Of Monarchs, of Frogs, of Pond & of Learning. So Thankful to Burroughs & Lone (2016)

Community of Philosophical Inquiry (CPI).

It's a chapter in Philosophy in Education: Questioning and Dialogue in Schools by Jane Mohr Lone and Michael D. Burroughs, a text I wish I had for the last 6 semesters I've taught Philosophy in Education in the Graduate School of Education and Allied Professions. I've been searching for a long time, switching up my go-to texts every time I teach the course keeping Kristina Rizga's Mission High, Dewey's Experience and Education, and Freire's Teaches As Cultural Workers: Letters To Those Who Dare Teach as successful texts - they help me to get to where I need to be with the students. It hasn't been until finding Philosophy of Education: Questioning and Dialogue in Schools that I finally put a bow on the 15-week curriculum. I am especially fond of chapter 3 and its treatment of building a community of philosophical inquiry.

Participants in a community of inquiry work to examine a problematic concept or situation, following the inquiry where it leads, consistent with logic and critical reasoning. (p. 53)

Undergraduates spent this morning working through the chapter as we opened a seminar to think about: I am my test scores and my grades. They define me as a human being. The conversation was rich, engaging, frustrating and definitely thought-provoking.

I'm very early in my thinking about the power of this chapter (their research and work), but I want to state today that in the chapter they name what I learned as a National Writing Project teacher-leader - that is, belonging to a community in promotion of inquiry, sharing, dialogue and problem-solving is the best way to provide professional development, especially in terms of writing instruction. Yet, reading the chapter after eight years of engaging with Ubuntu as a philosophy - I am, because of who we are together - I am starting to see the way to NAME the importance of community for helping every individual to reach their written outcome.

It is democracy, inquiry, expiration, and a shared community of love, support, safety and a desire for as much truth as one can create. I'm kicking of my Thursday, exhausted form Monday-Wednesday (okay, birth to age 47) with pep in my step because of this book. I'm not done with this work, or this chapter, and I've already pitched collaboration for an interdisciplinary course with a colleague in Philosophy who I'd love to collaborate with.

Great writing. Wonderful thinking. And finally, words to name exactly what it is I've been trying to say as an English educator.

A Community of Philosophical Inquiry.  That's what NWP really is!

Going Into Wednesday Wishing I Had the Life Of Glamis The Wonder Dog and Simply Could Find Some Rest

If you blow up this photo to the right, you will see a dog completely in her Zen, at rest, and 100% in bliss. What you can't pick up from the picture is the wonderful, Big Bird-esque sounds she makes while sleeping and dreaming of whatever it is she has on her mind. The front left paw says it all - she is chill, and her chin (Mitch McConnell) chin is graciously rested on the pillow.

She should not be on the furniture. She knows this. I can't fight her. I am in my laptop chair simply trying to keep up with the pace of a semester. I find ease, grace, and calm looking over at her and seeing her paws prance in whatever dreamland that she is in. She's at ease and that is what I desire, too - a time that will come someday, but definitely not in March of 2019.

There's a mountain to climb, then a mountain to climb, then another. We'll get to April and May. But first there is March.

And speaking of, today is Papi Butch's Birthday (I'm hoping my card and gifts arrive in time). March 6 is his day, the Butch behind the Son of a Butch.

In the Lord of the Ring trilogy, Frodo looks for the seagulls to give him meaning - the seas call. For me, it is the St. Lawrence River and Oneida Lake. My greatest moments of calm and bliss have been those with a fishing pole in my hand, on a boat, simply bullshitting at the sunrise with my father floating on water somewhere. It is total serenity. The breakfast, the pick-up of worms, the hoping the boat starts, and then the eventual reeling in of a pike or Pickerill or bass.

Total Joy.

So, Papi Butch, I know you know the same naps as Glamis the Wonder Dog. I wish you one or more of these on your Birthday. I'm looking forward to one, myself, in 2039 when I hope to finally retire. Oi Vay!

Making Art From Mother Nature - A Snow Day Turned Into Productivity (and My Grad Students Are Glad)

The storm came. It brought what they said it would and the State shut down. I didn't, however, and began my morning with two hours of plowing, including helping new neighbors get out and assisting the elderly couple next door knowing that I'll likely be paid back in pierogies. Then, I proceeded to grade and prepare for night classes if and when the University decided they would reopen.

All classes up to 4:30 were cancelled.

I knew, however, that I have in-practice teachers in my courses, and a snow day for them deserves to be a snow day. I made the executive decision to host class via ZOOM, online, if the University reopened.

They reopened.

