Ain't It Obvious When Crandall Doesn't Have to Work 14-Hour Days. How Do You Know? Because You Get Mental (& Physical) Shots Like This

I wrote until noon and then asked, "Karal. Want to walk?" which of course she did, but she didn't know I was taking her seaside (Wait? It's not the weekend!)

With 80 degree temperatures and no humidity, how could I not. The shade felt like air conditioning, there are no crowds, and I really do live in a spectacular location. Which way should I go? Left? Right? Both Ways? Of course.

There's six legs between us, and a leash. We're not worried about the clock and we simply follow the seagulls.

In the afternoon, I got Isaiah out for his second road lesson, and we headed right back to the water way. There was hardly anyone there, and in anticipation of the holiday weekend, I guess they're saving up their water time. That, and Stratford's big 4th of July celebration is tonight. It was eerily tranquil. Just a couple of locals and Karal.

It's amazing too how raked the sand is, smooth and in anticipation of the athletes using the nets this weekend. I couldn't help but think of Lossine and Abu - all the afternoons on these nets taking on anyone who would challenge us, one summer fasting away on nothing in our stomach because of Ramadan. 8 years ago, I could work 8 hours, come home and run 4 miles, then go with the twins to the beach to play volleyball, come home cook, then walk the dog in the evening only to repeat. I'm wondering how I found all that time and energy to accomplish what I did.

Today, it heats up to 87. I've learned another book order arrived to my campus office and should bring in the one that arrived to my home. I also need to prep everything for the post-4th of July onslaught of literacy labs.

Ah, it was this beaches that made it all worth it back in the day. Teach hard in the mornings and play hard at night. Wait, are they 30 now? Close to it? Phew.

Okay, world, hoping to get the work done early so I might float in a pool this afternoon. I try to get it in where and when I can, but it's not easy. It's definitely smoother when you aren't planning courses and grading papers, that's for sure. 

It's Always a Nice Day When You Look Out the Window of Your Office and See a Simpson Sky - We All Need the Blue and White Days to Motivate Us

I'm not sure I should be happy that I'm in my office all summer and most days, but that is the way of a National Writing Project Director. I'm also happy to report that teachers are receiving checks for the work during the year (okay, Workday. You do pay attention), and even more stoked about the Printing departments ability to make awesome notebook stickers for me (and really quickly). Sitting with them today, I also learned that they can give me a bid on POW! Power of Words, so if it is good, I won't have to pay for shipment from Florida. Really? Could this be? Something wonderful and positive on our own campus? We shall see.

I also bathed Karal and washed her collar. She's a trip, as she'll step into the bathtub and seems to love all the attention. I've not had a dog like this, other than Tizzy. My favorite part, though, is when I dry her off and let her outside and she has this Bambi moment where she can't stop bouncing around as if she's a brand new creature. Then, when I walk her, she holds her nose in the air acting vain and stuff. Cocky dog. Look at me. I am clean and beautiful.

Predictions for Connecticut today are perfection. 80 degrees, no humidity, and no clouds. I want to read on the beach, but I'm thinking the Kayak needs to be replanted for the summer. She misses the salt water and doesn't care for the spiders and mice in the garage. $10 says there are nests inside of her. Ugh. Didn't think about that.

I have to work, though, as a pile and then some fell on my lap and I need to get to the stuff as soon as possible. 

And note: Freshman parents who have been notoriously brigning entitled youth to University campuses for a few generations now? Well, apples don't fall far from trees. It is amazing what you see of parents across campus as they navigate orientation for their baby-boos. Today, trying to leave campus, I watched one woman park her car in the Stag circle to argue with her daughter who wouldn't get in the car, holding up traffic for 20 minutes. All the honks, people getting out of the car to address her, and requests for her to move to the side did no good. Mommy was talking to her baby girl. Baby girl needed mommy's attention. 

Phew. 

I'll cherish Chitunga's drop off at LeMoyne for the rest of the my life. It was mature, sentimental, encouraging, and adult. These kids are going to college. Enough Apache helicoptering already.

I Was 17-Years Old When I Bought My 1st Pair of @saucony. 33 Years Later, I'm Still Loyal, & Something About Turning 50 Made Me Want to Go Retro Again

And I'm so glad I did.

Truth is I have worn my high school Saucony's from 1989 until just recently, when Chitunga harassed me for never throwing away my old sneakers. I told him, "They have stories. They are family. I can't get rid of them." They were beat up bad, and during Covid I said, "The boy is right. I should shuck old things to make room for new ones." 

But sneakers. Please. They're narratives. I had two pairs from high school that lasted me through college, and that I loved to wear on occasion to say, "Hey, youth. I see you."

Anyway, when I saw a pair of retro kicks that looked like my high school kicks, I had to put them in the online cart. I love the old rubber soles they used to put not he bottom of their shoes and the sturdiness of the entire design. That's why they lasted almost 30 years. They were made well. Now, a new pair.

Yes, I've gone astray from time to time, but typically I go back to Saucony. I just love them, and for the last couple of days I've been walking like a king thinking, "Dang, look at these Class of 1990 feet." Yes. They're old-school. And yes, they're still cool.

Even got the speckled shoe laces with the traces of green and purple. 

My mid life crisis is unlike yours. 

They feel exactly the way they've always felt. Oh, happy day. I feel like I'm a teenager again. 

On Sundays, I Find Church Along the Shoreline, Where I Maintain Faith in the Power of Nature, Cycles, Blue Skies, and Possibilities

It was a routine hike with Chitunga for many years, but it's become my Sunday ritual, sometimes twice on the weekends when I find the time. I'm still hoping I'll get my running stamina back, and make this a 16K jaunt for myself...from my house, along the beach, and home. For now, though, I will drive with Karal, who is just as excited as I am when the ocean smell hits her nostrils. If I only I could afford one of the homes that have that view on a daily basis.

We begin at the fence. We end at the fence. And we have fresh air, beach fauna, sand, and water to watch the entire way. I was never meant not to live by water. It centers me and offers me hope.

At night, I got into a binge-watching frenzy with the release of the second season of The Umbrella Academy. I love the story-writing, and riddles each episode unravels and reveals, and I'm loving the new character Fei, and her crows. It's a beautiful concept, although I'm still trying to figure our #5, Christopher. Something tells me he'll be central to how this season will end. 

Ah, but back to a work week. I know few will be on campus, but I'm heading in as I have a couple of big events and much organizing to do for the net few weeks. 

