to represent here (because no one would believe me if I told them the truth, unless they were there). The presentations I have (four) are started, but not one of them has been completed. Meanwhile, I teach until late tonight and all day Wednesday. Our flights were traded for a long-distance drive with the two who can present with me. 

I typed into Google "Walk of the Dead," because that is what I'm feeling, and lo and behold I found this .gif of a skeleton with a shovel (ironic, because Dr. Alice Hays and I are presenting on our second year of WGI data, and the after school literacies of visual performance through the Sport of the Arts. The twirling skeleton seems appropriate, if only I can finish the presentation - a couple weeks after Halloween and I still haven't had a second. 

If you know a teacher...hug them...if you know an academic who works with teachers, hug them even more. Our systems are failing all of us in every direction we turn. There's big money and funding all over this nation, but it seems K-12 educators are a forgotten class, and those of us who invest in the excellence of stellar teachers are sideswiped for initiatives that will make investors (and administrations money) rather than the very people who do the work. When institutions of higher education give up on their own Schools of Education, we know something needs to change.

The Gods Must Be Crazy. We already knew that. 

So, I'm going into this Tuesday with a sense of humor...creativity...and dreams of what I know is possible because I've lived it. 

As for what comes next....I haven't a clue. I'm too busy doing what I believe to be best for young people and their brilliant educators.....all while systems fail us all...mostly them. There has to be a better way - I wish I was smart enough to make the billions that could truly change the educational course of this nation. Alas, in the meantime I'll continue with bake sales (grants) as best as I can.

Happiness Is Finding a New Recipe on Sunday Morning & In No Time At All Making a Bourbon Ginger Sauce for Chicken and Rice.

I had the chicken thighs, but wanted to try something different. It didn't take long to find a recipe and only needing corn starch - a quick trip to Big Y - I was on my way. Bourbon, soy sauce, apple cider vinegar, ginger, hot pepper flakes, brown sugar, corn starch, onion, and chicken broth. Boom! I felt like a gourmet chef. All I needed was broccoli (easy) and rice (easier). The result was delicious. Also easy, store-bought vegetable rolls to accompany the dish.

Perfection.

I almost wanted to put the meal in plastic containers as if I ordered the food out. I will definitely do this dish again. The ginger is such a secret weapon.

I'm cuffing a two day, 14-hour a day, grading spree, as well as grants, publications, and other weekend fair. The meal was a wonderful touch to a frantic weekend - and now I want to make this dish for my parents when I return to Syracuse for the holidays this December (I told Chitunga I'll make it for him, too, when he returns next weekend for Thanksgiving.

But this morning it's Monday and we all know what that means. Here's to us. We got this!

Every Year I Try to Work Harder, Faster, & More Efficiently, But There's Always Detours, Ricochets, & Torpedos Needing to Be Dodged First

I was a day behind my plans, but I finally got to last edits of POW! Power of Words, the 10th publication of CWP-Fairfield featuring student and teacher writers. I am proud to say that these efforts have brought over 2,700 young people to publication and an additional 100 teachers. It is the National Writing Project way and there are so many to thank and celebrate to make it all possible. 

This year's work followed the brilliance of Dr. Gholdy Muhammad, and the color scheme and drive for joy arrive from the incredible publication by Scholastic, Unearthing Joy. We used this in our teacher institute and borrowed Gholdy's cultural and historical framework to carry forward another summer of literacy labs and teacher institutes. 

Unique to this year, too, was the inclusion of young people from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, who flew to the United States to participate in summer opportunities at Fairfield University. Their teachers from Loyola High School have many reasons to be applauded, because the young people who came were brilliant, focused, and enthusiastic to contribute their words - the Power of Words - to our collection.

Now I await the proofs, then it's production time. My hope is that the books will be in the hands of teachers and kids over the holiday break. 