Had we met face-to-face we could have delved a lot deeper, but I have respect for teachers, so made a compromise - give me a bit of the course online, and then you can go back to your day off. I received several emails thanking me for this decision. It's the little things, and we were still able to cover territory: data, assessment data, layouts for presenting educational research and our personal pursuits for the semester.

In the meanwhile, I'm giving myself the middle finger. It's my right hand. I am thankful, so I keep flipping myself off.

Today's snow was a wet, fluffy snow that already began melting my 8 a.m. - by 9:30 a.m. it was clumping up in the snowblower and lodging within the blower. I had to grab chunks of ice from the shoot and I'm typically cautious about doing this, as I know the motor is strong. Well, I mistimed the space and when I pulled out a chunk of ice, I felt WHOOMPH. I thought I lost a finger.

Actually, I thought, "Hey, one of my hands will look like Grandpa Spences's".

I didn't want to look so continued to plow and go on with my business. When I finally go inside, cold and pretending all would be well, I pulled off my glove thinking a glob of my phalange would fall out. It didn't. It is cut, bruised and swollen, but I can still flip myself off.

I am lucky and I have learned my lesson of being aggressive when plowing. I just wanted to be done already so I could go back to my 12 hour grading-frenzy.

I should shout, too: I finished the grading. I am shocked but I got all graduate and undergraduate work assessed and caught up to to this week's goals. This, of course occurred at 11 p.m. last night, but I met my goal!

Backyard plans require compromise. It was a beautiful snowfall and I know kids around CT enjoyed building snowmen, sledding and throwing snow-balls at their friends. I, on the other hand, sort of caught up and for that I am thankful.

Determined to Evolve the Species, One Digital Moment at a Time. I Sacrifice My Eyes and My Phalanges.

I've always had theories. They began after I read Whitley Strieber's The Communion Letters, a book about alien abductions that was written when I was in high school. At the time, I worked at Sibley's and sold women's shoes and the Estee Lauder cosmetic saleswoman pulled me aside one day to tell me, "We are here amongst you. We are studying you. We see everywhere. And we are recording."

Her husband was an air traffic controller at Hancock International Airport. I remember talking to her about Whitely Strieber's book and she wanted me to know, "Of course we're here. We're studying you."

Hmmm.

Ever since then, ET took on a new meaning (and I think I saw the film 5 times in the theater as a middle school student). It simply planted the idea that alternative variations of ourselves might one day come back to study how it was they evolved into what they were. My Estee Lauder friend concurred. She said, "Earth is a farm for us to study how it is we came to be." She was in a white, cosmetic lab coat, probably with eye liner and lipstick in the pockets. This freaked me out. She admitted wasn't just selling makeup, but part of a scientific team sent to Earth to study a primitive form of their species. 3rd Rock From the Sun before the sitcom even began.

Why am I sharing this story? Well, I spent all day Saturday and all day Sunday reading student work on a screen. This required my fingers, my mind and my eyes. Each night, I shook my hands because I realized our fingers were not meant to get this much exercise (with typing) and I know my eyes each night simply fog ver after a certain point. They simply were not big enough to record any more digital light. In fact, everything goes blurry. 

I'm an evolving species.

Both nights, I simply had to shut down the screen and think of the ways that I'm not evolutionarily prepared for the work I do. Yes, I do my best, but my thumbs and my eyeballs are not deigned to keep up with the scrolling and meandering of screen-life. I'm simply hoping that I'm actually doing the physical work of creating the human species into alternative, futuristic versions of ourselves. I mean, once upon a time, we were hunters and gatherers looking for berries. Now we are scrolling for real news and research, while trying to make sense of such data for generations still to come. 

I'm at evolution-capacity, however. I simply want to cut off my fingers (they hurt, actually ache from the typing) and tear out my eyes (to give them some rest). At this point in time, I'm physically incapable of keeping up with he demands of my profession, especially with the digital tools (albeit they are AWESOME) we have. 

So, I am finishing this morning's post (it is a snow day for the entire state...well, at least K-12 schools) with a story about a kid named Chris who came screaming at me towards the end of his senior year. “You tricked us. You’re an #$@#$#@. You tricked us.” I was like, “What?” He interrupted a class with freshman and they were looking at him bug-eyed. 

“All these years we thought you were the cool teacher,” he screamed. “We came to your class to have fun and to get away from the stress of the other classes. But you tricked us.” 

I was still scratching my head.

“You really are an #@$@. It just occurred to me as I’m getting ready to graduate. I learned more from you than any of these other #$#@$@ teachers. You tricked us. All this time we thought we were just having fun.” 

Drats. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn’t for those pesky kids. 

See, it turns out that I'm a future version of the human species, too. It's just that I'm a Woody Allen Alien. That is, a self-deprecating creature from the future, and I'm failing here on the Earth with the work I need to do.