I did get my two beach days in so I am thankful. If I had it my way, it would be every day with morning breakfast and toast, as well as evenings with a glass of wine for a nightcap. It's just beautiful, I'm thankful for the Great Whatever for its power and joy. We need reminders of what matters most. 

I prefer the sound of the outdoors.

This Is How I Spent Mike Isgar's Birthday Yesterday...and I Was Saying MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE The Entire Time

High Tide was at 11 a.m. and so I said, "If we are to get a good beach day, we need to get at it early." I arrived with snacks, subs, waters, and we headed to the beach. There was a cool breeze that hid the sun's true heat, and within minutes I knew I was burning and needed to get under an umbrella. The water was too cold for a swim, but the people watching was great, as always. 

Happy Belated Birthday, Mike. MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE MIKE

In the evening, Tunga drove out and we returned to the Dive Bar in West Haven, but it was packed so we ended up at Riptides, which was not as good, but sufficed. I was hungry and I had a blackened Tunga sandwich. Could have been cooked more, but I go through it.

It's supposed to be a perfect beach day again today. Then rain for the week, so I'm wondering if I should simply get all summer into a weekend like I normally do.

I also put laundry away. That felt like an achievement. Oh, wait. That was yesterday. Today I dusted the living room. That was my big boy contribution.

Oh, and today is Nikki's Day. NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI NIKKI

Congratulations, Dr. Tracey Robert. You Deserver Preferment (Retirement) More Than Most. You Are a Legend and Love You For It

I’m honored to take part in the celebration of Dr. Tracey Robert, distinguished faculty from the Counselor Education department, award-winning educator, and most importantly, tremendous mentor and friend. I was told I have only three minutes, but that is difficult for me as I like to write and see where my words take me, and I like to reflect as Tracey knows. Next to my mom, Tracey Robert is one of my best blog readers – she’s followed my daily reflections for several years now, and has helped to proctor my sanity and insanity as a fellow faculty member and human being in southern Connecticut.

 

I have three things I must admit. The first is that I have a lifetime supply of Spiedie Sauce from Binghamton, New York, because whenever Tracey and Leo are near Broom County they picks me up a bottle. The second confession is that Dr. Robert has spent almost twelve years correcting my mispronunciation of her last name. Like many of you, I put an “S” to it out of some strange need to pluralize Robert….Maybe it’s because I know the “S” has always stood for Supermen and Superwomen, and Tracey is a Superwoman. Finally, the third statement is I’m learning I’m not a huge fan of retirements. They scare me to death, only because I’ve watched my own parents retire, a decade of veteran teachers retire while I taught in Kentucky, and now another decade of wonderful human beings retiring from the Graduate School of Education and Allied Profession….whoops, my bad, the School of Education and Human Development.

 

Actually, the new school name works well because much of my schooling at Fairfield University has come from colleagues like Dr. Robert. She has always been an ally in the profession and I consider her central to my human development, too. I still see myself as a professor of the practice and junior faculty member. I remember the days when faculty members could often be found in their offices working, always coaching and guiding the newbies, and Tracey was one of the best. She was always present, extremely knowledgeable, and 150% devoted to her students. For individuals like me and Dr. Colwell who are always trying to keep up with the responsibilities of our jobs, it was the mentorship and guidance of senior faculty like Tracey Robert that kept us going, having faith, believing in the work, and trusting the systems that were in place. From Tracey, I learned academic excellence and it was under her wings that I chaired our faculty meetings for several years, and then served on the University’s Rank & Tenure Committee, finishing this year at the Chair.

 

For anyone who has ever worked with me, you might get a chuckle that Tracey was the one who handed me the Robert’s Rule of Order book. Funny, I just got the connection between the book and Tracey’s last name. For me, she has always been the order, organization, infrastructure, and reliability of our school. If in doubt, consult with Tracey. What would Tracey do?

 

One of my neighbors was walking his daughters this morning, a graduate from Fairfield University’s counseling program the year I arrived. He’s currently a School Counselor at Pomperaug High School, where he’s been since he graduated, and always tells me Dr. Robert was one of his most influential professors. Jeff Blanchet, Class of 2012, texted me this morning after I told him Dr. Tracey Robert was retiring: 

 

I was blessed with the opportunity to have Dr. Robert as one of my very first professors when I began the Masters in School Counseling program in 2008. I always looked forward to attending her class each week (even after working a full 8-hour day and fighting I95 traffic coming from Stamford). She taught with humor, wit, and had clear but high expectations of her students. I wish her well as she takes on the next chapter of her life and thank her for everything she taught me. Please tell her I said Hi.

 

Hey, Tracey, Jeff Blanchet says Hi.

 

I also received the following from Dr. Eileen O’Shea, a woman I had the honor of serving three years with on Rank & Tenure, and the epitome of integrity and grace. I wondered if she would be able to attend this afternoon’s celebration, but she sadly couldn’t. Ever since I was hired to campus, Tracey Robert has spoken extremely high of Eileen, and for the last three years I’ve learned why. I received an email this morning asking me to PLEASE share the following, so I will. I also promised her I wouldn’t sing Dixie’s Midnight Runners, which I do every time she’s in my presence.

 

Ah, Tracey. She has been such a significant mentor, colleague, and friend to me for more than 14 years. She mentored and supported me in every aspect of the tenure track role: as a developing teacher, scholar, and servant. She’s always been there.

 

We connected on several fronts, and I noted Tracey's skillful abilities as a career counselor were abundant as she counseled me toward becoming a successful faculty member.

 

For example, concerning my teaching, Tracey came to several of my classes over time to provide a PRoT. More recently, she helped create an innovative interdisciplinary spirituality course for undergraduate students at Egan. She had the foresight to collaborate with the Murphy Center and incorporated 1:1 spiritual direction into the course. This pilot course ran during the height of COVID. The 1:1 spiritual guidance assisted our nursing students in processing what they were witnessing/experiencing in the clinical arena. Students reported that this course provided an anchor for them when the world around them seemed to drift.

 

Tracey and I held another connection as well - our faith. She encouraged me to attend Collegium. And later participate in a yearlong program of Spiritual Direction. Both programs provided me with a spiritual richness and grounding that I can share with nursing students, especially those who hope to work in the palliative care or hospice arenas.

 

Tracey also encouraged me to join Faculty Learning Communities through the CAE, which introduced me to other faculty (outside of nursing) interested in spirituality and Mindfulness Meditation. Both of these communities led to scholarship outcomes via presentations and book chapters. Over time, Tracey collaborated with me on five conference or workshop presentations, two book chapters, and one data-based peer-reviewed publication.

