Ubuntu, Emmanuel Jal, and the Amazing Coincidences of Birmingham, Alabama @EmmanuelJAL @USNBHAM2013 @RalphTRich

I traveled to the USN Writing Conference last week to present with teachers about the power of textual, tech-tual, and textured literacies in 21st century classrooms and to share my experiences of conducting professional development in urban schools. At the conference, I also led a workshop called Ubuntu Matters! Emphasizing Community in Writing Activity Systems where I shared writing achievements from my experiences with students in Louisville, Syracuse, and Bridgeport. At the heart of this conversation, however, was what the young men from Liberia, Somalia, Egypt, Congo, Ivory Coast, Guinea, and Sudan taught me about writing in a new nation.

As the conference approached, I learned that Emmanuel Jal was going to perform at Lessons of the Birmingham Movement: Youth, Activism & The Struggle for Human Rights symposium and I asked Dr. Tonya Perry if she would introduce us. I knew he rapped and I checked out a video  where Alicia Keys introduced him. I did not know he had written a book with Megan Lloyd Davies or that he was cast in the upcoming movie, The Good Lie, with Reese Witherspoon (although I knew of the movie because several friends in Syracuse auditioned, but were not casted). Tonya told me, "I don't know him. Just introduce yourself," so I did.

I also packed copies of Trina Paulus's Hope For The Flowers because we are paying it forward in response to December 14th - I thought he should have a copy. I didn't know Jal sang about peace when I brought him a copy or that his organization, GUA, works to help individuals and families in Sudan  overcome poverty and circumstances of war. I definitely didn't know that he had a book, War Child; A Child Soldier's Story, written about his life. As a favor, Jal autographed a copy to give a young man from Sudan I mentor who is currently turning his life around in Syracuse. I read Jal's book on the plane as I returned to Connecticut and was captivated by each and every page. The narrative, harsh truths, and incredible journey are what I've come to learn from working with refugee populations. Jal, however, provides hope as he works - as an artist with many talents - to make a difference.

War Child; A Child Soldier's Story is definitely going into my curriculum (and I recommend it to the NWP community). History remains important and Jal's story is relevant in to lifetime. To know his story is to recognize the American one. His memoir is going to be placed on my bookshelf with many of the other texts I have used with students and for professional development.

• What is the What by David Eggers (and Valentino Akech)
• Outcasts United by Warren St. John
• Running For My Life by Lopez Lomong
• Lost Boy, Lost Girl by John Dau and Mary Akech
• When Go Grew Tired of Us by John Dau
• Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan
• Now Is The Time For Running by Michael Williams
• A Longway Gone by Ishmael Beah
• A Long Walk To Water by Linda Sue Park
• Out of Nowhere by Maria Padian

When began volunteering with relocated "Lost Boys" in Louisville in 2001 I would not have predicted that I would one day meet Valentino Akech and Lopez Lomong, let alone work with relocated populations in the U.S. Who would have  thought I would meet John Dau at a bookstore in Syracuse or work with Dr. Felicia McMahon through the Lost Boys of Sudan Cow Project? (Here's another: Raphael T. Richard graduated with his masters last year from Syracuse University when I completed my dissertation. He sat next to me at graduation and we bonded over our interests, hopes, and visions for the future. We then parted. Yet, who happened to be at this same conference in Alabama? This man who I talked with this time last year awaiting my diploma).

Meeting Emmanuel Jal at the USN conference is yet another unexplainable highlight of my life. I used to joke with students that "Pain makes you beautiful, and that is why I'm gorgeous." Yet, Jal has the right to claim that he's stunning. I was stunned by his memoir and the beauty he offers from doing  good in despite all the evil he's endured.  

In Jal's book it is written, 

...people go back to the place of their birth just as birds return to their nests. Even if nothing was left, they would still go back and rebuild on the place their ancestors knew. (27)

When I read this quote, I thought about why I chose to leave Syracuse as an 18 year-old high school graduate and why, almost 20 years later, I left Louisville to return HOME to learn once again. I know much of this has to do with the top down changes within Kentucky's curriculum (including less opportunities for writing instruction and much more emphasis on state assessments). Yet, Louisville was my HOME, too. Shoot, now I've left Syracuse again.

I suppose it will always be my nature to rebuild a home wherever I go and wherever I am This, I'm proud to say, has is why I promote the collective wisdom of the National Writing Project and the amazing stories of individuals like Emmanuel Jal.

Yes, I am me because of who we are together. I am this community.

(a community connected to Syracuse University)

I get by with a little help from my... @_Mitchellaneous @julieroneson @kelleyDelight

...Colleagues.

Note: Shaun is missing from this photo because he got to stay an extra day in Birmingham to work on a scholastic project with the Alliance of Young Artists and Writers. These, however, were the faces that captured the sadness that he remained behind and we had to leave Alabama.

Soon after, we fell asleep on the plane exhausted, but totally fulfilled.

When I returned my mother called and told me she read the post about the Sheraton's policy of charging for the internet and thought I wasn't enjoying the trip. No, I didn't like their internet policy!!!! Absolutely everything else about the USN conference and my trip to the city was unbelievable.

Dr. Tonya Perry is a visionary who brought together a once in a lifetime experience for us all and through collaboration with the Civil Rights Institute, we were able to attend programming for the Lessons of the Birmingham Movement: Youth, Activism, and the Struggle for Human Rights conference (Check out the event). What we experienced and who we met can never be replicated.

I have always loved the National Writing Project for the way it respects teachers. They see educators as professionals and treat us this way.

I was so proud of Julie, Shaun, and Kelley for presenting on Textual, Tech-tual, and Textured Lineages (and even prouder of the evaluations they received from those who attended their session). In fact, as the session came to a close, participants stood up and hugged them. HUGS. It was such a beautiful thing to see.

Sadly, the conference came to an end, but all of us are inspired to keep the vision alive.