Rolling Into Sunday Feeling Like the Peanuts Character Pig Pen. That's The Work We Do

I'm making it a weekend goal to shower today. See, I spent yesterday in a grading marathon, and although I'm likely to repeat that today, I'm also going to take time to jump in the shower. Every time I went upstairs to run the water, I got distracted by another email, or remembered something I had to do, or simply got back into the groove of grading.

It's pretty gross.

I did manage to do the dog-walk and it it took me a while to clean up the snow, but otherwise I was in nerd-land, hoping that no one would visit. When my mom and dad called, my dad said, "Boy, do you need a haircut." I replied, "Yes, but it is worse because my hair needs to be washed." I have my mom's hair. It is 100% straight and when it isn't washed it likes to give me the porcupine look.

I always say all I need is a toilet, a bed, my grading chair and a shower and I'm good. Actually, the kitchen is good, too (with a crockpot), as I roasted pork, made potatoes, and treated myself to green beans. In other words, I ate a proper meal.

Otherwise, it was a day of college basketball and reading graduate student work. Today, I'll tackle the undergraduates. I will also shower. It's a top priority on my list.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out my brain. I go all day using it and then suddenly it just goes numb and I can do more. Perhaps I am catching up from the week (month/last 47 years) but I'm simply tired. I am fantasizing about sleeping and simply doing mindless work for a few months. I haven't allowed myself that in a long, long time. Scratch that. I've never allowed it. I think showering wouldn't be so monumental of a task if I didn't feel guilty about it getting in the way of the pace I'm keeping. Such is the digital life of emails, websites, feedback and weekends as an academic.

I feel gross, Perhaps future blogsites will allow my posts to be scratch-n-sniff. I know. I know. You wouldn't like that. 

And I Thought We Would Bypass Winter This Year - Well, At Least The Real Winter. I Was Wrong

Rumors flew around campus yesterday that there'd be snow overnight, 4-8 inches, but I couldn't find the warnings online. Apparently, storm-reporting was for t.v. and not newspapers or online Weather sites. I told everyone, "I trust you, but I'm not seeing what you're saying."

The day went on without incident.

Not true. I did hit "send" for a publication, worked frantically with colleagues in Syracuse and Pennsylvania on a conference proposal (they amazed me by how quick they can crank out a piece of writing), and ended up being an Uber driver for drunk karaoke singers (okay, it was the usual Friday night crowd who somehow twisted my arm to drive them to a local bar). I didn't get home until midnight and my body isn't used to that.

When I awoke this morning, the snow had fallen. It is still falling. Apparently, we will have 24-hour respite, then another storm is coming Sunday night into Monday morning.

I haven't had to use my snow blower once this season. My winter boots that lost their sole (the glue was never adhesive for holding it onto the shoe) have not been repaired. I thought, "Why?" The storms kept missing us. I have shoveled some, but it hasn't been necessary.

Today, however, I will attempting to start the machine! I laugh, because in 2008, my father found me a snowblower on the side of the road and I've nursed it ever since. I never think it is going to run, but somehow it does. Fingers crossed I will have one more year out of it (he says once again).

It's beautiful, and now I wish I did buy those cross-country skis!

Here's to you, weekend....grading all the way.

So Thankful to Share the Ways Young People Harbor One Another with @CWPFairfield. Looking Forward to #FPLOBOT on March 18.

Last night, as part of Fairfield Public Library's One Book, One Town selection of Jacqueline Woodson texts, my colleagues Sonya Huber and Steve Otfinoski, and I had the opportunity to kick-off a month of local events to celebrate Harbor Me and The Day You Begin. For my part, I realized that anything I had to say would pale in comparison to the incredible work of Jessica Baldizon and William King in Bridgeport, Connecticut. In their work, they harbor the stories and lives of English language learners on a daily basis. They help young people to begin telling their stories by embracing Ubuntu, writing, and the National Writing Project model.

It was wonderful to hear them tell part of the story of how books like Harbor Me and The Day You Begin have influenced their reading, writing, and English-speaking lives. When the young men in my research taught me that I had a responsibility to speak out, I learned that this meant finding opportunities to bring forward the stories of immigrant and refugee youth. Finding perfect texts for such an audience has been a mission ever since.

Jacqueline Woodson's Harbor Me is a perfect match for this work and we can't wait to hear her wisdom on March 18th at the Quick Center on Fairfield University's Campus. We are enamored by the author's words and look forward to the harboring she'll provide for our community of readers and writers.

In the meantime, it is Friday - one of the T.G.I.F. sorts. I am hoping to slide into the day finishing the last minute deadlines so I can use the weekend to catch up with the grading I desperately need to do.

Ah, but last night was all I hoped it could be. So proud to be part of the communities I belong to.