Giving Thanks for Kelsey Chanei Hogarth. Today is a day for family, appreciation, and love.

Kelsey Chanel Hogarth

It is also a day to cherish the bonds we have in this miraculous, but complicated world.

I learned over the weekend of the passing of Kelsey Chanei Hogarth. My heart has been in my stomach ever since.

When I returned to CNY from Louisville, Kentucky, in 2007, the first year was rough. Yet, during my second summer, two special individuals graced my life and quickly became friends. One was Tracy Hogarth, the stellar educator and believer in all children of Syracuse, and the other was Kelsey Chanei, her daughter...a beautiful spirit with soul, energy, and karma who radiated joy everywhere she went.

Kelsey and I worked together at the Roberts School with our colleague, Jessica Earley. Jessica and I knew really quick how fortunate we were to have this young woman on our team. She was organized, enthusiastic, committed, and hardworking. More accurately, she was simply precious - the rare blend of intellect, beauty, integrity, and leadership. In reflection of knowing both Tracy and Kelsey, I can say they have always been winged individuals with a flare for happiness.

I remember a day when I was called to sit at the pool in Corcoran High School to work with a young man who Kelsey reprimanded with a time out on the bleachers. He was a tough cookie (a biter, a kicker, and a puncher), and the two of them did not see eye to eye. At the pool, however, wrapped in a towel and sporting a pouting lip, he lamented, "I'm angry because I disappointed her. I told her I didn't like her, but I really do. Kelsey is doing so much for us and I'm mean to her. I don't know why. I shouldn't be and I keep trying to change, but it's hard." Kelsey didn't give up on him; instead, she came over to offer tough love and guidance. The young man, Rudy, benefited from her patience and generosity.

I'm unable to travel to Syracuse this Thanksgiving to be with my friends and family and I'm sad I won't be able to be with Tracy this Sunday to share love for Kelsey. The two of them are VIPs in my world. While I was finishing my doctorate at Syracuse University, I loved the days when I ran into Kelsey on campus because it was like seeing a unicorn or meeting a woodland faerie. Her spirit surpassed the mundane...there was always a glow around her. I knew when we bumped into one another, my mood would instantly get better. She made me feel that all of us earning degrees were working on something bigger...something more special. With a glance of her eyes she could center my universe and put me back on track for what I set out to accomplish. That was her power.

And that is also why I'm using today to post how thankful I am for having the opportunity to have had at least one summer working with her. I am a better man because of her and am thankful our journeys crossed for a short while. Syracuse has lost a piece of its magic, indeed.

Kelsey, you will be missed. Your mother did a spectacular job raising you. Please, watch over all of us. We will need your embrace.

Services for Kelsey Chanei Hogarth will be on Sunday, December 1st, 2013 at 1:30 (Repast immediately following at the same location) at May Memorial Unitarian Universalist Society:
3800 East Genesee Street, Syracuse, NY 13214, Phone: (315) 446-8920, e-mail: office@mmuus.org

Today, the voice of Eva Cassidy seems to resonate as I reflect on time, appreciation, and what matters most.

Because there's a little light (a crevice) in my schedule, I caught some fire with Katniss

Hands down, I much preferred Catching Fire to the first film in The Hunger Games trilogy. Of course, it was also my favorite book, too - before the third in the series, when everything becomes excessive and over the top.

Still, at this point, I remain a fan and I loved the choices made in the second film, especially with the fierce vengeance that is created for Katniss Everdeen as she learns more about President Coriolanus Snow (I also love that his middle name ends with an ass reference - that is how such scrupulous power should be viewed).

I took this photo in the theater, however, because every time Donald Sutherland appeared, I couldn't help but think of Ron Freeman, my Princi-Pal while I taught in Kentucky. In every way, Ron's leadership was the antithesis of Snow's, but the resemblance (must be the white hair and beard) kept cracking me up.

The film did its job and left me ready for the third. I'm excited to see how the Capitol - The Official Government of Panem is portrayed. I am keeping my fingers crossed that Joan Rivers is casted as one of the most prosthetic residents to live there...she epitomizes how I view the city. We shall see.

In the meantime, I can't help but look at the story as a metaphor for our own culture. I contend that Democracy and Rule by the People is a global quest, but I can't help but note that the inequities teased out in the trilogy are relevant to our culture today. We are the 'entertained' - those who are captivated and enthralled by voyeurism, violence, and the fear that we might one day live in such an oppressed state. We live in a material, abundant, and sometimes ridiculous culture. Perhaps toning our economic power in the name of democracy might be a vision for future global affairs. That's idealistic, though.

