It's Not That Nothing Happened Yesterday, But My Mind Went Into Absolute Nothing Mode and Was Absolute Mush, So Nothing Really Occurred

I edited. I went to campus and printed. I went to the optometrist and had an eye exam. I ordered pizza for dinner and I gave into the rain. I didn't nap, but I didn't accomplish much, either. Laundry was put away, dishes were done, I walked Karal, but intellectually I was absolute garbage, so it was a good-for-nothing sort of day.

That's okay, right?

I talked to my Aunt and Uncle in California for a long while, catching up on age, growth, time, Louisville, change, relations, and the aches and pains, but even then my brain was mashed potatoes. 

I caught up with friends from college, thought about the weather, but really spent the entire day looking for bed, sleep, and relaxation. 

This is all to say that I think I'm exhausted. I rarely get this way, and when I do I am frustrated with myself. But the pizza was good. Can't go wrong with Paradise. And that was the Friday that just was.

I Think It Is Friday, So I Am Thanking the Great Whatever to Process the Week That Just Was, Including Seeing @NealShusterman in Madison

I'm not even sure how everything worked so smoothly yesterday. I was at my computer on the porch until 11 a.m., stuck in traffic until about 12:30 p.m., made it to campus for a grant meeting, learned I had to do grant reporting, arrived to a department meeting just in time, left for home to meet someone to fix/repair/replace my garage door opener that blew out with the door wide open, finished that installation in the nick of time to ride with Gino and Isaiah to Madison, Connecticut, sat to be entertained, inspired, and intrigued by GLEANINGS, Neal Shusterman's 4th book in the SCYTHE series, and then became super excited by a new series that arrives next Fall.

Yes, I'm content, and I didn't even have the new virus that will appear in his upcoming novels. 

Phew. That's a Friday in Crandall world, even if this morning I'm quadrupled booked with appointments, and have much to accomplish this weekend before the NCTE conference in Anaheim, California next week. 

Gino, one of Chitunga's best friends, works in the funeral industry, so I loaned him the first book during Covid and he quickly was addicted. I was with Neal Shusterman at the North Texas Teen Book Festival in March of 2019, when we all learned we were going to be staying home for a little while -- much longer than anticipated. After I heard Shusterman speak there, I knew I needed to jump into his books, and listened to several on audio, during my 8 mile power walks to Short Beach and back. The first three were on audio books, but #4 I have autographed and in hard copy. I look forward to every page.

LOVE his shout outs to Nic Stone and Laurie Halse Anderson during the signing (and look forward to seeing both of them very soon, I hope)

But this morning, after I canceled a brunch, walked the dog, set a game plan for writing for the day, I am thankful that all was pulled off and we made it home safely. I knew I had precious cargo in my car, and am glad both Gino and Isaiah are home safely, too. 

Great evening...how can I not be content?

Their Voices Were Unanimous & the Verdict Was Reached...Graduate Students Made Arguments Why @sonyahuber's VOICE FIRST Needs to Be Taught

One of my favorite nights a year is when I get to teach argumentative writing (arggh-u-mentative writing) for middle and secondary schools. I've always been assisted by Kelly Gallagher's Write Like This, and I'm an addict of Best Practices in Writing Instruction edited by Steve Graham, Charles A. MacArthur, and Michael Hebert. Then this year, I added Sonya Huber's Voice First: A Writer's Manifesto, University of Nebraska Press, after I was given an advanced reader's copy and, fortunately was able to 'blurb' a review. I loved it, knew I wanted to teach it, set up an interview for The Write Time (see end of this post), and awaited to hear what my students would thing. 

Throughout the semester I've fed Sonya Huber some of the reactions my students have had from weekly readings, but this week I went Jack Sparrow, as I typically do on arrrgh-ument night. After we debated cats, dogs, dinosaurs or no pets (EVER!) and played a few rounds of Zobmondo, we drew from Gallagher and highlighted the importance of having five bulleted reasons for every one of the arrrghhh-uments we wish to make. 