Dear Red Mountain Writing Project @USNbham2013 #NWP

I am at the Birmingham Airport getting ready to depart for my home in Connecticut. I have a hot cup of coffee in my stomach and chose bacon for my eggs and bagel this morning - Alabama hospitality to accompany the chicken, potatoes and steamed vegetables served this week.

I am thinking of the questions that greeted me this morning from the teachers I brought with me, "Do we really have to leave?" Sadly, I admit. We do.

The generosity of the Red Mountain Writing Project over the last four days (and their connections with powerhouses in the state) has been amazing. The back work, planning, and organization that brought so many political players to the Sheraton Hotel to speak with National Writing Project teachers can never be recreated. In the words of Steven Zemelman who is with me right now departing for Chicago, "This conference brought history out of the textbooks and into our collected memory."

To hear the numerous testimonies of those who lived through civil rights violations in the south 50 years ago (with newer forms of these violations today) was a once in a life time experience. Visiting museums, hearing the writing and listening to the drumming of youth, attending stellar presentations and interacting with the teachers of Alabama has been irreplaceable. I am honored. I am privileged to have attended.

Team Bama! 2013! My applause is for you and everything you put into the success of the USN Writing  Conference. You raised the bar high and everyone who attended will never be the same again.

Over the last 96 hours, I've met lawyers, politicians, teachers, activists, writers, students, family members, organizers, historians, scholars, and residents of Alabama who have studied, revisited, and redirected the movement that changed America's history.

One pen can change the world, yet it is not only the pen that is needed. What is more important are the committed individuals who are willing to stand up to COMMUNICATE what they believe in.

While at the Civil Rights museum I listened to Freedom Riders reflect on their experiences after they were bombed. After they were beaten. After they were stoned. After they were harassed.  They, committed to a cause that was bigger than them, stayed focus and fulfilled what they set out to do. Before the words could be written by the pen, the community needed to act first.
Yes, the pen can change the world, but before committing itself to the page there needs to be the people who have something to prove to the world.

Red Mountain Writing Project, you proved so much to me this week and I will be a better man, teacher, scholar, thinker, writer, and mover because of you. Words cannot capture my appreciation for all you have done.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Bry

Historical. I Became More Civil Today. @USNBham2013

Julie, Kelley, Shaun and I have been looking forward to USN for months (meeting on weekends several times to get our work in order). When the acceptance of our proposals arrived in January we were stoked (although nervous) - We couldn't wait to participate in the USN conference and to attend the Lessons of the Birmingham Movement: Youth, Activism, & Struggle for Human Rights symposium on Friday.

In three letters. WOW!

The morning began with a presentation by Mrs. Charlayne Hunter-Gault, Civil Rights icon and award-winning journalist and was followed by Mr. Rami Khouri, the internationally syndicated political columnist and scholar (also a graduate of Syracuse University! Go Orange). Hunter-Gault addressed her current work with human rights issues around the globe while Khouri discussed similarities between Birmingham and the Arab spring. Both provided irreplaceable wisdom and allowed participants to interact with them in an informal discussion (with brilliant minds from across the nation).

This was followed by lunch with guest speaker, Mr. Jose Antonio Vargas - the Washington Post Pulitzer-Prize Winning Journal (and I would say, activist). Vargas discussed his experience of becoming famous because he began to tell the truth. He is an illegal immigrant. He also identifies as a gay man, and he's successfully achieved a stellar education in the U.S. so he can contribute to society. In his words (and humor), "the nation will only become browner and gayer." With knowledge Shaun Mitchell, a CWP-Fairfield TC, was at the same lunch, I know Vargas's conversation resonated. As Shaun said, "Vargas is my new writing hero."

After lunch, we were led on a historical tour of Birmingham, which included the 16th Street Baptist church and the Civil Rights Institute - a museum that follows the Civil Rights movement from slavery to 21st century humanitarian efforts. The emotions ran through me  parallel to the first time I visited the Holocaust museum in DC. Every teacher, I believe, should be required to visit this museum once and many of us in attendance felt the history and literature we teach in our schools became more profound after we walked the streets where history actually occurred (I felt the same way in Tulsa last year).

Birmingham, Wow! Simply Wow! Red Mountain Writing Project...a Buddhist bow to you.

Birmingham Sheraton - Boo On You

I am being a brat. Actually, I'm being an obsessive brat. I can't believe in this day and age that a hotel would charge $10 a day for Internet services. That is terrible and totally uncalled for. I had to leave the hotel to find a spot simply to connect to the world. I know. I know. I should deconnect but 99% of my life is digitally oriented. I can't stand not having access to my whims and fancies.

inhale. exhale.

Birmingham is nice. I arrived safely. The moon was beautiful, but it took us an hour and a half to find a restaurant that was open (at 7 p.m.). Similar to Albuquerque everything is closed and dead. It is sort of eerie.

Tomorrow, however, we're scheduled for a lot of events and we're hoping to see people. Real people.

I also missed the southern accent. When they asked me what day I would be checking out, I thought they asked me if I would like to have chicken out. I responded, "Oh, I don't know. I'm not sure what we want to eat."

AND I forgot how s  l   o   w   life is. Things get done when they get done.

But the internet. It's not like I'm at the Disney compound!

Proud to Be a World Book Donor @wbnamerica

Forgive me for a post two days late. Yes, today is Thursday and on Tuesday books were picked up for the North Side Learning Center in Syracuse, New York.

I was selected to be a World Book Giver in the USA and I applied to have books brought to my friends from many nations and the center that works tirelessly to support their literacy efforts. Yusuf Soule, the Director of the Center, gives much time from his life to find funding that offers extra curricular and adult education to relocated populations of central, New York. When I read about the World Book give away opportunity, I knew I wanted to thank his center for the hard work they do. They are a phenomenal organization worthy of such an honor.

Locations like the North Side Learning Center in Syracuse, New York, are extremely important for the adjusting lives of refugees who are brought to the United States from war-torn countries around the world. When such individuals arrive they bring tremendous enthusiasm to learn how to read and write in English. They desire a better life in a new country and, often, it is literacy that will help them. Individuals like Yusuf Soule bring the greatest hope because of their dedicated efforts. Those served by   the center are deserving recipients of World Book Night and the selected texts, The Phantom Tollbooth, that will be added to their reading library.

