There's Never Enough Time to Quite Capture the Brilliance of a Day, But Sometimes a Couple of Photographs Can Lead the Way

I was on campus all morning and left in the afternoon to let the dog out. As soon as I left, I learned that the 12th edition of POW! Power of Words - An Anthology of Teacher and Student Writing began to arrive. They aren't scheduled until tomorrow, but the first two boxes seemed to sneak onto an earlier flight. This is the 40th year of National Writing Project Work in Connecticut and the year 15 of me at Fairfield University. It's hard for me to believe that we have put together the best of CWP-Fairfield summer work in another anthology of published work. This is the model. This is the research. This is what I hope to share with all interested in writing instruction. 

I'm super excited, too, to collaborate with the Women's Volleyball Team for a special Connecticut Writing Project Day on October 11th, as they take on Siena. It will be a location for families, kids, and teacher to pick up their copies. We're all in this together and since Coach Somera has been a champion of writing and leadership, I thought it would be a good way to go.

Additionally, yesterday brought a mentor, sage, historian, and writer back to Fairfield University in a call to do more in the Jesuit tradition. Dr. Yohuru William took me under his wing when I was first starting out and has been hugely instrumental in my thinking about history, research, and what is possible for community engagement. I was honored to feature one of his middle grade books on The Write Time two years ago. To see Dr. Williams in action is to witness greatness. I don't know many who can weave history, the Jesuit tradition, our responsibilities to a democratic nation, and the importance of education quite like he can. I left his lecture feeling rejuvenated, inspired, motivated, and responsible. He works magic with a crowd and today I'll attend a two-hour workshop for faculty.

This morning, I need to put a bow on the evening's class, but I'm carrying with me all the right reasons why I chose a career in teaching and lived the life that I have. As always, I simply need to find time to process and elevate the excellence of not only Dr. Yohuru Williams and his historical brilliance, but the superior writing of Connecticut teachers and students. 

It was definitely a day to remember...if only the necessity of sleep didn't get in the way. Phew. Last day of September. How did we get to October already?

My Sunday Attempt at Prepping for the Crazy Week Ahead - Coconut Milk, Indian Curry with Chicken and Vegetables Over Rice

I have to be strategic with my meal preparation. Sundays are meant for grilling, making pasta or rice,  and making containers for the 12-14 hour days that lie ahead. If I don't prep, then I end up grabbing something fast and that is never good. 

I cooked in-between the grading and course preparation, but I barely put a dent in either. Of course, I was distracted in the a.m. by doing a review for a journal that required concentration and timeliness. I hammered that away (and loved the work I reviewed), but then hit the essays written by my undergraduate freshmen. It's been a minute since reading less seasoned writers and I needed to get my head around exploring education, but also guiding these younglings to be collegiate in their prose (well, to at least write more than 3 paragraphs and call it a day). One of the areas you see when teaching kids from multiple high schools is that writing remains the neglected 'r'. Many of these kids have not had opportunity to develop their thinking in the ways others have been prepared. I see my role as helping them to get to a more appropriate work effort and submission. 

It was also National Son's Day, yesterday, and I enjoyed having a FaceTime chat with Chitunga and catching up on his viewpoints, world, and abilities to find ways to counter the chaos of the world. Love that kid. He remains one of my greatest gifts...I can't imagine my life without him.

Of course, all the dishes also meant I needed to spend time washing dishes, which seemed to never end. I feel bad to turn down friends for normal weekend gatherings, but I really do need the space of weekends, Saturday and Sundays, to catch up with the work needing to be done. 

I imagine many will see my dish and think, "Well, that looks like a baby's diaper," but in truth it was very good. I was impressed with the flavors and I will have my meals for the week. Looks like a chicken diet ahead, because when I saw the prices of the other meats I was definitely thinking, "Oi, vay. This grocery thing is for real." 

And with that, "Hello, Monday."

Thrilled to See Another Match Win (3-1) for the @StagsVB Women's Team Against Quinnipiac in the Mahoney @FairfieldU

I love all sports, but there's is nothing more captivating that good volleyball matchups, especially when a team finds its rhythm, plays heads-up strategy, and finds away to get the ball over the net in just the right way (& Fairfield did this, even with a couple of powerhouse servers on the Quinnipiac team). Once they were in rhythm, it was smart volleyball and the teamwork was obvious. The games were a battle between two teams that were thinking about the points they wanted to score. In the end, the Stags were victorious and it was a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. 

Congratulations to Coaches Somera, Wagner, and Stone, but also the roster who figured out exactly what was needed for the wins, after losing the first game in the series. It was exciting to see the two-times, back-to-back MAAC championship team showing that the program remains solid.

Dance parties for everyone are deserved. 

And I'm still thinking about the young adult novel that needs to be written that hosts a volleyball playing teen. I'm ready for it and can't wait for someone to write it. 

The rest of my Saturday was domestic responsibilities: lawn, groceries, grading, writing, and processing a hectic week that just was with another one just around the corner. 

I'm looking for the home games ahead and, maybe - just maybe, I'll get to the MAAC tournament this year if my schedule will allow. I love having a faculty liaison role, simply to be another member of the Faculty community present to cheer on the personalities, academics, and athletics of this year's team. A lot of it is being rebuilt, but I like the way they are flexing. I especially loved watching #22, Harlen Wyche, have a triumphant set of plays through the matches. Her joy on the court was contagious and I loved how she, like the others, pump one another up. It takes them all to pull it off. It was also great to see two of the international players add to triumph at the net. 

Here's to the games ahead. 

In Middle Age, As I Lose Muscle, I Am Inclined to Eat Mussels Wherever and Whenever I Can. Happy About Milford Restaurant Week

Delicious. Hip, Hip, Hooray for Milford's BIN, and their restaurant week options of a three-course meal: mussels, monk fish, potatoes, sponge, lobster bisque, and a top-off of apple and raisin crisp with vanilla ice cream. The week was revealing, as they usually are, about the narratives that are said and the narratives on the ground. 

Here's to those of us who work hard for community relationships, students, and the integrity of the human species. Not sure what to do about those who operate in opposite ways. I guess that is just where we are. 

It turns out I don't have a honeybee nest living inside my walls with a Queen and all that, but a Yellowjacket paper-nest inside my walls, which will take care of itself when the colder months come. They will likely die inside, leave a few eggs, but those hatchlings won't return; instead they will go elsewhere to start all over. 

Thanks, Jimmy. That is what the local apiary said. Glad I hired the consultancy. I just hope we move ahead in the direction he predicts. They only operating with their instinctive behavior and, I guess, so I am. 

I need a solid grading marathon this weekend and time to plan for the classes ahead. Many busy days ahead, and I simply need to succumb to the labor. That's what we do. 