Of course, we also listed pet-peeves, debated reasons for those, viewed political cartoons, and read Op-Eds to get a feel for the ways arguments work in Western society. My exit-slip, however, was for students to argue whether or not I should keep Sonya Huber's Voice First: A Writer's Manifesto in future iterations of this course. I was hoping for debate, but the battle was one-sided. These middle-grade, high school, and English-language learning teachers unanimously argued that, "Yes. Sonya Huber's Voice First belongs in future renditions of a graduate on teaching writing. 

The are some of the bulleted points they made (condensed for purposes of this post):

• Voice First is accessible, personal, relatable, and relevant (easy to read)
• Voice First challenges writing conventions in the best way 
• The language in Voice First is poetic and infused with raw vulnerability   
• Voice First contains the most brilliant insights 
• Voice First guides writers toward the discovery and (re)discovery of their own voice(s). 
• The content is relevant in Voice First
• Sonya Hubers’s stories are intriguing – she gives multiple experiences to make her case
• All the strategies (‘try this’ activities) in Voice First can be modified for every grade level
• The writing activities are abundant and useful in Voice First
• Sonya Huber opened my eyes to the importance of considering audiences for particular voices
• Voice First is brilliantly laid out, logical, and smooth. It was like rising a friend each week
• As I read Voice First, I realized I was instantly becoming a better writer
• Chapters in Voice First are short, with great references that are perfect for teachers
• Love Sonya Huber's asset-first, positive attitude towards teaching writers. We all can write!

Now, I knew I loved the book, but there are many books I've loved, taught, and celebrated in which students despised me for teaching them. I'm somewhat skittish about trying new books, because I love to stick to the ones that my graduate students applaud and find useful (Gallagher's Write Like This is one of the best, and I wish it was updated because it, like Ralph Fletcher's The Writer's Notebook, make K-12 teachers think differently about teaching writing. They are incredible resources). My students made the case to me that, yes, Sonya Huber's Voice First is a reliant, no-brainer, keeper! 

Last nights aarghh-uments from my graduate students were: 

• The best teachers don't inhibit or censor, but allow writers to go in their own direction through choice.
• A great teacher helps to refocus students towards a successful written outcome through mentoring.
• A teacher needs to motivate youth through variation and excitement.
• Student-interest should be paramount to the genres we expect them to write.
• Teachers should encourage purposeful, meaningful, real-world writing opportunities, and
• Voice First. Keep assigning Huber!

I most definitely heard what they had to say, and value their opinions.

My graduate students rock. Sonya Huber rocks. And I will be singing praises for Voice First next week at the National Council for Teachers of English. Okay, mates. Time to make some coffee and hit update on this Blog.

 

 

Choosing to Moon You the Day After Election Day, Only Because this Was the View From My Office Last Night (Of Course It Doesn't Do It Justice)

More covid cases on the rise with students, so once again the request was to go online with graduate courses. It was last minute, too, as positive results came from afternoon tests. Joy. Better safe than sorry. 20% of students is enough to protect us all, I suppose, and to be honest, I've come to prefer online teaching: it's more effective, efficient, and economical. We get much done without having to be stuck in traffic.

Ah, but the moon. What a wonderful display as it rose, and sadly, this photo doesn't capture any of it. It was a big ball of beautiful orange, so much so that I had to pause the class to get a photo (as uneventful as it is captured here)

And last night I got to present on one of my favorite topics: poetic narration in YA literature. It's sort of like breathing to me, and I combine NWP work with YA love, and boom, it was a great evening. Weird to think I only had two hours on the topic, but that's the way graduate school goes at Fairfield.

Meanwhile, jury duty today. Ugh....but received a text over night, that it was cancelled, and I'm relieved from the duty. Phew. 

I feel like I just got a snow day. That's how giddy I am. Relieved from jury duty...someone queue hallelujah!

Keeping reading people. Keep experience and interacting with many communities. Democracy isn't about sitting in a cave, locked up in chains, studying your own shadows. Get out there and learn. Free you minds.