It must be the end of the semester and I have college freshmen

I did a reflective exercise with freshmen in my English 12 class yesterday (a course required of all first year students to demonstrate an ability to do literary analysis and demonstrate a collegiate argument that draws on textual evidence to make a point). I thought the exercise was light and rewarding, but it was interpreted with angst and total fear.

Why? Students have been conditioned that the grade matters most and that the learning (and self-reflection) is irrelevant to the letter given to them. "I need an A. The A speaks. That is what mattered. Comments are distractions."

I am thinking this is developmental. Students are used to taking control of the one thing that belongs to them...the letter assigned to acknowledge their achievement. Less important is the feedback on ways to improve their writing, to demonstrate better critical thinking and an ability to articulate their thinking in written form. This, I was told, doesn't matter as much as the letter provided them for their performance. That means something to them.

I've written letters after assignments to explain what needs to be done and where they can improve their writing and, I guess, I failed because I acknowledged they are heading toward a C'ish or a B'ish grade. Many are in the A'ish range and this is what caused the problem. They want to know that they are getting the Scarlet A because that matters to them more.

This, however, is perplexing. What happens to this generation when they are out in the world and letters aren't provided to them to justify their existence? That is the question I posed to the class and this was not satisfying. They made it known that they've learned a lot but it is the grade that is carried forward and not the feedback.

I'm not sure if this is a generation thing, but I am afraid we're heading into an angst-driven culture that have not intrinsically invested in the importance of learning. My head is spinning in a tizzy of their concern. I only have my story about grades and what they mean and it is hard to articulate that a letter indicates the ability to meet an objective. The objectives were clear and some are closer to demonstrating them with proficiency. Then there are those who haven't even begun. Oi vay. Teaching.

Dear IKEA, I'm intrigued, but not impressed.

A few weeks ago I took a moment out of my life to stop at the IKEA store in New Haven. I suppose it is logical that such a store with its European influence would be in proximity of Yale and the demographics that attend there. I've heard from many of my friends around the globe about IKEA products and, loving the European way, I finally walked in your store.

Yes, I was prepared by friends that once you enter you are trapped. I didn't mind this, however, because the products were new and some of them were interesting. I began to think the two of us could have a friendship. As I browsed, in fact, I bought a huge picture frame for a collaborative piece of art my students created called "Africa." Sadly, the frame was still to small so today I brought it back to the store to return it.

It was 2 p.m. when I arrived. The lady at the register who accepted returns, however, did not get to me until 3:20. It was obvious the store was understaffed and this employee was miserable. I listened to her belittle and argue with every customer before me and, to be honest, I wanted to get her a cup of coffee and a hug. BUT, that is not my job - that is yours. I was terribly disappointed by the service as were the 20 other people waiting in line. It was ridiculous - so much so that I don't think I will likely return. When I finally was waited on, my exchange was quick, but the scowl on the employees face made me sad for your company. I couldn't help that your European model of a chain store adopted American standards for treating employees. The woman who waited on us seemed sad, discouraged, frustrated and miserable. Funny, I always enjoyed my trips to Europe because customer service seemed more family-like and local. Not at the IKEA in New Haven.

I'm now calling your store Yucky-Yeah.

I thought you should know.

BRC

It's Monday, but I'm thinking about The Sundays and Being 19

I met with a student on campus yesterday about his final paper and we began talking about travel. He's been to Italy a few times to meet relatives, but was kicking around the idea of traveling to London. I started thinking about my sophomore year in college and how, so young, I packed my belongings and moved to Wigmore Place a few blocks north of Picadilly Circus and south of Regents Park. I remember reading postcolonial literature while there (Literature of Exile and The Black British Experience) and, of course, a lot of Shakespeare. I believe we were all enrolled in a course on theater, too, and we went to a new play every week (sometimes twice). We raved at times, frequented pubs and through our own parties. In fact, my first and only surprise party was thrown for my 19th birthday by my flatmates. We were an odd crew of young people finding their way in the world.

What I loved about that time was the thrill of being alive and seeing new things. It sucked not to have money, but I was in England and we had music, cheap pasta to boil, and lots of other people are age to talk with. There's a zillion other stories that go with this (a fire, housing a homeless man, a bipolar breakdown, coupling, re-coupling, re-re-coupling, and travel).

When I first got there, I didn't want to stay. I hated it. My letters to my friends and family described how awful I found it to be. This misery, however, lasted a couple of weeks. I poured loneliness into old fashion snail-mail because I didn't know anyone. Soon, this changed, but still that semester and that semester alone brought me independence. I ventured to German on my own, to Ireland with Judy, and then to Belgium to meet a girl named Lena. I walked to clubs and found libraries, traveled the Tube like it was natural, and new where to get groceries, cheap bread, and the best pints.

Shaw wrote that youth is wasted on the young and I'm sure I wasted much of my time while there, but still I reflect on traveling to London fondly. I remember, too, that friends from my old neighborhood in Clay, Lori and Chris, came to the city for a weekend on a business trip. They wanted to hear how everything was going and I told them everything. I fell in love with life and had all these ideas for the world. Chris laughed and said, "Ah, this is where you're supposed to be. You'll age and be less naive about the world."

It's funny, because when we flew into London, we were delayed for five hours because the IRA bombed the city (similar to the bombing in Boston). I had to ask, "Who is the IRA? Why would anyone bomb London?" Fast forward many years and I understand Chris's comment. I was naive, very naive, and I suppose I still am but have spent my adult life trying to counter this. My perspectives have remained global and it's easier for me now to put global incidences into perspective with history, economics, traditions, and conflicts.

Because I wrote this on Sunday night for a Monday post, I began to think about music I listened to while I was there. Someday, soon, I hope I can return. I hope I can bring students overseas again like I did while teaching in Kentucky. To know the U.S. it is always important to know somewhere else.