Does any one population deserve such capital and power? Isn't there a way for more equity amongst districts? How do we keep those of us in the Capitol aware of the conditions in other lands held in tragic states as we reap and benefit from their resources?

These are the questions I left with. I ask them because I am fortunate to live in the land where privileges afford me time and energy to wonder.

Threading new possibilities - looking to nature for artistic genius #NWPAM13 (post thought) @ElyseEA @poh

It took me a couple of days, but I found the video I was shown at the MIT media lab last week in Boston. I don't have a lot to write. Instead, the video says it all. Here is a story of how studying the nature of blind silk worms and their quest to silk cocoons builds knowledge. When artists and engineers pay attention to the natural world and manipulate instinct, new creations are discovered.

I was talking with artists recently about the difference between utility and aesthetics. I pointed to a chalk board and said, this is utility - it hangs in a room and helps us to communicate information to students. Yet, artists who work with chalk make aesthetic brilliance for observers; they manipulate nature (improvise with it). Some are able to take a chalkboard and turn it into a cultural statement of profound creativity. I see the same with this video. The silkworm threads a cocoon because it is a utility for the silkworm. That is what a silkworm does. Yet, the ingenious mind sees more potential within the silk worm's nature. He or she studies it, understands it, and thinks deeply about it. From what they know of the silkworm's nature, new ideas are born. Innovation occurs. The paths for 'making' change.

This, in my opinion, has much to add to the field of teaching. The teacher who finds a way to look at the nature of school, its utility, and unravel the possibility for art (the art of learning and teaching) has the greatest potential to weave magic in the darkest time of educational reform. It is not a test. It is not a measurement. It is not a statistic. Instead, it is the ability to think critically about everything, together, with the mission to do better for the world.

Teaching and learning are natural to our species. Creating a memorable piece of art, however, requires innovation, improvisation, imagination, and play! These are locations the best teachers inhabit despite the national trend to limit what 'is to be done' in America's classrooms.

Silkworms are sages for the 21st century.  I say, "Let the kids invent. Let them play with words to discover what can be done with them. Let them do what is instinctive and show them the art of being alive that already exists within."

Dear Mr. J.C., get on your mother, Casey, and write me a letter, will you?

As your Uncle and your Godfather, I totally understand this face you're making. I also like the threads...I see you got the looks from me (as your mom has no taste - see last year's orange sweatshirt fiasco).

Anyway, I'm posting this because I've been waiting by my mailbox for a letter from you and Sean-Man detailing the items you're hoping for this holiday season. I've been rather busy, but this week my mind is transitioning to December and the hectic shopping world ahead.

Yes, I'm writing in a disappointed mood from U of L and Fairfield's losses yesterday, but I remain joyed by the presence of friends and the energy of NCAA basketball.

Even so, it's time to get my priorities straight and because I won't make it home for turkey (I need to write and focus in Connecticut for a while, AND the weather doesn't look to inviting in CNY). I will have time, however, to read a letter from you and your brother so I can begin thinking about spending quality time with you when I return. If you are like me, you're beginning to count down to the big day ahead. From the rumors I hear in the North Pole, it's going to be extra incredible this year. The elves are learning from Walmart employees about unionizing and this can only mean great things in the toy department.

It is your mother's job to read this to you. If she won't, call Mimi. She will. Write me a letter. Deal?

And I have a question for you. What do elves learn in school?

Give up.

The elf-abet!

Another day of basketball, a win for the Cards, and a chance to meet Kevin Ware

Kevin Ware, University of Louisville

My cousin and I were talking about athletes at lunch, the international celebrity they quickly gain, the false promises many make them, and the industry that often uses them for their own financial gain. It isn't only in the U.S. - it is in Africa, too.

I told him about the research of Damien Quinn, one of my freshmen this year, who unraveled in his research on athlete fanaticism that during early Olympics, athletes were given these tools to scrape their perspiration into jars. The sweat was sold in markets for others to bathe in. It was considered magic. I could make millions with the amount I sweat.

Then we talked about an incident, a speeding ticket, that was issued to Kevin Ware in Kentucky 4 days ago and the controversy it caused on whether he was given a car or loaned a car to see a friend in Bowling Green. Two hours later, who do we walk into? Kevin Ware. His claim to fame arrived last year with the grotesque leg injury during the elite 8 game against Duke (his bone broke through the skin - one of the most memorable breaks of all time).

What a great kid! Super friendly.