A decade of urban, K-12 teaching in Kentucky under the brilliant reform (at the time) of portfolio assessment and supporting all writers, coupled well with scholarship learned and gained at Syracuse University, including the excellence of Dr. Marcelle Haddix, to bring the Writing Our Lives flavor to all the work we do. 

Today, I grade. I review articles, and I continue to prep for NCTE. Yesterday was a day of saying to myself, "Ta-da," as project went forward after months and months of work. Now onto the 11th year. Let's see what magic will come next. 

I'm a Little Late to My Apple Crisp, Vanilla Ice Cream October Treat, but the Apples Finally Yelled, "Crandall! Enough Already," So I Cooked

Easiest recipe there is. Hardest part is peeling the apples and getting them ready.

I used to make crisp all the time with blueberries in southern Indiana picked from Bryant's farm, but in the northeast you go with apples, because they're much more abundant. Peel them, coat them with cinnamon, pumpkin spice, walnuts, and a little nutmeg, cover them with yellow cake, and spring with butter. Bake at 350 for 45-minutes and Wola! You only need a dish of vanilla ice cream to go with it. 

And you have dinner. Well, Crandall had dinner and it was worth the labor and wait. Hot out of the oven is best (but reheating it works, too, although I plan to drop off the rest to friends so I don't make myself sick from eating too much of it.

Not a bad way to end a Friday. I should also say I had the famous chicken, pesto, arugula, prosciutto ham, mozzarella sandwich on grilled panini bread for lunch. 

A happy stomach to end a hellish week, indeed. 

Now, for the grading. I have lots of projects to end this week, and preparation for NCTE is the top priority (driving to Columbus rather that flying is going to be a new challenge for the conference season (so looking forward to Boston next year as Amtrak is always the best way to travel.

Now for morning coffee and the day begins (and some oatmeal, although I'm getting tired of the morning ritual and would much rather have an omelet and home fries, but morning and I don't get along too well, so that won't happy. 

Enjoy your Saturday. 

Let Me Just Pause For a Second to Name EXACTLY What I Love About Teaching, Community-Engagement, JOY, and What Is Possible

Yesterday, I was invited by a Shakespeare scholar to lead a workshop for her students and several young people from an 8th grade class. For the last several months, her students have been working with young people to celebrate Shakespeare, the joy of literature, and the importance of community-engagement. I went with my Scripted workshop, and wrote an original play for them to perform as part of the workshop. I also challenged them to write their own scripts, which they did (in ten minutes) and by the end, we had 4, stellar on-the-go plays ready for performance. 

This was all due to Dr. Shannon Kelly (Louisville!!!) and her brilliance as a Shakespearean scholar. We also share several undergraduate students between our classes, and a love of taking the academic world to the young people who attend schools nearby that can benefit from the privileges of our campus. 

I am used to doing the Scripted workshop, and I have loved collaborating with Dr. Kelly. The magic, however, came from the the dedication of the young people of a partner school, their sponsors, and what our undergraduates were able to do over a period of a semester, and yesterday in the workshop.

I was simply blown away. There are no words to capture the brilliance of the young people, our students, and what Dr. Kelly's excellence brought to the work. I was merely a guest presenter and I had no idea what would result. I wish it was filmed. The students blew our brains away...not only for their creativity, but for the top-notch, community-engaged exemplar they offered to everyone in the room. 

To me, this is a model of what is possible when those in positions of extreme power, put their lifetime achievements together, to assist those who are not privy to the luxuries that some are provided. The result is stellar excellence from both bodies and parties. I have not words. Yesterday was simply incredible and I'm so thankful to experience such joy.

Thinking While Visiting the Bellarmine Art Museum with Undergrads Yesterday for the Arthur Szyck Exhibit

It's always this way when I come across a historical figure, in this case, an artist, who I never heard of before -- I wonder, "How is that my K-12 experiences never brought such learning my way?" or even better, "Why didn't I learn more about this person while I was a K-12 teacher?" Students need to know their history and to gain perspective from their own analysis.