Pushing Brown School on Teachers on a Saturday @_Mitchellaneous @julieroneson @USNBham2013

Yesterday, during a last-meeting before heading to Alabama to present at the USN Writing Conference, Shaun Mitchell of Central and Julie Roneson of Discovery Magnet quickly took a time out to play dress up. We were all venting, although lightly, of the work we have to do, the inequities we see in Connecticut schools, the vision we have for doing better, and the papers we have left to grade (or file, in some cases) when something was said that made me think: these two need to play dress up.

Yes, we have many pens and a willingness to write for change in this world, but sometimes we also need to have a good laugh.

Once upon a time I had a warehouse of such goods in my classroom that students explored whenever creativity was required. Now, there's too few opportunities for such silliness, even if I do still have a small drawer full of knick knacks  from my Brown School days. The props came to the rescue just when we needed to laugh.

Yes, good teachers meet on Saturdays to work on being professional . This often goes unrecognized, under-appreciated, and definitely without compensation. That is why it also requires a sense of humor
It is what is done so we can stay atop of our profession and to get ready. We are totally pumped  for our work down south later this week.

Alabama, here we come. We can't wait to meet the extraordinary hosts who put this event together.

Another Tooth for the Community of Faeries

This is a delayed post for Mr. Sean-Man. He has officially lost his third tooth and, if he could do all of these at once, I'm sure we might get a great photo of him next to Papi Butch. That might be a photograph to remember for always.

So, Sean, how much does the faerie-land tooth people leave under the pillow anyway?

Any ideas what they do with all those teeth? My administrative assistant says they make dentures with them for old people. That's a clever idea. Maybe they grind them down and turn them into sea shells. Or perhaps they fling them to the sky so they can become stars. I, myself, am curious about their purposes with all those teeth. I would like to hear an explanation from my nephew.

Of course, this uncle hates teeth and those who work on them. Hygienists are alright because they give you flavored toothpaste like Pina Coladas or Bubblegum. Dentists, however, not so pleasant - especially if you inherit bad teeth.

Either way, buddy, good to see you're living the first-grade toothless bonanza. It makes it a lot easier to slide a straw into your mouth.

Miss ya.

And Then There's Magic... @sonyahuber @PaintDeez @Balbert3

Over a year ago, writer Sonya Huber and her husband, Cliff, invited me out to dinner and to check out a new exhibit sponsored by City Lights in Bridgeport. One of the artists showing his work was Gordon Skinner, an outsider, self-taught genius of art who paints to catch the attention of others. Every time I see people viewing his work, they get inspired and begin to ask questions about layers, perspective, existing, and meaning. I love that.

Fast forward.

Last night, Sonya Huber and her team of students from Fairfield University premiered their publication of Dogwood, a literary journal of poetry, short fiction, and essays that featured Gordon's work on the cover.

The evening of hearing verse was magical in many ways - first, that Sonya and Gordon were side by side to unite such creative text and second, two of my students read their work: Pedro Ramirez and Chris Schelzi. Both young men rocked and, similar to Gordon, were modest about their talents.

 Gordon, Pedro, Sonya, and Chris are shy about their amazing gifts, yet exude so much life, energy and brilliance in what they do. This, coupled with the keen and savvy eye  of Gordon's manager, Bob Albert, made for another Connecticut night for memory.

Props to all involved, especially Sonya - you are amazing. And Gordon - you add flavor to the world. And, of course, Bob - you make it all possible.

Let's hope such collaboration continues.

Teaching back to back, session to session - phew. I've forgotten...

I was invited to present two sessions yesterday for graduating seniors in Bridgeport embarking toward college success. The topic was Writing For College and I was given 90 minutes for each group of 35 students.

It's been a while since I've had to be ON for 180 minutes and just as one group left the room, the line of the next group was pouring in. I had flashbacks of teaching six periods in a row, five days a week, and the exhaustion it caused. There was no transitional time and I had to be at my best.

Consequently, it wiped me out.

I offered ten recommendations for successful writing in college and at each step, I had the kids write and interact with the expectations. We shared, we laughed, we hoped, and we moved forward. It was great to receive their appreciation as they left and to, if only for a short while, play a role in exciting them for the possibilities to come.

Ah, the hard work to come.

And the hard work of the teaching communities that have worked with them to get them to this point...in terms of statistics and numbers, these kids have defeated most odds.

Sometimes, I have to be me. Childish. Silly. and Alive.

The reluctance to put away childish things may be a requirement of genius.  ~Rebecca Pepper Sinkler


When things got crazy in a K-12 environment, I often brought out balloons to ease the minds of the students I taught. I found them to be therapeutic and up until Lauri Wade and her daughter, Jess, I never knew people who were totally petrified of balloons. They were the exception and I'm excluding them from this post.

The rest of the learning communities I've worked with have enjoyed time outs with balloons and that is what I brought to my undergraduates last night. They have been studying for Calculus examinations, dissecting eyeballs in their anatomy classes, and worried about Organic Chemistry. For a few weeks I've scolded them NOT to talk about studying for their other classes in my presence because they bring back all my angst of being a student myself. "In my class, we are to focus on writing about literature and making an argument that is original, thought-out, useful, and of interest to you."

They are working on revisions and folding in research. That is why I brought in the balloons.

I gave the students five minutes to play, but instructed them that while they kept the balloons in the air, they were also to discuss their worries about writing the second draft, reading Egger's What is the What, and pacing what has to be done to finish out their first year at Fairfield. I was very amused that they took this task seriously and spent five minutes bouncing balloons in the air while adjusting to my class goals. I wandered around and eavesdropped to get a grasp of who is struggling, who hasn't been reading (I had my suspicions and the balloon game made the suspects stand out), and who might need extra guidance. It went beautifully.

And for me...I was simply stoked to see the kids smiling and not stressing out. Yes, I'm a jerk and tough, but I'm also a big, whacky kid at heart. I simply want to play.

