It Must Be February. It Must Be the Day Before the 14th. It Must Be Four Days Before My Day. Because I'm Fried

There is a horizon. I know there is. There's also light. I'm sure that exists, too. I don't see either at the moment, but I have faith that the routines and rituals of my life will repeat themselves.

In the meantime, it is 14-16 hour days of non-stop productivity for meeting deadlines, staying on top of responsibilities, and maintaining a semblance of home normality (meaning, I have time to slice cheese for Triscuits and to walk the dog so she doesn't pee on my floor).

It's February. We ride the Cheetah from January and MLK Celebrations and dossiers to February, NWP grants and preparation for summer programs. I've completed two grants, and that third one is hovering on my mind (I am hoping I can put together all the collaboration that went into it).

I am thankful for President's Day. It's Monday. Tuesday, there's a candidate visit, a faculty committee meeting, two departmental meetings, and a 3 hour graduate course to teach. That will be a great way to spend the day, I'm sure.

In the mean time, I am writing. And I need to be grading. I have a pile that is beginning to haunt me and I'm getting nervous about getting work back to students. It will happen...I just want it to have typical Crandall sauce (to bring about additional flavor).

But today, this frigid day, I have an agenda to wake up and to write. I've issued myself a challenge. It's all or nothing and I need to get everything in order.

The dog hair dinosaurs and bunnies can accrue for another week making a fur coat for Chewbacca. The laundry piles can serve as Olympus for the Mt. Pleasant Gods, because Zeus can't be bothered with house chores until his work obligations are complete.

There must be bourbon somewhere in here, no?

Last Night, An Educational Evening On Addictions and the Family, a Book by My Colleague, Virginia Kelly

One of the first true souls to embrace me at Fairfield University was Dr. Ginny Kelly. She resides a couple offices down the hall from me, and was assigned to 'contain' and 'constrain' my wild nature when I first arrived (actually, she was asked to review and go over my 1st year dossier with me). I was, indeed, all over the place. It was a year of transitioning, trying to find out what I was doing, and making a name for my scholarship, teaching, and service.

Ginny quickly parented me and offered her wide, inspirational wings as a guide. I've loved her every since.

Last night, she presented on her new book Addiction in the Family: What Every Counselor Should Know and I was fortunate to be in attendance. The audience at Fairfield University Book Store was robust and the conversation was felt, needed, and useful. She began the presentation discussing homeostasis and how every family grows comfortable with a norm for self-made equilibrium, whether such balance is healthy or not. She positioned her text/research in relation to the growing heroine epidemic in Connecticut. Addiction affects more families every year. When one family member wants to address a change in family dynamics, such as addiction, there is often pushback because reliability on homeostasis, whether dysfunctional or not, is real. At the center of the off-balance, however, are shame, denial, and control, all battling for the attention of the family. Codependency results.

In the family, members learn mechanisms that are real for them, but that can also cause an inability to create mature adult relationships, an unhealthy emotional boundaries, an inability to assert oneself in healthy ways, an attraction to narcissistic personalities, and a loss of the authentic self.

Interesting in Kelly's conversation was naming Fairfield County #1 county in the United States for underage binge drinking. In second place? Orange County, California (interestingly also competing for another region for the extremely wealthy).

What was obvious during Kelly's dialogue is that every individual has direct relationship with someone who suffers from addiction. Treating the individual and families is what her text explores and explains.

I learned a lot from listening to my colleague talk, but sat more in admiration of the gentle giant who is my mentor and friend. Her expertise is incredible and I now see how truly deserving she was to be awarded the title FULL PROFESSOR right after the new year. I feel blessed to have her r in my world and I look up to her kindness, gentleness, sincerity, and intuitiveness. She is genuinely a wonderful human being. I was so proud to hear her share her expertise last night.

Thinking about Knowledge Hierarchies and Social Divisions Across the United States. It is Something.

I was invited by Gateway Community College in New Haven to do a presentation on my work with relocated youth and what I learned from hearing their youth stories. Knowing these were two-year students working on a youth work certification, I expected a room of 19 year olds fresh out of high school.

Nope. The room was full of adult learners from all walks of life, all returning to community college after having children, struggling to find employment, and working through other obstacles along the way: prison, drug addictions, family problems. The collective wisdom in the room was enormous and although many of the returning students were older than me, their curiosity and interest in the world was amazing.

It made me think, "Why do I do what I do at an expensive school with young people who look nothing like the diverse landscape of America? What about other learners, capable learners, who don't have the financial resources to do the traditional fresh-out-of-high school, straight into college routine? How are any of our educational facilities equitable and just?"

I was captivated by the audience of adult learners: their wisdom, their experiences, and their alternative journeys to a place in time who wanted to hear what I had to say?"

I left the evening wondering, "Who do I miss out on by teaching where I do? Where might I make a better, more focused impact on the educational system."

I've done urban school teaching. I now teach in the tower. This is what I am thinking on a Thursday morning."

Trying Something New - Pecha Kucha...Modeling The Genre I Expect (Eeks). Fun, But Tricky

A few years ago, I read about Pecha Kucha and helped my mentor, Kelly Chandler-Olcott, create a talk using the presentation format for LRA. I was intrigued by the genre: 20 slides, 20 seconds each, and thought I'd use them somehow, someday.

