Two Roads Limited Edition Hazy IPA with Art Work by Nick Robinson...Not a Bad Way to Spend a Sunday

We learned months ago that Nick Robinson's artwork was selected as the new IPA can cover for Two Roads Brewery (a high honor as their beer is good and craft beers are booming across the nation). Yesterday, he held an art show at the brewery (Chitunga and I bought pieces for our own spaces) and then we shopped around for holiday gifts ahead. The cans are pictured to the left. 

At night, we also took advantage of Milford Restaurant Week, paid $25 dollars, got a 3-course meal, and stuffed our brains out. It was delicious, but definitely way too much food. 

I hope Beth and Dan, as well as Kris and Dave, had great anniversaries.

The University is on Fall break, so I technically have Monday and Tuesday off so I don't have to go onto campus and can spend both days working from home (which I will). I still haven't finished major summer projects which are past due, and now the Fall projects are piling up. 

At least today is a Monday unlike most Mondays, and not one to be miserable about. I could have slept in (didn't), could putzed about in underwear getting tasks done (definitely will), and go for an even longer walk with Karal (indeed). 

Proud of Nick and his artwork, Dream Controller, and the way it looks wrapped around a can of ale. Meant to be. I did get a 4-pack but sent it home with Chitunga for his fridge because, well, that's what Dad's do.

Maybe today I will grill out hotdogs and veggie burgers, as time to use the outdoors are slimming. Then again, maybe I'll fall asleep this afternoon and sleep for 48 hours. 

All I know is it is Monday, I don't have to teach on Tuesday, and that offers me so much additional time to a typically frantic week. I will definitely take advantage of it. 

Crafting Possibilities, Doodling, and STEAMing Ahead. A Crandall Saturday in Support of Teachers and Young People

There are days I simply hold my breath and hope that all will work out as it was originally conceived and envisioned. Yesterday was one of those days. 

It's hard to name a better way to spend a Saturday. First, kicking of #WriteOut 2022 at Weir Farm National Historical Park with Richard Novack, Ph.d., and Kristin Lessard, as we guided stellar educators on zeroing in on the science, technology, engineering, art, and mathematics of Julian Alden Weir's farmstead. Second, hosting a community event at Possible Futures in New Haven, Connecticut with writer (award-winning writer) Jerry Craft. 

I will forever be grateful for the friends of CWP and the incredible teachers and young people who show up for writing in all of its forms. One of my favorite moments was a young man stock-piled with Jerry Craft books running into Possible Futures wondering where the author was and if his latest book was released. The enthusiasm and joy said it all.

And I'm now seeing Weir Farm in a new light. For years, I've seen the rock walks (and rocks) of the CT landscape, never considering the engineering nor knowing they were call Connecticut potatoes. Dang, I have Connecticut potatoes all over my own yard. But our tour of Weir Farm brought all of this forward on day one of our 2022 professional development and now I can't wait for more. 

You give an individual a hula hoop to focus, and it is amazing what possibilities are delivered to sketch, think about, name, label, and inquire. We now have etches of science, math, history, engineering, and technology in our notebooks to share with one another and to discuss, "What does this have to do with my own teaching."

The Great Whatever did well by us, too - the weather was beautiful, albeit a bit nippy, but still an incredible day to be outside and to gather inside. 

Here's to all who took part. I can't wait until we all meet up again, but now it is Sunday - a fun day of rest and off to Two Roads to celebrate the incredible artistry of Nick Robinson!

Holy Hula Hoops, Batman. @WriteOutConnect 2022! We're STEAMing Ahead with Educational Possibilities @WeirFarmNPS

Year six of Weir Farm National Historical Park collaborations and today we're bringing out the Hula Hoops as a writing tool (doodling tool) for gaining focus and perspective in the outdoor world. Pick a location, position the hoop, and go to work with one of Connecticut's most beautiful landscapes.