A Shout Out to Michael Serazio

Last week I had the pleasure of hearing Michael Serazio read from his new book, Your Ad Here: The Cool Sell of Guerilla Marketing, where he addressed the tactics often used by corporations in late capitalism to sell their products across the nation. I cannot claim this as territory that I'm familiar with, but
I loved the possibilities of transferring this work to youth and the informational reading they should be able to do as consumers in a time of college and career readiness. In this vain, Michael Serazio has detailed critical consumerism to the nth degree. His intellect, scholarship, savvy data sources and keen knowledge blew me away.

Michael is my office neighbor and sits most days two doors down from my administrative assistant. I see him almost daily and am always impressed with his funky style, student-centered office hours, and constant online activity. I've joked that Dr. Serazio looks like a high school student but his youthfulness is deceiving. This guy knows what he's doing and brings immense wisdom to our campus.

I bought the book and am looking forward to reading it thoroughly after this semester unwinds a bit and I have some R & R time (reading and reading).

What I brought away from his talk, however, is how creepy commercialism is when one considers the brain tactics, studies, strategies and purpose that corporations invest to selling goods to our country. As a cheap skate and, well, cheap skate, I can't say that advertisements hood me much. Still, I'm fascinated with them as an art form and ever since reading Susan Bordon's work, Unbearable Weight, I've been interested in the pop cultural side of commercialism and its effects on the human body. I also enjoyed reading Augustus Burrough's humorous (yet tragic) memoir in Running With Scissors.

Perhaps all of us are actually marketers and on a quest to sell our wares to others. Do note, however, my tactics are far from Guerrilla-like.

and then daylight returns

and so does the guilt.

How can I accomplish everything on a beautiful day when the sky is blue and the sun is out?
A yard full of branches that fell. Soil wanting my hands to dig into it. Roads hoping to withstand the pace of my orange Sauconys for both a walk and a run. A car to be washed.

Then the contrast. Papers to grade. Books to read. Conferences to organize. Grants to manage. Groceries to get. Laundry to do.

Yes, the tensions of spring are upon us and we are not quite yet at the dog days of summer when sitting, poolside, with a jug of Margaritas is a justified distraction (after all, sun is good for the skin).

And now it is Monday again. Personally, I think all of us can use a weekend community every day. It is more fun, more relaxed, and brings more sanity for the soul.

Yuck.

The work we begins again.

And another year goes by...

Dear Nikki,

At this time next year you will be a senior in high school (and if I begin saving, maybe Cynde, Mike, KC, and I will fly to see you in Dayton). Don't hold your breath.

It is amazing that so much time has flown and that, well, you took after your mom and began to compete in Winterguard. I have vivid images of Papi Butch shedding tears of pride (and memory) for you back in the days of club, cadet, JV, and nowVarsity. I feel lucky that I was able to see most of these years of your competitions while I was working on my doctorate in Syracuse, and although I missed the year you did Bollywood, I was able to catch you this year in Central Square and Rhode Island. I like Starbucks coffee because it is acidic, but he show this year -- not so much. I'm still rooting for the Crappy show.

Either way, you need to know that whatever the judges say and however the girls interact we (the family unit who drives you nuts) are all proud of you. Perhaps one day you will be at the age of Cynde, KC and I and reflect in a similar way about youth, growing up, commitment and time. It flies (as will your senior year and the frustrations of being in high school and all the drama that it entails). With that said, I think all of us would say "Embrace it for every second you have it." Don't sweat the small stuff. Simply absorb the memories while they are made - even the girly gossip, backstabbing bitchiness that comes with the territory of your age.

Seriously, Congratulations on having a drop-less (better than topless) season and for persevering in a passion you have for your sport (of the arts). I am looking forward to how you step up your game during your last year of CNS.

Love ya,

Uncle B.

and today, I hope to rest....

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Scholarship Awards Dinner and A Weekend Ahead

I'm trying to keep my energy up on Friday, but after two 15-hour days, I'm ready to throw in the towel. With that said, the scholarship dinner for our graduate students that was held in Weston, Connecticut last night was a great evening of find food, playing dress up, and articulating appreciation for outstanding graduate students.

It was, however, on a Thursday night after an extremely busy workweek and I am very anxious for the weekend to come. I simply want to chill out in a pair of sweatpants and clean up my computer desktop, write the recommendations that are piling up, and begin to create a plan-of-action for the upcoming week which will be just as busy.

Of course, today will continue with more of the same: day trip to a few high schools and a meeting to get ready for Alabama next week. Things are flying by quickly.

I do wish, however, to give a shout out to Nikki and the Northstars who are competing for a spot at Dayton finals in the Scholastic Open category. They've been drinking a lot of Starbucks this season when the WGI judges prefer Dunkin Donuts. They should be proud, however - they've done the best with the show written for them and they can only carry a concept so far. Here's to the hard work of the year.

Maple Syrup, Duck Blinds, and Compost: Digital Tourists at Womogo H.S. @NWPDigital_Is @teachcmb56

Last Saturday at the Literacy Essentials Conference at CCSU, CWP-Fairfield 2012 teacher, Colette Bennett, presented a workshop called: "High Tech Reading Circles" with colleagues from her school. Colette stepped up  literacy leadership in the state partially through a small enhancement fund CWP-Fairfield made available to teachers through the NWP SEED Teacher Leadership grant). The presentation they made highlighted how they work digitally with varying grade levels in a school district that is becoming 'paperless'. Teachers have the power to create their own textbooks (ones that are student-centered) through the many environments that are available to them online.

After the presentation I returned home to re-read Sarah B. Kajder's work in Adolescent literacy and the discussion of "Unleashing Potential With Emerging Technologies" - a chapter assigned to my pre-service graduate students who will one day (soon) be teaching. As I re-read Kajder's exploration of digital tools, I realized that Womogo High School - part of an agricultural district in the northwest corridor of Connecticut - is living the power of technology via their English Department. I asked Colette if she minded SKYPING (it's a verb now -- I just made it official) my class to do the same presentation for my students.