It's Simply in My Blood, and Always Has Been. I Am Always Cheering and Rooting for the Underdogs, Wanting Only the Best for Them. I Love to Believe in Hope.

To be honest, Bassick High School was not necessarily an underdog, as they have incredible athletes, phenomenal coaches, and enough heart to cure all the ills in the world. They played, however, a team from Madison, Connecticut. For context, the median. family income in Madison is close to $120,000. In Bridgeport, that median is closer to $25,000. The districts serve completely different populations, so going into last night's game, I couldn't help but see the international beauty of the Bassick Lions, representing multiple nations of the world, and beginning their learning of English and a belief in the American Dream, whereas the Daniel Hand High School team represented many who have had that dream for a very, very long time. As I said to Edem, "Is it me, or do these parents look like they are heading out to their yachts after the game?" Sweaters rolled over their shoulders, boat shows, pastels of pink, yellow, and light green. They looked like human Easter eggs.

He said, "Well, when American families can spend thousands of dollars on young children to be in summer leagues, traveling teams, and the best gyms, it is hard to compete with them. These boys are well trained."

Edem graduated a year before Abu and Lossine, so I spent many nights in the stands cheering on the Nottingham Bulldogs in Syracuse. Different state. Same circumstances. I remember on parent nights, I was one of the few adults in the stands. Most parents had little chance to take time off from work to see their kids play, even when they were winning and being celebrated. This is an American reality.

Bassick scored first. They have a player that I was told about...one Edem said, "That kid can go to any Division I or right to the leagues." He had a sweet goal, and for the rest of the game moved the ball in miraculous ways. It wasn't enough, though, as the other team's defense was strong, and Bassick had a freshman goalie. He saved a lot, but he was young against the team who took multiple shots.

My Connecticut life begins with Bassick High School as I spent most of my early years writing grants with administrators and working with kids and teachers in the school. I'm fortunate, too, because I work with many of the kids through Ubuntu Academy, Writing Our Lives conferences, and with the college essay workshops each year through CAP. In the stands, many faces of young people I worked with over the years came to cheer on the lions and it was great reuniting and catching up with them.

I'm not pretending to know anything about soccer, except for what the boys have taught me, including Edem...I know World Cup is approaching fast, and I remember that during my research, life paused for games...always. It was a religion. I was indoctrinated by their love, and I also get the game for that passion (even if I still am more fanatic about college basketball). 

Dang...Edem is 30. The twins are 30. It's sort of crazy to think about how fast time flies by and how, different school in a different state, the same dynamics exist. Daniel Hand played well. Their defense was great and they had a few decent shots on offense, hence they won the game.

I suppose, though, that is what should be expected given the resources that are available to them. For me? Give me the 1st-generation kids...the ones with nets and cheers on their radar, working their tails off to make a name for themselves in the United States. Higher Education likes to throw around the words grit, hard work, perseverance, devotion, goals, and practice, but the truth is we don't really measure how much grit, how much hard work, nor how much perseverance and devotion kids on the bottom rung put into their dreams. For them, it is nothing but setting goals and practicing. They live their lives with drive, because they have to have drive to make it -- it never stops.

All of us in the United States could learn much from them, as well as from coaches like Mike Silver and Saleh Hanaif, who have dedicated their lives to these young people. They're superheroes.

Yes, it was a loss, but it's a winning team to me. They give me hope for what is possible. 

In Yesterday's Attempt for Crandall Being Chef-Boyardee, He Takes on Shrimp, Basil, and Gnocchi, with Parmesan & Thyme

Once again, I ended up making it up as I went along. I started with the intent of a creamy parmesan sauce, but having no heavy cream, I went with crushed tomatoes, cajun shrimp, parmesan, and basil.

It was flavorful and delicious, but also very filling. Gnocchi does that every time.

As for the green beans, cranberries, and sliced almonds, I failed. It wasn't me as much as it was the frozen beans I happened to use. I've grown accustomed to the beans I get from BJs that are always great and quick to make, but not having any, I went with a different brand.

