Pack-Rat, Mad-Man, CWP-Director, Writer, Reader, or All The Above #ConnectedLearning

I have three weeks before July arrives and my life takes off in a summer of Making with the Connecticut Writing Project at Fairfield. We are hosting one teacher institute, 7 writing labs for youth, and an Ubuntu Academy - it feels as if I am the headmaster at a school (but I'm teaching, too).

A colleague poked fun of me for the way I keep my office (books, toys, writing paraphernalia, games, etc.) and I had to laugh, "She is right."

I did spend hours this week trying to organize all the materials (and there is a lot). My office looks like a combination of library, Kay Bee Toys and Hobby, and data closet. There's a lot going on and in my head it is all making sense.

Still, I need time to process all this work and what we're learning about working with K-12 students in Connecticut to fulfill a students feedback from last year, "CWP-Fairfield is what school wishes it could be, but can't." I took her words to mean that the testing empire (with its stress on students and teachers), has kept classrooms from becoming the creative environments they're meant to be.

That is why we do what we can during the summer, trying our best to counter the anti-imagination regime currently underscoring America's classrooms: novel writing, graphic novels, spoken word poetry, digital stories, journalism, college essays. We have something for everyone and we've spent the last few months recruiting the best presenters and facilitators for every workshop.

In the meantime, I'm preparing for the teachers who are at the heart of the work we do. 15 stellar educators from across Connecticut (and even Tanzania).

I need to rest up for all the excitement and potential. I'm excited for it.

Pass It On: A NY Times Story That Resonated with My Research and What I Was Told @Alando1423

It is very easy to get caught up in 1st world problems (and I continue to critique the definitions we offer 1st and 3rd world issues. They are all of our issues. One offers a chapter for making sense of the other).

Yesterday, however, the New York Times did a video essay called, "Pass It On," about a man crafting a soccer ball from the bags he finds lying around (you can watch it by clicking the link). Jerome Thelia, the videographer wrote,

As soon as I saw a photograph of an African soccer ball, stitched together from old rags in the geometric patterns so familiar to us, I wanted to tell its story.

The young men I worked with for my research in Syracuse reported similar stories of the soccer games played in refugee camps in Guinea, Kakuma, Egypt, and Dadaab. The sport, they stated, was a great past time for them and the young men gathered daily to show their prowess as athletes and game players. The story told by Thelia here, though, is from the Democratic Republic of Congo and shows the craft of the game maker who devoted his time to give the young people an opportunity to play. The universality of sport is ubiquitous in how he captures the young boys kicking the ball made just for them.

Reflecting on my workshop at the Louisiana Young Adult Literature conference an attendance in  Alan Brown's Sports Literacy seminar, I couldn't help but make a global connection about athleticism, literacy, dedication, refugees, and the drive to be athletic and on a team. The short documentary brings to life the images that were vividly described by the eight young men who participated in my research.

We in the United States take Little League, Pop Warner, and soccer clubs for granted. Young people around the world deserve similar opportunities to game and, for this reason, I'm reflecting proudly on my cousin's work in South Africa through Hoops4Hope. We live in a culture of excess that children around the world may never know. For this reason, today's post is important.

Give children space and they will find creative ways to play, even when they don't have the same advantages of young people who live in our nation. I will forever be in support of the underdog. Whenever a team or player monopolizes the game I lose interest. Sports provide dreams. They are a literacy, indeed.

The Middle-Aged Pinky Swear. You Read It Here First, But I Don't Believe It.

Yesterday at Pirate's Cove in Bridgeport, I met friends for a beer and for a celebration of the great weather our Sunday provided. I did a run, updated Facebook with my LSU trip, and mowed the lawn. I figured, "What the heck? When in Rome..."

I wasn't the only cockroach that crawled out of the woodwork to enjoy the day. In fact, multiple creatures left hibernation to walk the docks and to listen to live music. Some of them even wore clothes.

As natural, the group I was with began making observations of the specimens who were also in attendance to enjoy the day. It was way too easy to make comical observations and remarks, which happened rather quickly - it was hard not to be ethnographers at this site.

Yet, suddenly, four of the women at our table did something I've never seen before. They did a pinky swear for aging.

Promise we will never dress like that when we're in our sixties. Kill me if I ever wear Spanky shorts if I get over 300 pounds. Don't ever let me wear heals that high in my 70's. Keep me from tattoos. Please let me know that others won't talk about us in the way that we're talking about those we're seeing.

I asked if I could get their agreement on camera and they agreed.

I didn't have the heart to say, however, that it is more likely than not that we, too, will fall into the eccentric, whacky, and odd adult behavior of looking ridiculous when we're in our second 50 years.

I realized at that moment that it's impossible to be cool any longer. We've already crossed over and are no longer in the heyday of our twenties (or thirties)(or even forties). Alas, it happens to the best of us.