No rain in the forecast, so I suppose I should water some more because the rain promised on Thursday was just a dash and not a downpour for 24 hours as promised. Not sure what to do with the dry, but to embrace it (and keep spraying these nostrils with nasal spray.

As for today, I will try to resist another evening at another restaurant. I thoroughly enjoyed the meal I had last night. Nothing like deliciousness and the joy for a fancier meal. 

Reflecting on My First Four Years in the Classroom with Creatures I Loved Dearly (& a Mailing Reminds Me of All the Joy from Those Days)

I came home to a tightly wrapped package from D-Fli, a graduate of Brown School, 2001 and a student in my English classroom for four-straight years (also on my volleyball team coached with Laurie Wade). For years, packages of crafts, art, creative thinking, spirituality, and home were exchanged in room 301 as we sort of taught one another about working with adolescents (and being an adolescent) as I promoted young writers in preparation for college. It's been a long minute, but out of the blue, another of those packages arrived yesterday. 

A FROG bag. A note. And a series of stickers: frogs, dragonflies, and the embrace for equality and equity. Meggie did her senior research on emotional intelligence and, gosh darn it, she carries it with her today in her work in Alaska. There have been twists and turns in the journey along the way, but since she was a teenager, this man carrying a Frog backpack has been blessed to be part of her story (and so many of the others). Her love for doing well for humanity is something that was with her from the first day I met her. 

The pond. Phew. What a foundation it built on the corner of 1st and Muhammad Ali for over a decade: teachers, youth, guidance, mentoring, nurturing, sculpting, believing, and building. 

I'm not sure what today will bring - it could be a doozy or a reckoning towards the good - and I am taking her care package as an omen on what matters most: love, relationships, fighting the good fight, and the magical essence within us all.

Upstairs in shoeboxes, I have keepsakes of all the joy my students provided me for years and, although we've grown distant, moved about, built different lives, and departed the bluegrass state, there is nothing better than receiving a token of love from a kid you used to teach - a special one, with an enormous heart, and an absolute obsession with making this world a little kinder, gentler, and better for us all. 

This Frog will always be thankful to this particular Dragonfli. She, and so many of her peers, were some of the best things than have ever happened to me in my life. In fact, they fuel everything I do today.

This Friday, I am thankful...feeling blessed...and reminded about what is most important in the teaching profession: the connections we make, the sincerity, and the willingness to go above and beyond to celebrate those who bring light to each other. 

Here's to 2G's & a $1. They are my babies, forever (even if they now have babies of their own...big babies, too).

Received a New Title Last Night and It's Not Because I Wet My Pants. Instead, a School Psychologist Dubbed Me Captain PP in a Parking Lot

In a vocal exchange walking across a parking lot last night, a colleague said that I have what psychologists call Performance Punishment (PP). That is, achievers are “rewarded” with additional work, while average or below-average performers don't receive opportunities for development. Top performers ultimately take on more without reaping the benefits of a higher title or additional compensation.

There are four stages to the performance punishment cycle:

• Stage 1: A high-performing individual achieves at what they are hired to do (excels)
• Stage 2: In response, administration takes the worker for granted, and assumes higher output without compensation or recognition.
• Stage 3: The achiever starts to feel stressed, overwhelmed, and unappreciated having to do the work with more piled on, yet not receiving help or support.
• Stage 4: The achiever starts to look elsewhere for where their talents can be beneficial.

Performance Punishment is different in higher education, because every move made is scrutinized by peers...not only in the department level, but in the school, and the campus at large. This onlooking also occurs nationally as they find others to judge your work (which is an extra layer because in order to get published you're under peer review). 

I am taking my promotion to Full Professor as "You done good work, Crandall" status. Having a college education is a small percentage of the world, but having a doctorate is even smaller. Attaining peer-review to Full Profess is even stranger. I am thankful. I like to think my work allowed this to come my way. And I'm learning that it also comes with layers of even more work and responsibilities to the profession. It is overwhelming, especially when I've spent 15 years awaiting support for the work I do. I get it by searching for horcruxes around campus (there are great people everywhere), but institutionally I'm stuck. I'm tired. I wish for more of what could be possible without loading so much on those who are already leading. 

So, in response to my colleague's diagnosis, I asked, "Does that mean I am Captain PP?" and she replied, "Why, yes, it does. You've been Captain PP since you arrived 15 years ago."

I've had worse nicknames. 

I'm off to schools this morning, then back to grants and grading, and finalizing with another recording of The Write Time. I think we have set a four week record and still have another week to go. 

Here's to my fellow PP'ers out there. Psychologists have a name for everything.

Thinking Back to the Weekend, My Joy of Saucony Kicks and Movement, and Days Where Waves, Music, Blue Skies, and Friends Matter Most.

It's already hump day. Monday and Tuesday were 4 years of labor. I'm ready to climb back into bed and wave a white flag. It's a sad day when you do as much as you do, and others around you do as much as they do, but you still hear more needs to be done and "What's your problem?"

We need a collective Norma Rae moment. It's as Dewey wrote in the 1930s...the administrative class will always be counter to the progressive, because the progressive is on the ground working in reality and fighting for the rights of teachers, kids, and the demographics of American society. They don't jive (or play) well together, but the administrative class has the power. 

And so that is where we are.

The Weather Channel is calling for rain the next three days and I'm thinking I want to sit home and simply watch it. It's been so long and our lawns, earth, trees, and flowers could use a little moisture. Of course, after three days of it, I'll likely be a curmudgeon cursing the skies for all the wet. But we really do need it.

Today, I need to get on top of grants, service-learning/community engagement, and National Writing Project work. I can do this in my house, my office, or at a library. I simply need to find the most logical, quiet place to focus, think, and get the work done.

I also want to put more hiking miles on my Sauconys, even if Abu made fun of the clunkiness of the bottoms. Hey, I've seen Hokas. Pick on them. I need sneakers that give me support, cushion, and less pain in the joints. Give me a break for trying. 

September is an awkward transition period. Dark earlier, Autumn on the way, a semester already deep in the trenches, and those last grasps of sunlight and warm joy. I had it last weekend so I am thinking of my kicks. But now I need to think about the work needing to be done. 

Embarrassed to Admit I Watched All of The 100 (Finished Sunday Night). Proud to Rescue Many Bees the Last Few Weeks, Too, Until...

I do my best to live and let live. Besides mosquitoes, I think twice about killing anything and try my best to let spiders and bugs outside when, somehow, they find their way inside. For the last several weeks, I've been rescuing a bee a day from my front porch as he or she manically is trying to get out and is stopped by the glass windows. It's easiest when they're fluttering at the front door to escape. I open it and, well, so long. When they get caught in the drapes, however, it is a little trickier. 

