3x3x3. Thankful of Leilya Pitre for her 2nd Day Prompt of Tricubes (for Spring). I Love the Brevity, Rhythm, and Precision of this Poetic Style

It's cold, but the sneezing season is upon us. I went to campus and attended a dis/ability simulation hosted by a junior. Trip, who created the program to help students and professors to experience what it's like to a student with a dis/ability on Fairfield University's campus (a conversation that many of us in K-12 educational settings have often, but I've not seen so much in higher education. He, and the program, were brilliant and having a conversation with his parents was very educational and motivating. 

It's Day 2 of VerseLove and the assignment was to write a Tricube: a three stanza poem, with three lines a piece, and 3 syllables per line.

I think because of the temperature, I went with the allergy part of the year. Lucky for me, I have Flonase in the house for my nasal mayonnaise. I also have plenty of tissues.

AND TODAY, I have space to actually think. After this post, I am going to make a plan to make the best use of a day without meetings, school visits, classes, or deadlines. I am also caught up with grading (which is odd), so I'm going to use the day to strategize the remainder of the semester.

Ah, but verse to the Day 3 poem.

April Brings Tremendous Firsts, Including Day One of Poetry with #VerseLove25, and a Wonderful Opportunity to Be a Student Summit Keynote

I have only a few brain cells left this morning and I'm using them to write a post.

Dear Shaun,

I knew in 2011 when you arrived to the summer teacher institute, you were an educator destined for greatness. We have so many memories of building youth communities together through CWP, and I was thrilled to see you continuing your excellence with the Greater Hartford Arts Academy yesterday at Rentschler Field. What a wonderful day to work with sophomores, meet senior leaders, and launch the day's work to empower young people and their visions for the world. I haven't felt such love for diversity, inclusivity, and individuality in a very long time. That is a special school. A wonderful mission. An incredible opportunity for the kids fortunate to attend.

It was also wonderful to see Nick Chanese again, to meet your superintendent Dr. Sasha Douglas, members of Capitol Region Education Council, and to have an opportunity to be at the stadium where UCONN plays football.. How amazing is it that schools, educators, and administrators are still giving their all to support the excellence of young people.

I was totally honored to be asked to speak and get the student voices going. Ha, fortunate for them I backed my remarks with the research of so many giants whose shoulders I stand upon. When you know, you know. 

Here's to you, Sir. Always.Amazing.

Bryan

And now time to spend 30 days doing what I love...working with the poetic prompts of teachers and writers from around the world with Ethical ELA's VerseLove. I went with rhyme on day one as the prompt was to take lines from other writers, but all I had was a sheet of Latin phrases, so I did what I could.

Ready for more space to think this Wednesday (it's garbage day, too, so time to take that out and begin anew). Sometimes I simply thankful to have the luck and chances that I have. 

And now to get today's day going by posting yesterday's 1st poem. 

Nital Noisufni (that's Latin Infusion spelled backwards)

Back again, creating poetic monsters, are we?

Ready to see and conquer (with chance to be free).

Time to turn V-words: Veni, vidi,, vici

(oh, gosh, another school day & I still need to pee).

But I’m here to be versed, ready for the long haul,

thankful for some time to write some life with ‘y’all.

Ars longa, vita brevis.

Yes, there another pain in my pelvis.

And shoot. I had to teach (these hips aren’t from Elvis)

Illegitimi non carborundum,

We need this month (to counter the dumb)…

We don’t need bastards to take our spirits down.

I’m here for 30 days -- the wonky way for this clown.

We language lovers here, thinking ourselves into existence, 

(shouting out to J.G. Jowett with love…1st day, her brilliance).

Cogito ergo sum. 

I can’t afford eggs or ham.

& I’m not sure how poetic my Latin is,

but they’re from a book I have (which one? none of your biz).

Ah, it’s good to be back here, typing from this April chair.

Hello, Verse Lovers…glad to return for another year.

I Get to Start My Day in Harford, Connecticut, with Student Leaders at Rentschler Field. Let's Go, Greater Hartford Academy of the Arts!

Every now and again, I'm invited to speak and event that really gets my juices blended. Shaun Mitchell, a CWP favorite, has been working as an administrator for several years north of Bridgeport, and his school got funding to bring student leaders together for a day of sharing, planning, voicing, collaborating, and building a school culture they'd like to see.

The planners asked me to rev up the students before they break out in well-organized sessions for kids to share with kids what they'd like to see in their school, not only for their generation, but for many generations ahead. 