#LSUYAL2014 as a Metaphor For the Writing Process @writingproject - The Stadium

"Running in Louisiana is like jogging in pea soup."

As soon as I arrived to Louisiana I set out on a 10K to acclimate myself to the south only to return to jot the above line in a journal. I came to Baton Rouge for the LSU Young Adult Literature conference and this was the first time Crandall visited cajun country. The hospitality everywhere was remarkable.

I'm writing today, however, to make a connection between the goliath LSU stadium, running, and the advice offered by remarkable people I was fortunate to meet on this trip. Everything at LSU is enormous, including the experience I had during my stay in Baton Rouge.

During the conference, I ran every morning (or afternoon) through the thick pea soup. I noticed at these times how everything was decorated in ubiquitous purple and gold. CVS, in fact, had a row of LSU paraphernalia besides its whisky aisle (a man has to appreciate that souvenirs and alcohol can be purchased together on a Sunday).

This campus is a waltz between Barney and Big Bird

The first night I looked at the stadium lights, I said to myself, "This campus is a waltz between Barney and Big Bird. How can a sports fan...well, PBS fan...not love it?" The pride Louisianians have for their football program, for their Shaq, for Mike the Tiger, and for education, oozes out of every crevice of the campus (and there are many of them caused by the high humidity and moisture).

When I ran one morning, however, I thought about a workshop I did with Margaret-Mary Sulentic Dowell at the LSU Invitational Summer Institute (it was a bonus event during the #LSUYAL2014 conference). After I presented on hosting student playwright festivals, I sprinted around the football stadium where I had a bit of an epiphany. The LSU Writing Project, coupled with Steven Bickmore's vision for the YA novel conference, partnered with the irreplaceable conversations I had with YA authors, helped me to ask questions about my work with the National Writing Project. As I drenched myself in the sprint of pea soup, I asked questions about what I personally mean by a finished product, a colosseum, or published text. They are end products and a culmination. Yes.

Yet, if I listened to Chris Crutcher, Teri Lesesne, Alan Brown, Chris Crowe, Kimberly Willis Holt, Steven Bickmore, Matt de la Peña, and Sarah Guillory, I wondered if its the culmination we should be teaching or the acts of the watershed before the accomplishments arrive to the published confluence. The achievements of writers, thinkers, and academics are not a result of magic or wishful thinking. Instead, they are the result from multiple processes: routines, creating a blueprint, orientating ourselves to a task at hand, setting goals, constructing a product, and physical and mental labor.  

My point? When I entered LSU's campus, I  was sucked under the grandiose stature of the LSU football stadium. I became instantly intimidated because the structure was a vast mausoleum that left me with lilliputian insecurities. Whereas giants physically battle 'in there', the meek mentally lock horns 'here' in my head.

The dazzle of their success (and finished products) stood out as monumental 

The LSU arena is impressive. In fact, it is overbearing. This was somewhat how I felt when  meeting the incredible individuals who attended this week's conference. The dazzle of success (and finished products) stood out as monumental to me. Like the stadium, so are their accomplishments - HUGE.

When I ran, though, I came upon construction workers who were 'refurbishing' the backside of stadium - an expansive project that will allow more fans to attend  home games (shooting for seats for 100,000). This construction interested me. Rather than the awe of Tiger Pride, I am  more fascinated by the hard work behind the scenes (those who feed Mike the Tiger, those who work cranes, those who carry forth campus maintenance, those who pick up after crowds, those who sketch out designs for construction, etc. - pretty Walt Whitman-esque, I suppose). 

The hard work of these individuals became a metaphor to parallel what all the authors/academics shared with teachers, librarians, and students in attendance at the LSU Young Adult Literature conference. Yes, publications are a goal, but each and every one of the presenters disclosed that a published achievement results from how they 'construct' their lives behind the scenes: the lived experiences they've had, the discipline it takes to be productive, the vast number of books they read, the abundance of 'shitty first drafts', the incessant revisions, the power of perseverance, the lessons learned from being discouraged, the focus on what matters, and most importantly, the power of interacting with others (UBUNTU - I can be me because of who we are together). 

I think too often educators teach young people the finished product --- the LSU stadium --- without sharing the networks, labor, conflicts, snafus, contracts and frustrations that go into reaching an impressive product. There are multiple processes that must be considered, practiced, and implemented before the actual 'stadium' is built. The arena doesn't arrive from a genie bottle. It's labor and this is what schools need to highlight and encourage with young writers before they graduate and move out into the world. It isn't tests. It's isn't the measurement of bubble sheets. It is a process for living  life as committed readers, writers, and thinkers. This should be the purpose emphasized at every school.

