Closing Down the Cultivation. 2025 Has Come to a Close and Now It is Time for Colligating the Links Between Us in 2026.

And that's a wrap for 2025. This site is closing down and readers can find the whims and fancies on another site: Colligated Crandall - 2026. Here's to the 365 Days that just flew by and the next round heading our way.

It's been a year!

Thinking of You, Syracuse. I Don't Miss That Garbage One Bit, Even though I Shout Admiration for All in the Digging Out Efforts

Tricia always said, "It's a rough life." She named that when she returned to Syracuse after living in Chicago, California, and even in Canada. She bought a house in Fayetteville, built a career, and always remarked, "It's a rough life." I think she was referring to the snow, and when I returned for my doctorate, I learned to agree. It's a way of life and you get used to it, but you never get over it, especially when it throws back-to-back punches as it has this year. 

One of my students in this winter session from Rochester let me know she drove back to Fairfield today, but was stuck in Syracuse for a couple of hours because it was coming down so hard. I can't believe she adventured during the thick of it, but she begins student teaching next week and didn't see any let up. "Your parents must have been petrified for you." Oh, they were.

I always hate to see such weather events hit when the schools are already closed, and no one appreciates a weekend storm. What good are they? Let it fall when teachers need a break (even though they hate extended days into the summer). 

Yes, it's a rough life. Get under the blankets, watch movies, read books, stay hunkered down. .

Only two more weeks o the graduate class. We're getting there, with a big flex needed next week as they move their research proposals forward. No lie...I'm too old for this and I need a break...like a long one...like a year. 

Shit, I'd settle for a day.

Which reminds me...I'm slowing down this weekend because I don't want to get sick. Everyone I know seems to be sick and I don't want whatever that stomach nasty is. I want good sleep. That is all. 

Okay, with that noted, I'm getting to my usual end-of-the-year traditions. More to come. 

Meanwhile, all respect for the CNY people. So, so much snow. 

Back At It. The Winds Picked Up at the 14th Hour, Too. Karal Only Had One Outdoor Outing. Another Night of Teaching Continues. There are No Words

I've figured out a way to teach winter sessions so the students actually enjoy the experience and leave the agonizing complaints to a minimum. Meet them where they are. Assist them with every move. Model the easiest way to get the objectives met. Laugh a lot. Keep it interactive and engaging. And never, ever keep them 4 hours a night for 8 straight classes. In the words of members in the Dean's Office, the winter session is just cruel. Of course, I've had to reach out to the Dean's Office (only to receive away messages until the 2nd week of January) to inquire about missing students who haven't responded to the work of the first classes. I've fortunately received responses from them. It is extra cruel knowing a majority gets the time off while my time off is not existing.

Another way I stay afloat, though, is front loading a lot of work so that our sessions fly by efficiently and effectively. This equates to a series of 14-hour days of reading their work, helping them individually, and assisting every obstacle that stands in the way. When I learned I would teach the winter session, once again, I got into the right mindset. I am a servant to the needs of 26 student for two straight weeks. In some ways, my time on Rank & Tenure prepared me for this. 

But I'm going with the world cruel as my defense mechanism with colleagues when I return. It's not only cruel on students right before student teaching, but it's cruel on faculty expected to teach the course. The change was made to be this way by faculty who are no longer with us and who moved into the Dean's Office before they departed. In fact, almost 100% of the people who made such changes are now gone. Ironically, I was used to make these changes to better accommodate the program and state requirements. 

Newsflash. It is cruel. I turn to my left and turn to my right to discuss this with colleagues and, well, they're on break and have never had to teach the winter session course. I'm being paid for my time,  but it's not the right way to go. So much has to be rethought, reconsidered, and reworked, but without others to problem-solve...I'm not quite sure what to do. 

I do know, however, 30+ years in...I'm always students first and student-up, which thankfully the students appreciate. We'll get this done...but I'm feeling the workload in my bones. 

My defense mechanisms will be better next time. I take the wrath and keep the students pacified. I hear the complaints and I'm good and cheerleading them on. But it remains barbaric and cruel. 

Now time to plan for tonight. 

Returning Home to a Mailbox of Holiday Love and the Festive Reality of an Impossible Two Weeks. I'll Do the Best I Can

My drive home was wonderful. Viola Davis's memoir was/is stupendous and I wasn't prepared for the immense emotion her story and storytelling would have on me. I'm not an actor, but I get the dedication and devotion of living a life of passion and drive, coupled with the everyday twists and turns that come at us in stereo. Luck plays a tremendous role.

I have been lucky. I have the National Writing Project behind me, plus 30 years of K-12 bliss with some of the best students and schools in the nation. 

Having to do a two and a half week research course with 26 students is almost impossible, but the challenge thrown my way. I will do what I can with the dedication I've lived my life. 

My mailbox was filled with holiday cards and I was overwhelmed with the love, photographs, and life changes of so many I've worked with and enjoyed throughout my career. Such updates are fuel for the work ahead and devotion it will take to continue excellence in the short lifetime we're all given. 

