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.

Working in Schools with Author Ann E. Burg! Pure Joy. So Thankful for a Beautiful Writer and the Incredible Young People of Southern Connecticut.

As part of Ann E. Burg's visit, we visited a few of the schools who are using her books in their curriculum. Although we were unable to stay long, it was enough time to get kids talking and responding to her presentation, where I could capture words and write a poem with them. We are thankful to Chelsea Leonard, Richard Novack, and Stacey Landowne for opening their classrooms. At Fairfield Warde, a girl entered all flustered about a tik-toc video she was watching, which was about a flat pan and making ramen on it. She kept saying, "But you can't make ramen with it," as she entertained her friends. I stole that as a title and refrain, also pointing out to students that poetry is in everything, if we find a poetic way to capture it. The students in these classes were remarkable, engaged, curious, and happy to have an author presenting to them. I was just the guy taking down words so we could play.

Framing the World (Flavors of History)

~Written with 8^th Grade Students from Classical Academy

Bridgeport, Connecticut

 

Today is historical

& I asked them to dog-sneeze hysterical

about the lyrical ways we taste our lives…

We are wet cardboard

With a mouthful of pennies

& stale chocolate..

8^th graders classically magnetized with

the work of water, chalk, & old books

flooded in the fruity privilege, lies, and stories

(oh the glories of being in school). 

This is 8^th grade. Here I’m a fool

Watching the clock that never moves

hoping this class finds its flow & grooves

as we make sense of this house of tears…

All these fears at 9:30 in the morning. 

Yes, life, our words capture the warning

That each of us are history, too.

 

We Can Make Ramen with It

Co-written with Fairfield Warde High School Students

 

He wanted to give them a voice,

a choice to find a way from 

benevolent nightmares, Mephistophelian

bubbles stapled in antidisestablishmentarianism

while we asked, “What are we willing to give up?”

 

We can always make ramen with it

 

Act as gossamers of uxorious lullabies, 

While our heart tries to find applicable timelines

to push through a hatred of history

and the blistery, stuck-in-my-mind self-doubt

contaminated with a legacy of hatred,

real people – we are just broken pieces

who won’t be happy in high school,

when so many take our happiness away.

Tomorrow, today,

We’re just trying to make Ramen with it.

 

We are seeds planting ourselves as trees,

But what are we willing to give up?

Some of us want to be teachers,

others just swim like fish through

math, numbers, tomatoes, roses, and luck.

 

We’re making ramen, aren’t we?

Purple sunrises, pink-mauve moonlit skies,

finding our voices as we fight their lies, 

stuck in our minds, hearts & soul.

 

We’re making ramen.

This is how we grow.

 

  

Waking Up This Morning Thankful to the Center of Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies & Proud to Bring Author Ann E. Burg to @FairfieldU @cwpfairfield @writingproject

I tell you what, I could spend many more days talking, sharing, speaking, and presenting with Author Ann E. Burg, who the Center of Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies and the Connecticut Writing Project sponsored as part of the inaugural year of cross-disciplinary collaborations and conversations between 30 faculty and seven departments. 

We visited many schools, had brilliant experiences, and culminated with a campus event in the evening. As I've repeated often, we flooded the Long Island Sound with Ann's creative brilliance. It will take me a while to process all the good, joy, imagination, and possibility presented to K-12 kids, academics, staff, and university students. For now, however, I will simply share my opening remarks.

Good Evening, 

Hello, and welcome everyone to A Force of Nature - Supporting Ecological Literacy Across Spaces and Schools. My name is Dr. Bryan Ripley Crandall and I’m the Director of the Connecticut Writing Project and Professor of English Education in the School of Education and Human Development at Fairfield University. For those who aren’t familiar with National Writing Project work, we are a network of teachers and scholars who work collaboratively to enhance and support all writers, from pre-school to graduate school. Best practices and wonderful ideas are what we are after.

Hence, this gathering tonight.

It an honor to welcome you to Fairfield University in celebration as part of the inaugural year of the Center for Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies. It has been an honor to also serve with 30 faculty from 17 academic departments in support of this important work, which includes cross-campus dialogue and conversation.

When Dr. Robert Nazarian, Director of the Center, presented the idea to have an event specific for the School of Education, I immediately thought of a partnership between the Connecticut Writing Project, K-12 schools, and Weir Farm National Historical Park in Wilton, Connecticut. For several years, we benefited from grants to collaborate in support of environmental education, curriculum, and teacher professional development.

For this, reason, it was a no brainer. I called Dr. Rich Novack, an English teacher at Fairfield Warde High School and an adjunct English professor on campus. He has dedicated his entire career to climate education and similarly, Ranger Kristin Lessard too, who is actually an English teacher hiding in a park ranger uniform, has helped teaches across the state to appreciate a National Park in our state. 

Then came the pandemic when everything shut down became wonky. The writer, Kwame Alexander, contacted me to see if I’d be interested in writing middle school curriculum for a project he was doing with Follet bookstores. Like him, I’m a say yes kind-of fellow, and soon I had over 24 middle grade books sent to my house.

One of the books Kwame sent was called All the Broken Pieces…a book written in verse about a young boy from Vietnam living in the United States with adoptive parents. Published by Scholastic, the book touched me in amazing ways and I called Kwame to ask, “Why aren’t schools teaching this book in every classroom in America?” His response, “Frog (I call him Rooster and he calls me Frog), if it wasn’t for that book, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today.”

