One Highlight of My Trip to India

Finally I have found a decent report about the goat herding monkey we saw while visiting a tea estate in the mountains of Kerala, in the Palakkad district. We had asked one of the young men who worked at the inn where we were staying to give us a brief tour of the area. He led us down the hillside to a breath-taking view of the valley and then asked if we would like to see the animals. I am a big pushover for animals of any kind so we eagerly accepted his offer. It was evening and the animals had all come in from pastures. The compound had cattle, dogs, fowl of many kinds, and sundry other critters. All seemed well fed and happy.

Then this young man asked if we would like to meet the goat herder. Frankly, meeting a goat herder did not sound that exciting, but what could it hurt to meet some nice man. Then our guide told my husband--remember, I don't speak the language--that the goat herder is a monkey. We went to the goat pen and there, sitting in the middle of lots of goats of all sizes, was a lovely mother monkey, clutching her baby to her chest. We did not, alas, get to see her in action.

I learned a lot more about her from these two websites. Check them out.
Monkey shepherd in India.

Kerala monkey doubles up as shepherd

India truly is a nation of many surprises.

Happy Diwali

Yes, it is Diwali time again and folks all over the world have been lighting oil lamps to welcome good fortune to their doorstep. As the bride of someone India, I have gotten a number of Diwali greetings. The truth is that in 36 plus years of marriage we have never really celebrated Diwali at our house. My husband tells me that in the far south of India where he grew up, it is a festival for the husband to visit the home of his in-laws. He would not have gotten much celebration by going to visit my folks in Montana. Maybe we can make a big deal over our future sons-in-law, though I doubt that my girls will think of it.

I have gotten to know more about Diwali from the parents of Indian origin at the school. They have generously shared with me and with our students many of their customs and foods. These are the same folks who will soon be celebrating Children's Day with the school.

I wish I could tell you more about Diwali, but all could give you would be pretty slim or collected from books and the Internet. I suggest that you go to this brief blog article called Ganesha, Diwali, and Ravi Shankar, Too to get another perspective on this holiday.

Owls, Owls, Owls

Yesterday evening my husband and I went on an owl walk at one of the local Metroparks. After an interesting and informative talk about owls, their habits and their habitats, the group headed down to a clearing near both woods and the Huron River. The leader of the group pulled out her i-pod and played recordings of screech owl calls. (Isn't modern technology great! Her i-pod may not have rap or even the Beatles, but it has nature sounds of all sorts.) The calls were interesting but the only wildlife that reacted were some cardinals who sent out a warning that danger was nearby. After the cardinals left the area, we kept listening to the recorded calls and watched the sky. All we saw were happy bats scooping up insects by the mouthful. The kids in the group were getting bored as we waited and waited. About 8:00 another ploy was tried. The i-pod sent out calls of a great horned owl, a lower, rumbling call almost alike a dog barking in the distance. Soon there was a reply from a horned owl somewhere off in the distance. The owl called a few times but lost interest in our calls--perhaps they were not as realistic sounding as we believed. Just as those of us who had stayed in the rapidly chilling night longer than we had planned were thinking that it was time to give up, someone pointed at the sky and followed a silent shadow as it flew to a nearby branch. The leader soon focused her powerful flashlight on a barred owl who had thoughtfully placed himself in perfect position for us to get a good look. He did not seem scared but did not look at the light often or for very long. He sat in perfect view for a several minutes and then spread his large wings and silently disappeared into the woods. Those few minutes made the evening a success for all of us on the walk.