 

Lastly, in the area of service, Tracey supported me through a most recent 3-year term on the University Rank and Tenure Handbook Committee. She had served several times previously, so she offered much-needed check-ins after finishing our work. Although the experience was daunting, learning about our colleague's expertise and passions was enriching. Tracey provided processing or debriefing after such intensive work.

 

Today, I am a tenured Full Professor, but I did not accomplish this achievement alone. It takes the willingness of mentors who give guidance and support unconditionally over YEARS. Thank you, Dr. Tracey Robert, for all you have done for me and many others. You are a cherished colleague, mentor, and, more importantly, trustworthy friend. Congratulations on your retirement. I wish you all the best in the next chapter of your life, and I hope to see you more often!~Eileen.

 

Note: I’m not counting Eileen’s words as part of my three minutes. We’re all going to pretend she was here to read them herself.

 

So, I’m going to simply say a few other things. It really is unimaginable that next year I won’t see you on a daily basis, bumping shoulders and figuring things out in our hallway of Canisius Hall. There won’t be our critical reflecting sessions, where we work to problem solve for the school and what is best for the students (as the students have always been most important to us). I’ll know longer have my free counseling, either, as I rant about my work with CWP or work through issues with raising the boys. Ah, they’re all grown now, so that hasn’t happened as much in recent years.

 

This is the part where I can say, “Go, forth! Join Leo in the emancipated world that is free from bureaucracies, obligations, arguments, and frustrations. You deserve it.”

 

I should probably say here that I’m a lot like Wendy Kohli. I’m a bit of a leaker, too.

 

I love you. I appreciate you, and I admire you for always finding a way to keep your head above water to do what is right, even as we’ve experienced what is wrong. You have been a life-saver for me, and I’m thankful the Great Whatever had you before me to greet me on the Fairfield Journey.

 

I know so many of us on campus are wishing you the best, and now I just really want a hug and take a selfie with her so I can post this on my blog tomorrow. 

 

Poem submitted for the Memory book:

Tracey,

It’s still April, I’m knee-deep in VerseLove ’22, and I have been in total denial of your departure. Ah, the days of simply seeing eye to eye, doing the work needing to be done, and looking to one another wondering, “Is any of this for real?” I know that I’ve been made (and trusted you in the making) because of your strength, integrity, and leadership. It has never wavered. It has has comforted, listened, understood, and laughed with me, and for that I’m super thankful.

T his one hits hard, the bump in the

R oad on an already-choppy highway

A lready with dimming light…who will be the shine of

C anisius, the mental mind-muscle & strength? 

E very one and their narrative (we’ve learned this….

Y et only a few are honest with the story).

R outines change. Pages turn. 

O nward the hourglass trickles, and sand is earned -

B ooks teach us this over and over again - 

E volution of the moments at exactly the right time.

R etirement will be your badge of honor…well deserved.

T his one, though, hits hard. I’ll still need you in my pocket.

In truth, I simply want to celebrate your dedication, ethics, mentoring, and wisdom. I’ve always appreciated your presence, reliability, and advice. Most importantly, I’ve valued the trust. Ah, but it is selfish of me to want it to stay forever, especially now when it truly is the best time for you to start anew. 

I write to simply share my appreciation and to wish you all the best with what’s still to come

Congratulations, Tracey (and elephant shoe),

Bryan

What a Difference a Day Makes - The Sun Peaked Through the Clouds from Time to Time, and Karal Was Loving It (and So Did I)

The dog doesn't like when I do a 14-hour day, so when I'm able to walk her, she's much happier. I walked her yesterday, and she growled and frolicked in the sunlight until I did. I believe she'd chew my laptop into a billion pieces if she could, as I'm on it almost all hours of the day. Yesterday, it was writing, editing, reporting, recommending, creating, and reflecting. As soon as one thing is contended with, I move to the other. Of course, I'm setting deadlines for myself, because I really, really do want a couple of beach days if I can get them. And my lawn needs to be mowed. Tomorrow, sunny and 86!

I now have every teacher from the Cultivated Women's Collective in the system to be paid. You'd think that would be an easy task, but our University uses Workday, which staff members across campus have renamed, "Workmore." Why am I  quoting staff? Well, I don't have assistance, so I do all my administrative tasks myself. Hence, Workmore and I are daily friends. I don't have an ability to push any work onto others. Yes, that's synonymous with what administrators do, but as an administrator for CWP, I'm just not that lucky. I long for the days when I had support.

We also are closer to the time-crunched state grant work that arrived, well, Monday. We were given two weeks to spend a grant that should have been here in September. I keep receipts, but now they must all be processed....we reprocessed, because I used my own money to cover costs in anticipation the state money was coming. Having grants is like being awarded a great chunk of money only to put your own accounts into peril until the University catches up and pays you back. It's gotten better, as I now have a credit card for CWP and can hold the insanity there rather than my own checking account (but still have to do so from time to time). And of course, this all goes through Workmore.

Today is Friday. I actually cleaned my work office yesterday in anticipation of July and all the kids, so I don't predict I'll go to campus today. Instead, I'm meeting with others about National Writing Project collaborations. 

And there's the lawn. I need to mow the lawn. 

The kayak is screaming to get to the shore, too. I want to be sure it happens. It's Friday, y'all.

This Was Yestrerday. I Spent Most of It in My Office, but When I Came Home, Karal's Pining for the Outdoors Reminded Me How Much It Sucked

It was the buzz kill of buzz kills. I felt like it was every little league game, fishing trip, opportunity to go to an amusement park, and beach day ever known to human kind. The rain never stopped, and poor Karal was most pathetic of all. She wanted to go outside and didn't know why that wet stuff was falling. She refused to step into it.

All was well, though. I finally got half my teachers paid for their work this year, I took a friend to lunch, I wrote for a few hours, and I mistakenly took a break and watched two hours of Captain Marvel. They done flipped their universe one too many times. I'm still dripping in all the cheese. it was awful.

The good news is that the rain is pushing out, the sun should be with us for three days, and I have eyes on the weekend prize (there will be a beach, there will be a beach, there has to be a beach, I know there will be a beach).

Ah, but at 8 pm - 9:15 Karal and I got our walk in. There wasn't another soul out, the ground was wet, but everyone else had given up on the day. And then I spilled a bottle of water all over my papers. 

Because that is the way it goes. 

Some day are just wet.