It wasn't until Sunday afternoon when I was finally watering the lawn that I realized, "Wait. Why are bees swarming by the downpipe outside my front porch?" At first I thought they may have a nest in the gutters. It seemed logical because it's been so dry and a nest wouldn't have washed them away. But then I noticed, NOPE, they were burrowing in between the gutter, and into the side of my house. By the looks of it, they have quite the nest, which would back up to the front porch and explain how they have been getting inside one at a time. If I knock not he window to the left of where I write, a swarm of them flies out into the area by the window and then heads back inside. I bought a natural repellent of mint and other smells that are supposed to deter them, but that didn't work. It just douched them and made them smell like flowers. I tried heavier potions, but there are too many of them (besides, shopping for 'pest control' has me perplexed on the whole matter...they even have rabbit sprays). It got me thinking about what is a pest and how weird it is that we don't see ourselves as a nuisance to them. 

Yep, I know that is hippy dippy. I don't mind bugs. I'm not sure I want them building a kingdom in the blank spaces between my paneling and wood frame, however. That's not good. 

Which brings me to The 100. I brief referenced to the CW program caught my curiosity and so I wanted to give it a chance. Obsesses as I am, when I saw it was 7 seasons and over 100 episodes I said, "Crandall, stop yourself now." Nope. For three months it became my nightly way to unwind before bed. Of course, it's a tale of barbaric killings, human viciousness, violence, and absolute survival, and each season tries to outdo the last once with more horrific exploration about the human species. Definitely not my kind of show, but I was intrigued by how far we might go down the road to maintain our ideologies, extremes, and  animalistic kill or be killed attitude. No one wins. No one won, although I suppose there might be an argument that there was an ending, but I wasn't satisfied. Wasn't the most joyous depiction of what might become of us one day (after climate destruction, war, AI, greed, and powerful elites take over). I guess I watched it as a potential foreshadowing of what may come for humanity 500 years from now. It's a bleak picture, and more of the same really. Hatred is hatred. Divisions are divisions. 

I always wish for the best, but find such optimism difficult at times. I now have The 100 and the bees nest in my repertoire of trying to figure out what it's all supposed to mean. 

Okay, Tuesday. Inhale. Here comes another long one. 

Turning the Energy Towards Westport StoryFest and @WritingProject #WriteOut (They're Both Around the Corner)

Ah, nothing like hearing that 300 books that aren't to be released until next week have already arrived to Mt. Pleasant. That is the power of Lauren Anderson's Possible Futures and her vision for bringing great texts to teachers, communities, schools, and programs like those of CWP-Fairfield. Dr. Chandra Maxwell interview Derrick Barnes for The Write Time and the show is coming out soon. As a follow up, we'll be working with StoryFest at Westport library, visiting schools, and getting the already award-nominated The Incredibly Human Henson Blayze into the hands of middle great readers.

My green monster is loaded with copies of the book (plus his other goodies) so that I can bring them to teachers as we celebrate greatness in 2025 (and the 40th years of National Writing Project work at Fairfield University). 

I finally gave in and watered my lawn yesterday, as I know the ground was seeded for next year, but we've had no rain. I want the grass, especially the front lawn, to grow back (and it takes a tremendous beating in the summer with so much direct sun.

I also drove a gift over to Yellow's house, so she can spend this week with 30-second dance parties of her own. When I think of inspirational individuals I've known since arriving to Connecticut, she's at the top....from the Bridgeport Public Education Fund to the Daniel Trust work, to One Camera and a Neighborhood. Her love and pride of young people she works with has something contagious that I've loved watch. Now, I can expect dance parties, too. 

It's also R&T season, so letters  are piling up in all directions - each takes several hours to compose and that is after several hours of reviewing materials. Ah, another hidden labor that academics take on that most will never see.

I also grilled for the week. It all goes much smoother when there's items in the fridge to grab on the fly, as when there isn't, I tend to choose poorly. 

Okay, Monday, you're back again. Was just singing about the 21st of September and look at you now...you're already the 22nd again.

Absorbing the Last Days of Summer Sun at Walnut Beach Lobster Fest (Although They Ran Out of Lobster Rolls Rather Fast)

The guess is they were underprepared for the crowd on Walnut Beach. Four bands, vendors, food trucks and people looking for a reason to dance and chill out before the colder months arrive. We are lucky. We can park at Pam's, walk to the beach, park our behinds in the sand, and get to hear a day's worth of great music.

I spent my morning in New Haven picking up Derrick Barnes books from Possible Futures, then the rest of the evening relaxing with too many worries with my feet in the sand looking out at the Long Island Sound. That is not a bad way to go on the weekends.

Rico didn't like the crowds, so he had to stay behind. I left Karal back, too, as we got a long walk in, spent the morning writing, did the road trip to get books, and readied ourselves for the blue skies.

I somehow misplaced both pairs of eye glass, and after a day of hunting was only able to find one set (upstairs by my hats, because I was doing laundry and must of located one set upstairs). Now to find the other set. I get OCD about such matters. Where'd they go. They had to be with me while I drove back to Stratford. Btu where? 

Ah, it's Sunday. A day of chilling out, so if I chill out enough I'm sure they'll eventually show up. But where?  I have no idea. Wallet. Keys. Glasses. Phone. I hate when any of them disappear from the usual locations I keep them. 

I can't worry, though. I know they will show up...but when...where...that's always the annoying question. 

It's the 21st Day of September. I'd rather be dancing with Earth, Wind, and Fire. 

When's the Last Time You Heard 300+ K-6th Grade Students Screaming in a Whole-School Assembly? We Need to Make Alarm Clocks with this Sound

It may be a while before my eardrums recover, but I really did enjoy the enthusiasm of so many children who attend Franklin School in Stratford. Principal Johnson asked me to be part of the whole-school assembly that has been working on a charter for all students live by. Each grade shared their needs and from them, another will be made to live by. Democratic, best practices in play, always.

As part of the assembly, I got the kids excited about the partnership with Fairfield University and my Explorations class, two young men presented on tai kwon do, a 5th grader did a presentation on what Franklin means to him, and a young woman and two of her friends performed Aretha Franklin's RESPECT. She was in it to win it...as only a 6th grade child without American Idol audition experiences could be. 

Bless the teachers who kept the kids focused on task, because it was a lot of kids in a tiny space. What I love about the school, however, is that so many are dedicated to what they're doing. 

In the afternoon it was a General Faculty Meeting, and then I came home to finally crash. Actually, I didn't, because I finally tried the fish place in Stratford, Uberti's. It was a Good Friday Fry, but I am not good with friend foods (although there's wasn't too toxic). They have fresh fish, too, and I need to get in the habit of going to them to see what I might grill. MUCH prefer grilled fish. Not a fan of fried anything, really (don't quite understand it).