Dr. Richard Novack will lead the way with a rambling of nature journals, and Ranger Kristin Lessard will bring forward her team of naturalists to teach us about Julian Alden Weir's inspiration for impressions paintings and the farmland that inspired not only his artistry, but artists from around the world.

"Hey, Ms. Why's that man carrying a rack of hula hoops around his shoulder?"

"Oh, that's just Crandall. My guess is he's off to work with teachers again."

They bring the knowledge and I go after joy (thanks again to Five and Below for being great for my imagination). 

We have a crew of teacher leaders at the helm and I look forward to one of my favorite times of the year. If you haven't visited, you really should find a way.

Happy Saturday. 

Well, @JudyTenuta...I Didn't See This One Coming. I'm Just a Pig from Connecticut Who Was So Glad to Reconnect Last Year with a Love Goddess

Back in the 80s with my teenage buddies and adolescent friends, I remember HBOs comedy specials were a treat, and that when Judy Tenuta came on the scene, she was always fun to impersonate in social settings, because her stand-up was wonderfully odd. She and that accordion, the faces, the wit that cracked even her up, and her irreverence for what life is supposed to be. Why wouldn't we all want to worship such a love goddess?

Fast forward to 30 years (dang...that is what it is, isn't it) and one day I happened to find her Twitter account and became a follower. I could always rely on her quirkiness to put a smile on my face and sort of found inspiration from her daily posts and political commentary. In other words, she restored joy for what seems to be (more and more) a joyless time. That was inspiration enough to keep my weird sense of humor and original sensibilities. Who would know life was getting at her, too?

Yesterday was a rough day...so much so that I went out for a beer to process it...that wasn't the intent, but what it came to be. When I got home, I saw that Judy Tenuta passed. That was not on the radar, because her sense of humor seemed timeless and as if her zest for peculiar humor would be with us forever. I didn't know she was 72, and simply assumed she was forever trapped as a twenty-something...someone I looked up to in my teens as a fellow odd duck. Why not choose eccentricity when faced with the reality of the world?

Prayers up, Goddess. Worshipped you from afar and saw you as a star to ignite a daily smile. You were Brown School before I actually ever met Brown School. I hope many more like you come forward in the near future....as if your spirit dispenses into a million others for a better world. 

It could happen. 

Week 5: Indigenous Explorations - Brilliant Graduate Students Working Through Incredible Young Adult, NDN #OwnVoice Texts

As a classroom teacher, I was often asked to pair a text in English with the content being offered in history classes, and when it came to indigenous cultures of the United States, I was always perplexed by the lack of perspectives, and it was always on day two I'd get a question from a student, "Why aren't there more indigenous people in our classroom?" -- after all, the Brown School's mission was diversity and inclusivity. My environmental work often led me to a worship of indigenous beliefs, but it always rubbed me the wrong way that it was always White retellings.

The very notion of original peoples and current realities is extremely telling of history, truth-altering, and the quest to rule the world. Alarmingly fascinating and troubling, too.

Then comes #OwnVoice. I remember reading The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven and thinking, "now I have something that is teachable...that addresses issues...that models storytelling to make us think." Many years later, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian arrived, but it arrived as I was exiting K-12 teaching and I never got to work with it at Brown.

Fast forward to now, and Week Five of a young adult literature. I created a list of what students might consider and, interestingly enough, many reported their local libraries didn't have any of the titles (these are graduate students). They persevered and we had a great conversation following prompts from the night's reading in a chapter addressing indigenous questions that should be asked of young adult readers. They were great prompts - congrats to Noodin, Pasternak, Walczak, & Zimmerman (2021):

• What cultural models does the narrator or implied author present in the text?
• How and to what extent does the narrator or implied author reify or critique the cultural models in the text? 
• What are the social and political implications of the reification or critique of the cultural models at work in the text?

My students worked through mini-presentations of what they read, as they answered these questions on-demand, and I collected their knowledge for a larger conversation on a white board. They read everything from Sherman Alexie to Bruchac to Anton Treuer to Joseph Bruchac to Adam Garnet Jones and Cynthia Leitich Smith.....