Live Footage of What Happens After Taking One Afternoon Off to Read a Book at the Beach (When He Tries to Take a Break, the Next Day Always Happens)

From 6 a.m. until 10 p.m. yesterday I sat on my computer putting out fires. I took one afternoon off (Monday) to read a book at the beach on Juneteenth (it was a holiday after all) and then open my email on Tuesday to one demand, after another demand, after another demand. 

This is the trick in higher education. Administrators and staff take breaks, are wonderful about chiseling their own time off, but when they return, they all get back to you with responses for what you requested while they were away. I wasn't away. I was in my office on the weekend grading Capstone projects and doing budget work, because during the week there's no time to get it done. When I finished at 3 on Monday afternoon, I chilled for a few hours.

BOOM. Tuesday. All the work from the weekend was completed, but now people returned to their offices after taking time off, and have all these demands, because they went away and now want work done their way, right away (and it's not even Burger King). 

My favorite was a call from an administrative assistant who was called from another administrative assistant to report that W9s to pay authors were filled out by the authors incorrectly. They looked correct to me, and I called the authors for corrections and they said, "This is how we always fill them out." I say, "That's what I thought," so I send them back in and this time they go through...it's illogical, but that is the game of Workday and how the University operates. It rarely makes sense, and you keep doing the same thing over and over until finally it makes its way to getting done. It's like Russian roulette...you never know what will result. You keep hoping that you'll finally reach someone actually working in their office and they finally approve it without randomly sending it back will illogical reasons. 

And then there are students who suddenly have the epiphany that not turning work in for a final, even after an extension, results in a failing grade, which has been the warning all along.

Of course, revise and resubmits arrive, as well. 

Yet, the best burning dumpster fire dive is when the State Department contacts the University about a 2021-2022 financial award that is coming (but not here yet) and needs to be spent by June 30th. That's 9 days. We got the award notification in August of last year, heard nothing despite all the calls and involvement of politicians, and then get told it's coming (yesterday), but won't be there quite yet, but could you spend it by next week. 

Oh, it was already spent. Crandall's been doing overtime with professional development to cover costs promised and never delivered. 

Shoot. I'd just like to make dinner. Wait. Even lunch. I'd like to have time to eat.

Today's a new day and off to the University I go to get things done (and ready for this...those from the administrative side email me to say, "Oh, we won't be in. We're working from home this summer."

Okay. Par for the course.

A grad student posted a photo on Facebook last night thanking me for all the support she's received. Another teacher piped in, "I don't think many know the length Crandall goes to support kids and teachers." 

I'm sitting here thinking, "Nope. I can't even comprehend the insanity, either. I'm just trying to stay afloat" It shouldn't be this difficult.

Back to My Reading Spot for a Couple of Days. I Caught Up (Finally) at 3 p.m. Yesterday and Knew Exactly Where to Go. Sky, Water, Sand, Books

Two graduate students are late with work. They aren't responding to email and they are the last holding me back from moving on to additional project. Of course, this morning I'm transitioning to the special edition I'm co-editing with Jessica Early, and I have to think about organizing my own world in addition to prepping for Literacy Labs 2022. 

Ah, but yesterday, I looked at the email, the work wasn't sent, and I said, "Screw it. I'm going to the water to get some sun." And I did. If you squint really, really hard you can see New York City in the distance. You have to squint some and really focus. If your eyes are really good, you'll see the Statue of Liberty, too.

I know that Wednesday and Thursday are liquid busts this week with rain falling nonstop for two days, so I'm likely to head back tot he beach this afternoon to finish a couple of books and to keep my eyes on what matters most. Oxygen. Joy. Seagulls. Beach chairs.

It is the time of year when three are few people by the water, so the solitude is even more enjoyable.

Karal and I got four miles and then we took off for the sand...the sun was warm, the air was cool, and the water remains frigid, although I'm ready to get my kayak out there soon. I need the Zen.

Hello, Zen. Good to know you again.

Light and Easy. A Trip to Sitting Duck for Burgers, Then a Couple of Beers in the Backyard. That's the Simplicity I Love & Crave.

I'm laughing, too, because Tunga is responsible for a dinner in NYC with colleagues from across the U.S. and they gave him a $4,000 budget. I'm not sure if he's ever paid for anyone other than me, so now he's hosting 38 people in a site unseen. I'm sure it will be fine, but I'm laughing that such an occasion fell on his lap. Event planner is not something I never saw him doing, but the financial world works complete different...I look for $4,000 grants to buy teachers books and accountants spend $4,000 on dinner and drinks. We're definitely in different professions.

And I want to freeze the weather so that it stays exactly like this. Warm sun, cool breezes, and cold nights where we can sleep with our windows open. It's pure joy to function throughout the day. 

Other than the dinner, the rest of time was spent finishing Capstone projects (three are still out - where are these people?) and running up to Kohl's to get a new vacuum cleaner. I knew mine was not doing its job, but it wasn't until I got the new one that I realized how bad of a job it really was doing. It's good to have a machine that picks up what it should again.

Okay, Monday. You're an extra day off, and I'm hoping the last projects come in over night. I want to close that chapter, as it was a wonderful experience, but a lot too much. And I want to spend a day doing nothing that requires my brain. I need a vegetable day and one where I can sit at the beach staring stupidly at the water. That's the healing I crave.

For Me, It's the Impromptu Color Coordination and Coincidence That Lures My Crazy Brain...Friday Night Pastels

Truth is, I left the Old Fashions of Beth Boquet and Dan in Devon to have BBQ and Trini-fruit with Dave & Kris on Nichols. Chitunga met us there, as did friends of theirs that moved down the street from me. It was a wonderful evening that tired me out...so much so that I was in bed by 10:15 and I slept until 9:30. That is very, very good for me and I appreciated the rest.

Chitunga and Kris seemed to coordinate the outfits, so I had to capture it on film - this as she made pineapple, cilantro medley with a special kick that was delicious over Dave's chicken. I'm still tasting its excellence when I smack my lips. 

Ah, that was Friday. Yesterday and today are full on grading and I am halfway there. I know tomorrow is Juneteenth, and I have an extra-day if it is needed. The Capstones are huge, so they're not easy to assess in any fashion. They were hard work and deserve thorough feedback and consideration. I will tackle a few more after my morning coffee.

And the temperatures. It feels like the crazy summer weather of Denmark, but also of CNY. Who turned the air conditioning on outside? Why are the fans on high? It's cold.

Finally, a hip-hip-hooray for Dominik and Kaitlin for last night's straw berry cake. Light, buttery, and a perfect dessert (now I am thinking I should of had tea).

So, back to grading in 3...2...1....

Happy Father's Day, Dad!!!