Chitunga is in Lake Placid celebrating 3 years with Alyssa and I believe I'm off to a Lobster Fest today, to get my mind off work. Truthfully, I just want sleep. Good sleep. Couch rest. Total laziness. 

It's not my style, but it is my goal. 

It's the K-12 Educator in Me, That's Why. Justifying Dry-Erase Markers to a Cohort of Freshmen Who Wonder How I Miraculously Whip Materials Out of Nowhere

I had to take a photograph to document the moment. Students were doing dry-erase dialogues and needing markers, I quickly reached into my bag of tricks and distributed multi-colored possibilities their way. "Where did they come from?" they wondered. "My bag. It's not a purse, but so much of teaching is being prepared to meet the needs of any moment. It's a parental skill."

But I admit, it's a little over-the-top and outrageous. I mean, I carry way too many dry-erase markers with me, because I know that materials aren't typically on the ready in most classroom spaces (in fact, I buy dry-erase markers for colleagues in teaches in skill. We need the goods to be successful). 

Last night, I had the unbelievable opportunity to interview Tony Weaver, Jr. for The Write Time, and I am once again throwing prayers to the Great Whatever for allowing me to absorb the wisdom of such beautiful writers and thinkers. I can't wait for the show to reach its national audience and for educators to experience the joy that I witness from NWP teachers interviewing the children's and young adult authors our schools and readers need. 

Today, I get to work with a K-6 school, participate in assemblies, and refuel kid-happiness into the spirit of all I do. I then have a General Faculty Meeting where other work (that took the hands of many) is coming to a vote (hopefully with successful results).

I knew as I tried to unwind last night that I need mental space from the rat-race this past week was. I'm returning to writing projects, planning, and more of my national work.

Inhaling. Exhaling. It's all I got. The power of being alive and having another day to try to breathe.

If you need something to write on a dry-erase board with...hit me up.

Yesterday Was Definitely in My Top Five Educational Moments in My Career Where I Felt Truly Blessed to Do What I Do

For two years, I've served on the planning committee of The Center for Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies at Fairfield University and this I am honored to be on the Advisory Board. As part of the work I was asked to assist Dr. Robert Nazarian, Physics and Director of the Center, to launch a new podcast from Fairfield University showcasing brilliance in the field. We were blessed to have filmography, and 4-time Emmy Award-Winner, Tom Fitz. 

The body of work from Tom Fitz is absolutely astounding, shooting film for BBC, PBS, National Geographic, the Smithsonian, and elsewhere, bringing his underwater talents to the planet and animal behavior to millions of viewers worldwide (and I mean millions). His work is stunning and as I interviewed I quickly realized. One of his pieces on a sloth finding his mating partner also brought him one of the first recordings of a sloth swimming. 

In the evening, he gave a lecture for our campus that showcased some of his favorite shots of wandering underwater to capture miraculous moments. Some of the footage was beyond breathtaking and it made me think about passion, career choices, life work, and the beauty of the world we take for granted. His lecture also included his latest work of funding projects of newcomers in ecological film narratives and I couldn't help but think that his work may be some of the most important work I've ever been fortunate to view. His piece on microplastics and even more on the mating rituals of sea horses were beyond educative. They were inspiration and made me want to fight even more to bring ecological literacy to the K-12 teachers I get to work with. His Schoolyard Films projects, free for educators, are an incredible resource, too.

Having lunch and dinner with Tom Fitz also brought forward the genuine kindness, sincerely, and intellectual astuteness of a quiet giant, someone who is doing more for the planet than anyone else I know. And he does all this from his heart. 

I'm heading off to the 8 a.m., but phew....I'll be holding onto this day for very, very long time. I haven't been this triggered by another's work in a long, long time. I am definitely feeling blessed to have had the daylong experience. It was so good, I kept thinking of so many that I wish could be along with me for the experience. 

I have so much more writing to do.

Hosted the Young Adult Literature Class at the Center for Social Impact as they Brought an Artolution Exhibit to Their Location

A day in schools turned to a day with meetings turned into a day of celebrations turned into an evening course held in collaboration with the Center of Social Impact (and I'm off to campus this morning to participate in another day of obligations). Phew. Thankful, but also perplexed by the volume of it all. 

Good news is that POW! '25 is in print. I'm months ahead of myself on that, as it is summer work that I always want off my plate, but there's not much time to edit and get it to print. It's the 12th publication and this year we're using it to celebrate 40 years of success at Fairfield University. The National Writing Project Way. 

The Artolution project is collaborative public art in relation to refugee camps around the world, with an intent to use the arts to bring healing, expression, opportunities, and visual narrative to communities whose stores need to be told. My students read young adult novels with immigrant and refugee stories, so it was a natural fit to host class alongside the exhibit's launch and lecture. Was thrilled to see my colleague, Dr. John Kiweewa (Go, Cuse!) also on the panel.

The displays around the center featuring the collaborative artwork was wonderful and it was great to see the University roll out red carpets of the Center's vision. Dr. Mark Frieder brought an overwhelming passion with him and modeled the numerous ways such work relies on tremendous sponsorship of many. My students, some of them who worked in Ubuntu Academy during the summer, had many questions about the ways such programs work. I watch with awe, too, as the exhibit was brilliant, my students had so much to add (we were in a side room having class alongside and with the exhibit), and finally attended the panel.

But I'm off today to record the first ever Center of Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies podcast - another new project of our campus community. Excited to be asked to be part of the first recording and to bring five years of Write Time expertise. 

Focusing On the Better Part of Yesterday and Trying Not to Let Mathematics and Labor Laws Plague My Brain Too Much

There isn't a school in the United States where teachers haven't wondered, "Do OSHA standards not apply to teachers?" I've always wondered about that question, too, especially after mowing the lawn late last night where I was calculating I've been working 72-98 hours a week for several years now. Shouldn't there be a location to report such insanity? I'm sure I'd be told, "You have to give up some of your projects," but if I did, I don't think they'd appreciate my response. I'd give up their meetings and their extra demands and focus on the work I'm really hired to do. 

Anyways, I spent most of the day at a local elementary school yesterday where the K-3 kids were working on classroom charters and discussing their needs as writers and learners. It was beautiful, especially the kindergarten kids who welcome me to their school but couldn't pronounce all the letters yet! 

I'm excited for the collaboration because it is with a woman who was in one of my first cohorts of students at Fairfield. She's trained as a bilingual elementary teacher, but has since moved into administration and is now a Principal at her own school. Her love for the teachers and young people is truly remarkable to witness. I am in awe of her dedication, organization, and passion for pushing them all to achieve gratification things.