This is such a Brown School task (and one that was carried over into my doctoral work and CWP-Director leadership...listening to kids! What a great way to launch a day of exciting conversations). Google says it is just a 50-minute drive so I have to factor in the fact that I'm not a morning person and I need to travel to give opening remarks. Exciting for me is I get to be at the stadium where the UCONN Huskies play. This is a childhood dream, as I remember always loving the rivalries of Syracuse and UCONN teams. It's the same excitement I had when visiting Gampel Pavillion

It's an easy talk to give, as I'm always building my thinking on so many giants before me, including all the students I listened to and learned from in my decade of teaching in Louisville. It's also a shout out to the 8 young men who helped me with a responsibility to speak out about their relocation stories from refugee camps in Africa, to classrooms of the United States. It is listening to youth that brought forward the Writing Our Lives conferences and Young Adult Literacy Labs that have been part of the work I now do at Fairfield University.

Now, if only I can find the right gate to enter and the right location to be introduced to the microphone and technology. Yes, I know it is the first of April, but I'm used to being the fool and that is the them for my talk (dad jokes and all, 100% 4th grade approved). 

And with that, I must hit the road. 

It's also the launch of #VerseLove '25. Hope to see you for the next 30 days of April writing poetry with incredible writers, teachers, scholars, and students. I love all the challenges that come our way.

I'm Not Giving The Finger on the Last Day of March. Was Just Excited That My Morning Bread Could Become a Mask Before I Made Toast

The morning bread was definitely a highlight of my Sunday. It was 7 a.m. and I was humored by the holes that could easily be made into a mask. I felt like I was preparing for the ball like Romeo & Juliet. Definitely have Mercutio tendencies, as the insanity of the universe presents what it does as it does, but then we have to move on. 

Although I prepped food for the week and did walk the dog, the majority of the day as on my laptop grading, preparing for two classes, and getting ready for a keynote at the arts high school of Hartford early on Tuesday morning...an opportunity allowing me to reflect on 30 years of classroom work promoting youth voices.

I admit, however, I'm exhausted. Too much screen time has made me dizzy and I have a million other items still needing my attention. I did as much as I could before I grew cross-eyed and needed to step away. I could feel myself getting dizzy from all the thinking.

This is Monday morning, and for the last two weeks every day has felt like a Monday. I imagine many of us are feeling this way right now. I have two 14-hour days ahead, and I find humor where I can, hoping to maintain composure, purpose, and integrity. 

I love what I do, but sometimes I question the fact that there is limited time to breathe, process, and reflect. I know those days will come, but right now I'm in the absolute grind of it all. I guess I should count my blessings that I was smart enough to cook ahead, and I have meals prepped for the long-#$$ days that are called upon me. 

This too shall pass. It always does. 

I anticipated it would go out as a lion because it came in as a lamb. No snow, but boy was it cold yesterday. At least we're not threatened by tornadoes. That would call for me to be even more alert.

Here's to the week. We got this.

Celebrated 94 Years of Life in Honor of My Friend's Mother, Millie, at Bistro Basque, Milford. Monk Fish Stew for Me and Blueberry Flan Dessert

Bev is celebrating the engagement of Shirley and Mike in Florida, and Leo was home with his sons in Milford, so I called and said, "I'm picking you up for dinner and we're toasting 94 years of your mother's life." Nick, Kai, and Yi joined us and although we set out for Italian, long waits and incredible noise found us outside the Bistro Basque where the crowd was light. I said, "Well? Should we?" and we did. 

Monk fish, potatoes, calamari, shrimp, and scallops for me. The flavors were out of this world, and the introductory garlic shrimp in sauce was unforgettable. You know you're paying for quality and you only live once, so we decided to live life and lift our glasses to Leo's mom. So, so good.

I made a lot of progress for the week ahead, and even if I didn't shower and I was in gym-attire, it was the correct choice. The owner probably thought we were a group of vagabonds, but I said, "Oh, we thought we were heading out for a snack, but since your abode is quiet, we hope you'll feed us."

We ate. If I was at home, I'd lick the plates before sending them to the dishwasher. It was that good. 

Leo's mom was originally from China and he speaks so fondly of his childhood memories, shenanigans, and history. Kai and Yi recently married, and I wanted to celebrate the two of them, too. Such occasions are rare, but we deserve the ceremonies when they come.

Today, it's back to work and much preparation for the week ahead. 

I awoke this morning still licking my lips. Good food. Good company. That's what it's all about.

I'll definitely be going back, and with a Keynote this week in Hartford, I knew where I'd get the funds from to pay for the meal, too. This was a way of applauding friendship, yesterday, and tomorrow, with extremely good people who enjoyed the excellence of a great opportunity at the Bistro. 

Wonderful to have such a location nearby.

Just Thinking About the Trees. That Is All. Thankful I Was Trained in Louisville as a Naturalist so I Might Identify Them. They Have My Utmost Respect & Attention

In a conversation or two this week, as turbulence and human-centric interpretations of life have presented this or that argument in relation to this or that interest of homo-sapiens, I can't help but be interested in the trees. I don't climb them, don't tap them for syrup, or even prune them so that telephone wires can run in this or that direction, but I do love them, and think about them, and wonder what their stories have been and will always be. 