Nothing But Bliss & Admiration for @reallyrosebrock @JanaeMarksBooks @gordonkorman and the HOPE They Brought to @CWPFairfield Youth

I wasn't sure if maintaining the record for excellence was going to come forward at the Writing Our Lives & Winning With Hope youth conference because I'm accustomed that something always has to go wrong, and we went two for two of youth conferences without a glitch. At the beginning of the week, too, I was presented with unnecessary drama about place and accommodation, too. Things worked out, however, so it was a matter of I-95 traffic for the middle school and prayers to the Great Whatever that all three Author guests arrived without incident.

AND everything worked out better than could be imagined!

I'm so proud of the hard work of workshop presenters, kids, teachers, and especially the authors: Dr. Rose Brock, Janae Marks, and Gordon Korman. What a tremendous panel of individuals sharing their writing, their faith in young readers, and their wisdom for a better world. They were the best way to end a semester  and, of course, young people are always the reminder we do what we do. 

I love / to believe / in hope & the warriors that do the same. 

Gordon, Janae, and Rose were remarkable and I cannot champion the new book, Hope Wins, enough. It is a must have for classrooms and libraries, and a very teachable text (especially for National Writing Project teachers). The possibilities are endless. In my own workshop yesterday (100 kids at a time), I used selections from their writing to prompt the 8th graders to sketch a first draft for themselves. Wola! It worked.

I was equally proud of my graduate student, Ally Freeland, for conducting the second workshop of her career this summer, and for receiving a shout out for one young writer for the exercises and prompts she offered on retelling fairytales and fables with 21st century twists. They loved it. 

Also, Colin Hosten, Rebecca Dimyan, Lauren Anderson, and the Ubuntu team of Jessica Baldizon and William King rocked the facilities. It was a remarkable event and I'm snapping fingers for all who invest in the power of National Writing Project work for teachers and young people.

Today, however, I sleep and grade. I need a low-key day. Hello, Saturday!

All love to Allison Fallon who makes the middle school magic come alive!

30 Years Later, From 19 Year Olds Studying In London, a Reunion in Stratford, Connecticut, with Melissa Mejias...Total Joy

In the thick of Covid, sitting on my front porch and wondering about the world, I began searching for friends from the time in 1992 when I went on a program called Literature of Exile and the Black British Experience. I met life-changing individuals, including Melissa Mejias, who became a core to who I wanted to be as an individual and who offered fuel for a lifetime of teaching with purpose. My Puerto Rican, NYC, Long Island, kind, generous, and giving friend. I found her on Linkd-In and left a message: I'm in Connecticut...if ever you check this, give me a call.

It came months later while I was visiting in my parents in Syracuse. We talked for hours, catching up on what happened since you left Binghamton. She became an English teacher, moved to Australia to teach, then Arizona, and settled in NYC Schools where she moved into administration and then the Superintendent's Office. She is officially retired now from years of devoting herself to others, happy in marriage with two puppy dogs on the north west side of the Apple near Central Park.

Last week she said, "I want to get out of the city. Care for a visit?"

And she came...beautiful, spirited, sunshine-like Melissa. All colorful. Total pizazz and sophistication, and we went to lunch on the water at Knapp's Landing, viewed the shoreline, shopped at Mellow Monkey, walked Karal around Stratford, and finally departed. 

Amazing how 30 years could pass and we picked up exactly where we left off...fueled by our youth, fueled by a career with youth, and always in search of total joy. We are simply older versions of the same selves we once were.

It was a spectacular day. Now, however, I'm on campus preparing for 200 8th graders and a day of workshops, authors, Writing Our Lives and Winning with Hope.  

Ah, Mejias. You've always been hope and even though we parted for 3 decades, I've channeled your light, wisdom, and beauty. It was so wonderful to be reunited with you yesterday once again.

Loving Me Some @reallyrosebrock and Can't Wait to Host Her Tomorrow for a Panel On HOPE WINS. Time to Celebrate the Excellence!

Truth be told, Hope Nation was (and is) a game-changer for High School English classrooms. The same will be true for Hope Wins, another Rose Brock (editor) collection of essays written by young adult authors about finding hope in times when it is most needed. It's never too early to think about the power of recovery, restoration, rejuvenation, and looking for the good in humanity, the self, and society, especially as so much of it throws negativity right back at us.

Check out this great blog written by her: Why Hope Matters.

I'll go with an optimist every time. A joy-seeker. A Hope-Unit, in which I think Dr. Brock is most definitely at the helm.

Susan James said, "You're going to trust Crandall with your middle school photo, Rosie?" and, well, I also have Suzie's, so there's that. Why wouldn't they trust me?

 I know this girl. She played softball while I was playing baseball. She combed her hair in 5th grade math lessons, 6th grade social studies projects, and 7th grade Earth science (and probably kept the comb in her back pocket with nicely rolled up jeans). Actually, I know that she was a drill team girl, boots and all, but that's another story. 

I can't wait to see her again and to host her and a dream team of writers for Writing Our Lives and Winning with Hope this Friday at Fairfield University. 200 kids, 6 workshops, and an author panel later, this should be tremendous fun. It's the last Writing Our Lives event of the season and I can't wait to see all of it come together.

In the meantime, I hope her NYC events are going well. We're being Texas to Connecticut, y'all!

Continuing on the 8th to 9th Grade Journey Expected to Be Taken on Friday with HOPE WINS, I Present You with Prime Pubescent Bryan

And he finds his school IDs from 8th and 9th grade. 

No, I'm not a hoarder, but I do keep journals and record books of particular artifacts, although this has stopped for the past 15 years, when I began putting daily reflections online. I don't need to keep items if I write about them via blogs (it's a nice compromise). They're captured here, just like my Aunt Rena used to keep daily journals of the weather, every day she was alive. It's beautiful. 

8th & 9th grade, where the mischief began. Actually, it was that dang junior high school, especially with a tradition of after school detention (going to Williams Market) and being present for high school football games. The temptations came at us in stereo and we were quick to jump on board. Well, at least I was. It's shameful to admit, but 9th grade woke me up - I passed out on Jack Daniels early on a Sunday morning doing what idiots do at that age...

...act irresponsibly.

I still name that event as one of the better things that ever happened to me, though. I learned young to refocus on education, a purpose in life, my mission, and the future. I can see as an older me that the phase at NSJH was short-lived, but anyone who goes through the hallways aren't as lucky. Some disappeared by 10th grade. Others never made it to graduation. And of course, reunions share more of the story. What began in the junior high school took some lives because they never left that world. 

