Blooming Trees Mean a Blooming Head. 9 pm Bedtime, Too

I was up at 6 a.m. due to a whining dog who wanted to come into my room and lick my face (it's a competition between here and the house sparrows that sing outside my window craving spring nookie). I took it as a sign to get up and to get to work, which I did...

...straight through to 8 p.m. when I finally made it home and realized that my brain was mush and I simply need to get to sleep.

Easter candy was 80% off, so I ought a few bags of Mini-Twix, which I strategically used for mini-lessons in Developmental Reading. I love my crew of graduate students this semester and enjoy the eclectic mixture of intellect, experiences, language-use, and passions. One of the greatest treats each week is how engaged they become with whatever tasks I put them on (whether reading Alice Walker's Flowers or de-wording young adult novels like Nick does in Kwame Alexander's Booked. We jumped from structuralist theory to lesson plans, to deconstructing text, to word-play, to sharing, back to the mission of the course - which is to develop middle and secondary school readers.

I always drive home spinning the lessons, the contributions, the wonders, the curiosities, and the connections (wondering, "did they get everything I intended for the evening?"). We all agree that the two hours goes way too fast and I always feel like I need another 60-minutes.

And the morning went well, too. A few community partners and I presented to a foundation who is considering the work of Ubuntu Academy and relocated youth literacies. We only had an hour to present and having a new audience made the work we're accomplishing that much exciting. No one ever knows what is to become of any of it.

Except a good night sleep. That's one thing that is for sure. Zzzzzzzzzz.