Through their discussions they offered themes and conversation around land, place, and boundaries. They addressed spirituality, story-telling, the importance of intergeneration mentoring, but also the policing of bodies by Whiteness, and the internalized racism characters witnessed in others and often radiated within themselves. Another idea that came across was how the ideas of NDN people have been described and put forward in an Encyclopedia fashion the has excluded original voices (as the grandmother says in Rez Dogs, books are to be read to learn what others are 'saying about us'). Feeling outside in one's own land  was also common, as well as wrestling with economics, opportunity, and leaving the home to find a new way. It's all complicated. 

Throughout the evening, too, I brought it videos of indigenous poets reading their work, indigenous teachers making recommendations for teaching their stories, and stories from popular news agencies that were countered by indigenous youth to say, "We are more than that." 

In short, I want to read more books - all of the ones I presented to them - and to find even more that I know I've missed. I need to get ready for tonight's class (writing seminar), but I was truly inspired by the authors we read for the week and the way my students worked through the much-needed conversation. In the words of most, "We never learned about indigenous people in school, except totem poles and tipis." 

And there you have it. Another reason why diverse reading experiences in K-12 schools should occur. 

When a Principal Calls with One Request, "Can You Come Back and Bring Joy to Our Teachers," There's Only One Response. "I'll Be Right There."

It's almost been ten years since I did two years of work with Hill Central Academy in New Haven, although I've always come back for their poetry slam each spring. It was here we debuted the 1st 200 copies of The Crossover when we brought Kwame Alexander in to read Acoustic Rooster. I had read the book before hand and hired him to do PD with me (way before he arrived to where he is now - I saw it coming). The entire two years with the teachers were wonderful, and I'm excited they wanted me back.

I'd say 50% have retired from the school or moved on since I was there during that time.

The district is tasking schools with small group instruction, but Nicole Brown (was literacy coach and is now Principal) said, "Crandall, I need the instruction, but more importantly, we need your humor, motivation, happiness, and joy."

Shoot. She doesn't know I've morphed into a nasty, grumpy curmudgeon. I'm a total turd these days.

That's not true. I immediate went to Targets, bought 60 pairs of Halloween eye glasses so everyone could focus on one another, and then offered them a dialogue book to get them in conversation in small groups. After an hour, I said, "How'd it go?" 

The thing was, I didn't have to teach or be in command. They were all on task and enjoying one another and, when the returned at the end I was able to say, "Ta-da. You were in small groups and I was walking around eavesdropping and encouraging dialogue where I heard it. You successfully achieved what I was hoping to accomplish." 

Then they filled out a Gallagher one-pager of what they hope I will be able to do for them this year. I love these teachers and their dedication to the neighborhood school. It's a tough one - in fact, yesterday was extra tough - but the educators in this building just get it, dedicated their lives to it, and do the good work. I'm looking forward to returning in a few weeks, but right now, I have to plan for tonight's class. 

It's a Rule, Karal. We Can't Turn the Heat On Until November 1st. October is for Suffering and Blankets. I Explained This to You Last Year.

Okay, October...you're coming in like a freeze, so you'd better go out like a tropical breeze. I didn't anticipate it would get this cold so quickly. Pam turned to soup-making, and Leo and Bev brought good breads. We also had roasted potatoes, sausage, kale, carrots, and squash. I get harvest meals, but I'm still thinking about Walnut Creamery.

I did take the air out of the two paddle boards and loaded up the kayak for winter storage. It seems like we snapped a finger from dry, no rain, humid heat to "Is it supposed to snow tonight?" Where's the in-between?

While my mom is pondering waffles (what's that you say? Under the Kumquat tree?) and my sisters are apple picking, I'm in Connecticut debating the thermostat. It's way too soon. Karal, too, is curling up on the blankets, absorbing body heat because she's not ready for the cold. 

Nope. I will sleep cold with blankets. I love that time of year. Freeze outside the bed and then get under the covers to warm up.