This semester, a core of 20 undergraduate students will be coming with me to the school as tutors and collaborators...part of their exploratory course. Although I'd also like to have middle/secondary placements, too, there is only so much time in a semester and we are already jam packed.

I also hit send on two major writing projects yesterday, so we'll sit back and wait. 

And what is this, "Oh, you need to eat dinner reminder at 9 p.m.?" I think it's because I've been trying to mow the lawn for two weeks and haven't had a second because of, well, the first paragraph of this blog. 

Later, off to campus I go.

Shouting Out to a Beautiful Sunday Evening, Where the Sky Reinstated What is Most Important and Put a Reminder Back in My Head

I don't like working all weekend. I have to, however (like most teachers), because there's no way to get all the work done required of us during the week. I was telling our University Provost on Saturday night that it is rare I can get out to a social event (like a play) because there's too much to stay on top of...it was a rare Crandall sighting. I also said, however, that I've been paying attention to the skies lately and they are more important than the expectations placed on us as faculty on campus. We need to remind ourselves that there's much larger EVERYTHING behind the ever day grind of academic life.

The trees are lungs. They remain stunning to me, especially in the evening where there outlines are more vivid. 

Alas, I worked all day Sunday but I did take a break at 4 to grill steaks, feed friends, and happen upon the Devon Bridge at sunset. The sky was stunning and I hopped to get a photo to capture how mesmerizing it really was. I tried. Sort of captured the essence of it all. Just beautiful. 

I came home from dinner to have five new essays turned in a week later (Ah, FRESHMAN! You'll get used to the fact that you can't do that in college). Sometimes I wonder what they are thinking - I mean, it's the first assignment of the semester, not a difficult one, and they biff on it. One even said, "I didn't know there was anything due, even though it was central to the first week's class, email reminders were sent, and (ready for this), IT'S ON THE SYLLABUS. 

God Bless. And I think the Great Whatever does, as that was the reminder on the way home. Beautiful September sky....a reminder of what is more important and matters most. 

Yet, here is another Monday. Let me get back to the list of what to accomplish next (because I didn't get to everything this weekend...there wasn't enough time)

Thrilled to See the Academy of Players @FairfieldU Back on Stage with GOD OF CARNAGE by Yasmina Rez in the Wien Experimental Theater

You have to give it up to Dr. Michelle Farrell who is one of the few that can get me out to a social event and convince me to attend an experience rather than sitting at home writing, reading, or planning. Last night, I had the joy of seeing colleagues Drs. Dennis Keenan, Nels Pearson, Jerelyn Johnson, and Sonya Huber bringing marital/parental angst to the stage as they brought forth the 2009 play, God of Carnage. It's fantastic to see the  scholars and writers take on new personas as they depict individuals very unlike themselves. 

Vomit. Hamsters. Tulips. What brings forth humanity any better?

And kids. They ruin everything. Why would anyone have them, especially when they knock out one another's two teeth over 12-year old playground war? Behind every layered youth-gang shenanigan are parents covering up their own shortcomings, pretentiousness, masks, and layered personality traits. 

The script (and the acting) -- absolutely brilliant. The staging superb. Keeping up appearances is the act of adulthood and marriage, at times, is a sham, especially after rum is served. Workaholics, vain wives, and the competitive nature of careers with Western jobs in a world of barbaric civil wars of 3rd world culture and the one-upmanship of art, decorations, fashion, and morality.

The result? The facade is only a veil to cover true intentions. It's a complicated game...these stories we tell ourselves. 

Kudos to all on stage and behind the scenes for bringing a brilliant script to the Fairfield University campus and giving so many of us the opportunity for theatrical play and questioning. What does it all mean in the end...these illusions we let ourselves believe?

The Academy of Players is a tradition I cherish and I hope one that continues. 

Ah, but's it's Sunday and time for my own cover-up of having it all together. More work needs to be done and a night off, means a scramble to get back on track.

Congratulations to the performers and stage crew. All involved should be proud their hard work and dedication. It paid off. 

Cheers to a Good Neighbor, Off-the-Tree Asian Pears, Kindness, and a "Crisp" Recipe That Never Fails.

While Abu was visiting last weekend, I thought about the bag of Asian pears that Paowl, the son of a neighbor who recently passed, dropped off at my house. I've never been one to eat pears nor cook with them, but know that, at times, I've had them at fancier occasions like weddings and foo-foo restaurants. I wasn't sure how they bake down, but I have an apple crisp recipe I love so while we were watching football, I peeled the fruit, soaked them in honey and maple syrup, then baked them with oats, flour, and a sprinkling of butter. 

Although I had a lil' taste, I haven't jumped into them, but have packaged the desert to friends who have reported how incredible it was. 

I brought the dish to a gathering last night and, one by one, I was hearing how delicious and unbelievable it was, so I took a big bite with one of the larger pieces of fruit.

Oh, My Glorious Tastebuds. Wow. What a flavoring! I'm already for my neighbor to pick from their tree next year. I want to take all they'll give me and gift the bite for others. So thankful he thought of me. I miss his mother, who passed in Poland last year, and hope he and his partner keeps the house so their harvest is shared with the rest of us. 

I want to try other recipes, too, and to bring the same joy. Maybe I also need to plant a tree. I love when I try something new (and in this case, I made it myself). YUMMY.

Sometimes You Simply Need to Stop the World, Inhale, and Take a Therapeutic Break Just for Yourself to Realign

I suppose the 14-hour days were destined to burn me out. Class went well, although the emails poured in causing massive frustration of addressing the impossible, so after the joy of teaching, I needed emotional eating (an Italian Chicken Club from Sorrento's Import...to die for) and then a return home to put the backpack to the side, the laptop on the charger, and get the dog for one of the better Stratford hikes. 

I didn't sleep at all Thursday night. Running on empty, I drove Karal to Short Beach, laced her up, and trekked a five mile loop along the ocean. Aging means that it feels that there's a mini-rodent drilling its teeth into your hip bones, but when the weather man said, "It's one of the last summer-like afternoons," I knew I needed to go for the adventure. No radio. No technology. Just me and the dog.

I am grateful and thankful that I'm disciplined enough to know what I need when I need it. 

Tanya and I recorded the first of Write Out guest of this year's event, Awaken the Senses, or National Writing Project's The Write Out. It's always exciting to launch the two-week October event with the network, another series of days I thoroughly enjoy. I also am trying to embrace the metamorphosis of the adult male dad bod, wondering what to do now that I can't run like I used to. I look at food and pack on the pounds. I feel like I eat less in adult life, but it doesn't matter. Movement was always my way to counter it all, but I can't push the way I used to, and psychologically it perplexes me that I'm not my younger self, when I wasn't even award pain could exist.