Fast forward. I'm teaching a service learning course in schools so my instructional time is limited. The real experience for students is hands on and I guide their learning. Alas, it is also to cover philosophical foundations. I knew for the midterm, I wanted them to help cover course material by doing mini-presentations. I thought the Pecha-Kucha might be a neat innovation.

I watched a few how-to's online and then set out to create 20 frames of talk. I didn't make it to 6 minutes but I talked really fast. Also, I was recording on my phone and Glamis was trying to crawl on my face. I was using one hand to record and another to hold her off. Towards the end, when I flub up a lot, it is because the dog was attacking me BIG TIME.

I am interested in this genre as a managerial piece, thinking I might be able to do a Pecha Kucha after each visit at the school. This way I can make connections with course readings and the experiences they're having working with middle school youth. I also wanted to try one so that I could discuss my writing processes/creative processes with students - to make it transparent. I now have one model to teach (and hopefully to ease the stress).

The creation was done on my iPhone, and I chose to do that to make it easier and non-threatening to the students. There are instruction for Powerpoint and/or Keynote, should students want to choose that. I did a pre-recording just to see how it would go, but the live ones are with flashcards and rehearsal, using expression and eye contact to move an audience. I want to try one of those, but in truth, this is like "every class." I always use visuals to help me craft the story of instruction every time we meet.

In the meantime, however, I'm trying something new. If there is a snow day tomorrow, I now have a backup plan. I doubt the University will close so if we're not in schools, I'll be on campus.

Throwback to Snow Days As a Kid. Sometimes I Will Never Understand Decision Makers and Their Decisions

Friday's storm came without warning. It was a nice bonus. Fairfield University stayed open. Today's storm had warning and administrators across Connecticut sent kids to school knowing they would send them home before lunch. Of course, this is when the worst of the storm was predicted.

I will never understand the stupidity of that.

The weather wasn't that bad except the time when school buses were sent to return home. It makes no sense.

Of course, Fairfield University unleashed faculty at 2 p.m., too. The drive home was moderately slow, but it was rather typical for any day in Connecticut along the corridor.

I'm sure the kids were thrilled to be home in the afternoon - the parents a little more disgruntled about making arrangements for the kids. I, for one, would never want the pressure of 'making the call' but sometimes I wonder what weather decision makers are watching. A foot falls and everything's open. An inch and everything closes (right when the snow is falling heaviest). It just seems that wiser decisions could be made now that technology has caught up with weather systems.

Maybe not.

Either way, it is beautiful and I don't mind shoveling. It's exercise. It does, however, put a damper in the week when everything needs to be rearranged.

Can't complain. It's the northeast and I love. it.

And After A Super Bowl, and After a 5K Run For Refugees, The Real Winners are the K-8 Writers, #Literacy4Life

Yesterday, winners of the Literacy4Life essay contest were recognized at Webster Arena for the youthful nominations of mentors who influence their success in and out of school. These writers named teachers, parents, grandparents, friends, and coaches who help them to achieve focus, self-esteem, self-awareness, responsibility and integrity in the classroom and outside of school.

Yesterday, during a Fairfield University Men's basketball game media time out (12-minute mark), the young writers were brought center court with their nominees and recognized for their achievements and success.

The nominees were very proud of their naming and they were impressed by the level of play of both the Men's and Women's team, but were more delighted that a young person named them as someone stupendous.

My 5K wasn't as good as last year, and the Super Bowl didn't achieve the height of excitement that I wanted it to (sans Beyonce, man o man o man...and Gaga's voice...but what about that hair?). It was the kids who soared to the top of yesterday's performance and I couldn't be prouder.

I Was Warned At 30, The Body Starts To Ache. I'm Almost Mid-40 and Ouch. All I Did Was Shovel. Please.

The unexpected snow storm meant a day at home and revving up the snowblower for another round of Snoopy's Sno-Cone Machine. It was a heavy, wet snow, so Chitunga and I also had to shove. Now, he's the type of kid who is always looking out for others and he looked at the homes of our neighbors, an old Polish couple, a social recluse and pack rat, and a mother whose husband was out of town and said, "I think we should help them out, too."

So, we did. It was a good workout and I knew I wasn't going to get a run in...I tried to walk, but it was icy and Glamis and I didn't get very far.

That's when I awoke on Saturday with a pain in my hip and new throbbing in my lower back. "This is new," I thought to myself, but I stretched and went for six miles anyway. The run was fine, but sitting on my arse all day reading and writing, caused my hip, back and knees to lock in place.

OUCH. and UGH.

I cannot imagine what my dad goes through in his 70s, especially since he doesn't want to be worked on. I mean, if this is what it feels like in my 40s, I can only imagine what it is like in another 30 years. I'm not looking forward to that.

Ah, but this morning begins with Run For Refugees in New Haven, so I'd better limber up, stretch, and get ready for 3.2 miles up and down hills. It's a great cause and I love it, but this year I'm feeling rather dilapidated.

Everything just hurts.