Monday, March 13, 2017

Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Rally for Bridgeport Refugees, Great Sunday

Almost 20 years ago, I attended a Ladysmith Black Mambazo concert in Louisville, Kentucky during the Midnight Ramble at the Kentucky Center of the Arts. I instantly was mesmerized and inspired. For years, I've listened to their albums while hiking and running.

A month ago, I saw that they were performing at the Quick Center at Fairfield University and I immediately grabbed a ticket. I contacted the Director of the Quick, who graciously gave me complimentary tickets for 3 youth from Ubuntu Academy. I was with Akbar, Omar, and Juma during the rally for immigrants and refugees in Bridgeport during the day, so they seemed the perfect candidates to attend the concert.

Akbar performed "I Wish" as part of the ceremony and was his usual stellar self. I almost missed the rally because the first date was cancelled due to weather. I am glad I learned of the new date because the rally was extremely powerful, with people having to stand outside of the room where the speeches were being made: churches, synagogues, and mosques united with IICONN to have a conversation about the importance of immigration not only to the United States, but for the base of all their religious ideologies. The message was clear - we must love and look out for the tired, the poor, and the hungry. Love wins. Love should win. Even with hate in the hearts of many around us, love must be remembered.

As Ladysmith Black Mimbazo celebrated the triumph of Nelson Mandela in South Africa and his legacy to people all around the world, I couldn't help but feel extremely emotional by the rally and concert yesterday. Dance, song, performance and peace is the message. We are better human beings when united with one another.

I know it is spring break at Fairfield University but I'm heading into the office. There's simply too much to be done to counter the narrative being spread through vicious means across the United States. As yesterday reminded me, good only triumphs when good people join hands and remind others of the power of doing what is right.


Sunday, March 12, 2017

This Is Us. Well, Really...This Is Us. Us. Really.

There are so many shout outs to be given, but I wanted to start out with the lady in pink: Ms. Jennifer Russo. As this blog post enters cyberspace, Jen will be running a 5K in NYC and I will be cheering her from my home in Connecticut. Why? I simply think she is an amazing human being.

When I did my doctorate at Syracuse University, Jennifer was the assistant to the Dean and one of my biggest supporters: she kept me going with her humor, her insight, her creativity and her vision.

Fast forward. When I graduated from Syracuse and returned to Manley Field House to turn my hassle, Jen ran up to me for a selfie and that is when I realized I actually completed what I set out to do. The tears began. Her hug and love at that moment (and even today) mean(t) the world to me; she was tremendously instrumental to my drive to make it through.

Fast forward more. Jen has, two years in a row, been the behind-the-scenes extraordinaire who made the NYC Writing Our Lives event possible. They've been a huge success: paper, pens, arrangements, hotels, and arrival of bagels and chicken. She  does her work with grace, flare and funk, and there are not enough accolades to pour on her - just that she's simply wonderful.

Also spectacular to the Syracuse family is Dr. Marcelle Haddix. The Writing Our Lives events have occurred since 2009 and it is amazing how much fun we have running them: get your favorite presenters together and throw a party. It has become tradition, too, to reunite with Dr. Detra Price, as well, and to see their two boys grow up before our eyes.

The Fisher Center, part of Syracuse University's orange presence in the red apple, is a phenomenal location for hosting the high school students. Two years in a row I've been highly impressed by the amazing teachers and their students. This year, I was lucky to have Attallah Sheppard and Chitunga in my crew and the event became extra special.

Chitunga and I arrived back to Connecticut late last night, and settled in for pizza and the episode of This Is Us that we missed. Holy emotional and powerful hour that was - I will be thinking about that for some time, and am unsure where to take my thoughts first. Then Cynderballz texts me to state, "Next weeks is the season finale." Um, really. I'm not sure I'll be able to handle it.

Ah, but I am flying high after a three day getaway for the ACC, my cousin, and the conference. I am shaking my head with the beauty of it all (and guess what? I'm on spring break and I can't wait to spend it shoveling out from the Blizzard!)

Yup, this is me, and this is us. Always. Us. And I love it. 

Saturday, March 11, 2017

A Writing Our Lives Event, NYC Style #TellYourTruth

Excited to be in NYC for the 2nd year for a Writing Our Lives Event: 

(Magic Egg Poem)

#TellYourTruth

You must #TellYourTruth 
as a king with lightening bolts, 
who waltzes through cyberspace with a kaleidoscope, 
who is critically minded 
as he tries to cope,
and who roasts the fresh-air ice-cream with electric cantaloupes
in a flavor-filled feast of library books and dungeons. 

