Time to write means it's time to write...

28 April 2026: This afternoon I've been working on a chapter about reflection, critical thinking, and metacognition for our custom ENGL 101/102 textbook. 

I started work on this months ago, collecting excerpts from student writing over the past two years, diving into the scholarship, and even sketching out an outline. 

I started drafting about three weeks ago. Wrote a heck of an opening paragraph. 

And then it just sat there because I just didn't have the time to do any more. This wasn't a task I could knock out in 30 minute bursts. And I had to devote those 30 minute bursts to other tasks.

Today, though, because I have the time and because those "other tasks" are mostly done, it's time to write and I am hacking away at it. 

It's going by quickly and I am delighted by that, though I know there are at least four more drafts between now and "done." But the grading is almost done--even all caught up for now, with the last batch coming in tomorrow--and I can do this. 

It helps that this is a subject near and dear to my heart--and one that matters for our program's goals and assessment. Wading through over 100 portfolios in January made me realize, "Hmmm, we need something about reflection in the book. Guess I have to write it..."

(And yes, this post is a bit of a break from writing that chapter and yes, it's also a bit of metacognitive writing about metacognitive writing...so I better stop before I get carried away. Back to work...) 

Granted...

27 April 2026: Got some news late today about a grant application that I was working on with my buddy, Hannah, in the weeks before and after my dad's death. 

Those were such strange, hard days. 

I hated doing that work at times, even as I was grateful for the distraction and that there was work to do. (In general, grant writing is just not a genre I love.) I remember logging onto a Zoom meeting less than 24 hours after he died. It never even crossed my mind not to. 

But you just keep going, you know? That's what I told myself. 

And as silly as it was, I thought, "This is what he would want. He would be proud."

Anyway, we got the money. It wasn't anywhere close to a sure thing. So...wow. 

I think he would be proud. I hope he is. 

A birthday and a retirement...

26 April 2026: A couple milestones today for folks who mean a lot to me: a dear friend's little boy turned one and a beloved colleague celebrated his retirement. 

Lots of Big Thoughts these days about time and transitions, most of them melancholy.

But it is lovely to think about how both occasions today, in my heart, are bathed in happiness and light. 

Fresh cut...

25 April 2026: Got my hair cut today and, as always, enjoyed talking with Isabelle, who's been my stylist for years now. When I mentioned that I had papers to grade, she said, "Oh, I remember you brought some with you last time!" I can't believe she mentioned that. A few minutes later, she said something about having a vivid imagination. "I do see papers," she added, "I see the people [who wrote them]. The work they put in, how worried they are..." 

I just think that's really neat. She's pretty cool.

School Spirits

24 April 2026: Got home this evening and started up where I left off on the latest season of School Spirits--episode six. The "previouslies" had me thinking, "I don't remember any of that..." So I went back to episode five. Same thing. Then four. Then three.

I think I must have been half watching them--over Spring Break, I think--and with everything going on, they just didn't sink in. 

It kind of bummed me out. Like...just weird and a sign of being kind of a mess at times--unfocused, distracted. 

So...I started the new season again. Just about done with episode one. Starting over feels kind of good. 

"It's almost summer, baby, and we've got time," I tell myself, trying to believe it. Every time I say something like that--even to myself--I cringe like I'm conjuring some bad mojo...

This evening, though, I'm mostly believing it. "Relax. We've got time."

Almost done...

23 April 2026: Spent a lot of time today working on a project that, at times, seemed unmanageable given everything else on my lists and so little time: the full proposal for a WISH grant to fund our NWP site. A draft is due to OSP tomorrow and after I give it one more read tomorrow morning, I'll send it off.

Gotta say: it feels good. 

The other seemingly undoable items on my list now seem a lot more doable and manageable, too. Just need a few more days like today. 

2026 Capstones...

22 April 2026: Capstones are in the books for another year! Once again, the students all did a good job, which is really quite a feat!