Love Tolkien's Ents. How couldn't I?

As a naturalist for the Beargrass Creek Nature Preserve in Louisville, Kentucky, it was my job to take kids hiking in the woods across from the zoo and to follow the curiosity of children and have answers to their wonderful questions. It helped to have knowledge of what they were called, how they differ, and how they provide for not only our oxygen supply, but for holding the earth intact and harvesting spaces for creatures to live. They are an ecosystem of their own. 

In my backyard, there are two oaks I look at, especially at night as the moonlight shines through them (in this pre-leaf season...yes, I'm aware that their pollen will soon cause me headaches and runny noses). The two kiddy-corner to my house branch into the sky like a pair of lungs (at least in the winter months). I'm conscious of this as I inhale and exhale my interest in staying alive when I look at them. I nod my head towards them in a sign of appreciation.

Ann Burg has been working on a book of poetry from the perspective of trees and while showing her Fairfield University we came across a Birch outside of Bellarmine, a tree that always catches my attention as we walk students towards commencement at graduation. It made me think of Dr. Kraig Steffan, in Chemistry, who spent time with his students locating, naming, and placing every tree on our campus as a part of who we are as an intellectual ecosystem. We are the trees, too. They are us. Without them, there wouldn't be us.

Raking leaves is something. Dealing with Beatles, hives, poison ivy that climb up their bark, and knowing that roots push water to and from my house is part of the equations, as well. They hold the earth in place, provide heat when sectioned into piles for our fires, and offer shade in the hottest months. There's nothing like walking streets in Stratford where Sycamores provide the greatest shade. Their shedding bark might be a pain in the butt for homeowners, but they also are an aesthetic majesty for the homes that live where they are lined perfectly.

I was talking to Chitunga about the world where it is right now, and remembered the epiphany I made when I discovered ecology and economics both being 'eco' which means home. In order to sustain our homes (as humans) we need to be conscious of both. With a sustained earth, economical stability is unlikely to occur. Economy requires us to be ecologists, too.

Nature always tells its own stories and, thanks to my grandparents having space on Loch Lebanon, I've always been aware that trees are a part of how we live. They deserve respect and, hence, why I like Anne's new poetic project. National Parks, conservation, ecological sustainability...and fresh air. We need our trees, and a stewardship to maintain and support them. They will, after all, outlive us and provide sustenance for many generations ahead. 

Of course, as a far-distance town on the outskirts, furthest outskirts, of NYC I wonder about trees, industrialization, and state-wide planting. Stuck in traffic for hours today (there are good days and bad ones), I kept thinking about the Birch outside the administrative offices of our campus. 

Such a beautiful empress, the Birch is. Witness of holiness and beauty. 

It's Saturday, it will be 70, and I'm simply hoping to take a walk amongst the trees. Humans? Well, they're okay, too...but they have their axes and I'm not so sure their intentions are for the well-being of all. So, this morning as I write, I'm a Lorax, too.

We Always Enjoy Hosting Mr. Jake on Mt. Pleasant When He Checks in from Time to Time. The Ol' Fellow Has Been Staying with Us for Years and He's Back Again

The barking to go outside began at 4 a.m.. This is his usual routine on Walnut Beach, but when his Queen goes on luxurious trips around the world, he's sent to live with the peasant, Uncle Bry, and his his sidekick Karal. The whining for food started soon after, and even if I brought my blanket downstairs to sleep on the couch, there was no sleeping until he was fed. I held out until 5 a.m. and then he let us sleep until 7. Of course, on the couch, Karal jumps up and sleeps on me. It doesn't quite work.

This is a new arrangement, though, as Jake has had surgery and, since, has not been able to move so well, especially upstairs. In the past, he'd climb to the 2nd floor and sleep with Karal. He can't make it any more, hence the noises at the bottom of the stairs. 

These are the same noises he makes at night, as he doesn't stop whining (poor old guy) until both Karal and I lie with him and pet him to sleep. Well, I pet, and Karal gets jealous and lifts my hands over to her so she gets the treatment, which causes Mr. Jake to whine a little more. 

I told Queen Pam it was all good. It's like having babies in the house or taking care of parents. You simply have to think about time, the day, the routines, and the patterns differently.

Queen Pam got Jake when Prince Patrick got Mae-Mae, and Peasant Bry got Glamis. Sadly, Glamis fought pancreatitis and didn't make it. Four years later, Jake is showing signs of age in dog years, too, including an inability to walk as well as he used to.

Still, I love having Jake time, but feel bad when it is time for a walk, because he wants to go with Karal, but would only be good to the end of the driveway before he was tired. He does love a fenced in yard, however, and barking at squirrels and whatever is under the shed. I'm not sure the neighbors love such dog-happiness, but when he's out back, free to roam without a leash, he seems to be in bliss. 

And with that, Friday...it's time to thank God you made it.