Soon, I became fanatic, as everyone who knows me assumes I’ll be, and I wrote the author who, in return, sent me a copy of Flooded: Requiem for Johnstown. Then, Dr. Novack, Ranger Lessard, and I decided Ann Burg’s verse novel about the Johnstown Flood of 1889 would be our chosen text for ecological work and collaboration at Weir Farm with teachers. This also led to sharing the book with educators in a leadership institute for teaching writing when Fairfield University grad, Chelsea Crowley Leonard, not only enjoyed the book and shared it with her students, she used it as part of her Capstone project and turned it into a publication for Paula Greathouse’s edited collection, Exploring History Through Young Adult Literature.

The book, itself, is brilliant, and having the opportunity to use it with teachers made it even better…and the best part, Ann Burg also told us she was working on Force of Nature: A Novel of Rachel Carson also written in verse. 

For the scholars in the room, especially one of my campus idols, Dr. Margaret McClure, Associate Vice Provost for Research & Scholarship, I wish to point out that the work the Connecticut Writing Project does with K-12 teachers is part of a 50 year data base on writing instruction. Teachers and directors like me are always writing about what is possible when teachers teach teachers who use great resources to lift up the writing lives of others…hence, the publications across teachers in our network. When I read Force of Nature, I immediately thought of the scholarship of Dr. Shannon Gerry, as she’s the first scientist I’ve ever read that works on aquatic animals. This is the joy of cross-disciplinary possibilities. I'm amazed by her scientific research and proud to call her a colleague. Better yet, she’s part of our Center’s team.

This year, when I was asked to think about a speaker for the ongoing work of The Center of Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies at Fairfield University, it seemed logical who I would invite. I put Ann Burg’s books in all of my courses and, fortunate for me, I happen to have some of the most brilliant pre-service and in-service teachers in my courses. I’m hoping we’ll hear from some of them during question and answer time later tonight.

It has been my intent all semester to flood local schools with Ann Burg's books so that middle and high school readers could have an opportunity to experience her great work, too. I also told Dr. Nazarian at lunch…there’s a way to write about all of this - the collaboration across many communities in Connecticut thinking about the environment and a shared reading. It's all of us together.

For these reasons, it is my pleasure to introduce the author, writer, educator, and simply wonderful human being, Ann E. Burg, which will be followed by a panel conversation with Dr. Rich Novack and history educator Chelsea Crowley Leonard. Unfortunately, Kristen Lessard was called into another meeting.

So, without further ado, I wish to present our featured guest this evening.

Ann E. Burg worked as an English teacher for many years before becoming a full-time writer. Flooded, Requiem for Johnstown is her fourth verse novel published by Scholastic Press. Her books, which include Unbound, Serafina’s Promise, and All the Broken Pieces

have received numerous awards and commendations, including most recently, the Bank Street College Claudia Lewis Award.

 

Ann is drawn to stories of the disenfranchised and voiceless, and finds inspiration in little known or too-soon-forgotten historical incidents.  As a former teacher, Ann continues to be interested in the challenges children and young adults face, and endeavors to engage readers in stories which will broaden their world view and prepare them for a global society.

 

Fairfield University, please welcome this incredible writer and her books to our campus tonight.

 

 

 

Then There Are the Nights When One Manages to Be Three Places at Once and Somehow Pulls It Off! Wusah!

Last night, I had the honor of attending the 2nd Corrigan Scholars dinner with Fairfield University Students chosen to do scholarly work with undergraduate students, and for two years I've had the privilege of working with Max Limric, who was in attendance at the same dinner. Dr. Emily Orlando does a remarkable job at the helm of this work and it is always a privilege to learn of the academic projects the students are working on.

Of course, the meal was at the same time as a meeting and my class, so I recorded the class over the weekend so students could attend in the comfort of their own living environments, and I prepared the materials needed for another meeting where my input was necessary, but I couldn't attend. Phew. All went well and, by the choice of the Corrigan Scholars dinner, I was well fed...always a bonus.

This morning, I'm heading to three schools with the incredible author Ann E. Burg, and then having her featured as a guest speaker for the inaugural lectures in The Center for Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies. I'm looking forward to all the learning, celebrating, and gift-giving, as copies of her books will be distributed throughout the visits and lecture. 

I will definitely be posting more on Wednesday about all that Tuesday brings forward.

Congratulations to the scholars and to Dr. Emily Orlando for another fantastic year of her leadership.

Throwing Back to a Week Ago Tonight, When Grad Students Helped Create a Spotify Playlist of Music within Seconds to Accompany Gholdy Muhammad's UNEARTHING JOY

Every day last week was a Monday, and it continued to last night, Sunday, when I realized I never could get rid of the Monday feeling. I'm happy, however, because I met most of my weekend goals which was mostly to catch up on classes, writing, projects, and grading, so I could be prepared to start over again this week with additional directions.

In Unearthing Joy, Gholdy Muhammad begins each chapter with a QR code that leads to a playlist of 7 or 8 songs to listen to as you read. It reminded me of teaching juniors in Kentucky, and how early in the year, students make arguments for music we all should listen to (which then initiated cassette playlists, followed by CD playlists to share with the classes). It also built up my musical knowledge and iTunes library.