Varian Johnson, the incredible writer, posted a photo of himself icing a knee and wrote his daughter wondered how he hurt himself. He simply responded, "I got old." I get it, Varian. I get it. 

And I hear it gets worse. All prayers for those older than me already contending with the cramps, aches, stomach issues, and muscle collapse. 

That's why I needed a long walk. They say it's the best we can do midlife, so it's what I did. 

I needed it more mentally than physically, however, but wish it didn't come with ankle throbbing and hip brutality. 

It is what it is and today is Friday. I am thanking God. Adding that 'o' - what can we do put keep good in our view. 

Wonderful to Spend an Evening with Joseph Albert, a Teacher from Tanzania, to Cheer on @StagsVB & the Win Over Yale

Day 4 of 14-hour days with an 8 a.m. teaching time. You got this, Crandall. What else are you gonna do?

Last night, I had the great honor of hosting Joseph Albert, from our partner high school in Tanzania, who is here with the Center of Social Impact for creative thinking about future partnerships and possibilities. Grateful to Dr. Melissa Quan and all she does for outreach, international friendships, and opportunities for our campus, and even better to hear from Joseph about students who attended CWP's summer programs and, upon entering college, decided that writing and literacy is the way they hope to go. I didn't know our summer work had such an impact. 

Joseph and I attended the first home game with the Women's Volleyball team and they looked really good on the floor (and I know how the game is a mental one). Their athleticism is looking solid and the teamwork was demonstrated to pull off the 3-0 victory. 

I also enjoyed a brief dinner with Joseph and catching up on his world and mission of working with young people. He wanted seafood and that is what we got. Again, thankful for the Center of Social Impact for their community-engaged work. 

Now it's time to hit morning traffic in hopes I can make it in time for the 8 a.m. turbo. Meeting an ol' friend, however, was worth the evening hours and now it's up to me to find the energy for a course with 20 undergraduates. I didn't leave campus until 10 p.m. so I could get the materials ready.

Alarm clocks, don't fail me. 

I also accomplished much headway on first week grading and a few external reviews for tenure cases that are due this weekend for other universities. 

I know tonight I have a recording of The Write Time, and then I'm likely to crash because my middle-aged body is definitely feeling this academic pace.

Sometimes a shining moment, however....this was one of them. Okay, traffic. Be kind to Crandall. I need you to be good and easy.

Can't Help But Love Body-Biography Night (thanks Cindy O'Donnel-Allen) & Good Ol' Angus Bethune (Woot Woot Chris Crutcher)

Written in 1991, A Brief Moment in the Life of Angus Bethune, was one of the first YA texts, a short story, that showed me the power of adolescent stories in the high school classroom. At the time I was in KY, I used it to present story structure and voice as my students worked on their own short stories for the KY portfolio assessment. When kids have stories that resonate with them, they also write stories based off their own imaginations and experiences. At this point, I consider it a classic and always use it as an introductory texts to YA Literature (one of my favorite courses to teach).

It's also a perfect opportunity to trace bodies, decorate them in teenage form, and make comparisons to how Angus Bethune works to represent so much about adolescence: parental frustration, crushes, bullying, identity, body image, fitting in, and going through the rituals of high school performance. Coupled with our own adolescent experiences, the drawings become productive, useful, and educative. The students also love doing such work (hey, I saw a teacher doing this the other day at the school where I'm observing). 

Exactly. 

Also, the reference to The Alan Parsons Project Limelight also comes to light as it is prom-dance-esque and the video features a professional clown going on stage, masked, for the performance and what it's like being on stage (which is horrifying when you don't want it, or when it doesn't match the inside voice). I was impressed by the kids who were born 20 years and more after both the story and the song debuted, and how they looked up the song and felt it was perfect for the story.

Yes, sometimes they get it...it's the beauty of Chris Crutcher being on the pulse of the teenage mind in all its glory. He wrote the stories young people continue to need. 

Driving home from campus at 8 p.m., however, was not as enjoyable. Right as I entered Bridgeport, a police car with three construction vehicles pulled in front of us and then slowed down all three lanes as they placed barrels to create a single, right-lane experience. I was home by 9:30. Basically 4 miles...1 1/2 hours. I couldn't believe my luck nor the frustration of cars behind me riding into the emergency lane trying to get around the nonsense. All I can say is thank GOD I don't have an 8 a.m. this morning. It wiped me out in frustration. Ah, I-95...what you weave and block for us all.

Well, that Gift Got ReGifted Rather Quickly. Probably Because I Can, Can. Who Knows? But I Get it Abu. I Get It.

A package arrived on Saturday with The Sisters Mary trucker's hat from Honolulu. It is the company of my student - a project she and her sisters do, where they make cool items and sell them at craft fairs. They went into the trucker cap business this summer and she made me one with three items: Spam, a ukulele, and one of the Hawaiian treats she used to make: If can, can. If no can, no can. Apparently it's islander slang for do what you are able to and don't sweat the rest.

Well, that was swiped fast. It is now in Syracuse, as Abu returned with it on his head after we took Karal for a walk yesterday. It's all good. He has a better noggin for it, and I'll will find a way to get another one (pain in the ass for Nohea, but I shall try). 

Monday brought meetings and meetings stole precious time needed to get all the other work done. I cringe when I look at the calendar, praying for the weekends when there is actually space to get work done. Many of us are feeling it. As Universities move towards a corporate, top down model, they hire fewer people to accomplish what needs to get done and pile on the work of all the people they don't replace. I think hospitals do this, too. Eventually they break, but there's usually someone lined up to take the place of anyone tired of the game. Well, that's how I think it goes, anyways.

I'm doing a stint of Chris Crutcher tonight, loving to teach the wonderful ways his mind works and how important he is to the YA genre. That always makes me happy. His books made my job even better. His wisdom simply made me a better man. 

Okay...time to make the donuts. I can, so I can. I do, because that's what I do.

Reunion Time. The Stories are Thick, Interwoven, Historical, and Syracuse-Connected. Time Moves On. Age Happens. These are the Moments

Phew. Crazy to flashback to 2008, 2009 and to imagine the crew in high school, before their graduations and before my departure to Connecticut. Edem plays soccer for a small school near Buffalo after two years of community college, then moves to Iowa for a job. Abu immediately goes to Brockport, but spends his summers on Mt. Pleasant working for CWP. During Covid, Edem moves to Connecticut for a place to be and to readjust after tumultuous times.