Phew. That's a hard truth.

So, I went through weight-gain in puberty, then extreme weight loss in my junior year, until finding recreational running in my senior year to keep me at a nice balance. 

But junior high. 

I am still dreaming about Ms. Coffin (Earth Science) and the rocks we all studied and wanted to throw at her. I am also thinking of Ms. Clapsaddle (photography) who had a wonderful wandering eye that I inherited myself. I still appreciate when Nadia Craft sends me an eyeball for my birthday saying, "Hey, Crandall. You eye found its way back to California again."

Touché.

Mrs. Bradley and Frau Sonich were wonderful German teachers, and there I met Melanie Nappa (clogged danced with her at a State competition in fact) and wouldn't reunite with her until we were seniors and worked with a local social work office to provide peer counseling with kids who didn't always have the best circumstances. Ah, then decades later, we found ourselves both with PhDs from Syracuse University and, for a short while, I had the privilege of seeing her when her daughter came to Fairfield (that was short-lived...hard to be in a community with so little art and diversity). But I loved those visits. She's a NSJH/CNS/SU sister. We're just two stories from north of Syracuse.

And I think this is why I keep keepsakes - they trigger so much, and I can remember the smells, the moments (1st kiss during a color guard show from a very aggressive girl from Central Square under the tree of the auditorium). I also am thinking of a classmate who I was close with at this time who didn't fair so well, and who recently passed with the addictions begun in those days. Dang. It's a lot. Bless the souls of the Nighthawks still processing this life thing. I'm lucky to also have a Northstar within. Melanie even married one of the Captains, now doing dental work in CNY raising their beautiful daughters.

So, with that. I'm off. 3-days of marathoning, followed by a weekend of grading, so I can end a rather perplexing June (who glimmers of Hope...ah, Hope Wins!)

Revenge of the Nerds, Circa 1991, at Binghamton University. Little Did Anyone Know Then What an Absolute Dork I'd Truly Become

Still in preparation of Friday's Hope Wins workshops, I'm tracing the story of how I actually came to be, telling the story of how 4 years at Binghamton University changed my life for the good and set me on the road of being the nerd I am today. Yes, I celebrate the labels.

Truth is, nothing made me happier than a viewing of Revenge of the Nerds in the late 80s, and I always fashioned myself a Poindexter. When he pulled out his electric violin, I tell you, I was simply energized. It was fun to be him and the others for a night.

I have no idea what this evening entailed, and think this was Tracy, a girl from Buffalo who was a year behind me at Hinman Hall. 

Another truth, I never returned to that campus, simply because I couldn't return. I loved every second of my four years there and wanted to 'snow globe' the memories as I had them held in my head. I was, and continue to be, afraid of returning because I want to keep what I once knew in tact throughout the rest of my life. Sure, I look over the distance of I-81 when I drive through, but I never stop. I just grow nostalgic.

Ah, but nerdiness is hard and I need this Tuesday to be the ultimate in nerd-dumb. I have to grade like a madman, prepare like a fiend, and love life like anyone who overcomes what life's supposed to be, only to make it better. 

If only I could return to that age once more and capture what it was really like. 

Little Lives Fortunate to Reach 50 (If They Wee Lucky_. I Grew Up in a Very Different World, And I'm Sure We Scattered Away from CNY Like Sparklers

I remember her name: Misses Saladino (salad + Dino from the Flinstones). I was five years old, living in Clarks Mills, NY, and attending Westmoreland Elementary. This, of course, was before moving to Clay and living the rest of my K-12 education in North Syracuse Public Schools. It was school, but it was a location away from home for learning, being, growing up, gaining tools for the future, and with little fear, other than the impishness of adolescent development and its schemes, and staying on top of the homework. The worries were simple: who would go outside and play after school, how far can we go on our bikes without getting caught, can we have sleepovers, and will we make it through the challenges of incessant homework?

It's funny to look at this picture now, as I remember a name and her kindness, playing with big blocks in the room, but also being pulled to the kitchen are to play 'the husband' from time to time. I have no names of the other children to remember, and zero connection of who they became or where they are now, but it was a safe, generous spot to begin my learning.

This Friday, I'm working with 200 8th graders and I've been going through pictures to create a lineage of hope: that is, the stories that brought me into the human being I am today. I'm trying to put myself into the minds of kids budding upon high school, knowing that in NSPS, 8th and 9th grained were put together in a junior high. The high school was for 10th-12th. It probably was/is a brilliant decision made by district planners. I don't think I know of anyone who thought 8th & 9th grade was a good time. I do remember, though, that 10th grade was the last year of childhood, before we began getting licenses, having jobs, and learning to plan financially and intellectually. Junior High was a land of insanity, really. I wasn't perfect, but somehow I made it through mildly harmed, and with a mission to take school seriously.

I was lucky. 

And there's little to no chance to thank Ms. Saldino for teaching me the beginning stages of how schools operate and for hosting a space of joy, discovery, and purpose. She is one of many teachers I encountered in my life that invested in me and the students around me, and for this I am thankful. Just snapshots of memories, but they're important.

For all teachers who invest their lives into the young people they teach. They are true heroes. Always have been and always will be.

Because There Needs To Be a Crandall Blog Post with Patrick & Kaitlin High School Photos, Just for Documentation

It was Patrick's birthday yesterday, so Kaitlyn, Dominik, Stephanie, and I went over to Pam's for grill time, vegetables, and dogs out the wazoo. I left Karal at home, which was a good decision, because Jake is absolutely obsessed with Maude, and that was enough drama for one night. Tara and Luigi joined us, so it was a great way to spend a Saturday night. 

Dominik's Polish, homemade kielbasi was delicious, and I loved Stephanie's cravings for Whole Food burgers and sausage. All tasted great to me. 

I spent most of yesterday's overcast day outside painting the garage. When I finished, I moved to trimming all the hedges, before mowing the lawn. I spent the a.m. doing grant reporting. 

Today is supposed to be a full day of rain, so I wanted to get all the outdoor work done on Saturday. We'll see if the waterworks actually come. I'm loving that the porch and garage are now painted, so I have to see if I can tackle the rest of the house. I'm good for the first floor down. I'm just apprehensive about the second floor up. I have no idea how I could reach it. 

No, I didn't grade, nor write, but it felt great to have a physically active day on the ladder and with a brush and roller in my hand. I felt I actually accomplished something. It's all irrelevant, I suppose, but for a moment I felt like Mt. Pleasant was getting the attention she deserves.