What cracked me up last Monday is that I said I was going to try my hands at Spotify to create a course soundtrack when a student, Cara, said, "I already did it, Crandall." As students were adding their songs, she was putting them in Spotify. In only takes seconds. Wusah. It would probably take me hours and I'm appreciative. 

As the photo above showcases, the students were completely engaged in the exercise, as it made a nice interlude with other objectives for the night. Music unites (and I'm still celebrating that a neighbor I don't know had a wedding in their yard last night and the singing/music was wonderful to hear. Love to see/hear others experiencing their joy. A lot of it was in Spanish, and I really want to know what the rooster song they were singing was. The men were crooning cockledoodledoos very loud. It brought a smile to my heart as they were celebrating a joyous occasion....unearthing happiness together). 

Note to Self: When You Want to Eat Appropriately, It's Probably Best to Plan Better so The Right Meals are in the House. Pasta for Breakfast Bites

My dear friend, Kathy Silver, called this one. She said, "I bet you will write about this on your morning blog," and she was right. Eating chicken and pasta for breakfast and Fruity Pebbles for lunch is out of whack. But, because I never made it to the store, I had to rearrange the order of the daily meals, because I didn't get to the store before lunch. 

I just flipped the script a little bit. Such is an academic's life in late March, when every day feels like a Monday, and being domestic has been the furthest thing from my mind. Alas, I did eat, just not in the routine ways. 

Dinner, though, was dinner, as I made rice.

I knew I was going to need this weekend to catch up on a million things and that my priorities had to be shifted. 

I do enjoy a good breakfast for dinner, but never considered a good dinner for breakfast, and I'll be the first to admit that coffee is much better with the proper morning meal and doesn't pair well with noodles. It is what it is and I do as I do.

I normally don't buy Fruity Pebbles, either, but I'm a shrewd consumer and tend to only buy what is on sale, even if it is not adult affair.

It's the Weekend. I Want to Find Rest Like Our Dogs Find Their Rest: Good Sleep, Absolute Comfort, & Total Calm

A guy can dream, can't he? The reality is I got a stomach bug, so the sleep was haphazard last night. I did get semi-caught up on White Lotus, though, and had a few pieces of Pepe's pizza, the landmark of southern Connecticut. I woke up this morning to a cup of coffee, but no toast, cereal, or fruit. I need to get to the store.

Yesterday was the grading/writing bonanza I needed it to be and I'm hoping for more of the same today and tomorrow. Maybe rest is just being able to sit still and not have to attend meetings with all the whirlwinds and agendas.

Last night, I was looking at Karal on the couch and saying, "Phew, I'd really like to be able to sleep like she does. A weekend of rest would be nice."

But now I'm waking up and wishing for an everything bagel with egg & bacon. Either that, or a bowl of mini-wheats. But I need my coffee first. This guy does not do the world until the coffee kicks in. 

I Tried to Make It Off Campus Before the Rain, but Service Caused Retainment Until Late into the Night. Got the Picture, But Drove Home in the Rain

Nothing is more important to me than teaching and strong relationships with mentoring students towards their careers and their intellectual success. I understand research is never-ending and it gets in the way of teaching sometimes because of time and the need to get materials out for publication. This, coupled with more and more service placed on faculty for service impedes the mission for being a scholar for the students. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I had time to grade. When meetings go from 8 a.m. until 9 p.m. on a day when one doesn't have teaching, I'd like to think it would be good for grading and/or research. Sitting in meetings to problem-solve administrative requirements placed on faculty as service, has definitely increased over the years I've been in the academy.

I just want to grade. I want to work for my students. I want to learn from my students and to produce scholarship that helps them, the field I work in, and the future individuals like me who are assigned to do the same. 

This, I believe, is why faculty have handbooks, guidelines, responsibilities, and roles to carry forward the day-to-day needs of keeping the University afloat. Yet, when the actual requirements of service and meetings to upkeep such documents take over the actual teaching and research, then I believe there's a labor issued needing to be addressed, especially in departments who are short of faculty to uphold the required responsibilities of our bylaws and responsibilities. The fewer faculty to divide the work of all the responsibilities, the more each who is in a department has to take on. 

It's impossible, and a problem, especially when it gets in the way and intrudes on the teaching responsibilities. I know I'm typing into the wind, but I'm thinking of the skyline at day's closing before the day ended and the morning sunrise that will inevitably arrive. 

That faculty are working hours and hours into the night to accomplish the work required of the handbook (all uncompensated, because it's service) is inane, especially when administrators do a 9 to 5, don't teach, and more often than not have not maintained research responsibilities. 

I'm just writing here because I need to use a small window to grade when I have it (which is this morning). I'm tired. I've said that every day this week has felt like a Monday, and that includes, today. Saturday and Sunday will be used to get all the other work required done. It is something and I'm trying to process what that something is.

Meanwhile I'm wet because I walked to the car in the rain, drove home in it, and had to get inside once home. Soaked. Whomp Whomp Whomp. Let me complain to The Great Whatever, because I know nothing will be done about it.

I Suppose We Should Always Tap Our Inner Child, Which Is Much Easier When There are Several Children Around. Embrace the Magic of the Wee Folk

For several weeks students have been presenting their lineages and I'm always amused when they, as young adults or even adults, reflect on the books they read as children. They instantly jump into a smile, joy, and memory of the books they read, the teachers they had, the parents who encouraged their reading (and how...so many styles of reading to kids). This dissipates over middle and high school, but the love of books early on...at least for those becoming teachers...is contagious.