I feel fortunate to have bumped into him and get this photo, too. What is even crazier, however, is when he went back to his room to watch tapes with the coaches a kid walks up to Mark and asks, 'Are you Mark Crandall?' It turned out this kid was here supporting UNC and has been working with Mark's Hoops4Hope program from down south. Mark never met the kid, didn't know he would be at the tournament, and only had an email relationship. Recently, the kid spent time in Zimbabwe with Hoops. The kid said, "I saw the picture of you on Facebook...the both of you, and I said to my friends, I think that Mark Crandall guy is here, too."  He looked for us and, wusah, we were talking with Kevin.

Crazy coincidence...day #2.

I love when the celestial unknowings align for a day and bring irreplaceable magic @davidekirkland @hoops4hopeUSA

Let's see. I'm 41. I am able to recap the first half of my life in this post, aren't I? Well, not the whole thing...just a couple of items that are, well, UBUNTU, at this moment in time.

In 1994, I left Binghamton, New York - where I studied with Carol Boyce Davies and was inspired to be an educator who would emphasize multiple forms of communication as a counter story of colonial, social, and racial inequities.  I found an early career in Louisville, Kentucky, where I did a masters in teaching, another with the Kentucky Institute of Education and Sustainable Development, some more with Bread Loaf School of English, a stint with Tokyo, Japan and short bit at Cambridge University, too.  For a decade, I taught in the one-of-a-kind environment, the J. Graham Brown School. This was, of course, at a time before the state brought forth their tsunami of reform - a reform that is just now reaching the rest of the nation.

And, I moved back home to attend Syracuse University. I continued to work in urban schools and, by the grace of the great whatever, maintained my work within relocated refugee communities - families displaced by civil wars that had deep roots in the soils of imperialism, the Cold War, and 21st century global politics. At Syracuse, I was introduced to many great minds that changed my life for the better including the writing of David E. Kirkland. His scholarship provided part of the frame for working with African young men with limited and interrupted formal education. As Kirkland (2010) wrote,

"English education no longer stands as a monolithic subject upholding the colonial pillars of England and the imperial ambitions of the United States. This new English education acts more holistically and accurately as language education, incorporating a study of the various Englishes of our country" (p. 302).

Completing the big dissertation, I moved to Fairfield University and now am Director of the Connecticut Writing Project where I continue to work in several urban school districts to support young people and their teachers.

Along this entire journey, I've always held my cousin's life mission with Hoops4Hope as an inspiration for my own.

Well, today, all culminates in eastern Connecticut. First, David Kirkland's new book arrived in my mailbox when I returned from NCTE in Boston. Second, my cousin confirmed he's crossing the Long Island Sound for the Naismith Memorial Tip Off Tournament. Third, University of Louisville is in this tournament. And fourth, Fairfield University is in the tournament, too (I respect Sydney Johnson, Kyle Konz and their team immensely). I'm packed.

I know storms are brewing for later next week, but for this weekend, everything is forecasted to be simply awesome. I've got my gear, my cousin, and a good book. Even if my iPad went missing at the NWP meeting and it still hasn't shown up, I can't complain. This is a perfect bonanza of coincidences.

Kirkland, D. E. (2010). English(es) in Urban Contexts: Politics, Pluralism, and Possibilities. English Education, 42(3), 293-306. 

It was a short-lived trip, but the NWP family reunions are tremendously useful for recharging the soul #NWPAM13

I couldn't stay long, but I remained long enough for three sessions and a trip to the MIT Media lab through having connections with the Connected Learning crew that have been overly gracious to me. I'm also proud that CWP-Fairfield had something to say in all three of the sessions yesterday and I continue to be inspired my colleague in Bridgeport, Shaun Mitchell. He definitely deserves the title digital guru.

For me, the highlights of this trip are many, including the simple fact that Boston is a wonderful location for any conference. The city is alive and one can't help but feel its magic for intellect, creativity, and innovation from the second you step on the streets. An hour after arriving, the opportunity to see great minds working at MIT dazzled my brain and helped me to realize that playfulness, brilliance, and the challenge to solve tremendous world problems brings the greatest innovations. I remain awe-strong at the silkworm sculpture designed by the ingenuity of nature, human intrigue, art, and problem solving (see photo above).

It was also great to see my many friends from across the US (you go, Kentucky) - individuals who continue to believe in the power of the National Writing Project and who understand the best practices we promote. Investments in teachers pays off.

Alas, I arrived home to Connecticut only to realize that I left my iPad in the room where I presented the last two sessions. If anyone sees an iPad in a black and red case, please find a way to contact me and let me know where it is. I traveled with the iPad alone these two days, trying to lighten my load and, absentmindedly, I left it on a table. I didn't put it with all my other items when I packed up to leave. I was trying something new - a total reliance on iPad communication and look what I did. I left it. Ho. Hum. 21st century drama for sure.