Yesterday, a reunion of sorts. Edem, his girlfriend, and their twins (not Abu and Lossine) live 17 miles from here in Waterbury. I still get his mail after he lived here for so many years, so he swung by not knowing Abu was in town. He was hoping for a quick exchange, but the reunion caused conversation (and arguments) which lasted a few hours. Mt. Pleasant was noisy again. Nothing like the battle of 'teenage boys' needing to one up each other...felt like Nottingham cafeteria all over again. It was beautiful to witness, but also hard, especially as they started talking about their aches and pains.

It's all good. The neighbor brought me a bag of Asian pears, and I read ways to best bake them to serve as a desert (they are sweet, like apples). Karal was walked, season five of The 100 was finished (crazy twist I wasn't expecting - Book One....all that was book one? Oi Vay). Abu and I killed off the grilled food with some pasta and then settled into NFL games.

So much happens in 17 years. Life. Growth. Maturity. Narrative, Complexity. Togetherness.

Okay, Monday. Back at it again with everything really picking up. Ah, but for the weekend, especially on Sunday, there was time to be with the good ol' days...some of the weird histories that began in Syracuse, New York and led to today.

Thankful for every moment. Humanity. Joy. Hard work. The American dream as we've always defined it.

Short-Lived Visit, But Got My Coffee at OSJL, Grilled Our Steaks, Watched the SU/UCONN Game (and Win) & Road Out the Storms

We were hoping for a beach day, as the weather was supposed to hold off until the afternoon. It did, but very early on, the steaminess created a cloud cover, so it was far from being a good day to sit on the sand. It was a good day for Bagel Boutique, watching football, and walking the dog before the rain hit (not as traumatizing or alarming as they predicted, but a good soaking which our ground needs). I got the ribeyes done in time and also fried up pierogis. All of it was delicious. It was a Linner, as we ate lunch/dinner around 4. 

This prompted naps, sort of, which were short-lived so we went over to OSJL to get coffee and stopped by Leo and Bev's to catch up with the. Good night of remembering the volleyball games we had on the side of the yard, the pool parties, and the gatherings from all these years. Joy and happiness. Connecticut family.

It's supposed to be a long day of rain once again, so we'll see how to make the best of a day. We're likely to spend the morning watching stupid stuff and the afternoon finding something to do after the rain heads out. 

Abu done brought Syracuse weather with him. It's all good. Always wonderful having back in the house. 

Here's to your Sunday and how you find serenity best. May your day arise and settle with tranquility, happiness, and comfort. 

Always Wonderful to Hear from Students (Especially Those You Loved Most) About Their Whereabouts and Achievements.

"I was telling Dr. Boquet I am so grateful because whenever I did workshops or went into schools with you, you always put me on the spot to read aloud, or think of something, and to perform on the spot as a teacher, too. I am so glad you did because on my first day in a Master's program and working in a school, the teacher I was observing just threw me in"

I will love Nohea Breeden's energy, passion, humor, and dedication for life, and although she didn't stay in Connecticut for her Masters degree, I am loving the notes I'm getting from Honolulu as she starts her student teaching there. Look out, Hawaii. So much magic in this educator. 

I am thanking the Great Whatever that the little scare of another father hospitalization was a cautious, false alarm and that all is okay. I was awaiting Abu's arrive from Syracuse when a call from Syracuse arrived. Day care for parental toddlers is something, and I am, once again, grateful of my older sister who acts as the angel to both.  

Not sure what we have in store today, except that it is going to be beautiful before storms come in the evening and lead towards a pretty shitty Sunday. My guess is we'll head to the beach and get foot in the sand time. Karal's in her glory, too, because there's company and she doesn't have to watch me type on the computer all the time.

Here's to the weekend. As someone posted on Facebook, now is the time to embrace a warm sun and the outdoors while we still have it. That is my pure intention.

Getting to a Friday on the First Week of Classes is So-Well Deserved. Having Space to Think & Simply Be is the Greatest Gift. Weekends w/o Meetings = Total Joy

I was a good boy and out of my house by 6:45 a.m. yesterday for my 8 a.m. class. Granted, I forgot my coffee and slept like crap the night before, but at least I was up and at it. I am around 14 miles from campus, but I'm on the I-95 corridor. It took me 60 minutes to go those 14 miles and the thing that got me was all 20 of the students were in the room at 7:45 a.m. as I arrived. Y'all crazy. Go back to bed for 15 minutes. They helped me rearrange the furniture and get going.

Good crew. Lacking the diversity of most education programs, but definitely on par for Fairfield University. By nature, I must seem like an oddity to these kids as I shared my story as a teacher, the work I do, and the locations I've been. Most of the kids who attend our campus arrive from locations VERY unlike the public school systems most Americans know...the locations representing global and national populations. It was fine, and we had Jacqueline Woodson to thank for starting it off: The Day You Begin...perfect for discussing a first day of school and when we begin (she's such a gifted mind).

I thought Abu was rolling in at night, but he's coming sometime today. I had food prepped, so I ate well. There are leftovers. By 8 pm I wanted a pillow. I'm exhausted. Of course, first week back, I'm approached about taking on another job, in addition to three I already do: Professor, Director, and administrative assistant to CWP. When I responded in shock that they would even ask, they said they saw my blood pressure rising as the request was delivered. What are they thinking? 7 days a week, 364 days a year, 15 years without breaks....but can I do more? We need you to do more?

Nope. I've been at my breaking point for years. As I told a colleague, when I arrived in 2011, there were several holes leaking through the dam and many of us together did our best from allowing it to burst. Since then, one by one people have stopped trying and left the university....they've not been replaced. A few colleagues and I have been doing all in our power to plug the holes as best as we can, but it's not sustainable any longer. Perhaps they don't pay attention until the dam finally collapses....

the lack of planning does not constitute the emergencies of several years of being warned...

it is what it is. I do good work. I love what I do. I will continue. The gull of asking for me to take on even more is not only infuriating, it's actually quite funny. HOW THE @#$@ CAN CRANDALL TAKE ON EVEN MORE? Nonsense.

And who knows where it will land. Not me. Not all those who left before me. 

My hope for today is no traffic. No noise. No people. Just the work I need to get done to finish summer programs (yes, it's September and I'm still doing summer work because, like I noted, I don't get support). This is no new. What's new is my absolute commitment to pointing out the absurdity of it all.

Good Morning, World! I'm Off with All My Early Glory to an 8 a.m. Turbo, Which Will Be My Life Every Thursday This Semester. We Got This.

I was out in schools and running late to meetings, so had others print out materials for the 8 a.m. class. I didn't know the internet was down, and only learned this when the email came out to tell faculty it was down, so no one could print any materials. I did make it to my classroom, to scout out the space, went to the meeting, then ventured to the office to realize there was not going to be any printing without an internet. C'est la vie. I did stop to get breakfast bars, as 2.5 hours of instructional time will be rough for any of us, including those who try to stay on their game.