The truth is there are multiple processes that must be considered, practiced, and implemented before a 'stadium' is built

We labored last week at #LSUYAL2014 and Steven Bickmore employed us with his vision. I am a better human being, I know, because of this vision, too. I  scribbled a lot on chalkboards and tapped a few tweets throughout the week, but the experience left my head swirled in multiple doodles of purple and gold, including this post.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU STEVEN BICKMORE

It's time to leave Louisiana and think strategically about my summer work with the Connecticut Writing Project. My vacation is over and there's work to be done - work that will be easier now because I'm departing Baton Rouge as an inspired man.

And This Man Is Looking For a Good Night's Sleep...in a comfortable bed with pillows

It's the little things in life. Last night, I checked into a hotel after a week of sleeping on a dormitory bed with a paper thin pillow. I do not know how anyone sleeps in a dorm any more and my back, head, legs, and entire body did what I could while at LSU.

Today, however, I can say that I awoke on an actual bed with a variety of pillows. I even had blankets to cover up with and carpet on the floor.

How I didn't wipe out on the linoleum after the shower in West Hall is beyond me.

Lucky for me, too, Sharon Kane from SUNY Oswego is in the same hotel so we were able to venture off for cajun food before we called it a night. My flight isn't until the afternoon and I have some time to do one more humid run in the Louisiana soup. My brain is totally fried and I will need every second of tomorrow to recuperate before heading into the office on Monday to initiate the beginnings of a rather intense and robust summer of writing programs.

Ah, but a bed. Real sleep. Comfort. This is a luxury that is worth every cent I paid.

Spoiler Alert - Faults In Our Stars #LSUYAL2014 (Actually a Confession)

I just did an absolute no no. I am embarrassed and I need to turn in my YA literature license and walk back to Connecticut in shame.

Unfortunately, shame didn't work in reverse. I tried to get others to take my ticket to the premiere of the movie, but I had no takers. I'm a terrible movie goer and HATE seeing a film when I haven't read the book first. Still, the looks of my colleagues shamed me into going anyways.

I have been told by everyone who knows me that I need to read this book. After Looking for Alaska, however, I wasn't eager to try another John Green novel for a while. I knew the story, heard of the emotions, and was prepared to be punched in the gut.

I was. But I was also humored by Steven Bickmore once again who revved the teenage audience (96.86% adolescent females) into a pep rally for young adult literature. I was out in the hallway charging my phone when I heard the applause and cheering. I thought the movie was starting, but nope. It was Steve. Steve - 'young at heart' and 'forever teaching' - Bickmore. He was surveying the students, cheerleading the conference, and connecting with adolescent readers in Louisiana.

Brilliant. I loved every second of it.

It was a sold out crowd, too, and I was lucky to have won a ticket during the conference this week. I now want to read The Fault In Our Stars and I have several people I want to send it to.

Some thought the movie was better than the book and the truest felt the opposite. I will have to judge for myself. There were classic lines in the movie and I hope they are also in Green's writing. I shall see. I did the faux pas of viewing before reading...tsk tsk!

Celebrating Steven Bickmore and the LSU Young Adult Writing Conference #LSUYAL2014

Earlier this year I read a call for presenters to attend the Young Adult Literature Conference in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I looked at the dates and thought, "Hmmm, Crandall, you've never been to that state and you've been looking for a location to pull together almost a decade of reading young adult novels featuring stories of relocated refugee youth. You should take a vacation in Baton Rouge and spend five days running a workshop."

Fortunate for me, Steven Bickmore, the conference coordinator gambled on the proposal. Today is day #4 of the conference and this experience has been one of a kind. My mind is spinning with thoughts about my own work and the happiness I feel for having this experience.

I've spent most of this year looking at creativity, kuumba/kreativitet, and pontificating about the 'out-of-the-box' potential of going beyond the normal to make colorful statements of the world. I met an accomplice with Steven Bickmore. I did not know Dr. Bickmore until this chance presented itself and I'm very thankful that I chose to attend.

Steven Bickmore is the 'Oz' behind the curtain. His passion for teenagers, coming of age novels, teaching and working with educators oozes out of every pore of his body. Yesterday morning, he offered a keynote where he offered history, need, and purpose for young adult literature in American Schools that was humorous, insightful, engaging, and motivating. As he covered the history of the field, I quickly realized there is no one like him. He is a true original who carries immense wisdom into everything he does. It was clear that he follows everything he loves and, because of this, this even was made possible.

This week I've had the fortunate of working with librarians, graduate students, academics and professional writers in an intimate forum to share the love of books written for adolescent readers. The pastiche of author insight with teacher practice has been absolutely amazing. Every second of the day: from 8 a.m. breakfast to 7 p.m. library readings has been memorable. I'm a better man because of it.

I am writing this morning to applaud Steven Bickmore's hard work, dedication, drive, and enthusiasm. Without his vision and perseverance, this opportunity most likely would never happen. It has been an absolute pleasure to work with so many amazing individuals and I am refueled for hosting the Invitational Summer Institutes in Connecticut and the Young Adult Literacy Labs.

Steven, Thank You.