Either way, I am recharged by hanging and geeking out with amazing people once again. Ubuntu. Until the next time we meet...

Writing Our Lives, Bank of America, Digital Guru, Coffee, and Annual Meeting Friends #NWPAM13

“HOMAGO”—a new term that refers to Hanging Out, Messing Around, and Geeking Out.

I spent the earlier part of this week preparing for the National Writing Project Annual Meeting in Boston that is held today, and created the handouts for my sessions: one solo and one with Shaun Mitchell from Central High School (featured to the right in a document that was cut onto cards).

This is why I am hanging out, messing around, and geeking out today!

This year, table talks will be the rage and 'shoppers' can move from space to space to hear 35 minute snapshots of the cool things NWP sites are doing. Shaun and I will discuss his digital guru-ness for podcasting (begun with a mini-grant he received and expanded through Connected Learning and his summer work in 2013). Then, I will present the Bank of America grant we received and how it exploded into the Writing Our Lives-Bridgeport event and scholarships for several to attend Young Writers' Institutes.

I'm trying something new this year, too, while traveling - I am not bringing my laptop and work only with lighter fare - my iPad. This makes me nervous, of course, but we'll see how it goes. Can I go 24 hours without a keyboard? (I know I can't - truth be told, that's why I wrote this 24 hours before it was to be posted...I didn't want to take a chance).

Either way,

 Good Morning, Good Day, and Good Evening Boston. I'm looking forward to everything we'll discuss in this jam-packed day. I'm all ears (as my fingers will not be tapping across the alphabet this year, recording my thoughts).

Viva! The Project!

I'm heading to Boston. I think I'm ready. Feels weird not to fly there, though.

While in Kentucky, I often flew to Boston, Massachusetts, to receive training through Annenberg and to find a role as a Critical Friends Coach. Today, however, it won't be airports and taxis. I will drive there because it is only two hours away.

Hello National Writing Project Annual Meeting. Glad to have you in my neck of the woods. Sorry about the temperature. It's a bit nippy out there and I am sorry.

Actually, I'm having a flashback to my long-haired days when were were at a conference center in MIT and I went for a run, but got lost. I ended up 10 miles away from where I was supposed to be and, upon entering a hotel, learned my mistake. I had to take a cab back, run into my room, grab my wallet and show up to my session late. I was drenched, too.

I'm not anticipating such an adventure for this trip. Instead, I'm looking forward to seeing friends from across the nation to gather and to discuss where we stand as an organization.

And with that, I'm off!

Community, Ubuntu, Writing Marathons, Miracles, and Final Revisions.

I sent my paper to my discussant for the Literacy Research Association last night and now I can concentrate on teaching graduate students tomorrow night, observing a colleague teaching a history methods course right after, and preparing for my two presentations at the NWP Annual Meeting on Thursday. Here's a taste of the twenty-page paper written for LRA in Dallas in two weeks - don't call all your publishers at once.

The lack of formal education and the relocation of my participants are historically connected to colonialism, the scramble for Africa by European nations during imperialism, and the economic involvement of the U.S. in African nations after World War II and throughout the Cold War. The young men had experiences, knowledge, histories, and insight before arriving to the U.S., but needed a safe space in which to share what they knew. This space should be classrooms within American schools: locations that build community, Ubuntu, for all students. They can be who they are because of the way we are together. For these reasons, teachers need more professional development to help them learn the history of youth populations they serve (Roxas, 2008, 2010). My findings concur with Njue and Retish’s (2010) argument that

to alleviate the challenges that teachers face when teaching diverse students is to institute an ongoing teacher training program in order for teachers and administrators to keep abreast of changes within the student body. (p. 368)

Teachers need more training on the diverse languages used by youth in the United States and the histories of world cultures that are changing classroom demographics.

I collapse when I finish items at the bottom of my list and then laugh that in the back of my mind I create even more to do now that this work is complete. But it's Tuesday, tomorrow is Boston, and I am looking forward to learning from many of my friends across the nation. And breathe.

Bella, the wonder dog, a metaphor for my weekend.

To know me is to know the story of Sisyphus, but it can be expanded to the story of Bella, my older's sister's dog who has many peculiar behaviors including her obsessive quest to capture light in her mouth and stopping all reflections in their place. The dog is perfect in all ways: loving, humorous, beautiful, and friendly. Her flaw: she's absolutely insane and peculiar - words I use to describe myself.