Epic Fail.

But the shrimp and gnocchi dish came out great, paired well with Bev and Leo's salad, and the cheesecake Pam offered to wash it down. 

Yes, I gained an hour in the day, but I definitely spent it taking advantage of 60 more minutes of labor. For this reason, I'm waking up on Monday absolutely exhausted. The laundry is done, the lawn is mowed, the trees have been trimmed, the leaves have been mulched, and I still found time to cook a Sunday dinner. I will call that a great day. 

Of course, all leftovers when with Chitunga, so now I have to start anew this afternoon, as I figure out something to carry me through a very busy week. 

Chicken will come to the rescue, indeed. Still grilling weather outside. Balmy.

It Wasn't Until November that We Had a Firepit Fiesta at the Sealey-Wooleys, but The Cyperpunk Flames Were Worth the Wait

This Autumn season was not conducive to the evening gatherings around a fire until last night, after Dave said he was barbecuing. Upon the carrot being dangled with Old Fashions, Chitunga announced, "I'm there." And he was.

I definitely went one cheeseburger over my limit, and the pasta salads and grilled vegetables (oh, the asparagus pee smell), gave way to Dave asking an easy question. "Do we want to throw wood into the fire pit?

We did. It was necessary. All was wonderful for the world.

So the evening occurred with the usual Crandall, Sealey, Johnson, Wooley conversations and we sat outside, warm temperatures, with the wonderful light of burning ambers to guide us. Vicki Soto 5K, film at a community film, football, New Orleans Quick Center trombone parties, and Saturday music lessons behind, we ended up enjoying company with one another outdoors, in November, with the last chances for back porch and good company, most likely, until spring.

Today is Sunday. Work is ahead. Life is plentiful. 

But last night we had a fire pit and I'm still digesting all of Dave's fancy, flavorful grilling. He is a professional and I am thankful. Every single bite has so much flavor.

But today will unravel as it will. Enjoy this Sunday.

Love. Love. Love. Education. Education. Education. Community. Community. Community.

Last night, the Connecticut Writing Project at Fairfield sponsored the Connect with Kids Network and the Community of Fairfield for a special screening of Defining Us: Children at the Crossroads of Change, with special guests, Dr. Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz, Columbia University, Dr. Shannon King, Fairfield University, Maurice Nelson, Chief Diversity & Inclusion Officer at Sacred Heart University, Robert Johnson, Multicultural Center, Sacred Heart University, and Digna Marte, Director of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, Fairfield Public Schools.

The film was part of the diversity, equity, and inclusivity project envisioned for Fairfield Warde High School, to host a community conversation about education in Connecticut: opportunity, curriculum, and the future of U.S. schooling.

Much applause to Stacey Dewitt for her artistry and leadership, and to Tammie Workman for representing Kentucky and for being the educator in Chief with heart and mind.

I told Yolanda that I needed to recreate an iconic photo  (a picture my mother has always loved) as part of the evening. And it happened. 

That is Yolanda. Love. Love. Love. 

Education, Education, Education. Out respect for Abu and Lossine (3 things one needs to make it in this world). Community. Community. Community (three things that help any individual to achieve). 

The Fairfield Community theater was a gorgeous location to host the screening and conversation, and the best part of it for me was to see so many of the Connecticut Writing Project teacher-leaders in the audience, many of whom brought their students. 

This morning, I'm off to the Vicki Soto 5K, after picking up my brilliant friend from the Marriot and getting her to the Amtrak on time -- back to NYC she goes to do her inspirational work.

Many thanks to Dr. Rich Novack who had the vision for bringing all of us together for an evening with several community members. He's a fast, slick, and quick mover and when he gets an idea in his head, he doesn't cease until it moves into reality.

I'm much grayer than I was when a photographer first captured a similar picture of Yolanda and me hugging. Perhaps there isn't a better hugger on the planet.

I am a better human being because of her. Yolanda's scholarship is immeasurable and her aura around the beauty of teaching children is monumental. The influence she's had on my mind is ongoing and forever.