Earlier in the week, well Sunday, at the Irish food fest, I brought Smithwicks and I had to take a photo of the little figurines the littler ones were handing me as they jumped from this game to that one, or that toy to another one. They were absolute play-mode and those of us being Irish (drinking and eating) were merely big items in their way. Occasionally we were a monster or a bridge or a doorway or a robber, and you never knew what they were making of you as they were playing because your body was merely a part of their imaginative investigation of the toys in their hands. 

Hence these little guys placed on my beer. 

I've always been the 15 and up parental figure, so I got to bypass the figurines in my home (okay, don't laugh...many know I tend to collect toys I don' t need or shouldn't have). I never had the 'ouch #@$#@$ Lego experience of stepping on plastic @#$ all over my house). I experienced it, though, with my niece and nephews. Phew. Ishy. Those lego days were brutal. Kris and Dave must have 100 markings on the bottom of their feet. 

Tonight, I have numerous meetings, so I'm hoping to spend the morning grading, as I got trapped by the University's Word update last night. It took me a few hours to figure out how to open Word documents because the University updated their system with a new variation of Word. I called...no response...but eventually I figured it out by reading 101 webpages on how to possibly get into new University software. As always, it was stupidly easy in the end...just had to figure out the game needed this time. It's so frustrating when something as easy as opening a document no longer can occur because of an update. 

This is probably why I'm writing about playfulness and joy this a.m. - we adults complicate everything way too much. And with that, I'm off to play with student work. 

Yesterday was a Day. Zoolander. All I Could Do Was Model a Way to Carry Forward (and Lucky For Me It Worked). Calvin & Hobbes to the Rescue

Actually, it was an article by Jan Baetens. The best way to teach genre is through comic strips. What an adventure she led me on (and she was write... a brilliant article about genres being contained and constrained to discourse communities). 

I've been teaching Calvin & Hobbes for as long as I was a high school teacher, but now I do theoretically, especially in relation to Jan Baetens arguments about how concise a comic strip creator needs to be to articulate information in four squares (what used to be in the Sunday paper). I've done PD on this, taught classes with it, and still used it when helping new teachers to be contemplating genres in their field. To belong to mathematics, history, English, science, the arts, health, etc., you need to think in the ways of those in the profession. It fits beautifully with activity theory as a tool, rules, and community to help an individual to succeed. It still resonates, too. 

Last night, it was complete silence as I ran the activities, because the genre discussion worked. Wheels were turning. We all just got it...so much so, that students stayed after class to ask, how did you lear all this? I was like, I don't know. I am simply trying to figure out how to be a better teacher.

I am simply being Zoolander and modeling what has been brought my way because it works. So, with Calvin & Hobbes, the high engagement continues. Comic strips are a great way to help new teachers to think about apprenticing others, youngsters, into the language and traditions of their fields. It works, and with planning backwards, they are starting to get it, like in-practice teachers who I've done similar workshops with, and students certified in the past. 

Model comics. Discuss the genre, and have students explore the genres of their fields. Things click.

But I need to grade today and process the 28 hour work days that were Monday and Tuesday. It was a lot and when you have no time to think about it, except in blogs like this, you simply need more time to think (which is often not given to teachers).

It's Good to Know, Even Graduate School Alumni Call to Catch Up When There's a Reunion in Town. Thankful. And We Got Noodles as a Result

I learned in the day, yesterday, that two of my favorite students of yesteryear were gathering in Connecticut for a mini-reunion and they wanted to get dinner with me Ally and Darlene were in a co-horticultural together, bonded over intellectual brilliance and a passion to teach, and found total amusement from learning, challenging me, and keeping me on my toes. They also respected me enough to vent and to share the frustrations of emptying the ocean with a fork...which is teaching. 

I had a 14-hour day, but I'd be damned if I didn't take an opportunity to meet with students who were so important to my instruction for several years. They presented at CWP conferences, were passionate about working with YA writers, and loved kids. Their work, too, was worthy of publication, if only there was more time to write with them in a Masters program.

We went to Mecha noodle bar and I had the pho I've been craving for weeks. I heard about teaching in Connecticut and teaching in Oklahoma, learned about students they cherish and who have impacted their lives, and discussed teaching in a time where some feel that best practices are malpractice, including the importance of diversity, equity, inclusivity, and empathy. Amazing to know that 100% of what works for building. classroom communities are policed by individuals who stand against joy, purpose, truth, and possibility. Not an easy time, at all, to be in a K-12 classroom, especially when you care for the best in all kids.

I also had an incredible graduate class tonight, where a 5th grade's report on a blob fish won the evening, as well as a class playlist (thanks to Gholdy Muhammad's influence in Unearthing Joy, another seminal book for teachers that a core of U.S. citizens are trying to ban from use in our schools. Ignorance isn't even the right word any more. It's total stupidity, and beyond short-sighted. Ah, but that is where we are.

I had a picture of the sunset, too, that could have captured yesterday's accomplishment, but I got home late, was thinking about teaching as the core of all I do, and chose to go with students of yesteryear, instead. It's now Tuesday, and I begin early and end late. I'm simply thankful that the morning meetings were turned into ZOOM calls, which is very helpful to those of us who are on campus late at night (which I'll be again tonight).

Poor Karal. I'm glad she can't text, because she might be "Are you ever going to be home to give me doggie treats and offer me a lap to fall asleep on." I got home by 9. She got her biscuits and her lap. All should be well.