Friday Night Flights. Every Once in a While I Like to Be An Uber Driver & Take My Beautiful Friends Out on the Town

I knew by noon yesterday that I didn't want to cook, and I wanted to eat a good meal. It ended up being Stonebridge, blackened fish, a live band, and beautiful company. Shirls and Pam were at the beach all day and were itching to be taken out. I was glad to join them, even though the service was horrible and no one seemed to want to wait on us.

Chitunga headed over the Sound to stay with the 'tives, and I simply grew exhausted from living behind my computer so much. It's been a rough year, and this last sprint to the final Capstone class is doing me in. But I need to muster one more week of energy. It's not done until 8:30 p.m. on Wednesday (and then I have to grade and host one more youth event).

It was nice to get out of the house, though. I walked with Yellow after her final hour at Harding and I caught up on grading and summer programs (although there's more work ahead).

But I got out for the night and that is what counts most.

And back at it again today.

@ignotofsky Does It Again. THE HISTORY OF THE COMPUTER Published By @TenSpeedPress. So Thrilled To Have Her in the @WritingProject Fold

Last night, Tanya Baker and I pre-recorded an interview of NY Times Best-Selling Author Rachel Ignotofsky, which we'll air on The Write Time in the upcoming weeks. This was a reunion show as Rachel hinted at The History of the Computer, when NWP teacher Soñia Galaviz interviewed her in 2021 to celebrate What's Inside a Flower. I've been raving about The History of the Computer with all the educators I know - it is a museum of incredible knowledge, history, insight, trivia, and connectivity. Yes, it is written for younger readers, but it's a text that should be in everyone's home. Every page is an exploration of history, insight, trivia, and facts. The artwork is amazing, as always.

I was lucky to conduct the interview this time around and I knew it was going to be tremendous fun. Rachel Ignotofsky has a pro-teacher, pro-education, and pro-reader way about her, and the enthusiasm is contagious. I laughed through the 80s portion of the book, especially seeing the Nintendo finger controls as they taught me young that I am far from being a gamer. That was my little sister. I have a brain to figure out games, but not the hand/eye coordination necessary to overcome them. I'm much more of the pencil inside a cassette roll-up boy. On second thought, I believe that is a digital doodle pad. And ah, the synthesizer. Somewhere in my mother's house is the one we bought her - one she brings out at Christmas time to play her carols.

Computers are artifacts of who we are as a species (and have been) and leave it to the historical illustrator and master story-teller, Rachel Ignotofsky, to script/scribe/illuminate/showcase all the knowledge one needs to know about our digital machines throughout history: the people, the stories, the vocabulary, and always the women behind much of it all. 

I can't wait until this interview airs, as I really predict this will be a book in every school very soon. It should be. I'm coming into this Friday with absolute bliss for having last night's opportunity to interview her.

Warm Fuzzies from a Teacher Run-In. The Youth of Three Years Ago Finally Seeing Their Summer Work in Print. Same Smile. Always.

Several summers ago, before the pandemic took off, Semhar and Robel contacted CWP to see if their little brother, Natu, could attend Little Lab for Big Imaginations. Well, of course. He came to the program for 3rd thru 5th and was a tremendous hit. He mesmerized teachers, assistants, and peers. 

But then the world shut down. I published an edition of POW! Power of Words, but with the craziness of Covid, young people never got the publication of their achieved work.

So today, 2022, when teacher Jessica Baldizon says she ran into this young man and gave him a copy of POW! (in which he was published), I genuinely understand the smiles as authentic. 

Our communities have been separated and divided. Our fluid trajectories have been clogged. Our investment in youth has been severed.

Ah, but today, the smiles and reunions, they help me to see all the work we still have left ahead, including the restoration of what we were achieving before Covid entered the dialogue of the United States.

Here's to Natu! Here's to Ms. Baldizon! Here's to the possibilities of investing in the young minds we love and adore!

The Metaphor? Well, This Is About Right. What It's Like Working as a Faculty Member in Higher Education Trying to Get Things Done

There was a conference. #3. Then there wasn't a conference. #3. Why? Because systems don't talk to systems and everyone prioritizes their needs over everyone else's. Long story short...the space reserved for the last of 3 conferences was given to a program that trumped that of CWPs. I get it. It makes sense. BUT it turns out the program they are having is an entire week later. They reserved space all across campus in anticipation they would need to set up..

...and it's summer and people take 1/2 days on Fridays.

...and it's a 3-day weekend for Juneteenth...

...and they want the set up to stay as they want it, even if it is the same as I need it a week before their event.

I was on campus all day trying to find a solution, and simply got more stressed. But then I received a call that the original space I wanted would be easy for us to have.

Huh? I guess the requests finally fell in the right hands. 24 hours of pulling out my hair.

Although trains, planes, and automobiles were arranged and paid for and school buses are all set for 200 youth, I was very close to calling it all off because I couldn't get a compromise.

Then poof. All was well again. But the past 24 hours was unnecessary, especially for those of us who don't do 1/2 day Fridays and who work on weekends and holidays to keep on top of the work we're supposed to do. 

Okay, Wednesday. Another 4-hour turbo to teach.

Onward.

ZOOM Confessional: Summer Courses, 2 Nights, 4-Hours a Night, & Capstone (Where It All Comes Together)(with thanks to @easms)

Those of us who run summer institutes, youth conferences, summer school programs, and young adult literacy labs should reconsider saying "yes" to teaching a graduate capstone course. Truth is, I helped redesign the sequence for our grad program after years of recording complaints and what I hoped to be a fix is only in its second year. Not a fix, but closer to understanding what works and doesn't work.

Action research, student teaching (or semester of teaching)/data collection, Capstone to work through findings. 

The problem, however, isn't with the content or order...it's simply with the fact that crunching courses in tight spaces, especially after a year of exhaustion, is simply too much for any human being. Faculty and students need breaks from the routine to regroup. It's a heavy load on all of us and I have to ask, "Why are we doing this?"

With that noted, students sent notes to me last night saying, "That didn't feel like 4 hours at all. The time flew by." It was a great class with tremendous productivity.

I am very thankful to Dr. Ellen Shelton for calling in and sharing her work with in-practice teachers and the idea of reflective practice (classroom teacher for 15 years! Woot Woot). Her expertise was so helpful. I'm also thankful to Mr. King for sharing where and how he's adapted his research into district-wide and national PD.

Both named that the best teachers are always learning, growing, and revising their ways of teaching. I'm thankful that they offered locations so the students didn't need to hear me squawking/croaking/stressing. It's a lot for anyone who chooses to teach these courses (too much, in fact)(and for adjunct pay - egads!). 