The event is definitely one of my greatest moments and I'm thrilled to have been a part of it. 

For years, the Bridgeport Higher Education Alliance worked together in support of K-12 schools and what is possible. That dismantled as retirements occurred, Presidents change, and Covid hit. Perhaps that is something that needs to be on my radar once again - a unification of powerful institutions in the region to have similar conversations with one another....removing competition, isolation, advancement, and privilege for the benefit of the homes, people, and youth around us.

But now, I'm off to the Vicki Soto 5K, with last night's event fueling my haphazard attempt to get back into the swing of things. I know I will walk, but also night I had a dream that my injuries subsided and I could fly. How nice that would be. 

Perhaps We Should Bring the Carrying Pigeons Back. I Wouldn't Mind Such Technology, nor the Anticipation of Mail

Or maybe even Paul Revere.

Or snail mail.

Crandall spent 9 hours yesterday, simply working to clear out the emails. Yes, many of them had course assignments coming in, but most of them needed immediate attention that I haven't found a second to get to...so I woke up, tackled bcrandall notifications, and found myself dizzy. Snap, I remember how it used to be, but this has quadrupled as emails are now 15-page manifestos. It is insane.

I miss the days of going to a mailbox and receiving information that I could eventually attend to and complete. Now, they come in as fast as I can read them, and yes, the majority is junk mail, but other items need an incredible amount of attention. And etiquette prevails, because there doesn't seem to be etiquette, especially the cohort that replies all, and then others reply all, etc. etc. Etc. Some of them I have to search 30 minutes just to find the reason they were originally sent.

Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.

But many need more attention, where I need to jump onto Excel, or Workday, or a grant, or a research proposal, or a recommendation, or a grade, and then I have to go into my digital folders to work on a solution. I'm thinking about the filing cabinets in my office and now thinking, "are they obsolete? Any reason to keep all the paper now?" 

Nope. I don't think so. 

But a pigeon would be nice. I could wait a couple of days and respond, then send a pigeon back. Even an owl like in the Potter movies.

The instantaneous demand of email, however, is something else (and the ones that follow seconds later with a text that asks, "Did you get my email," is even more inane. 

But I did narrow them down quite a bit.

Y'all, it's Friday. A day of Zoom K'boom and a really special event at a community theater to promote exactly what I believe in most....community. Human togetherness. What people working with people accomplish most...

...more on that tomorrow. 

For now, I'm just glad I got emails out of the 10,000s to a couple of hundred. That is so satisfying. 

Let's Just Say that Susan's Morning Became My Evening. She Didn't Let Me Borrow Her Clothes, But This Image Captures Everything That Is This Time of Year

First of all, it's sleeplessness. The seasons are changing, the holidays are coming, we're still trying to finish work from the summer and we have things due in a month.We're also teaching, planning, organizing, coaching, mentoring, advising, reviewing, revising, and having to give plans for next semester already. Doesn't matter if you go from 6 a.m. until 11 p.m., there's no way to keep up with it all. I think this is just teaching, in general, and administrators seem to have plenty of time to host more meetings to get others to do the work because they're not teaching, so they justifying their existence.

That is universal in all occupations. Managing workers would never be for me, because there's too much joy in doing the work.

With that noted, Susan texted early to say that she dropped her coffee on the porch, she's out of dog food, had to scramble eggs but drooped them on the floor, then burned her hand on the pan.

My day ended with driving to campus to teach the late class, forgetting my computer at home, enduring CT traffic, arriving to campus to have 50% of my students out sick. Joy. No time to process. Onward.

Love this image though, because as death circulates before us (Alas, poor Yorick), my thoughts are falling behind me. And I have giant messes under my arms to accomplish, knowing full well, that ain't happening in the way I hope.

I did get my shots for psoriasis, however. I have looked like Freddy Kruger attacked my legs for a while now. It's bad, and I'm finding more spots on my arms...elbows. Ugh. Genetics. Aging. Joy.