Got a Lil' Irish Celebration in on Sunday, Reminding Me of the Monroe Days When Many Gathered for Food, Conversation, & Human Togetherness

We used to gather on Sundays in Monroe, but haven't done so as much like we did yesterday on Walnut Beach for corned beef, Sheppard's pie, and good ol' Irish ale. It was delicious, relaxing, and very much needed, as Pam was chef-extraordinaire and I actually enjoyed the Irish cookery that I've never been a true an of....I think it's because I avoided cabbage. Maybe it is that which I don't like.

Patrick, Stephanie, Ethan, and the newbie, Maddie, came to join Fran, Dominik, Kaitlyn, and Oliwia (with #2 still in the oven...Anya). Oona and her sister, Rose, as well as Oona's son, Rosie, were there, with Pam and Jake. I brought Smithwicks and unlucky lottery tickets to hand out. Luck o' the Irish, I think not, because no one had a winning scratch-off. 

I skipped lunch, so the dinner was exceptionally received. So good. For a guy who used to gag on carrots as a kid, I sure do love them in my adult world. 

It is funny to have the noise of the little ones around, the hooting, hollering, and screaming that is sporadic, piercing, and full of youth were an added bonus.

They loved the cupcakes, too, that Fran brought. Kids have no problem getting their hands and face gooey with frosting. They can do without the cake and their eyes get so big when such desserts are put in front of them.

No, it wasn't a Patrick cupcake, but a leprechaun (a word I spelled in elementary school to win a spelling bee.

Today begins a three-day, 14-hour marathon of obligations, so I'm glad I took the time to have a Sunday feast. Good food and friends are necessities, especially when surrounded by tradition and laughter.

The winds were heavy, but Karal and I got a hike in and I appreciated the warming temperatures. The peepers could even be heard, signaling that Spring is trying to find its way mid-March to southern Connecticut.

Ah, but as for food today. I'm not prepared. I should have been more proactive with my return to Mt. Pleasant. It's all good. I'll find a way.

Happy St. Patty's Day.

Okay @StagsWBball, I Have Got to Get Better Control of My Streaming Handles. I've Been Watching via Spanish Channels (the Game is the Game). Congratulations!!!!

At least Papi Butch is dressed for the occasion!!!

I am so happy for the Fairfield University Women's Basketball team for their back-to-back MAAC tournament championships. I've been in upstate New York sharing basketball excitement with the parental units, and am thrilled to watch/see/know that the deserving Women's team has done it once again! Coach Carly Thibault-Dudonis continues to bring passion, vision, integrity, and greatness to the young women she coaches and the campus she leads. 

I was traveling down the thru-way when the game occurred, but I came home and rewatched as if I didn't know the results. Then I moved to my Alma Mater, University of Lousiville, to watch the men's game against Duke. I recently broke up with cable, and am getting to the streaming life. Let's just say I watched several games, back to back, in Spanish, and need to tap Corrigan Scholar, Max Limric, to tell me all that is being said. Ah, but I can watch. And watch I do. 

I was telling Chitunga that I need to find a summer sport to get me back to the Fall. Can't play basketball to save my life, but I can watch. I can love. I can appreciate. And I can celebrate.

Student athletes are incredible human beings: disciplined, strategic, organized, hard-working, and focused. I love teaching them and I love applauding them whenever I can. 

My pops has quite the Fairfield University wardrobe collection (which my mother complained about as I was leaving, because he piles his clothes and they are getting layered close to the bedroom window). It's all good, because all the people walking the streets of Cherry Heights will here from my dad..."Oh, my son teaches there." 

The MAAC championship gives him another level of bragging that I'm sure will make him happy. Do know, the streets of Syracuse, New York, will be hearing from him.

Heading Home to the Nutmeg this Morning & Finishing the Last 30-Minutes of 24 Seconds From Now by @JasonReynolds83. Thankful for His Writing

There's so much to applaud for how Jason Reynolds thinks about young people, the stories they need to hear, and the powerful craft of storytelling they might wish to think about. I listened to 24 Seconds from Now when I drove to visit my parents in Syracuse on Sunday. I wasn't quite sure where the book would go from the first chapter, but I loved the unwinding, the unraveling, the thinking, and the maturity of parents and kids discussing an issue that too many kids hide from parents and goes undiscussed. 

As I listened, I began hearing 8th and 9th grade stories in my head, followed by three more years of high school, and I'm thinking of all the oops, whoops, what's, why's, worries, and absolute information young people spread/share/brag to others. In fact, I can hear, vividly, an argument I had with two of my friends while playing Pitch in a study hall at CNS...the whole rumor mill of hot tubs, retreat retreat, standing up, and even doing shots afterwards...stories boys told one another (and their girlfriends) to take risks, act like morons, and wrap themselves with immaturity. At times, I was like, "where do these idiots learn this stuff?" 

It's probably because they don't learn this stuff. Healthy conversations are rare.

Ah, but if you teach high school, such conversations often come to you desks. Sometimes after school, other times at basketball games, and occasionally with a note written just to ask questions and to figure things out. Maturity should always be the answer. Responsibility and maturity. The Great Whatever knows kids typically get the stories, the untruths, the bravado, and not much of the messiness or nerves. 