"Amaze Me"

21 April 2026: I am not sure why, but Girlyman's "Amaze Me" has been in my head since yesterday morning. I guess it's just speaking to me somehow: melancholy mixed with wistful hope for something better out there--or, more accurately, reminders of what is already good and marvelous that can sustain us. 

And this springtime impulse to just get in a car and drive...the road as possibility in a time when so much seems closed and settled.

Last week of classes...

20 April 2026: Started off the last week of classes with a long but productive day. Since no one came during office hours (WTH, students?), I just chugged along on a bunch of stuff. Still a lot to get done this week (and only a small bit of it involves grading), but feeling a bit more optimistic. 

Book club/play date

19 April 2026: Got to spend time today with Kaitlyn, Kenny, Cece, Cory, Hannah, and Theo--two great couples and two great little kids. 

When your mind is so occupied with illness, death, and aging, being around little ones, especially, is so good for your soul. Had a blast playing with Cece's toys and talking with her and just watching Theo crawl around, play, test his new words, and take in new things. 

"Gold Watch"

18 April 2025: Yesterday, I posted about the Lord sending letters that speak to me in precise, moving ways. Another arrived today in the form of "Gold Watch," a story by John McGahern, read by Tessa Hadley on The New Yorker Fiction Podcast. 

I listened to it as I mowed the lawn this morning, grateful for a stretch of time to take it in and sunglasses to cover my eyes in case anyone noticed a teary-eyed person pushing the mower. 

I can't really bring myself to write more about why it moved me. But I felt seen and understood, a bundle of emotions crashing together, too. 

"letters from God dropt in the street"

17 April 2026: 

In "Song of Myself," Whitman writes:

"I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign’d by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe’er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever."

I am thinking of those lines tonight as I think about four literal pieces of mail that I received today--two from current students, one from a former student, and another from someone at an institution I gave a small donation to. 

The two from current students arrived via campus mail, part of a Program Board event where students could send thank-you letters to their teachers. They landed in my hand right after I found myself feeling very down on my walk to the mailroom--full of sadness and anxiety about so much. By the walk back to my office--with those unopened notes in my hand--I felt a different kind of teary. When I opened them? Magical stuff to read. 

The other two were in my mailbox when I got home; I love the idea that one is from the "past," so to speak, from a former student. But because we are still in touch, she's also part of my present and future. We've been sending each other genuine letters--long, comtemplative, thoughtful. It's meaningful and special to me. 

The last--from someone in donor relations at UNCG--made me happy because it made me think of a place I love and a place that shaped me. The good work they do there goes on. A young woman I'll probably never meet reminded me of that in a handwritten note.

As I keep writing in these posts, so much is so hard. It can--at least metaphorically--buckle my knees at times. It was on that walk down the hall earlier today, as text messages from home and from Pennsylvania filled me with sadness and fear. 

But the Lord sends letters to me--to all of us, reminding me of His presence. Today the letters were literal. I am so grateful.

6:34

16 April 2026: At the tail-end of a very long and busy week and at the end of a non-stop day, getting home at 6:34 p.m. seems like a little victory. Reheated some leftovers for dinner, watched Jeopardy!, got some more work done, and am settling in for the finale of The Pitt in a few minutes. 

There in the distance I see it--the light at the end of the tunnel. So much more to do, but I can see it ahead. 

"Our Book of Delights"

15 April 2026: 

"...But it’s our own ferns and fiddleheads, 

evergreens and sugar maples, trillium blooming, or on the verge, 

for no one in particular, for everyone in particular, as if to say, 

Go on, enjoy it..."

Oh, man...this one got me. I feel like such a mess and this is just what I needed to read. It's Arielle Hebert's "Our Book of Delights."

Accountability...

14 April 2026: Thinking again tonight about how I need to control my temper more. It doesn't manifest in yelling or anything like that...just being snappy. I don't like it. 

Nothing major...just wish I could do better. Calling myself out, I guess, for accountability.