I am wearing new underwear, though. That is good. Actually, they're LIFE IS GOOD, so every time I drop my drawers I'm reminded of this.

This One Was for Aunt Joanie & Grannie Annie - Tapping Years of Teaching Experience To Learn From & With My Students, Not the Other Way Around

Last night's theme for Young Adult Literature was an exploration in LGBTQI2S+ Identities. Disclaimer: I've been out of the classroom for 15 years and I have learned quickly that newer generations have new vocabulary and ideologies that I've never known. They also have lived experiences that I've never lived. So, I tapped my own history and started class with storytelling, including when Diana, the Sea Goddess, dubbed me Seahorse on the beaches of Tintangel. I was 19, studying in London, and unbelievably naive about the world...but I was learning.

"Why Seahorse?" I asked her. 

Gina was from NYC and a million and one years ahead of me in lived experiences. "Because you're unusual for a boy. You care about things and are always nurturing to others around you." It didn't mean anything at the time, because I already realized I was a Frog, but I didn't mind having another creature to think about. Later, down the road of years some, I would read about Seahorses and see them in exhibits. The males nurture the newborns. They are the caregivers and ones who give birth to the next generation. At 19, I wouldn't know I would spend a lifetime teaching and eventually working parentally from home in an odd, beautiful, and totally coincidental household of many cultures. The Seahorse mantra sort of stuck. 

I offered students questions to kick off the evening. Each chose a different book representing a wide-variety of gender identities to discuss in class and I offered free writing to lead the way. When was the first time you came aware of identity, its fluidity, and began thinking intellectually about sex and gender? How has such thinking made an impact on your thinking and growth as a human being? Particular moments? Milestones? Thought-provoking incidences? 

My own writing came out poetic (it usually does) and I recalled Grannie Annie's theory of XX, XY, and multiple variations in-between, my Aunt Joanie, cousins, middle and high school, college, teaching, colleagues, and beyond. It ended up being a rhythmic time capsule of gender, sexuality, difference, safety, acceptance, and what it means to be a human being. Others wrote about relatives, classmates, friends, their own experiences, growing up in hateful, over-religious homes, etc. and that opened the door way to say, unequivocally, identity and bound parameters are a false narrative. There are so many variations on being human, so why do we set such restrictive boundaries on what counts as good, just, and acceptable?

Afterwards, I shared with them the Genderbread Person, which does a job of labeling expression, sex, orientation, and identity, and I allowed them to critique the one-page guide for what it has right and wrong. They did. It made sense to me, but I wanted them to tell me how they felt.  Most found it useful, and the two who debated it, also succumbed to its accuracy, stating that it is difficult to ever define who they are without the Western patriarchy and Judeo-Christian framework that has set forward the ways language gets used. They just wanted to be without having to be labeled or made to feel outside "normal."

"I hate that word, normal," one said. "There's no such thing. Are you not paying attention to the world?"

I then asked them to brainstorm terminology they felt they would need as future teachers to host similar conversations of identity with their students. They listed:

normal, gender bending, social justice warriors, a/pan/bi/demi, two=spirited (indigenous), androgyny, gender presentation, inter-sex, AFAB (assigned female at birth), gender, cis gender, cis-het, heterosexual, homosexual, heteronormative, bisexual, non-conforming, non-binary, gender fluid, inclusivity, identity, trans, fluidity, Queer, transiting, dead-naming, cultural production, pronouns, feminism, masculinity, drag

I asked for definitions of the terms when I wasn't clear. I've feared witness to the complexities of being human, but I didn't have the terminology. 

From there, I asked students to think about the Genderbread image, the readings they did for the week, and the vocabulary they gave me to ask open ended questions to think about as readers of books and thinkers of the wide spectrum of human experiences. They came up with:

• How is identity constructed in the novel?
• Are there conflicts that stem from a character's identity?
• Who's included and who's not?
• How does a character's identity shape their lived experience?
• How does the presentation of the characters' identity/gender differ from your own ideas about identity and gender?
• What aspects of identity are presented as shocking in the story?
• How do mainstream constructs of good and bad impact what are meant as private and/or public presentations.

