Shot With the Flu and Ready for a Vicki Soto Run, All While Teaching a Grad Course. Hello, Halloween!

The flu line opened at 11 a.m.

I was in it by 11:05. I handed over all my medical cards and the lady was like, "Which one do you want me to use?" I responded, "I rarely use them. You choose."

The flu-shot was free to faculty and, to be honest, I didn't feel a thing. Last year, I bypassed free shots and I swear I had the flu from December to May, so this year I wasn't taking any chances. If the University was giving it for free, I wouldn't mind the lines...and I didn't.

My day began at 7:30 a.m. and ended at 10:15 p.m. when I got home from teaching. Glamis, the Wonder Dog, refused to go out when I had to leave, so I came home to let her out. She still refused, but I made her go. The drizzle is miserable, yes, but a dog has to pee. Go, already.

I also stopped by the Vicki Soto headquarters to get my bib number and pins for the 5K on Saturday, one of my favorite runs each year.

It is a reminder of my love for teachers and kids, and the fact that school shootings are real...they affect our communities...they touch the lives of many, and we have a problem. I did not know Vicki Soto, but I've come to know her through the family and friends who have kept her memory alive - making positive out of a horrible, horrific and terrible tragedy that should have never happened in the greatest nation ever to have a history in the world.

Some might ask, "Why do such shootings continue to happen, then?" Well, there's a good question to be answered. I invite you to look into it.

I will be running. I will continue to push my definition of GOOD into the world. I will take pride in the community around me that chooses love over hate.

And I will always advocate for the pro-kid, pro-teacher and pro-diversity mantra.

Last night, we spent the evening analyzing and interpreting art, writing, and a believe in the Power of Words. In my head, however, I was thinking about yesterday, the history of our communities, the reality of mass shootings and the need to uplift our kids and schools.

I may be protected from the flu, in theory, but there's no protection from the madness. Their could be a vaccine, but we know full-well that politics trumps sanity (pun intended).

It should be simple, but humans suck and make it complex. So, I keep my eyes open, I see, I watch, I observe and I listen.

Then I act. Actions speak louder than words. 

Nothing Like Visiting CWP Teachers in Their Schools To Learn What's New in Writing Instruction

Yesterday, I went into several classrooms to learn with CWP teachers and their students about the writing they've been doing since the 2019 Invitational Leadership Institute. I was delighted to hear from Amy Collins and Mykala Heiden, 3rd grade instructors at Curiale in Bridgeport and witness the ways they are combining language arts and special education instruction (two of the recipients of a Noble Trust fellowship this past summer). On the door was the mantra, "Ubuntu: I am, because we are!" and it was easily seen by the work the young people were doing. I was thrilled to learn, too, that they were implementing not only writer's notebooks, but math, science, and social studies notebooks, too, where washi tape was in force, writing strategies, reading support and guided instructional practices to help all the learners learn.

The kids were anxious to share their writing with me and I was lucky to sit at a desk and have them read their work, one by one, excited to demonstrate that they ARE writers and they LOVE learning with their teachers.

Aniyah, one of the students, like the others, had her yearlong writing goal taped to the top of her composition book: My goal this year is to try a new type of writing. Her notebook was loaded with examples of many types of writing: writing to learn, writing to interpret, writing to imagine, writing to narrate, writing to inform and writing to explain. I told the teachers I was extremely impressed by how many pages were filled so early in the school year.

What was most impressive, however, was the support for all students - Ms. Heiden at a table with some of the learners, Ms. Collins at another, and several students working independently and in groups on the writing task(s) of the day.

It was easily seen that Curiale 3rd graders in their care are a community of growing writers, who see written communication as a means to write their lives and their worlds.

My heart grew a few inches as a result, especially as I prepare for graduate course instruction and continue to reflect on the successes from this past summer.

It drizzled all day and the skies were murky gray. Still, in their room, with these learners, the sun was shining and the warmth was everywhere.

I need to get in classrooms more. This was a wonderful visit!

Happy Tuesday! My New Favorite Treat: McCain Smiley-Face Potatoes. Comfort Food For a Monday.