I had every minute planned and we kept the pace with an interactive Padlet. But I'm entering this Tuesday as toast. Burned toast. With no butter in the fridge. Just a cup of coffee and a reflection that I am truly thankful for my colleagues who are willing to visit our soon to be released graduates. We're all in this together. 

About That Ladder. Nothing Like a Next Door Neighbor Putting Her House on the Market to Get This Guy Motivated to Paint His Front Porch. Her Purchase Benefits My House.

I call it my Kwame Alexander porch. Why? Because it collapsed around the same time I was hired by Kwame and his people to write middle school curriculum for several YA texts. I congregated a team of CWP people, and then went to town on my own. As people backed out, I also did theirs and it paid off. The issue has been, however, that the outside was left gray, when my house is a creamy yellow. 

Soleil, to be exact. That's the color.

Yesterday, I finished grading by noon and said, "Dang, you have 8 hours to finish a project," so I tackled the front porch. I love painting and the temperature was gorgeous. I brought a chip to Home Depot, we matched it, and the color is very close to the rest of the house (albeit it a shade lighter and brighter)

The issue is that I loaned my latter to a colleague several months ago and she never returned in. She's also out of town. 

So, I did what I could. I now want to have the rest of the house painted. I can do the first floor, but I'm not comfortable painting the 2nd tier. It's way too high, although I think a new coat will look exceptionally good. I've had siding priced, as well as painting, and I'm sorry...but if I could do it all myself, it'd likely cost less than $200. It's the labor that I don't necessarily have time for. I would, if I could, because I find the whole process healing and calming. 

It is definitely drying a shade lighter, but that's okay. I love that the new shade is named after the sun, which is totally a reason I'm okay with keeping it in the yellow family. It's calming and beach-y, which I love.

Alright, it's Monday again, and back to teaching a four-hour class. There's only four of them left (and I have no words for how intense it is to crunch so much in a tight space. I am doing what I can...

...except my laundry. I need to get the paint of my shorts and t-shirt (and still need to finish the work as soon as possible. I'm stoked now and want to use this weather to pain the entire house. I also need to do the trim in white. Way overdue (and optimistic).

Homeownership and adulthood. Who'd of ever guessed it?

At 5 p.m. Yesterday I Said, "Crandall, Time for a Break," and After Two Weeks I Hung Out with Oona, Pam, Leo, & Bev (1st Walnut Beach Ice Cream of the Season).

I am my Mom's son. I had peanut butter ice cream with crushed Oreos. Every time you go to Walnut Beach Creamery, they have different flavors. Nothing was looking or sounding good until she said peanut butter ice cream and I was in. Delicious. Impromptu picnics are best - vegetarian Imposter burgers, Cole slaw, laughter.

We walked along the ocean. We warmed in the sun and cooled in the shade. I needed a night off.

In the morning, I drove Dave to get a rental car, got gas, planned Monday Night's Class, started working on Writing Our Lives & Winning with Hope (the last youth conference until literacy camps begin), walked, and put away dishes. Still tired from Friday's great event.

My Sunday is going to be spent grading. I need to be on top of the game as summer courses are intense, ridiculous, and non-stop action. Something goes out as something is coming in. I hated taking them while in Grad School and I hate teaching them now that I'm on the other side.

Also, prayers up for Red in Pensacola. She needs to get out the hospital so we can text, chat, and FaceTime three times a day.

Waking Up Thankful for Many Things, But Most Importantly the @writingproject Family, Its Investment In Me, & the Possibilities We Can Bring Forward to Teachers & Youth

Sweating is a given. I worry about making all come together the way I envision it in my head: presenters, young people, buses, books, Keynotes, writing, Open Mic, and growth. As crazy as this sounds, yesterday went extremely smooth and I couldn't be happier. Small investments in National Writing Project sites like CWP can make monumental differences in the lives of young writers and the teachers who work with them. I experienced this first in Louisville, and yesterday, 8 educators did the same for their students in southern Connecticut. The testimony arrived at the open-mic, but also in the messages that followed all afternoon and evening.

I was extremely thankful that Darshna Katwala, Director of the Long Island Writing Project, traveled an hour and a half to visit Fairfield to present to young people, but also to network with teachers in our area, including the incredible William King. 

I am also extremely thankful for Ibi Zoboi's willingness to grace all of us with her brilliance and for penning Star Child, which we could use to catapult new writing for over 116 girls. We had a goal of 96. We definitely reached that. 

The first child that came to the Mic was the one who caused me to tear up. She spoke from her heart and said, "I don't want to read what I wrote, because I thought writing was supposed to be sad and confessional of my own fears. I realized today, however, that writing is empowering, and I should be using words to push for a world I believe in...one with joy and hope." This is definitely a credit to Rose Brock's words and Ibi Zoboi's keynote. This student also shouted out the presenters of sessions she attended and how she sees another world for what she can be as a human being. 

I loved, too, hearing kids come from Lauren Anderson's session on envisioning their own business, and how they coined the term, "I want to be a She-EO of my own company." One girl said she wanted to own a series of body shops to repair cars. Boom. That was wonderful.

I'm proud of my two graduate students, too, Darlene and Ally, who jumped from their coursework into a session on revisioning fairytales to create stronger women characters. And my colleagues from across Fairfield University who stepped in to lead powerhouse sessions for K-12 youth. 

I will be processing for a few weeks, but I walked away from the success yesterday simply feeling blessed that I fell into the National Writing Project. We are humans of NWP and once we've encountered the philosophy, it is easy to spread to others.

Hope wins. Investing in children and teachers. It's that easy.

We are a collective, 

   selected, elected 

as cultivated monarchs

in a flight for existence.

We are on the road to Diva-hood, 

   lily pads, & college grads,

    in a universe of snapping fingers

      (how the tarot cards linger

       on our tomorrows).

We are Connecticut,

  questioning the who, how, where, why, & what

    of this life-thing & making sense 

       of the senselessness, 

         the messiness 

           as we finesse ourselves 

             into better beings.

We are the future,  

   with giants from the past, 

     helping us to sustain & last

       our possibilities

          as we stand on their shoulders.

We are the point

   with a serendipitous bond

     to The Great Whatever,

       tattooed to our hearts & minds,

looking at the world 

              & how each womyn finds

                 her greatness.

We are the collective,

collected and cultivated,

initiated, percolated,

in a world of words,

writing our lives and finding our stars

in a galaxy of tomorrow’s dreams.