Starting the week out with professional development in New Haven, and ending it with professional development in Wilton. There's a lot of reading, writing, planning, and teaching in-between. I'm also hoping there will be some warm-up, too, and this is just the after-fart of Ian trickling through the northeast. I know it's October, but I'm not ready for these chills quiet yet. 

Karal agrees. I know, because she's burrowed in my legs trying to keep her nose warm.

The Warm Fuzzies That Just Were - Feedback from Summer Programs That Slowly Rekindle the Flame For Why We Do What We Do.

I received an email from a mom, simply to say thank you for hosting Young Adult Literacy Labs at Fairfield University, and to outline how her daughter had an aversion to writing, but after one summer has returned to school with a passion - one her teachers notice and celebrate. 

Then I heard from another, who said that the young many who partook in our programs has returned to school and is getting tremendous praise from his teachers for his writing and joy for sharing information through text. It was such an achievement that he was taken out for ice cream to celebrate his excellence and applause. I put my head on his body (don't have permission for the photograph of him), but the message simply said, "Look at his tremendous smile. That is because of CWP."

No, that was because of the ice cream. I get it. Who doesn't smile when taken out for a cone?

In a perfect world, I'd work with more young people and their teachers, offering a slogan, "Come write with us...perhaps there's an ice cream cone in your future!"

Seriously, I am simply thrilled to know that for nine years we've had great success with student writers and teachers in southern Connecticut. I don't have a cone or ice cream, but I definitely know how to channel the smile. There happiness is my happiness, and it doesn't get any better than that.

It's a Crandall Story. That Smell Is Coming From Mt. Pleasant and There's a Reason...But I Took Care Of It.

 I can only laugh. 

I was away from home doing automobile maintenance, and I had Karal with me. Debbie, my neighbor who left, offered me accessibility to the incredible woman who cleans her house and after much consideration, I thought, "Why not invest in someone taking care of the home in ways I want to, but just don't have time to accomplish?" So I hired Claudia to come in twice a month to freshen up the house. I have Karal, dog hair, a manic schedule, and great intention. Besides, Debbie said, "there's nothing better than coming home from a weeks worth of work to smell cleanliness, pristine, and fresh everything."

I couldn't wait. I brought groceries into the garage, let Karal in, and proceeded to clear out the car before I entered myself. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside to inhale. I couldn't wait to appreciate the freshness I was anticipating. 

I was ready.

When I entered the home after a day of being away, I felt like a commercial. Let me be an advertisement of the good work of Claudia. I stepped in, inhaled deeply in my nostrils, and ...

...I took in the deadliest of dead fish smell. Edem decided he wanted to cook fish on the stove after Claudia left and all I took in was fish carcass. It was beyond pungent and I gagged in my mouth.

Edem was like, "What? I don't smell it?" I advised him to walk outside for a while and re-enter the house, which he did. He gagged, too. "It's pretty bad, isn't it?'

I haven't smelled this smell since Herbie, my Hermit crab, decided to disappear from his shell in search of a larger one. The poor guy never found one, and ended up dying behind a dresser (dad flushed him down a toilet). 

That was a parallel smell. 

Needless to say, I found incense sticks and ransacked my house with patchouli. All the windows are open, and I'm trying to match the odor with the cleanliness I can see in every room. I think the humor comes from the fact that all day I couldn't wait to inhale the investment of Claudia's great work. Nope. I got dead fish, which I suppose I deserve. It's all fixed now, but it definitely is one for my record books. And Edem and I had a talk about cooking fish, wrapping body parts in bags in the bins outside in the garage, and to attempt to keep the place non-vermin-attractive on the days that the house is clean. I lived with Weijing from Beijing for many years and learned not to gag too much with octopus ovaries and crab intestines. I am hoping the same for Edem. 

And I'm smiling. Of course this is the way it had to be. Why wouldn't it be? The guy cooks for himself. I can't hold that against him.

Welcome to October.