You must be liberation 
with spicy hope, 
Earl gray tea walking 
a slippery tight rope, 
a no need to say yes-type,
when you can simply say nope
with golden rings rings and dark dungeons,
you graciously grope forward
to simply to #TellYourTruth

You are the freedom, the letting go,
the taste of sun, a regal face, you know.
You are the ruler of language in this big city, 
who nestles alphabet letters into speech bubbles, whether nirvana or shitty, 
who invests nothingness from the nincompoops
 & nastiness from the narcissistic.
You are the landscape of words, and the chapter book of onomatopoeias.
You are poetic neophytes who need to #TellYourTruth

You are the Queens with etiquette,
magical movements like Missy Elliot
You have the royalty of the Diva 
because you are the speaker of many voices, 
the circulator of ideas and 
a dancer of dialogue,
taking action with your sound.
#TellYourTruth #StandYourGround
#Speakyourmind,
#Voiceyourworld,
#Articulateyourpassions. 

Be the mic, the word amplifier and the voice baton. 
Be the language that is eloquently sung, 
Be the story that is sophisticated swung and
the spiritual spit that it brings (and brilliantly has brung)
game into the spirits and souls of the universe.

#TellYourTruth
#WriteYourLife
#BeFree
#BeYou
#Do.



Friday, March 10, 2017

A Little Spring Break Crandall Style...Just Enough

Tunga officially has three days left of spring break. I officially begin my spring break in three days. So, as luck would have it, we took advantage of teaching, tournament, and conference opportunities to get a short stint together in the big Apple.

Yesterday, it was back to back ACC games at the Barclay Center (worth it, but a bust), followed by a book signing/reading with Kwame Alexander, and finishing off with a Mexican restaurant with awesome Baja Tacos, Guacamole, and margaritas.

Today, we have four major projects on the radar (maybe five). First, we will survive the big, bad winter storm (of two inches. Relax people). Cousin Mark is coming in from Amagansett to hang with us, and Judy (blast from the past) is coming to join us. In the evening, I'm joining the Syracuse University crowd to get ready for the conference on Saturday.

I learned something yesterday that I didn't know: that is, Timberland boots are not the best for walking all over the Big Apple's streets. My toes are on fire (as are my heals).

We are staying at the Lexington (which is nice) and seem to be centrally located to all the objectives we're trying to reach. I laugh, because on the few occasions we made it to the hotel to unwind, Tunga was writing a philosophy paper and working on his resume.

Phew. Love the kid.

Looking forward to reading a couple of Kwame's new books and to welcoming Attallah to join us. I also can't wait to see Marcelle Haddix and Jen Russo. We will be out tomorrow night during the UNC/Duke game. All I can say is GO TARHEELS! Beat Duke.

And with that, I must begin my day!

Thursday, March 9, 2017

The Genetic Essay - A Crazy Crandall First

In the 3rd week of partnership programming, ED 329: Philosophy of Education partnered with middle school students to make sense of Paulo Freire and Kristina Rizga readings, while assisting teachers in offering possible writing projects for their classrooms. This week, it was genetics. A 7th grade teacher is introducing hereditary traits and DNA to her students and we spent today discussing what it would be like to write a "block by block" essay on our personal, biological traits.

I was super impressed with the young writers and their intelligence for marking characteristics they've inherited from parents, grandparents and personal cultures. I sort of gaged success when I walked around the room and saw 100% of the kids writing up and beyond what I expected them to do as I modeled my own Ripley and Crandall genes (My favorite line of the day..."The older I get, the tighter my genes!"

I was able to discuss my brown eyes, height, pin-straight hair, weight, psoriasis, and creativity for traits passed down to me. I told the kids that I look a lot like my mom's side of the family, but I find myself sticking my tongue out of my mouth while thinking, which is totally Crandall.

I'm an ethnic mutt, and the kids seemed to understand what I was saying about this: Scottish, Welsh, German, English, Irish, and Ukranian heritage.

I've also become addicted to the combined class. If I am teaching about K-12 schools, it works stupendously to have K-12 students in my classes with undergraduate and graduate students as I teach. Equally important is the fact that the middle school students over the last few weeks have totally been able to dissect and develop their thinking from the quotes I've chosen from the academic texts my undergraduates are exploring.

Another bonus to the work has been the dialogue with classroom teachers with what they are viewing from the collaboration of learning together. 009, the class I have, is a wonderful space for such partnership and I feel very fortunate that I was assigned the room. My students' reflections, too, highlight how much they are getting from the experience. The only flaw in the design is the fact that I only do drive-by lessons and can't be more every day in the lives of K-12 youth.

When the science teacher reported, "I'm totally going to do these activities every year and with my other classes," I felt somewhat proud. We looked at comic strips and the way ideas can be blocked to offer guidance of developing our own writing.