Kids need a book such as 24 Seconds from Now to think things through. More importantly, parents need to see adult ways of handling mature conversations with their young people. Healthy conversations that come from love, tough love, understanding, and life, itself. 

I probably have the most important part of the book left to finish the entire story, and I'm looking forward to it. Guy Lockard does a phenomenal job in the reading, and I'm hearing Jason Reynolds, too (his voice as he put the story together). He's a wizard of the mind and I'll always appreciate him for all he brings into the lives of readers...always with a respect for kids who are figuring things out, but have those adult perspectives in the back of their minds. 

And the cover with Denzel Jeremy Washington smiling back is simply brilliant. Phenomenal...all the way.

It Was Expressway Lanes, Wasn't It? The Name of Our Saturday Morning Bowling Commitment As Kids? Proving Our Athleticism?

I was thinking about childhood, late elementary and early middle school, where we'd drive to our bowling league as kids. I remember the excitement to look up weekly team ratings, the horrible cardboard pizza, the krinkly fries, and the arcade games. Snap. Casey and I even had our own balls and cases, given to us one Christmas. I remember the excitement having the holes drilled to match our fingers. Hmmm. Wonder if they are still in the downstairs closet.

I am 100% sure those lanes were called Expressway, although Casey insists it was Strike n Spare. It's no longer there....the building that looked like an overturned lasagna tin. I think that space was repurposed. 

I was thinking about this when Dad and I took the cans back earlier in the week.

And I was thinking about the tiny, wooden bowling pins we'd get each year with our high score. I think my highest was 199 (never broke 200). 

Good ol' Saturday Morning bowling league for kids. That was something and we thought we were so cool. Well, we were....not Grease 2 We're Gonna Bowl Tonight cool, but cool. Aw, man, happened to those little wooden pins? There used to be several of these lying around in the rooms, but they are no longer.

Such history of times that once were. 

A Nightly Ritual that is Growing More Comical by the Day, Although Not As Amusing for Mimi Sue. Karal's Invasion of Nightly Space

A few years ago, my mother began sleeping in the living room, as lying in her bed was too painful, and her living chair is the only location where she can rest for the evening. Around 8 pm, she goes into her bedroom to put on her pajamas, and for the last week, this is exactly the time that Karal moves from lying beside Papi Butch on the couch over to her chair. Dad and I watch her swirl around a few times and then get very comfortable. Two nights ago, she even managed to get under the blankets left by my mom.

As mom returns in her PJs, Karal has taken to lying her head at the side of the chair, knowing she only has a few seconds left before she will get the boot. It doesn't stop her from trying, though, and each night she attempts to get the best seat in the house. 

Of course, when I go to bed, she wanders to sleep at my side as she's mastered the way to get as close to me as possible without pushing me completely of the mattress. It's close, but I usually catch myself before falling. 

I have failed to make meatballs. I wanted spaghetti, but the warm temperatures cured that, so I wanted steak and salad, instead. Perhaps if it stays cooler this morning I can think about making the meatballs using the recipe my parents have used for years (the secret is hot sausage in the hamburger meat). ah, but I have chicken to cook, too, and a return home is around the corner.

Yesterday, I got a few projects turned in and worked on our yearly Merit application where, alas, there is never anything other than standard merit, even though many of us prove our success over and over again. They like to keep us filling out the paperwork, even when we'll hear that there's no extraordinary merit to give. It does give me opportunity to reflect on the year that just was, though. 

Temperatures going back up. Woot Woot. Keep them going that way.

Adding Assistant to Frenchie to My Resume, As I Never Imagined Cynde and I Would be Recruited by Mom to Cut & Style Her Hair

I only operated the clippers for underneath. I was also give responsibility of the water bottle to dampen her hair. Cynde got the scissors, the brush, and the comb. It's been months since mom has gone to her hair stylist and she's not thrilled to visit any time soon. Instead, her pleads and begging finally got Cynde to come over on her break to do Studio 5388, a hair salon on Amalfi Drive. 

It's not fair that I wasn't allowed more play time, as I bought mom coloring wax a few years ago. She might benefit with some pink, purple, and blue in her hair.

It was a lighter day on the food fare, as I didn't cook anything significant, saving the chicken for another night. They only got grilled tomatoes and cheese and tater tots in last night's meal. 

But mom got her hair did, so she looked dipping her tater nuggets in her ketchup.

We actually found the SU basketball game in the high 200s, and I'm just wondering what happened to ESPN and its broadcasting of college games. I never heard of half the teams they were airing. Of course, Syracuse is 14 in the ACC (how the heck did that happen?)

Louisville's not playing until Thursday, but I wouldn't count on that being aired on any of these channels.

Temperatures are down now, too, but I packed sweaters, so I am good to go.

CNY life all the way.

And Papa Butch Now Has a Solar Bird For His Front Yard to Add to His Collection of Things That Glow at Night (Plus We Had Steak)

You can't have CNY temperatures at 60 and not want to grill outside, so I took dad over to BJs to see if we could get a couple of ribeyes for dinner. While there he eyed the tropical bird and I thought, "Well, he just turned 83, why not get a new toy for his yard." 

It's solar after all and glows at night.

Potatoes, Steak, & Salad. Delicious. And so warm.

After, I took Karal to see Lucy and Max. Lucy was definitely out of her shell and it was hilarious to see her and Karal with their zoomies jumping across the laps of anyone in their way (which was all of us). Both dogs crashed hard at night with no energy left to give.