Successfully Created My 2nd StoryMap: Doodling a Way Forward - Prompts for the Trails Ahead...all for@WeirFarmNPS @WriteOutConnect @writingproject @CWPFairfield @FairfieldCAS

 Ladies and Gentleman...It's journey time. StoryMaps...this year for the 2022 #WriteOut Weir Farm National Historical Park: Reading Landscapes and Writing Nature. This year, we are STEAMing ahead and doodling (with inspiration from Karen Romano Young, Ben Okra, Rachel Ignotofsky, and Pam Muńoz Ryan).

Since most of my writing for today is on that site, I will leave this location rather simplistic (the complexity is in the beauty of making a StoryMap). If you wish, there are writing prompts for you at the end of each page. Enjoy.

In Week 4, Time to Refocus on the Intent of the Course, Braiding New Ideas with What Has Happened Thus Far...Welcoming the Darker Months

I seriously can't sing enough praises about Sonya Huber's book, Voice First. It's simply phenomenal and written exactly how my minds words....I needed it and I now can teach it. Tonight, we brainstormed (Bryan-stormed) some of the untapped voices we have, and then did an exercise of developing additional passages for the personal pieces we wrote (braiding in the new voices).

I arrived with Fall glasses for everyone, making a note that "Joy is always a top priority," and that sometimes we need to pause and really take a look at what we're trying to accomplish in the course. Lucky for me, I'm the master of finding cheap props to help me accomplish my goals. 

The temperatures changed. It was warm in the sun, but when it went under, it grew cold. Walking out to my car I immediately felt a cold coming on (they're going around). Of course, I also got my flu shot yesterday. 

This was my post-shot Zoolander pose. 

I also captured some of my graduate students in their frames. I love it because they all wore them throughout the night, focusing on reading, workshopping, and thoughts of revision...all to support the art of teaching as a writer. "We're not after product here...we're after process." 

This morning, I'm going full force for Day 1 of the Reading Landscapes, Writing Nature online orientation, as we will meet all the new educators tonight. I'm sure we'll be an exhausted bunch, but that is par for the course.

Why wouldn't a teacher be exhausted? 

Okay. Time to get to work. 

The Fire Ants-Analogy is Accurate, but I Definitely Wouldn't Want It There. I Know We're 4-Weeks in Because the Psoriasis is on Fire Again

My legs have become a human barometer for stress. During the summer months, the most hectic time of the year, my legs clear up and are fine. Most of this is because I'm the Captain of the ship, love the work I get to do, and feel the benefits of working with K-12 teachers and youth in my bones. It's good work and it is rewarding. As soon as we return to the 'normally-scheduled program' of the academic year, however, I can't control the frustration, and it bursts out of me all over my skin.

I tell my dermatologist, "My nature is to be calm, and I try my best to be level-headed, but my body reacts in the best way it knows how." It's defense mechanism is break out in psoriasis, which I inherited from the Ripley side of the family.

I used to have eczema and that was horrible, especially during puberty. But suddenly it disappeared. I didn't have my first outburst of psoriasis, however, until my mid-40s. So weird.

And it does feel like my legs are on fire...like fire ants are biting and burrowing into my skin.

I did an online search for ways to make them subside, and reading about them on the bottom of feet, in scalps, and within ass cracks, did me in. I can't imagine....the spots on my legs are horrific enough. 

Last night while teaching I was thinking that they might burn a hole through my pants...they were that hot. When I got home and put on a pair of shorts and I couldn't believe how red they all were - a glowing of lava. And I know what triggered it all. 

I actually relaxed this weekend, attended a beautiful wedding, wrote for my personal projects in my cabin, and enjoyed nature, life, friends, and my son. 

Returning back to the University life, the emails came, the office was visited, the phone calls and the text arrived, and suddenly I was like, "This is NOT a healthy work environment." 

But it is what it is. I will survive. But I've always been a quest for joy and integrity. You'd think it would be easier to find.

Ah, my legs are on fire. It's caused by stress. It could be worse. I will visit my dermatologist very, very soon. And this morning? I'm going for a walk to think.