This is a short aside: The young men from Sudan, Somalia and Liberia recently taught me the power of SKYPE after I moved from Syracuse. They continue to share their writing with me through SKYPE and taught me how to show desktops so we could workshop online. Here, students with limited and interrupted formal education (SIFEs) with only a few years of schooling in the U.S. already had knowledge of how to tap into the power of SKYPE to maintain a community for their writing. This is beautiful.

Their knowledge is what allowed me to suggest to Colette Bennett to visit my graduate students tonight (Yes, that is Colette leaning on the heads of graduate students at Fairfield University). She presented her conference talk to my graduate students digitally and, in this way, unleashed the enormous potential of the emerging technologies already in use by English teachers at Womogo Regional High School. She brought Kajder's chapter alive.

In terms of Connected Learning - her presentation modeled equitable, social and participatory learning across several environments where new knowledge was production centered on student interests and where youth openly network with a shared purpose to reach academic excellence. I totally felt connected and I can't help but be impressed by the collaboration and digital savviness of the teachers at Colette's school.

And that's what I have to say this Thursday morning.

A Break Up Letter @NCAA

Dear NCAA,

I don't know how we keep getting ourselves into this situation. I'm not sure if the two of us are in lust with one another or in love. Maybe it's just hate. Besides, those semantics are for Greek philosophers and I'm just a schlep currently living in Connecticut.

I know. I know. It It seems to happen every year between us. When the teams announce their schedules and I begin to align my calendar for the Louisville and Syracuse games, I grow dizzy with excitement. I become a school boy with a crush on the girl with pony-tails and freckles. I get all sappy silly. Suddenly I want to watch the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp and I get goo-goo eyes for the court. The flirting intensifies in December and January when you always come after me while I am always looking for ways to come after you. We're worse than some of those mating scenes on Animal Planet. My blood pumps harder and in February, I can't get you out of my mind. You obsess me. By tournament time I lose more and more and more of myself to you. By the Big East tournament I realize I am whipped once again (and this year, you had to destroy a conference I've loved for so, so long). I feel like the play toy of Aphrodite - like you are Eurydice and I'm Orpheus year after year after year.

But you were more aggressive on me this year with Syracuse and Louisville. Then you hooked me into UCONN with Breanna Stewart, a star athlete from my alma mater in Central, New York. Sometimes I think you get a kick out of seeing how obedient I will be to your whims and fancies. It kills me that you can never just settle down with me . You have a crazy business of toying with my everything.

Jesus.

Syracuse. Louisville. Connecticut. This year was too much. I've had enough.

Our relationship is not healthy. Actually, I think it is kind of abusive and sometimes it really, really hurts how you do me. I love you to death and I will never regret a second of what we've created together, but I need more space. I need to take time to  think about who we are together and if we have a chance to work things out again. Yes. Of course. You're right. You have me a Championship this year with Louisville on the men's side and UCONN on the Women's side. Yet, you've invaded my life and taken all my free time away. You've cost me more money than ever before and an incredible amount of stress. Worst of all, the beer, pizza, and chicken wings have given me heartburn and caused me to gain weight. I have heard of lovesick relationships, but this year it went too far. You made me a couch potato.

Please. Please. Don't cry. It's not all your fault. I take some of the blame.

I love you and we will always have a very special relationship, but I have to bring it to an end for now. Our thing - whatever this relationship is - has caused too much gossip with my Kentucky fans, especially those who grew bitter after an uneventful season. They talk badly about my us. They can't understand the twisted way you get into my head and cause me to act like a fool.

I need a break. I need to do some reflection and reconsider what is most important in my life right now. Although you are near the top, I need space. I need to work more on me. I have to find me again - not as a fanatic moron obsessed with your every move, but as a man who has many interests and responsibilities. The co-dependency is over.

And quite frankly, I'm simply tired. I have no more to give you. You took too much from me this season.

Good. I'm glad that made you smile. You like to see your power over me. It's all good. Everything will be alright. You'll be just fine without me until next year. You can go play with Tiger Woods on the golf courses or fool around with those in the world of MLB.

But for the next 8 months, I need it to be just me. I need to heal some...process what we just went through.

I know you understand.

I'll be in touch soon.

Bry

A Behind-the-Scenes Community - Sitomer's Influence on Working with Urban Writers @alansitomer

It seems appropriate that I had the fortune of hearing Alan Sitomer talk with Connecticut teachers this past Saturday at the Literacy Essentials Conference at Central Connecticut State University. His energy and fluid discussion of Common Core State Standards motivated me, as a researcher, teacher, and Director of a National Writing Project site, to see the potential the core standards have for research, inquiry, and student-centered instruction. I knew what my students were capable of in Kentucky and I've witnessed similar potential in classrooms of New York and Connecticut. I hope that administrators and policy makers get the opportunity to see excellence through these standards as Sitomer suggests.

This post, too, comes with total admiration to Louisville's win last night in the 2013 NCAA championship. The memories of attending CARDS basketball games - and taking students, at times, with me has me even more stoked about Sitomer's mission as an educator. Louisville is a great city and I'm proud of the degrees I earned from the university there.

Good teachers need a voice that promotes best practices in teaching and, during Sitomer's keynote, it became obvious why he was named California teacher of the year. He is a writer. He understands composing processes. He is an advocate for youth and he recognizes the flaws in top down management and political quick fixes that don't necessarily have young people (or their teachers) in mind. Seeing him in action last weekend provided an inspiration for listening to youth and a model for what can be accomplished when stellar educators embrace the Common Core with the individuality of every student in mind.

2013 is about community for me and when I returned to Fairfield University on Monday I had to smile. Alan Lawrence Sitomer has been a surrogate mentor for my classrooms, although I did not make the connection of his name with the books  (including The Hoopster pictured to the right) until I looked up to my bookshelves. With my relation to Hoops4Hope and the knowledge I have gained from working with relocated refugee youth (most who play sports), I know firsthand the power of sports stories. Books, such as The Hoopster, resonate with  any kid who balances athletics and academics. Such books are an intellectual genre deserving greater attention.