I was introduced to these beauties a few weekends ago and now I'm an addict. The goal is to get them good and tanned so they are crispy on the outside, and mushy-good on the inside. They are a fantastic addition to the potato-eating family.

And they are smiling at you as you eat them.

This was a Monday night treat to go with another evening of grilling out, after replacing vents on the outside ducts that blew away with the winds of Sunday's rain storm. Yes, I had to climb up on a ladder and replace those plastic boogers that broke away with the winds over the last few weeks.

I'm feeling domestic and accomplished.

We are at Tuesday and I have to do a round in public schools to support the teachers from this summer's invitational leadership institute and then I need to attend to the graduate courses needing to be taught. I'm also focused on the conferences coming this way and the applications needing to be completed in the weeks to come.

A good run and a fantastic walk with Glamis the Wonder Dog had my appetite up, so the smiling faces were the perfect solution. Okay, Tuesday, we got this. I don't think I'll have time to grill or bake like the last couple of days, but I will have the memory of the potato-noggins that offered me their grin on Monday's meal. So, so good.

Huge props to McCain's taters. Reminds me of the meals I had in Belgium when I was a 19-year old.

Hot Diggity Dog. It's Already Monday Again. But At Least Today It Won't Rain Like Yesterday.

I wasn't prepared for yesterday. I knew it was supposed to rain, but I didn't know it was going to be a deluge of water for 12 hours, from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m. - I knew the weather turned when the open window in my bedroom began to shake and all the house rattled. The optimist in me said, "Yeah. This will be good for my new blueberry plants; they say October rain is good for summer harvest."

It rained. And rained. And rained. There were no cars on the street because it was too miserable to be outdoors. Groceries could wait, which I realized at 5:30, after a Star Wars marathon and grading, when I went to Big Y and people were beginning to venture out. I also took my Kohl's cash and picked up birthday gifts for the twins (a little late, I know) and then came home and walked Glamis on her usual 3.2 mile trek in the dark.

The laundry was put away and I did my best to stay away from work responsibilities simply to take care of Mt. Pleasant ones (which is hard for me to do).

I wanted to grill out, but ended up frying hotdogs on the stove and eating reheated vegetables from Friday night's gathering with Kris, Dave, Ish, William and Jessica. Just like that, the weekend disappears.

The next couple of weeks is 100% conference-preparation time as it is back to back Writing Our Lives, NCTE and LRA. It will be great to unite with friends of CWP-Fairfield and I'm proud of the team doing the work with me this year.

Last week wiped me out with sabbatical applications and grants, so I needed this weekend to be a little less cerebral (and you know you're a dork when you get excited about grading - I'm now caught up).

So here's to another work week. We got this world!

It's The Small Steps In Life, The Pennies, That Can Bring Us The Greatest Satisfaction

When I walk, I never bypass a penny without picking them up. It doesn't matter if it is heads up, or tails, I carry it home and pluck it into my penny jar. In my quest to declutter, however, I decided it's time to bring the copper nuggets to the bank, but Chase no longer has their coin counter so I took them to CoinStar, licking my lips thinking, "I bet I have 700 pennies in this jar.'

With an evil laugh I say, "This $7 is all for me, FOR ME, mwah ha ha,"

I am proud to say, however, I missed the guess. I actually profited with 1,800 pennies, so had $18 for me.

Mwah ha ha.

So much change, so many piles here and there: on railings, desks, in the car, in the change jar, on the tables and on my dressers. Currently, though, I am without any pennies, because I have enough money to buy a gallon of milk and a box of cereal. If I am really mischievous, I might even go to McDonalds and get a Big Mac meal. All those pennies for guilty pleasure.

Actually, I simply used the money for groceries, and I have no idea what they helped buy.

It's supposed to be a rain day and I'm hoping my brain will cooperate with me and get into a writing/research pace. I took most of yesterday off, walking the dog and then going for a walk to Stripe's Yellow, Kathy Silver - who joined me for a stroll in Lordship and short beach - walk-n-talks are the best.

Happy Sunday, friends. It's time to kick of the day.

