Wonder love

Doing Dangerous Things

So here's a book I wrote about so long ago... in the hands of two 10 year old boys hell bent on making a mess, lots of noise, and using up all my kitchen staples. And hoping so wholeheartedly that they'll really need those goggles they worked so hard to find.

Oh, the possibilities...

And what might happen next?

What happens when children do dangerous things and live to tell about them? Is it possible they find out how brave they can be? 

Sit quietly

Of all the books I've tried to read lately, the one that has captured my heart is The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly. I love the book and I love reading it with Sophie and I love how much Sophie loves it. When she had gotten ahead of me in the text one recent evening, she pulled me to the book and pointed to the line that read, "It's amazing what you can see when you just sit quietly and look." And she confirmed for me what I had already been thinking... that the children at Opal School would love this book. I could tell that line pulled Sophie's heart there. A sweet memory of a school that let her sit quietly and look sometimes, and taught her to value what she found there. Thank you, Jacqueline Kelly, for giving Sophie reason to remember that part of herself. And thank you for giving me a chance to see how much it means to her. 

 

Dangerous

I got my copy of Gever Tulley's (Tinkering School) new book today. Every parent should have one! Get yours here.

Today I also spent hours and hours writing about the importance of play and inquiry in children's lives... so here, I'll just borrow from the Foreward:

This book is a guide to developing better questioners, tinkerers, experimenters, and thinkers. These are the tools with which children ultimately become inquisitive members of society and are the underpinnings of our next generation of inventors, innovators, and leaders.

Mike Petrich, Learning Studio Director, Exploratorium

Blur

Last week was one mind-numbing whirlwind of sick toddler, emergency room, doctors' offices, pharmacies, phone calls, sick days, medicines, and sleepless nights. And soccer games and homework and music practice and dress rehearsals and opening night followed by 4 weekend matinees. 

This was one of those Mondays when I woke up wishing that I could get off this speeding train.  And the weekend was already over. Everything moving so fast that nothing comes into focus. No lasting images remain.

A friend stopped me for a while to talk about books this afternoon and the image of curling up in a comfy chair, alone with a book for hours... alone. With tea and a blanket. Now that image was a clear distraction from the concentration required to get through the remainder of the day.

In this image, Nurtureshock is the book in my hands. As the authors write in their introduction, the title refers to "the panic-- common among new parents-- that the mythical foundation of [instinctual parenting] knowledge is not magically kicking in at all." They are determined to deliver their own shock by using "the fascinating new science of children to reveal just how many of our bedrock assumptions about kids can no longer be counted on." 

I look forward to the moments I'll steal in the coming weeks to dive deeper into this book. And I'm sure it will serve to inspire me to get up and get back to work. 

The moment I've been waiting for

It was a quiet moment in our early evening family hours tonight. Sophie had a rehearsal. Bob was out. I was finally getting a chance to get the plum galette that I'd been working on in pieces since Sunday in the oven. Stella was splashing in the smoothie she'd just spilled on the table. Max was reading a book at the other end of that table. 

And it looked so normal that I almost missed it.

But some deeply rooted connection somewhere inside me forced a double take. Was that Max reading? Questions flashed though my mind. What was he reading? Was he really reading? (I paused on this one just to make sure.) Had I told him to do that? (I searched my memory.) Had he forgotten that he'd finished what was required as homework hours earlier? (Couldn't be.)

And then I realized it: Max was reading. Not a comic book. Not a graphic novel. Not a picture book. Max was reading a novel. Max was reading a novel he'd picked up himself off the table and chosen to enjoy. And he was enjoying it.

It's rare, I think, that 9 year olds in American schools get a chance to come to reading on their own. In our schools, 5 year olds take standardized tests, are labled deficient, sent to remediation, drilled on letter sounds. They are taken away from the blocks, the stories, the social interactions, the out of doors-- all the stuff of which real books are made. The words in books are only as good as the meaning inside them. Children who do not come to reading on their own, are the children who never come to reading at all. 

I've always believed that this moment would come for Max. But I also always worried that I might be wrong. I wasn't always patient. So I am relieved this evening. And I am grateful for the time Max has had to occupy himself with other things, like blocks and stories and friends and playing outside. Because something in all those experiences he's had living in the world has led him to connect deeply to the words he's reading in Crash.

If anyone out there happens to run into Jerry Spinelli one of these days, thank him for me.

One child

My dear friend and mentor, Judy Graves, handed me her copy of the book One Child, published in 1981 by Torey Hayden. She hasn't ever so insisted that I read something-- so I got busy with it right away. It is a truly compelling story. It is a true story, about the author's experience working with a violent and emotionally disturbed 6 year old who ended up in her classroom. It is a story filled with the drama of the development of their relationship, and the good that comes because of it.

That's the power of the story for me right now. There is so much good that can come of genuine relationships with the children in our lives. Not children as empty slates. Not children as behavior problems. Just children as young human beings who are trying to figure out how to survive and be known in this world. 