The Crandall joke always returns to my college days and how I never grasped art history. Art, yes. History. Yes, but Art History. No. When Dr. Michelle DiMarzo heard me say this she quipped, "You just didn't have a good art historian in your presence."

I was schooled. She was amazing. And I learned.

Julie Mughal was right, too. This was a well-timed exhibit not only for our Refugee Literature course, but also with World History where we are right now. We asked our students, "How do you think Arthur Szyck would represent today's happenings?" He was a Jewish refugee with Polish/Lithuanian roots, who knew the world deeply, and always advocated for the oppressed. In the piece shared here, Madness, Dr. DiMarzo worked with students on what they were seeing, including the fact that a rattle snake with Nazi symbols crawls out of the globe taken over by the Nazi party. His lampoon takes note that rattlesnakes only exist in the United States - an American creature that also inhabits our country, yesterday and today. I brought up Philip Roth's The Plot Against America, and Dr. DiMarso held her own. She read it, too, which simply wanted me to take her to lunch and discuss more about this art history thing.

I could write for hours about what I'm thinking: the importance of art, the systematizing of hatred against groups and cultures, the righteousness of some, the anti-democracy of others. It's something (as we bear witness in our own country once again...ideologies fall along party lines - but dare they admit it?). 

Truth be told...the experience simply wanted me to read more...to learn more...to unravel more. Arthur Szyck's history hits me the same way as Prudence Crandall's history....stories untold in our schools...most likely intentionally, which is wrong. Why wouldn't we share more about abolitionists and humanitarians?

Ah, who needs Crandall's thinking when you can read more from the Museum itself: In Real Times. Arthur Szyk: Artist and Soldier for Human Rights

It is amazing how much the books we're reading, the conversations we're having, the experiences we're offering, and the artists we're experiencing have interconnected about the enduring question being asked: What about refugees? I remain honored to be able to teach alongside Julie Mughal...a highlight in my teaching career (and co-teaching is usually difficult....with her, it's a breeze). She says it's because she's a middle child Pisces, and I say it's because I'm a middle child Aquarius with a Pisces moon). Either way, we tag-team magnificently and I'm applauding the Great Whatever for bring the two of us together, not just as colleagues and friends, but as educators passionate about what we do.

Why Not Make It an Evening of Beautiful (and Ugly)(and Fun) and Interesting Words When Discussing Young Adult Verse Novels

I haven't done the class this way before, although I've done variations with middle and high school students. Here, I simply fused purposes and spent 50% of class pushing students to analyze text and 50% having students produce script for themselves with combining a few writing workshops into the books they chose to write. 

Ta-da...by the end of the night everyone had produced one poem for the open Mic.

But first they stole lines they liked from what they read...shared them on white boards...then we analyzed an article and applied it to the text we read (critical thinking), then we circled around the room and responded to the poems on the boards, then I announced all the language we wrote is fair game for stealing, and we jumped into the magic box poem, where more and more words were added.

Of course, we then looked at model poems we might choose to write if we were given 10 minutes.

Wusah! It worked and I'm exhausted. I also have to teach again on campus so need to hit the road. I don't think my Refugee Literature class will be as productive, but we'll see. 

Running on empty and seeing all the miles ahead. 

On the crossroad of the veined leaf, I feel the caterpillar is swallowing me whole.

This is the Face We Make to Let a Colleague Know We Miss Her, But It's Sad That I'm Not Quite the Colleague She Is as I Replace Her This Semester

This fall, I get to be two people in addition to myself, and next semester I get to be another two people as I replace them. This is what we do for one another - filling in gaps where they are needed, all to help the every day routines to move forward and continue.

Yesterday, I got to be on Academic Council, even if I'm not as smart as my colleague is and I ask stupid questions that are because I'm tired and I didn't hear others correctly. Additional Merit, Crandall. Additional Merit was not what was being proposed. Just standard merit. My bad. 