Phew. By the end of the modeling, I had a two page essay! This seems perfect for the 7th grade classroom. Of course, I'm old and have much to draw from, but I believe the kids made the necessary connections. I witnessed this with their willingness to write much while they were  on campus. Better yet? They wanted to write and volunteered to share.

One more crew to go! The 8th grade!

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

King of Monroe, The Furs Came Out Again

My first time visiting Pam Kelly was with her sister, Lois, who invited me north for a drink. Within minutes, they pulled out these leopard coats and hats and made me wear them around the house. I forgot about that moment, until yesterday when Chitunga surprised Pam with dinner at her house (he's home for break and we didn't let her know he was coming).

For some reason, the fur coats were out again and Chitunga was quickly dressed for show and tell. It was decided he looked extremely regal and like he was Congolese royalty.

He simply said, 'My goatee looks good.'

It was nice to take a few hours off from the grading marathon on Sunday to let the dogs run in circles and to have some Mac-n-Cheese. I wanted a little celebration, too, because a piece I've been working on for three years was finally accepted for publication in a research text on teaching refugee youth. I don't think I've ever revised a piece more. The email simply made me say, "Take a break, Crandall. You killed yourself over that piece, especially in the last two months."

And just like that, the workweek returned. Bring it on.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Throwback to Angus Bethune with @ChrisCrutcher, A Story

Several summers ago, I had the honor of working with Chris Crutcher at the Louisiana State University Young Adult Literature conference. I was there to offer a seminar on refugees in young adult literature and was thrilled he was one of the keynote speakers. The writer, Chris Crutcher, was HUGE for my first years of teaching. Why? He was one of the few writers that my students would read.

I began teaching in Kentucky with two passions: I wanted to celebrate all kids and I wanted to promote writing. I didn't declare creative writing as a major, because teachers were supposed to major in literature. Although I give my creative writing background all the credit for any success I've had as a teacher, it was the literary scholars that were positioned authoritatively on my transcript.

I finished two Masters degrees when I first began teaching high school. I was given freshmyn, and taught in one of the most diverse environments in the nation - a school that requested one boy and one girl from each zip code in the city of Louisville. The joke was, "If it's out there, we have it in here, too." There were multiple truths in the population represented at the Brown.

During my first year, I was looking for something to help my students to develop as short story authors and stumbled upon Athletic Shorts: Six Short Stories. My kids loved the tales Crutcher crafted, but year after year reported that "A Brief Moment in the Life of Angus Bethune" was the story that helped them to tune their own craft most: the voice, the structure, the genuine recreation of adolescence, the parents, and the humor.

That was 1997. Fast forward to 2017 (oof, that is 20 years!).

Tonight, I am teaching a graduate seminar on developing young adult readers and we are thinking through Deborah Appleman's chapter on Reader's Response. We've been playing with Kylene Beers and Robert Probst's Notice and Notice, as well as Jeff Wilhelm's You Gotta Be the Book. Knowing I wanted to teach a story to help make some cases these researchers are describing for my graduate students, I recalled Crutcher's Angus Bethune, and pulled a copy off my shelf. Rereading it 20 years later, I realize it is a short story that continues to have the same effect. It is perfect. I love it.

A part of me wants to offer my interpretation and analysis on this post, but I'd rather intrigue readers to want to read the story for themselves. I love Angus. He's terrific. He's a product of his environment: sarcastic, insecure, yet awkwardly confident. He's very much like many of the kids I've taught throughout my career - one who is engaged with his world, but arriving from contexts that just don't seem to be normed by society's standards. Still, he perseveres.
"Actually," I say, "I even tried it once, but when I stuck my finger down my throat, I was still hungry and I almost ate my arm" (p. 13). 
That he tells a certain love interest, Melissa Lefevre, during a slow dance at the prom. He responds to her admittance that she's bulimic.

I always loved Chris Crutcher's writing, but after meeting him, it became extra special. For some crazy reason, I was invited to have lunch with him by the LSU School of Education Dean (Okay, not a crazy even...she was from Louisville) while he was there and it was one of the most awe-inspiring, engaging lunches of my life. For a short period, I was invited into the world of counseling and helping kids, listening to the many stories the writer helped in his other life as a counselor. Learning why he transitioned so many stories into print was astounding and I realized at that moment I was with celebrity, integrity, and genius. I knew it before, but sitting with it solidified it all.

I am curious to see how a room full of adults will respond to Angus Bethune after I had such success with him as a high school English teacher. I feel like I've dusted him off some, simply to introduce him to another generation of teachers. Phew. If Angus was 18 in 1997, that puts him in his late 30s today.

Unbelievable and beautiful. So grateful for the genius of this writer.