Philip Canterbury
Bio
Storyteller and published historian crafting fiction and nonfiction.
2022 Vocal+ Fiction Awards Finalist [Chaos Along the Arroyo].
Top Story - October 2023 [All the Colorful Wildflowers].
Stories (24/0)
- Top Story - October 2023
Student 58
Anthony Macord closed his leather-bound notepad, stood, and stepped away from the great conference table. He followed Dr. Stephen Gannon into the hallway where Dr. Emily Ackhurst awaited them, a metal clipboard clasped in her left arm. At a hurried pace, she led the Neuroscience Now reporter and Dr. Gannon along the humming, brightly lit halls inside Alacrity’s headquarters to a door labeled, “Study Hall | Observation Suite.”
By Philip Canterbury7 months ago in Futurism
Jellystone, err... "Yellowstone"
Despite its nonsensical timeline, episodes follow the same pacing as Baywatch, but in Montana, so the beachy, butt-centric music video montages have been replaced by cattle-wrangling and rodeo routine music video montages. Also, no one plays a sympathetic character and everyone is a villain—except for Jimmy, the former meth cook.
By Philip Canterbury9 months ago in Critique
Wilderness Maxims for Learning: Part 4
Maxim 4: –Know the terrain, bring a map, and plan where you’re going ahead of time. And carry a walking stick or trekking poles! In a nod to sci-fi author Douglas Adams, I wanted to add ‘Bring a towel’ to this list of Wilderness Maxims for Learning, but perhaps just mentioning it is enough.
By Philip Canterbury9 months ago in Education
Wilderness Maxims for Learning: Part 3
Maxim 3: –It’s always farther than it looks, taller than it seems, and tougher than you imagine. This week’s wilderness maxim for learning is one of my favorites. I find that I say this often to myself, and I used to say this in my classroom regularly. While it may seem daunting and intimidating, this truth is actually quite liberating. The reality is that a plan is a great thing to have, but plans often change all the time, whether outdoors or in the classroom.
By Philip Canterbury9 months ago in Education
Wilderness Maxims for Learning: Part 2
Maxim 2: –Let the weakest hiker set the pace. Piggy-backing from the previous maxim, this idea flies in the face of school district “pacing guides” and what most of us know about the pace of a typical classroom—perhaps best summarized by the phrase, “Keep up!” This maxim is about not leaving anyone behind; it’s about helping to build confidence and endurance in those who need it most. It would be obvious to say that no peak is worth losing half the climbers to reach, yet pacing guides instill this sense of expendability within school cultures year after year. How can we reorient who is in the lead of the learning process? How does everyone benefit when one person overcomes a weakness?
By Philip Canterbury10 months ago in Education
Wilderness Maxims for Learning: Part 1
I have nearly unpacked after moving from Southern California to New Mexico, and just in time for summer. For students and educators, summer is a mythical time of year to pause, adjust, and hopefully have some time outside in the fresh air. Some will travel. Some will study. Others will while away the hours. Whatever your plans, the outdoors is sure to be on your mind or on your itinerary.
By Philip Canterbury10 months ago in Education
- Runner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge
Dancing AutomataRunner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge
Shortly after his invitations went out, Benji, their would-be host, was indicted back home in Britain. Extradition requests encircled the equator. A hotline offered cash for tips on his whereabouts. Still, the striking gold foil invites arrived, each by drone, providing a selected ensemble with the precise intelligence sought by Interpol. Each kept mum as instructed while booking travel and preparing their luggage for the exclusive event.
By Philip Canterburyabout a year ago in Fiction
End Game at Fort Igloo
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in His room. That’s what my epitaph will say; that’s what all our epitaphs will say. At least, on the little tin placard drilled into the concrete beside my catacomb niche – or whatever it’s called. Is it still a catacomb if it’s only for jars of ash? Either way, it’s embarrassing.
By Philip Canterburyabout a year ago in Fiction