Today begins my 2-day, 14-hour days where I do CWP, faculty roles, and teach late into the night. Those are rejuvenating days because I get to work with my students and, this semester, they are simply amazing.

On another front, another promising grant came my way, and I'm hoping this time it actually arrives. I'm still waiting on the one given over a year ago. 

Finally, I laid on the couch last night after returning Jake to Walnut Beach, simply to read a book we assigned last week but I didn't get a chance to read. Julie covered for me and for that I'm fortunate. This week, I need to be a better collaborator and I was on it. 

And with that, I need to crank out the day ahead. 

Not Sure What the Turkey Season Will Look Like on Mt. Pleasant, But I Know I am Thankful to All Who Come and Sit at Our Table

Arranging holidays gets trickier as we age, now doesn't it. I put away the Halloween shenanigans (which are minimal), and got out the turkey ones, which are even more slight. Still, tablecloths have been rearranged and the 'thankful' pumpkin is now on the Welcome sign Cynderballz made for me. I told Chitunga yesterday it could be the two of us, it could be the traditional fusion of families, it could be a new tradition, or we may be invited elsewhere.

Regardless, I purchased my brining kit (a Crandall tradition from the internet) and I plan on at least cooking the turkey. Dave, Rich, and I will be driving back from Columbus, Ohio that week and planning for our own festivities is tricky. It will happen. I'm not sure what it will be, however.

I did another mowing of the lawn, mostly to destroy fallen leaves and I spent a large chunk of Sunday getting projects done that need to be done for this week and next. Of course, I also have to finish summer projects and that was my top priority. It's November, and the summer work has not been completed yet - that is a prime example of the level of work I try to get done.

Now, my body is getting used to the earlier darkness and by 7:15 pm I was ready to head to bed. It's dark, cold, and I'm simply tired.

Today is my last full day with Jake, too, as I will bring him back to Pam's tomorrow, if her travel plans go accordingly. I'm sure he'll be thrilled, but for now I will get the 3 a.m. impersonation of a canine Rooster who will then settle back to sleep (until 11 a.m.) at around 5 a.m. It comes with the territory and it's a good thing he's a stud-muffin, because I'm likely to go insane with more nights losing all the sleep. Love him, but his habits are a little amok.

Still, I'm thankful.

It is Something to Think Back to December, 2012, and to Realize We Continue to Be Where We Are Today. Live. Laugh. Love.

We all have memories of December, 2012, when the Sandy Hook tragedy occurred, especially in Connecticut. It seems to be a mark on U.S. history where too many of us in this nation gave up on humanity, chose hopelessness, and watered the garden of hatred, lies, misinformation, guns, and conspiracy. Yes, There were tragic shootings before, too.

 

I wish it wasn't true, but in 2023, it's easy to see that the devil arriving in Newtown, has only been given steroids on social media. Large portions of this nation chose, and continue to choose, guns over the poor children and teachers who died that day. Even when the lies are proven wrong, the liars have followers who believe them. They opt to be sick and remain ill with no morals and questionable beliefs.

One only needs to open a newspaper, turn on the television, listen to the radio, or talk to a neighbor to see the devil everywhere.

But hope remains. It has remained for over ten years and I'm reminded of this when so many lace up their kicks and run in memory of Vicki Soto, all to raise money for scholarships to be given to young people to get an education, enter a career, and make the world a better place. I ran, well ran/walk, in memory of Maureen Polacci.

Live. Laugh. Love.

Pink flamingos. Getting outdoors for a great cause. Have remembrance and looking to the sky for joy and promise. 

I can't help to think, however, about that day, these races that have followed, the fact that Vicki Soto Lane is less than a mile from my house, and it took lawsuits to bring forth justice, even as the injustice of the liars (a cult of fanatics who live by hate and spite, rather than human togethernes). Ugly feeds their souls and there are many of them, in multiple capacities, in our nation and around the world.