So, It Is Saturday and, Well, I Don't Know Where To Begin With This Weekend. Why? The Bags Under My Eyes

She has no right to complain. She was walked, she was entertained, she had friends over and extra food, and she had much attention. Still, she's a dog, and it's never enough.

I spent yesterday in my office  - the ghost town it was - where I was able to submit a grant, prepare for 5 presentations at NCTE and organize for classes next week.

I took the evening to have friends over and to host, perhaps, the last barbecue of the summer (strategically organizing with fellow presenters for the NCTE conference and catching up with friends). The food was great.

It also gave me a Friday need to clean and I did just that - before the company came - and I'm thankful that I did.

Now it is Saturday and the lawn needs to be mowed (last time for the season), the laundry needs to be folded, and I also have to think about LRA.

I have leftovers in the fridge, however, and that is a very good Saturday indeed. Here's to Saturday and Sunday (and light blog posts because I'm too tired to tape anything more significant than a few lines.

I do have Glamis's ears, though. She is always 100% seeking attention. I have to love her for that.

With Another Thursday in Stag-Country Writing Grants, I'm Hoping Friday Will Be For Preparing for @NCTE & @LRA_LitResearch

My dossier for tenure told an honest story that, post-dissertation, I imagined a trajectory that would be quite different. Yes, I knew I wanted a National Writing Project position and, of course, I wanted to promote youth literacies and the professional expertise of teacher educators. I did not know, though, that funding sources to do such work would be under attack at State and National levels, nor that I would turn into a grant-writing machine in order to do what I know is effective for young people and schools. With almost two decades in K-12 schools, I like to think that teachers and their students are the superheroes of the nation. They matter most.

Perhaps this is why twice in the last month, I've stopped everything to write grants in hopes I'll be able to continue work with the Young Adult Literacy Labs at the Connecticut Writing Project and to sustain teacher institutes which are at the core of National Writing Project work. Since 2011, I've been successful at attaining over a million dollars in grants and revenue streams, but each and every year I grow fearful that it might be the year that everything dries up. I look to my teaching teams, the local school districts and the young people who come back year to year and I get fearful the support will dwindle away. There should just be support, but there's not. It requires grant-writing, sleeplessness, and networking to the billionth degree.

So yesterday, I worked with a colleague to put together another grant in hopes it will be funded to continue the wonderful work we do. By afternoon, I returned to my office to grade and by evening the grading continued. When a calendar-meeting invite came my way at bedtime, I looked at the calendar and thought, "Eeks. Are we that close to NCTE and LRA, already?"

We are.

The other day, when I was leaving, I walked out with a colleague who is a profoundly successful scholar in religious studies and he asked me how things were going. I responded, "I'm going home for  a walk. I need a break from all the cerebral work." He squinted an eye and said, "Cerebral work is what we get paid for. You can't take a break."

True. But I do. I need alternative forms forms of existence from time to time. Mowing the lawn is an absolute pleasure, as is cleaning the house and car. I simply love doing physical work as a relief, and walking the talk or running a 5K is nirvana. Teaching is physical, yes, but also cerebral. Sometimes, I just don't want to think. I want mindlessness and muscle.

Ah, but when I'm not thinking, that's usually when my best ideas surface.

This morning I am looking at all the presentations that were accepted with colleagues and teachers across the nation who will be presenting with me over the next two months (and I am thinking, "What the hell was I thinking?"). I am seeing deadlines, too, of end-of-the-semester angst and realizing all I can do is hold my breath as it all flows my way. Everything evolved at exactly the right time and what will be, will be.

I also remember that when I was doing doctoral work at Syracuse University there were two experiences that registered in my brain during similar fear-driven moments of the academic process. One was from an assistant provost who said, "We're training you for a rhythm in life, kid, that you'll have to get used to," and another from a mentor, Dr. Kathleen Hinchman, who said, "Crandall, this is what we do."

It is. And it is exhausting. It's also beautiful, challenging, never-ending, frustrating, rewarding and non-forgiving.

So, onward I go. Everything evolves at exactly the right time. This is written for everyone and all who ebb & flow in such fluidity.