I won't take down the Christmas decorations until after the New Year, probably because I need the lights and joy to help me to sustain rhythm for instruction at a time when so many of us are exhausted, overwhelmed, and in need of a break from it all. Yet, if it is required by the University, I need to be my best to guide the students in my care. I will fight hard for them...work my tail off so they get a positive, productive experience. It's a bit overwhelming, and I know there won't be ticker tape parades, but I know it is the right thing. Class tonight and tomorrow night. We got this. 

And look at the Mutuskis. Phew...they were just in the literacy labs and now the young people are adults. Mom is an English teacher (editor of great books), and we do it for the next generation. That's what it's all about, even when overwhelmed and curious about why we give as much as we do. 

Okay, 2026. I see you. Class of 1990. Class of 1994. Class of every year ever since. What a couple of decades more. Education. Education. Education. 

That is the answer.

And Back to Viola Davis I Go. Taking Advantage in a Lull in the Weather to Rendezvous Back to Connecticut Before Monday Night's Class

My neighbor in CT sent me a video that he snowplowed my driveway. Bonus. That will be done. I'm ready to unwind on a 4.5 hour drive, finish my Viola Davis memoir (she's quite an incredible human with an outrageous story, and ready to return to a more routined life where I'm hoping for a better yer of self-care. I do hate to leave the chaos of parental care on Amalfi Drive, as I do love providing as much as I can, but the panic of the winner session has been sneaking up on me. Max and I did, however, submit the latest round of revision for an EJ article. It's in their hands again...same as the Ger Duany book chapter out for publication. 

I laugh that I bring a whole basket of clothes every time I come home, but I typically end up wearing one or two casual outfits and don't get to the week's worth I bring just in case. The same is true for the optimism in my book reads...I brought four with me and only got to two. 

Karal, though, is in need of new toys as the ones she brought with her are pretty much chewed up and destroyed 

It will be a return to a sugarless home, without cookies and treats in every corner, nor a need to grab something fried to feed the family. Back to vegetables and fruit...legumes...and everything else that won't cause acid reflux. 

And I should admit, I have enjoyed Level Up, the floor to floor holiday baking channel with Chef Ramsey. It's interesting to see how all make do with the ingredients the get on the floors they're placed (and last nice they had to operate all three...I'd go insane). 

Here's to safe travels and a mindless trip. One can hope, can't he?

Then There is the White, Fluffy Stuff in CNY (Thanks, Karal), Followed by More White, Fluffy Stuff Typical in the Syracuse Region

Karal doesn't handle being ignored well. Rhiannon and Eric came for a morning visit, and when the conversation involved the Lake Placid Money Pit House took over all attention, she was not happy. She grabbed one of mom's stuffed animal bears and tore its face off underneath the dining room table. "See. This is what happens when you don't pay attention to me. I'll show you."

Later, at Kelly's for a cranberry mojito, I noticed that the storm that is hitting Connecticut also widened to upstate New York. I was meeting Lossine for dinner, but the bastard sent the wrong address, which resulted in me driving to the middle of nowhere in Manlius...pitch black...white out conditions. Icy windshields and noway to see the roads. I called him and said, "Dude...where did you send me."

Ooops. His bad. 

So I drove home through East Syracuse-Minoa, only to on 481 with prayers I'd make it off the highway without going off the road. I decided to head to Cynde's because it was closer and stayed there until I got the nerve to drive to my parents. Of course, the worst of it was from 7 pm to 10 pm. Oh, Syracuse. Oh, snow. Oh, Lake effect. 

Phew. 

I'm glad Chitunga, Lys, and Brianna headed souther earlier in the day...to beat the mess.

And poor little stuffed animal. Karal's usually not like this, but when she feels slighted, she'll definitely let you know. 

Pulling Off a Christmas Meal for 8 - 7 Hours of Work, Total, But the Pots are All Cleaned at Leftovers in the Refrigerator

I panicked I didn't have enough. I only had 4 ribeyes, and it was the first time I used a crockpot recipe...a Mississippi one with onions and tomatoes. It definitely stews better than sirloin tips and a roast. I thought it was delicious. I made my traditional creamed potatoes which I can do blindfolded now, and tried my hands at a mushroom dish (trying to recollect the incredible meal Lars always made when I was visiting his home in Roskilde). 

Cynde, Mike, Dylan, Chitunga, Lys, Mom, Dad, and I sat down for quite a feast at around 1:30 pm. I had been prepping in the kitchen since 9 and timed it all well. I will definitely do ribeyes in the crockpot again. Some of the bites melted in the mouth.

Tunga got me a really cool set of book ends, so now I need to build another shelf. It might be time to turn in the small room between the garage and living room into an even larger library. I have three bookshelves already and they are full, but I can definitely rethink the space with taller shelves. 

Karal never received a walk yesterday, but the day never presented itself that way. It was go-go-go, and cleanup is the longest part of it all.

I will see Rhiannon this morning, Kelly this afternoon, and Lossine for dinner...weird to think there's no snow here (it all melted), but Connecticut is getting a storm. I hope it's melted before I return (but I don't think it will be). 

Okay, Friday. Always nice to have the hype and crazy behind us, so I can spent my time thinking about this winter session course. Just two and a half more weeks. We got this.