It's hard not to get overly cynical and want to hide from it all.

But the runners. The Soto family. Educators from all over. And young people, many not even born at that time, gather to run in memory of the tragedy, a true story the heartless will never know or feel.

Live. Laugh. Love. Flamingos. 

Don't Want to Lose the Brilliance of the Friday Morning Coffee-Release as the Music Made Sense and I'll Never Be Able to Unsee It

I owe props to Scott McCloud for teaching me the power of anthropomorphism and the human tendency to see humanity in all we encounter. It's why electrical outlets look like frightened faces saying OMG. I'll never forget the time I saw the image of the Western version of Jesus Christ in the bathroom of a colleague's home, so much so that we gathered the children to study it and, whoa and behold, it could never be seen. The Western, Christian version of a messiah grace their wall tile. It was holy.

Yesterday, it happened again, but without human accord. It was more musical by nature, as I studied the tentacles on a very cheap octopus painting in my downstairs bathroom. The morning coffee kicked in and I had to go. I was looking at the suckers on one arm and wondered, "Wait. Doesn't that spell something?" I started sounding out the letters and, lo and behold, I saw lyrics of an ohrwürm, ear worm, that I began singing all day long. 

I got hooked on a feeling. Yes, Yes, I'm sure the spelling is off, but I'll never be able to unsee the lyrics and I will aways sing the Ally McBeal song (that's a cultural reference for ya) every time I look at that painting in my downstairs bathroom. 

Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga
Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga
Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga
Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga

I'm hooked on a feeling
I'm high on believing

That you're in love with me 

And with that, I'm off to the races...a 5K for Vicki Soto that I'll likely walk because of old bones, but I leave you with a song for you to sing alongside me (but you don't need to be peeing in my toilet to do so)

Give Me the Hot Dog Kids Every Time. Reflecting On Those That Swim Upstream and in Defiance of What is Predicated For Them. Absolute Joy.

I have been against teaching Honors classes at Fairfield University since I arrived. I went to Binghamton. Shouldn't every kid who comes to college be treated as an honors class kid? I've been reprimanded, however, because a pull to attend college institutions depends on having opportunities for high-achieving students to be in company with others as they complete an undergraduate degree.

Rewind. Fast-forward. Last spring, I was approached about teaching a freshman Honors course and with much finesse, I figured out a way to bring my expertise to the course, but also to fight my demons - again, isn't college because all students have worked towards honorable status?

This semester has been a wonderful experience. For the first time since leaving the K-12, urban classroom in 2007, I'm experiencing students who remind me of the intellectual integrity that I knew as normal and I was lucky enough to teach. The 20 young men and women I have are a throwback to the public school excellence that habitually came my way in Louisville, Kentucky. It's been an absolute joy. 

Last summer, while working with CWP-Fairfield summer programs in the Dolan School of Business (the campus is void of professorial life during the summer, besides a few from Engineering and first-generation programs), I met a family touring the school and walking through DSB. I talked to them (small talk) and went on to work with the K-12 youth and teachers that take part of my program.

It took me a while, but I realize the young man I met in the summer was actually a kid in my Honors program. In his first writing assignment, I thought, "Wow! I feel like I'm back teaching the brilliant kids I was fortunate to teach in Louisville!" It fell like a rebirth. If Honors programs mean I get to finally experience the quality of minds I had at the the Brown School, then I am sold. 

Yesterday, after a day of research talks and curriculum proposals, I ran into the same young man from the summer tour who is in my Honors class and he was dressed as a hot dog. I was two days after Halloween and I wondered, "Why are you dressed in such a way?" and he simply responded, "Because I felt like it was a good day to travel across campus as a hot dog." 

It brought me a sense of rejuvenation of what is possible, especially since wearing a hot dog uniform to learn was the the greatness of my public school teaching experience. That is FAR from what I experience on the regular where I am now.

