After his terrible glass-smashing night, Young Charles has returned to his usual wide-eyed coziness--snuggling, chirping, rolling around on the rugs, and otherwise behaving as if he would never, ever, ever consider jumping onto a shelf at midnight and pushing crystal onto the floor. Everyone slept well, and I am very much enjoying not vacuuming at 5 a.m.

It's another frigid morning out there, temperature hovering just above zero, snowpack stiff and squeaky under foot. Shortly I'll swathe myself in coat and scarf and start hauling bins to the curb, but for a few more minutes I can linger here in coffee warmth.

Today is the national strike, and many businesses in Portland are either closed or donating significant portions of their proceeds to immigrant aid organizations. High schoolers plan to walk out of school and march. There will be a big protest gathering downtown this afternoon, which I'll attend with some of my poets. Folks in this town are righteously pissed off.

In my Monson class on Wednesday, I used a passage and a series of writing prompts with the kids that turned out to be a very effective way to get young writers in a conservative district to think hard about current events without calling out anyone's politics by name. I am happy to share this lesson plan with other teachers. If you would like a copy, please send me a message.