On my shelf also sits Hip Hop Poetry and the Classics which I've used in discussions about language, verse, popular culture, and academic literacies. Similar to his presentation skills, Sitomer brings spunk, creativity, humor, rhythm, and insight to the field. His writing impacts the communities that matter to me the most. Having the opportunity to hear him live and in person on Saturday was a true honor. The wisdom was a source of inspiration to fight for instruction that has the greatest impact on students.

A dream course for me to teach is Sports Literacy - Reading Athletics To Promote Academic Excellence. Yep, I need to make that happen.

It's Monday and I Don't See My Self Getting Through The Week

But I will get there somehow.

Last night, while watching the Louisville/California and UCONN/Notre Dame games on mute, I reviewed six research proposals for a conference, caught up on course reading, updated a few blogs on agenda items, mailed state legislators, finally worked through emails I neglected last week (those I could get to - most I could not), and aligned my calendar, Monday-Friday. I'm not kidding when I say every second is scheduled.

When I first was hired I wondered why I had an administrative assistant. Now I know why - she keeps me sane and, if I had more time, I'd be able to work with her more to keep track of my schedule and to deal with the work the two of us must accomplish together. Sad as it is, I went in yesterday to prepare a pile of items that I must talk with her about this morning.

I remembering watching my advisor with awe while at Syracuse and remembered when a fellow Doc student said, "She is awesome because she is efficient." I am trying to be that way, too, but am feeling rather soaked at the moment.

But this, too, shall pass and I will appreciate the down time when it comes (like it did on Saturday when I chilled out for the NCAA tournament).

ah, Monday. It's all good.

Teachers - the real CHAMPIONS of March Madness @teachcmb56

I'm a basketball fiend. I admit it. I watch it and I live it. I breathe, hold my breath, scream, and exhale. But, it is a game.
A sport. A slight competition in a manic world with its hard-to-solve issues that are much more complicated, severe, and exhilarating.

And that is why I shout out to teachers like Colette Bennett. Yesterday, she presented with her team from Womogo High School on ways to be wireless in the 21st century in the promotion for excellence with reading, composing, thinking, and speaking. They are the real athletes. They persevere through inane testing, top-down mandates that are not pro-kid, insufficient funding, low pay, and intense stress. Still, they score. They bring it to the net. They conduct small miracles each and every day with teamwork, coaching, cheerleading, and planning.

NCAA coaches make astronomical salaries and only host two 20-minute halves twice a week. Teachers, however, work at a minimum of 10 hour days and, more than likely, 7 days a week. They carry with them social inequities, the pressures kids feel, worries, and hard-to-believe stories. They do this with integrity.

Yes, although I'm in awe of the sport, I'm more proud of educators and what they do with very little recognition. Teachers, like Colette and her team (who I was fortunate to learn from at the Literacy Essentials Conference hosted by Central Connecticut State University), deserve the accolades for the real March madness. They endur much and do their best to prepare kids for the world. They're in the real game to win it and the applause should go to them.

Deconstructing Violence Workshop at CCSU, then BASKETBALL

I'm off to the Literacy Essentials conference in New Britain, Connecticut, to present on the No More Violence project's influence on teaching literature - a workshop in response to December 14th. No, I'm not wearing my colors, although this is what I wore to work yesterday. I got many strange looks on campus, but that's okay - students are used to seeing turkeys on their campus.

The conference ends at 4 p.m. and my mind is already on the two game's this evening. I know enough about the sport to realize it can end at any time and when it does, it is PTSD. I don't know how to pace my weeks or schedule television time. I don't know what to do with the hours where I'm not multitasking in front of the games.

There will be 500 teachers attending tomorrow and I'm hoping my session gets a few participants. You never know about these things and although I prepared for 40, I may have 100 or 0. It will also be great to see Sue Das and Colette Bennett who are also presenting (participants from the 2012 ISI at Fairfield). I will also get to reunite with Nick Chanese, Steve Ostrowski, and Lynda Valerie from Central Connecticut State University. 50 miles away and many decisions to make: do I watch the games at home or go to a bar with friends? I'm superstitious. I don't think I should leave my living room for the games. AND I hope KC is NOT watching. I repeat, little sister, I hope KC is NOT watching. We all know what happens when KC watches basketball. KC is NOT allowed to turn on a television until after Monday.

Here's to Progress...

...and patience. Freshmyn English and College Composition.

I admit, I was spoiled with my students in Kentucky. They came to me with voice, quirky personalities, opinions, and a willingness to be creative. I took it for granted. I thought all schools were like mine and that kids would be prepared to write in college. I was wrong.

Last year, I began assigning a piece of writing inspired by Alex Schulz, class of 2005, who once said to me, "Wouldn't it be cool if you assigned us all to write on the same word to see what we would write?" I wasn't sold on the idea, but in 2007 I thought it would be cool to assign kids a task of deconstructing one word for its denotation and its connotations. I wanted to know what 'the word' meant to the world, but also to the stories in their lives. Since then, I've had students write several variations of this task, but this year, I'm following Jason Courtmanche's writing technique of having kids fold-in layers to a longer piece of writing. They begin with personal writing on a word and what it means to their world. From there, we read literature in many forms and they begin to explore whether or not their word has meaning in the text we read. This has turned into research papers where they explore the meaning of a word and its relation to literature.

With the first drafts of the research part I grew nervous. Yet, through conferencing with students, I'm starting to see that they get it and it is a process. They truly are growing and moving arguments in some interesting ways. For instance, I have one student exploring what it means to have heart and another working on how sleep and rest, in relation to death, makes meaning for characters. Another students is looking at culture and one is interrogating athleticism. What has been neat is to see how they've applied the research, the word, and personal story to make meaning of poetry, short stories and novels. Perhaps this is unique to our small community at Fairfield, but I'm growing pleased with the progress I'm seeing - especially the intellectual lightbulbs and zest for writing that the assignment has created. They have choice. They have originality. And slowly, they are getting the voice that I hoped they would have when they arrived. Too many have bought into generic writing to please a teacher and have no quirkiness in their own styles This is coming...one student at a time.