They then applied a couple of the questions from the list to their own readings and presented to the rest of the class on the books they read. Class went over by 15 minutes and they didn't seem to care. The teachers-to-be were teaching me. 

This is my favorite part of being an educator....the moments when I'm learning, too.

But I left with the importance of being open minded, because that is what learning, education, and being human is all about. I want safety for others and for everyone to have care in their worlds. It has never mattered to me who you are or what you choose for your own life, as long as love is at the center (which is troubling to me when I see the astute hatred and cruelty by some as they judge others...the control they desire to have over the bodies of others). It makes me sick to my stomach. I know the root to most hatred is self-hatred...and that such control is an internal quest to ease their own pain...but it's gross...alas, part of the human complexity.

I guess this is why Gina called me a Seahorse way back then.  I'm good with that. But I'm also thankful to the numerous friends, family members, teachers, books, television shows, and experiences that have made me a compassionate man for others...open to the multiple experiences and identities others have lived.

Grannie Annie planted the seed for being a better human being when I was a little boy, and Joanie chose to love everyone around her...even those who belittled her lifestyle and decisions because her life-partner was another, wonderful woman. Love is love. All life is pain. We deserve to be embraced for the humans we are.

But don't come near me with that love. I'm a frog. I like to sit on a lily pad alone, contemplating the moon, licking the flies around me into my mouth, and talking to the cattails as that madman emptying the ocean with a fork. Let me be an extroverted introvert, and an introverted extrovert, who much prefers living in his head more than in the real world. I'm okay with that and always will be.

This is the way the pond has always been. 

Another Year of Being That Book Guy on Mt. Pleasant. It's Amazing the Conversations It Strikes Up with Parents, While Kids Are Like, "WHERE'S MY #$#@$ CANDY?"

I had to close shop by 7:30. I pulled 200 books from my shelves and was on my third bag of candy, when I put the lights out. There were people on the street for another hour (I have no idea how anyone had anything left to give)

Two things I noticed this year: (1) very few houses in the neighborhood handed out candy and they left their lights off and (2) more and more people arrive via trucks and mini-vans. The car doors would open and they'd exit as if clowns in a circus car...they just kept coming.

I know it is nerdy to size up a kid, the costume, and the approximate age to hand out the right book, but that's the game for me. Sometimes I think I have the perfect match, and other times I'm way off, I'm sure. My favorite is when teenagers are taking their little siblings out and are waiting at the end of the driveway. "Yo, you have books for teens, too?" and when I say yep, they sprint forward and ask, "Can I have more than one?"

There are parents, however, who are ungrateful, and many of them come up and take a wad of candy for themselves. It really is something. 

And I was very aware of the number of families who walked up and smelled like unwashed clothes -- like weeks and weeks of indoor cooking, wear and tear, pubescent sweat, but not soap and water. I've not noticed this before, but it came to the doorway before some of the kids did. 

Of course, by 8 p.m. wanderlust (wanderlust?) tweens and teens hit the street using the F-bomb freely, pushing each other into the road, and screaming at the top of their lungs. There were no lights on at this point, so I'm unsure who they were entertaining or if they wanted candy.

One girl dressed as a princess asked if I had any books about dinosaurs or dragons. "I love those," she said. I gave her a book on unicorns and she left, but then I found one on dragons in my stack and ran after her and her mothers. "Hey, I found a dragon story for you, but it's a little older, so you'll have to have someone read it to you."

I have now decluttered my home, and know full well that my offices at Fairfield need trick or treaters to come their way, too. It sort of is hard to depart with books, and many kids seem confused, but when a kid yells to his parents, "Whoa! I got a book!" it makes everything better. I'm also hoping that a few kids will come down from their candy high to read a few chapters and realize, "Wait. This is sort of cool."

It's November again, everyone. Crazy how this continues to keep happening. Who's putting out Christmas decorations this week?