It will be almost 70 degrees today, which is almost unheard of for Syracuse in March (ha! I chose my Spring Break wisely)(not sure about Wednesday's temps, but they'll come back up). 

Was also wonderful to walk yesterday as the high temperatures started melting the 70 or so inches that fell this winter on the lawns. The roads all had little canals of melting snow running to the sewers. It was like walking along the sound of a creek, but we were just on pavement on a warm-up day. Not so good, though, for dog owners...the mud and skunk-mating season makes for daring outdoor time for dogs. 

Ah, maybe someone will have their pool open today for a swim. 70 degrees. Nice. 

Hey, World. Want to Know My Super Power? I Can Get Papa Butch on the Floor to Play with Me. Getting Him Up? Now That's Another Story

It's Spring Break at Fairfield University, so Karal and I have returned to central New York for more parental care: shopping, cleaning, cooking, prescriptions, and helping Cynde out so she can take a break. The drive up was wonderful as the sky was mostly blue, even in Syracuse, and I listened to Jason Reynold's Twenty Four Seconds From Now, which follows in the traditions of his brilliant thinking, writing, and craft. Mature subject this time, but real. One that will be very helpful to young men and women who do not have support and guidance from home. Definitely, however, on the radar of every kid in high school and, as much as they don't want to know, their teachers, too, who they often come to for advice.

It's going to a balmy 50-60 degrees this week (except for the one dip on Wednesday). Central New York kids will be out in shorts and sun-bathing in their driveways. 

Mom made chicken, pasta, and broccoli when I arrive, so she can now retire and let me take over for the week. Dad says he wasn't tuna noodle casserole, spaghetti and meatballs, and macaroni for cheese. Um...maybe on the spaghetti. Absolutely not on the tuna noodle casserole.

I am thinking I want to find Pho in the area and see if they would like that, especially when served hot. I'll see if I can get them to try.

Karal zonked out early last night. Daylight savings and driving 4.5 hours takes a toll on her, especially when she sleeps the entire ride from Connecticut. She lives the rough life.

Okay, Syracuse...what's going on this week? I am here again.

I Have No Idea Where White Lotus, Season 3, is Going, But I'm Here for the Ride of Human Gluttony, Lust, Greed , & Hubris

It's probably not the best series to get hooked on, but Chitunga started it in Iowa and before I could confess I finished season II, he was already done. For me, it's the opening...the wallpaper and art, the barbaric pictures of the animalistic human tendency that is symbolically depicted in the artwork. Phew. Lifestyles of the rich and ridiculous in exotic spaces, sharing their empty egos and the desire to give human definition and meaning to their meaningless. All of this makes for incredible storytelling.

Pam made me dinner last night and allowed me to catch up on 2 of the 3 episodes released thus far. Unfortunately, I don't have subscription to the new streaming service that is airing the third season. Pam has it and I am thankful to she's sharing the storyline with me. 

I graded in the morning, walked the dog, caught up on laundry, and began to think about a week off without having meetings or teaching classes. Of course, sketchy humanity in all its glory is probably not the best way to easy my over imaginative mind, but I do like a good story.

I loved catching up with my cousin, Mark yesterday and his global perspective made from a lifetime of work. Both his daughters are in college, one visiting a boyfriend in Ohio and the other doing fashion work in Paris. 

I remember Parker Posey in Party Girl soon after I graduated from college, a take on Sisyphus and the Generation X adulthood. Now she's a maternal numbskull, holding her family together by being overdosed on mind-numbing, controlled substances to make everything okay. 

We've evolved as a species, I believe. Or we haven't evolved at all. I'm intrigued, however, on where the third season will take viewers. I'm curious, indeed. 

Close...But No Cigar. This is the Wrong Way to Spell Bryan, Although I Appreciate the Great Wishes on March 7th. Our Official Day is April 23

I am not sure who is spreading the celebrations of Brians around the world (moron in Danish slang), but I'm here to say that yesterday was not National Bryan Day...that is April 23rd. I appreciate the great wishes and thoughts in March, but I never knew there was an official day to celebrate integrity and nobility, although honorably, that is what Brian/Bryan has always meant. 

We Y/why guys are not until April, which I would not have known if I didn't look it up wondering why so many were reaching out to celebrate my name on March 7th. I'll take the acknowledgement, but I'm good until next month.

Brine! What Kentucky kids called. No, I'm not brackish water, either. 

I like my Y-happy parents, Karyn, Cynde, and Bryan with the response of Y? Well, because they loved us. I like my Y and will fight for it until I die. Bree-an. Brigh-on, Brine! 

Paul and his partner, neighbors, were in town working on Krystyna's house, my neighbor who passed, and they insisted on taking me out to dinner last night for taking care of the beautiful woman. I accepted because it was National Brian Day, but told them we can celebrate Bryan a few weeks early. 

We discussed politics of Poland, the worries of Putin in Europe, Ukraine, and lived experiences from their childhood. The door is opening once again, because humans are humans. 

I got a nice night off at the end of the work week and now I'm heading to a day of grading so I can take a break in CNY with a clear mind. 

Bryan means giving, and I'm giving my day to catch up, get ahead, and put things to the side so I can take advantage of a Spring Break

I Know There Must Be Other Things I Should Be Doing, But I'm Still Catching Up on Things That Should Already Be Done

I never realized the parallels of K-12 and higher education would be the same. If you work in the classroom, take responsibility for teaching the next generation, the individuals who don't teach, but administrate and manage, sit around creating more work for those who do teach and have other things to do. I still find absolute joy in teaching and, in fact, I noted to myself that a day lost in graduate student work actually was healing, because it was a meeting and I was actually helping others out.