Developing Reading Through Multiple Intelligences and Global Awareness

 Last night in a graduate course, I experimented with a "station" exercise I sometimes used in my high school classrooms. Drawing from Howard Gardner's Multiple Intelligences and a reading we did for this week, I created nine stations to reflect various learning styles: linguistic, mathematical/logical, spatial, bodily/kinesthetic, intrapersonal, interpersonal, emotional, musical, environmental, etc. At each station were activities created to help pre-service teachers to think about tapping into the multiple ways students learn. In addition, the questions and activities revolved around John Dau's and Martha Akech's Lost Boy, Lost Girl text I selected for a model text.

I wrote the activities before I went to the store to buy items to accompany activities and, lo and behold, I found a puzzle of the globe which required space for students to piece together separate items while talking about global issues. Little did I know, however, that the puzzle actually created a miniature globe. It was way cool and viewing my graduate students completely involved with the task (all tasks actually) made me smile. They didn't want to move on to new stations because they became engrossed in each one.
 
I also found time-hardening clay so each student had a chance to sculpt a cow in the tradition of the Sudanese boys they read about. They also perused non-informational text to accompany their understanding of teaching students to read context for comprehending literature.

At the end of the night (2.5 hours) I pointed out that if they noticed, they learned a tremendous amount from each other and with having fun. I simply walked around the room and guided questions and thinking about teaching, reading, and how multiple intelligences should be tapped in a classroom. In other words, the evening was full of a lot of learning and I didn't have to lecture from a Powerpoint or have them take notes about what they needed to know. Instead, they moved the theory into practice - subversive if I say so myself. Their work reminded me of the phenomenal classroom, room 301, in Louisville, Kentucky - the community of Brown I will never forget.

YOLO - They only live through school once and for them, it's all testing...

The Dallas Observer reported a story yesterday about a young man in Texas who, frustrated with nonstop testing, wrote YOLO (you only live once) on a response. He snapped a photograph of  and tweeted it under #FreeKenyon via Twitter. It was an act of rebellion that was frowned upon and resulted in four days of in-school suspension. He also tweeted, it is reported, to school officials and testing agencies. The act was a response that some tests are more important than others and this test, another one, was not. The  action, however, has caused alarm bells to ring.

I am thinking about Yancey's celebration of a similar situation when This is Sparta was spread rampantly a few years ago while students who took an AP English exam. They challenged one another through the community of social media to place This Is Sparta somewhere in the essay response they were writing. The joke spread quickly and students across the nation found clever ways to use the words in their writing - so much so scorers took notice. The tongue-in-cheek behavior is evidence that the minds of kids are much more alive than they are given credit for (especially the tests).

Perhaps this is the imp in me, but I love knowing that students step up and define independence and critique of some of the inane tendencies of our schools, especially assessments.

Of course, testing agencies and administrators went after the young man. He breached high security information that companies like to keep hidden from one another to advocate the excellence of their measurements and the importance of their exams. I'm reminded of the 1989 NYS Chemistry Regents examination in which I benefited (this is way before the Internet and smartphones). The test was published by a NY newspaper in demonstration of how easy it was at the time to get a bootleg copy of a test before it was administered and poked fun of the intensity of the exams placed on them. They proved how easy it was for some to cheat if they had the right connections. That year, 11th grade students in NY received a perfect score in Chemistry because the scandal was too widespread to validate that exam.  I can say, honestly, THANK GOD for that.

, I think this student has demonstrated an intelligence that will never be measured by companies. Sadly, schools who don't listen to kids and their frustrations are still in power to scold them when they conduct mild forms of protests. All in all it's just another brick in the wall.

What awaits now is whether or not more and more of this will happen. Like parents and teachers, students have had enough. I can't blame them one bit.

Ouch. Period. Just Ouch.

Like the majority of basketball fans across the U.S. I was horrified, struck, fascinated, and disgusted by Kevin Ware's freak break during Sunday's game against Duke. When he went up my first thought was  with admiration for the height he can get - but then he landed and I jumped out of my seat. I thought, "Did I just see that?"

I thought it was my imagination and then they did the replay. Nope. Of course everyone else in the room didn't see it so I Googled it. Yep. I was right.

Then the next morning the still shots surfaced. Ah, that is why the boys crouched down in prayer. That is why everyone was crying, including Pitino. That was why there was silence. The Tibia snapped and definitely jutted out of the skin. It also explained the rubbery leg phenomenon that occurred when he walked on the other leg. It dangled rather peculiarly. Then he fell.

Ouch. Plain Ouch.

Now, there's a part of me that wants to link to the still photos but I think I've seen enough of them. I will allow you to do your own Google search (Melissa and Ginette Piel did last night and their reaction was uncomfortable laughter. I made them sleep outside. Actually, Ginette handled it like a nurse. I made her sleep in the street with all the traffic).

So, Kevin Ware. Heal. From the reports, it looks like you are on the road to recovery rather fast. With that said, however, the psycho-sematic pain in my leg as I write this is all your fault.

12 years, and counting - lost, found, Sudan, and growth

In 2000, we learned that Louisville would welcome over 300 men from Sudan, known as the Sudanese Lost Boys. In 2001, I signed up to mentor one man, which turned into mentoring many. I taught them to shop, pay pills, drive, clean, organize, enroll in college and send money home. My friendship with their refugee group also benefited my students. I showed the 60 Minutes special every year I taught and last night, twelve years later, they ran an update.

I can't believe it has been twelve years. I guess that is about right because Panther, one of the men I mentored, has a 12 year old daughter now. He's been trying to bring her to the U.S. since he left his pregnant girlfriend so many years ago.

Yesterday, Louisville made it to the Final Four. Syracuse made it their yesterday. Last night, the Lady Cards beat #1 Baylor in an unexpected win. Yes, I revisited both my Louisville and Syracuse life through the 60 Minutes special and all this basketball nonsense. So much everything on a Sunday evening. My heart can't take much more.

I'm too exhausted to begin another work week.