So, today, I am sold on Honors programs. Bring me the great minds of kids willing to be who they are: brilliant, creative, out-of-the-box, and exceptional. It's been over a decade since I've found such minds and I love that this random encounter was upon me. 

In a world of mediocre...be a hotdog. That's my motto.

Give Me The World Of Dogs for Hope, Meaning, Purpose, and Unconditional Love. So Honored to Have Jake-Sitting Responsibilities for a Week

Okay, Thursday. Sue always said, "No two days in a row." When they come, she would respond, "Never three days in a row," and when they come, she'd say, "but surely not four days in a row." I'm hopeful that Thursday will offer recluse from the insanity and frustration arriving daily via email, visits to my office, and from colleagues who are simply on edge that all of it is simply too much. 

We love what we do and we do it well. Our passion extends the local the national. We work to provide services, teaching, and scholarship to enhance the profession. That is what we're paid to do. Yet, when that is still not enough and more and more obstacles come our way, it is simply maddening. I'm channeling Gholdy, I'm channeling Gholdy, I'm channeling Gholdy. There's a time to be capitalist greedy and a time to be humane.

Being human has always been The National Writing Project and the Brown School way. I am thankful to have them as my foundation. I'm also thankful to the integrity, grace, and expertise modeled for me at Syracuse University. But more importantly, I'm simply appreciate of the dogs that bring everything into focus. Jake makes a beautiful mouse and I'm glad that my response to his barking worked, and he quickly became quiet as a mouse because of the ears. They didn't last long, but while they did, he was adorable. 

It is seriously problematic when we can't accomplish what we're supposed to do, simply because the top piles more on the bottom to accomplish their agenda. I can't even keep up with grading, my own obligations, and my leadership, especially this year while I'm me, plus covering the roles of four of my colleagues. We are way below what we need to accomplish the work and our requests fall on deaf ears. Instead of listening and helping us to accomplish together, they set new agendas, adopt to digital platforms that require more work, rather than less, and their narrative is $, $, and $. It's simply incompressible. 

I'd rather walk the dogs and answer the emails of students. I prefer choosing what is right for the better of the world, rather than the goals of the greedy. I was born a jerk, and I'll die a jerk, simply for being honest, strong, and steadfast. 

At some point, something has to change. Period.

You Know It's November 1st When You Wake Up and Realize There Isn't a Second Off Until Christmas Day & You Need to Get Your #$@ in Gear

On my way into work this morning (yes, I forgot to post first thing which rarely happens), I was listening to a radio show about Halloween rituals where they were discussing neighborhood apps where people reported 1 or 2 kiddos at their doorsteps, where a street over they get 400 kids. They also named a phenomenon I've experienced on Mt. Pleasant. Around 6 pm, it's a traffic jam. I guess I live on what they were calling a drop off spot (maybe because I'm by a middle school?). I've said for years that it feels like tractor trailers unload kids on my street so they can get candy.

I do give candy (one per kid because I've learned my lesson). I also give out books to kids who are okay with receiving one. I learned giving every kid a book is hurtful, because the next day I find them several streets over because it's the first they unload to get more candy. This year, if they wanted, they could pick one. I had one mom (who I thought was a dad because of the costume) who took 6 books because, as she said, "our home is a home for literacy." 

Well, hello. 

The photo above was round one. They were bone by 6:30. I replenished the stock twice and shut the lights off by 8 pm. I could hear people at my door and climbing the driveway but I kept my house dark. I was tapped out and Karal was stressed out. All those people that she isn't allowed proximity to drives her batty.

Anyway, great Halloween, but I was in my office by 8 a.m. because I teach until 9 p.m. and haven't even read the books I'm teaching. Inhale. Exhale. Ah, but I did make a 5-minute video for my YA Lit class last night to cover the 2nd hour when I was off ZOOM doing the candy/book thing. I share that here because these are the things I want to be remembered for should I inevitably perish and there was an actual ceremony to celebrate the life of an absolute douchebag. Cheers.