It is Groundhog's Day, but it's also spinning in circles in a pool, somewhat paralyzed.

Karal had vet vaccinations to be caught up on (they're still vetted for pets and legal). After, I promised myself a day in front of the laptop to catch up on materials needing commentary. I finished last night around 9, but know I have to go back to the other class to rethink submissions that were revised and resubmitted). I allow for multiple drafts because I know the learning comes from responding to feedback and moving ahead so it's not an issue next time.

It's also restaurant week in Stratford, so Leo, Bev, Pam, Oona, and I went to Vazzy's and I had prime rib. It's been a minute but I needed the food break. I came back to more grading.

I'm hoping I can finish by noon, so I can then return to grant work needing to be done, as I've put it off to catch up on the grading (and to attend all the meetings).

But there are no meetings today and for that I am thankful. No appointments either. It's time to focus.

Spent Last Night Listening to the Poetry and Wisdom of Joy Harjo. I Didn't Realize How Much Her Musicality Was Needed. So Glad April is Coming

I learned young that poetry was a way of knowing. I also learned that if I wanted to earn any money ("I guess we were at the back of the line when they handed out jobs," Joy Harjo said in presentation), I would also need to teach. Poems get published, but they don't pay the bills and, truth be told, the world distracts and pulls is in directions to keep the lights on and the dog fed. This is why I love April. It's #VerseLove and EthicalELA pulls together great minds and teachers to simply write poetry for the month. It's nice to restore the oxygen when it comes back my way.

In a world long before this one,  there was enough foreveryone, Until somebody got out of line. We heard it was Rabbit, fooling around with clay and the  wind. Everybody was tired of his tricks and no one would play with him;He was lonely in this world. (not Harjo's spacing, but how it falls to the page on this Blog)

On my shelves are several of Harjo's publications and I forgot how great a presenter she is....of the Gods...of the mystics...of a celestial realm. When she speaks, you feel like all rivers and histories and sermons and folktales are flying through her. I'm trying to recall when I first met her...Sante Fe? Breakloaf? University of Louisville? I just remember having the same feeling in her presence...of being both miraculously small, yet larger than life itself. It's the same way I felt around Ruth Stone when I studied with her and Aletha Fields when we were in our younger years, first teaching, and sharing our poems with one another (she, taking it to stage and wowing whoever heard her read).

I woke up this morning, looked at the calendar, and realized the only appointment I have is for Karal to visit the Prelis. I can grade and for those who are in academia and are sucked into meetings all the time, it is joyous to spend a day with student work.

And I'll be singing Happy Birthday to Papi Butch who I hope to see early next week. 6th of March. Every year. 2 weeks and 4 days after my Aquarian celebration. He's the water sign known for compassion, empathy, and intuition (which was definitely not him while growing up, at least for the immediately family, but something he grew into in his later years....knowing when the lawn needs to be mowed (every day) or someone's garbage can needs to returned to the front of their house). That's intuition, and all love now that a blooming flower, a marching band, a video about my mother's 80 years on life can make him cry with love and joy. Again, that was not him growing up. It's who he is now, when he was able to let himself feel, chill out from work, and not tempted by Chubby's and the Clam Bar so much. 

Yes, there's poetry to life and I'm glad I learned that early on. Son of a Butch & Sue. Remarkable. 

Note to Self: When Meetings Take Over the Entire Day, It Becomes Impossible to Teach, Write, Respond, Reply, and Think.

I've never been a fan of meetings, but have paid attention to productive ones and what makes them work: (1) person calling meeting is aware of everyone's time, (2) agenda is clear, precise, and well-thought out, (3) meaningless materials are alluded to but not discussed for hours, and (4) person calling meeting is aware of everyone's time.

I've been saying for a while now that teaching my courses get in the way of my job, and that's because administration has made the job so much more than teaching. Research is always a pleasure to do, and reading and thinking are central to how I like to live my life, but attending meetings are typically a distraction, especially when you realize that they take up the majority of time from 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. (when college administrators work). Those who teach grad classes from 5 to 9 then have to figure out how to carry out a plan (or grade) when all the time during the day is taken up with meetings. 

I tend to be in schools during the day and, at times, I'll ZOOM in and listen if I can. I'm at a place, now, that has me thinking I should simply use my phone to clock 40 hours a week and then say, "Nope. I'm done for the week." If I count weekend hours, a Monday and Tuesday of meetings, and then classes. I'm usually clock in before Tuesday morning even begins.

But it's Wednesday and I have meetings until 9 p.m. tonight...not just with the University, but with schools, and national projects. I'm not teaching today, but I really need to grade; instead, I'll be in meetings discussing work that needs (should) be getting done. 

I'm having flashbacks of our Danish friends who would visit us in Kentucky and hearing their teachers saying after two days in our schools, "I need to take a day off. This is exhausting." True. Working in higher education and K-12 schools makes it even more exhausting.

I need to figure out (have backbone) to say, "Nope. Not attending because it's a distraction from the work needing to be done." 

I'm trying to figure out the whole boundary conversation, as the work-week needs to let up some, yet continues to creep in more and more invasive ways.