I came home to an email from a student wondering about the room we were assigned being changed yesterday in the afternoon to another room. This was news to me...actually good news because the new room is in the building near my office. And it is better suited for instruction. Meanwhile, my car is loaded with materials to drive to another building, which didn't need to be loaded because the classroom was changed (thank Goodness for the student who wrote to me, because I would have been in the wrong room wondering where everyone is). 

New semester. Week one. The adventure continues. 

Despite the lack of rain, my perennials are still blooming and I will look to them as a sign of hope. I spent 7 a.m. until 2 p.m. yesterday readying for the class and was chagrined that I couldn't complete the work with the Internet issues. I'm just thankful I have 31 years of thinking on my feet as an educator, so I can adapt quickly to the insanity that is not only K-12, but also higher education.

It will all right itself. It usually does. I simply have to pray to the traffic Gods that I can make it to campus in a reasonable amount of time. At 8 a.m., should I get stuck in traffic, there will be no one on campus to put a sign on the doorway if there is a problem. Everyone else arrives at 9 a.m.

Should be an adventure, but when hasn't it been. Oi vay. What a start to the new academic year!

Such an Optimist. Thought After a 12-Hour Day, I'd Have the Energy to Plan for Another 12-Hour Day. Didn't Happen. Needed Sleep, Instead

There's a truth to back-to-school work that most educators don't talk about, especially at the collegiate level. In order to start day one on the fly, you need to know where you'll be day 180....or 90 if you go by semesters. This, of course, must be planned backwards, take into consideration dates and intrusions, factor in new policies and procedures, all while dealing with national and local politics. All this is to say that a lot of ground work goes into that first day, so that when you get there, it will run somewhat smoothly. 

Of course, this also factors in that the technology will be working, including audio, which was not the case last night as Canisius Hall was loaded with digital issues. At least my room had wi-fi so students could access with a QR code on their phones (and I have everything on Padlet, anyways). Nothing like setting the trend on night one and realizing, "Well, that ain't going to work." Like Big Brother...expect the unexpected, but in the case of University life, it is to be expected that things will be amok for a while. As many of us were saying, "Administration works overtime to find new ways to make what was working not work, so the not working remains part of the plan - see Workday for all our University needs this year...a program designed for corporations but chosen to run course management. Can't make it up. 

I did have a great class, though...an intimate crew of 8 and most of them YA Literature enthusiasts. I also sealed a deal three years in the making, as I owed two student workers payment from working with CWP to help teachers. It was through a grant but because of numerous issues, the university wouldn't allow me to pay them. The money just sat in my account waiting to be handed over to them. I figured out a way and met with them both this afternoon with apologies and embarrassment...here's what I promised you for your work three years ago. 

I always try to do what is right and it is infuriating when our systems don't allow us to do that. I channeled Sue McV on this one. Who do you go to until you hear, "Yes"? I went to everyone and only got denials. But you learn how the systems operate, and you learn how the games are played, and when you want something done...especially because it is ethically right...you find the way. All of this is to say it made me so happy to get this burden off my mind, because it has weighed on me for years. 

We're back in the wild again and that is why I post this photo of the pillow I got on Clearance. It had White Lotus opening credit vibes, so I went with it to have a pillow to lay on when I fall asleep on the porch while trying to work.

Today: full day of meetings. Thursday morning 8 a.m. - class for 2.5 hours in the library with 20 college fresh people. I don't do mornings. They're in for it.

A Billion and One Cheers for K-12 Educators. They are the Nation's Champions...Warriors...Do-Getters...Achievers. They Deserve So Much More Financially.

I do my math every year, and I'm likely to be off a few years. I know that I've been teaching for 31 years, but I've also been in school for even longer, so I imagine this is my 47th year of schooling. I imagine I entered in Westmoreland in 1976-ish with Mrs. Salamadino, and I have never take a break since. I've been in school since I was 4 or 5 years old. I'm now 53. School is my norm, and it is unlikely that I'll ever know a career outside of it.

Last night, I had dinner with Justin and Joanna, as she celebrates another year of teaching English in Bridgeport. She's my KY lil' sister and I can't believe she's been out in the field that long...still moving and shaking, and still pushing against the boundaries they place our way. Teaching is an impossible task, but you find your people, especially in K-12, to make it possible. The miracle workers are all there. Higher education has some perks, but the real geniuses, giants, movers, and shakers remain in K-12 education. They just don't get the recognition.

I like to say that I've kept the pace similar from age 16 until now, and I've had many roles and occupations along the ways. The truth is, with the work ethic and time dedicated to achievement, nothing was as stressful, meaningful, or impactful as working in K-12 schools. The money is criminal, the disrespect from the nation at large is alarming, but when you think about labor that is the most effective and most necessary, I'll give it to my K-12 teachers every time (and I'll play my tiny violins for academics who still feel their self-importance is triumphant over the work of a teacher -- I call nonsense. You who teach in higher education have no idea).

So, here I am in year 47, ready to teach more graduate and undergraduate courses to prepare the next generation of educators. Truth is, the work being done is to prepare better humanity...more hope...more possibility. I'm tired of it all, have learned the shenanigans, but still believe in the occupation for the beautiful young people we teach. 

I'll be instructing on Tuesdays and Thursdays this year, spending every other day trying to bring resources to K-12 educators who are obligated to several hours with minimal resources. My labor is for them.  Here's to everyone beginning another semester with learners in their care. May you not be exploited by the mechanisms that control us, may you sustain healthy skepticism of their exploitation, and may you impact a life for two to live a better life.

That is wall we hope for. 

And Just Like That...August is Over. There Go the Sunday Concerts at the Walnut Pavillon. At Least We Have This Monday to Rest.

I was a good boy and did several reviews that were weighing on me, and I polished the last syllabus. Karal got a long walk and grilled some Hoffman's and headed to the beach for the last concert of the season. Gorgeous day of blue sky, nice temperatures, and fresh air. The Walnut Beach concert was packed. We have our area, set up, and made for a wonderful afternoon, including Rico who overcame crowds and noises to have a great time at the concert.

I labored less yesterday so I could labor more today (I know, it's Labor Day, but I have work to get done before Tuesday). Likely to be a front porch, computer-screen sprint for a day.

I hate when the dog days of summer slip quickly away, and the realization arrives that the colder months are ahead with less daylight to enjoy life. I see the leaves curling up for the drop. They know and I guess I have to know now, too. The Fall semester is here and I need to inhale for the circus. 

But I'm taking a walk. I'm not pushing it. It is what it is meant to be. I hope everyone is enjoying the extended weekend. They should always be this way.