So the video above was sent to me by Cynderballs after she tied a balloon to Bella's collar. It was full of helium and impossible for her to catch, but that didn't stop her. Was Sisyphus ever stopped from the tomfoolery of pushing his boulder up the hill? Have I given up on grading, reading, writing, and getting on top of my academic game?

I think there is something inherent about the mono-mania all species have to conquer that which is impossible to tackle. That is why I post this today. I am Bella. Bella is Sisyphus.

Sisyphus is all of us.

And enough of that. I'm going back to emptying the ocean with my fork. Carry on.

Almost a full moon on a Saturday night...

...and I set the agenda to have all the tasks on my Saturday list completed by 5 p.m.. Yet, at 5 p.m. I looked out my front window and realized it was getting dark, the moon was almost full, and I accomplished little. Oh, well. So full was she that I didn't have to have any lights on. I was working by moonlight.

Did I accomplish everything?

Hell, no!

 But I did enjoy the 30 minutes where the moon arose from the horizon to the top of my windows. I don't mind either, because on a Saturday, the pace of the day was balanced without the interruption of useless meetings. The work week fails because of those meetings. They're impossible, really.  On Saturday, however,  the work can get done and I actually ran AND took a walk. In fact, I listened to an episode of Intelligence Squared and the debate of whether it was better to live in a blue state or a red state. I won't tell you who won the debate, but I can say that the east and west coasts, according to the argument that won, are trapped in an old paradigm where there is only a wealthy and impoverished class - nothing in between. It sounds like there's more breathing room outside the blue states....at least that's what I got out of the dialogue: the point: don't live in Connecticut unless your part of the elite. The class divisions of America are at a ridiculous all time high.

And as I looked at the moon, I missed the Brown School and the days of All Atars and Mr. Moonbeam.

Buoyant in the sky, the moon gives the earth meaning until the sun rises again and ruins all our dreams.

Prisoner of Words? A Career in Words. Word.

My administrative assistant and I began the week by sending off the publication of POW! Prisoner of Words, a collection of writing from this summer's writing institutes. In addition, we polished off a 12-page newsletter and mailed them to the 360+ teachers in our network. On Thursday, I collected first drafts of 19 research papers from my college freshmen - to be graded this weekend - and yesterday, I worked with 44 7th graders on comparing and contrasting with writing.

You'd think I was insane. Oh, I am.

Then, last night, I came home to lock myself in a chair so that I could finish a twenty-page paper due for the Literacy Research Association conference in December. The good news is I accomplished that.

But it's Saturday. Today, I must edit the craziness I wrote last night in my paper, plus chisel away at the student research before Monday. I probably should also read for the week, as I teach Monday and Tuesday.

Another item on my radar is to prepare for two presentations at the Annual National Writing Project meeting in conjunction of the National Council of Teachers of English this Wednesday and Thursday.

It's not just POW! It's BAM! WHAM! ZONK!

The good news is that I remain passionate about what I'm doing so I don't necessarily acknowledge that my life is nothing but teaching, reading, writing, and grading. I will admit, however, that I took myself out for Vietnamese yesterday afternoon as a 'pep talk' before writing. I ate alone, but I fueled up for the writing marathon ahead.

And I'm thinking about distractions. For some reason, I believe the last 20 years of my life have been a laborious distraction from what I really should be doing - writing novels and exploring the world through characters, humor, scenarios, and plot. Nope. Instead I avoid such love to write abundantly in every other way known to man.

Did I mention I also polished off six recommendations this week?

I take comfort in the knowledge that across the country, the majority of English teachers and professors live a life similar to my own.

Here's to us.

Zzzzzzz.

I shouldn't be happy about homemade Bailey's Cream on a Thursday night, but I am...

...and it's delicious

I think it is because I've been eating healthy for the last three months that Pam's homemade Bailey's cream with Irish whisky tasted perfect to me last night. Perhaps it is because the holidays are coming and this flavor comes across as the nectar of the holiday Gods (well, at least Santa Clause as a God).

All I know is that on a night before Friday, when the brain is fried and one only wants a short moment of solitude, this is the perfect treat. It was like chocolate milk with an adult attribute. It hit the spot perfectly and I'm very thankful that I neglected to bring the bottle home for some time. It would have been perfect with Molasses slabs or ginger snaps.

Yes, it was the perfect treat to unwind the week. If only I could share a glass with everyone I know and love. Seriously, we all deserve more treats like this. It might be the result of neglected tastebuds accustomed to the sweeter flavors of life, but this truly hit the spot.

Thanks, Pam.

TGIF.