Torey Hayden believes in the possibilities that the children she works with represent, in spite of what others expect from them. They are known as "the garbage class" by those who don't want to work with them. 

Real relationships bring the goodness out of anyone, but especially children.

10 books

We're in the midst of cleaning up and cleaning out, and it is impossible to turn any direction in this house and not bump into a pile of books. It's hard enough to clean them up around here. Never mind clean them out. And as I stumbled upon (you can read that literally) the following picture books over the last few days, I was reminded of more than a few that have that kind of staying power that comes from having connected to a great story and the child in your lap enjoying it with you. Here are 10 I hadn't thought about in a while, and that I can't wait to enjoy with Stella sometime soon. This list doesn't include any of the fabulous Stella books ... those are already favorites!

Jamaica Louise James by Amy Hest: This is a book Sophie wanted to read over and over again. It is an inspiring story of a powerful gift that a young girl who loves to paint gives to her grandmother at work in the subway station.

Skippyjon Jones by Judy Schachner: This one just made us laugh and laugh.

William's Doll by Charlotte Zolotow: This one is the print version of the song you can hear on the Free to be You and Me soundtrack. It still seems to be a relevant and important story to share with a doll loving little girl. I look forward to the conversations we'll have about William's experience wanting a doll.

Guji Guji by Chih Yuan Chen: Guji Guji's strength in doing what he knows is right sends a powerful message to readers who have the opportunity to meet him. And he's cute and charming, to boot.

A Mother for Choco by Keiko Kasza: Sophie and Max wanted this one again and again. There is so much love in this book you can't help but feel hugged every time you read it.

Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey: I just love this book. I loved it when my mom read it to me, and I loved reading it to Sophie and Max, and I love that there's another little one in this house almost ready to meet those little ducklings on Boston Common.

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak: When you have a real life wild thing named Max in your house (and possibly even when you don't)-- this story lives deeply in your heart.

Sophie's Masterpiece by Eileen Spinelli: Oh how Sophie loved to hear this story. What a sweet spider to be named after her.

Benito's Dream Bottle by Naomi Shihab-Nye: Shihab-Nye is a favorite poet, and this book flows with some of the most beautiful and imaginative imagery that I've ever encountered in a picture book. I love reading the words and talking about how interesting and lovely they are.

Earth Mother by Ellen Jackson: This funny and beautifully illustrated book supports a conversation with very young children about the interdependencies within the natural world. The best books are the ones that make you want to keep talking... and this is one of the best.

Links to these books are on the carousel sidebar... enjoy! (I know I will again when the time is right!)

What we're reading

Vera B Williams' Lucky Song is one of my favorite picture books. It tells the story of Little Evie, who is having such a great day! Whatever she needs or wants appears for her. When she's hungry, it's time for lunch, when she wants company, or something to do, she has the love of various family members, and timely inspiration. Short, rhythmic text makes the book easy to read, and the bright, happy illustrations make it fun to look at. 

Lucky Song helps us remember, when we're counting our blessings, to include the little things. A great read for the 2-4 year old set.

More connection

It's amazing what just a couple of comments will do!  Among many other fabulous sites, which I'll explore in more depth later, I found The Well-Read Child. The post over there today is an invitation to bloggers to spend Thursdays writing about books they're reading with kids. That sounds like a connection worth making, and here it is, already Thursday, so here goes...

In Opal 3, with the 8 - 11 year old children there, I've been reading Laurie Halse Anderson's new book, Chains. (See my "what we're reading" sidebar for a link.) It is a story set during the Revolutionary War in Manhattan and told through the powerful voice of Isabel, a young slave. In Isabel, Anderson has created one of the most moving and effective portrayals of the perspective of a slave that I have ever encountered. The tension between the private experience of this child, and the public events of the time, provides incredibly provocative material for rich dialogue and discussion. How can we be fighting for our liberty as a country while this child remains enslaved? 

In the character of Isabel, Anderson has created a rare opportunity for readers to develop empathy for the perspective of a slave. In the preface of To Be a Slave, Julius Lester writes, "History is not just facts and events. History is also a pain in the heart and we repeat history until we are able to make another's pain in the heart our own." It is difficult and complicated to intentionally put pain into the hearts of children we love-- whether they are our own children or the students we teach. This is one of those rare books that brought me to tears as I read it aloud to my students-- not so much for the experience of Isabel, but for imagining the experience of the children I was reading to, had they been in her place. Hard as it is sometimes, in our efforts to send our children into the world, well-prepared to encounter and lead it, we must take their hands and bring them along.

But that's the key-- to join them in encountering this pain-- be with them,comfort them, and hold them close. As much as I love this book, it breaks my heart to think that children are reading it alone in their beds at night. Without a companion, Isabel's communication with a 21st century child would be overwhelming and scary. 

To think that there are classrooms out there studying the Revolutionary War with worksheets and textbooks and without Chains, breaks my heart as well.

If you are looking for a book to read aloud with your 9 - 12 year old this summer (especially if they just did the war with worksheets) ... this might be the one I'd recommend.