As we walked back to our car, I began thinking of the many great books about owls. Let me start with my very favorite, Owls in the Family by Farley Mowat. As a boy growing up on the plains of Saskatchewan, Mowat found and raised two great horned owls. This book is a fictionalized telling of the adventures of boys and their owls, based on his own memories. At times these tales are just plain hilarious--as when one of the owls follows him to school. In other parts of the books you will find some fascinating facts about owls. I confess that I cry at the ending every time I read this book. It is written for upper elementary, but, as I found with my own daughters, it makes a great read aloud for younger children. When my girls needed camp nicknames when they helped me be a counselor at Girl Scout day camp, they chose Wol and Weeps, the names of the two owls in this book. Mowat wrote many great books of adventure and life. There are three other of his books, written for young adult/adult readers, are also prominent on my list of favorite books. Check out The Dog Who Wouldn't Be for memories of Mowat's favorite childhood dog. It is another story that will make you cry from laughing and cry from the sadness. (Yes, it is a dog story with the all too common dog story ending.) Lost in the Barrens and Never Cry Wolf are adventure and nature stories of the highest caliber, based on Mowat's adventures exploring Canada's far north.

If you are looking for owls in a picture book, try one of these. Little Hoot by Amy Krause Rosenthal is about a little owl who just wants to go bed early. Kids love this twist on their desire to stay up late. Little Hoot proclaims that he will let his kids go to bed at any time they choose. Owl Babies by Martin Waddell and Patrick Benson has some of the most endearing pictures of owls that I have ever seen. Elf Owl by Mary and Conrad Buff was a favorite of mine when I was young. It was published in 1958 and is now hard to find. I honestly do not remember the story, but the cover illustration of a little owl peering out of a saguaro cactus is still clear in my mind.

There are some classics in the easy reader genre that feature owls: Sam and the Firefly by P.D. Eastman and Owl at Home by Arnold Lobel are stories that never grow old because of their subtle humor and well-told stories.

There is an Owl in the Shower by Jean Craighead George is somewhat similar to Owls in the Family. It also recounts stories based on human interactions with owls living in the house. George is an expert at sharing her love of nature in an interesting and appealing manner.

Carl Haissen takes a different route to encourage elementary and middle school age readers to appreciate nature. He wrote a mystery novel with lots of humor and pleas for taking care of owls in Hoot. Readers solve the mystery both of the owls and of how to fit in as the new kid at school.

There are too many wonderfully illustrated, fact-filled non-fiction on owls for me to cover them here. Make a trip to your library and look at them all to find some that have the information that fits your needs.

Finally, find a copy of The Owl and Pussycat by Edward Lear and read it just for the pure fun of it. Many illustrators have put their stamp on this classic nonsense poem. You will have to decide for yourself which ones fit your image of the tale.

Next time you are outside at dusk, keep your eyes open for an owl sighting. If you do not see one, read one of these books. If you do see one, you will enjoy these books even more.

A Room Full of Laughter

Years and years ago I saw a book called Children's Faces Looking Up. This book by Dorothy Dewit is out of print but is something of a classic of storytelling ideas. Unfortunately, I did not grab a copy of the book when I first saw it. (I had no idea at the time that I would "grow up" to be a school librarian with an interest in storytelling.) The title has stuck with me and comes to mind often when I am telling stories or reading to a group of children. Those faces looking up are one of the greatest joys of my job.

An even greater joy, however, comes when the entire class spontaneously bursts into laughter. That doesn't happen often. Usually there is at least one child who is either disengaged or just does not get the joke.

On Friday at Jump Start Camp, the magical room full of laughter occurred while I read Monkey With a Tool Belt by Chris Monroe. I have read this book several times before and while the kids always enjoy the story, I have never had such a simultaneous roar of laughter.

The monkey in the title is named Chico Bon Bon (for the rest of the day several children called themselves Chico Bon Bon--it is a catchy name, don't you think?). He is never far from his trusty tool belt which is illustrated in great detail, pointing out tools like a monkey wrench, a donkey wrench, a turkey wrench, and other real and imagined tools. In this first of the tool belt series, Chico is captured by an appropriately evil-looking organ grinder. Chico uses his tools to mastermind an escape. It was when we got to the part of the escape that involved a large hammer coming in contact with the organ grinder's big toe that the room burst into laughter.

Is there any better sound than 19 children laughing with pure delight?

We Can't All Agree

One of the perks of shopping in the same bookstore on a very regular basis is getting to know the book experts who work there. Early this week I was in Nicola's, my favorite hangout for good books and great experts, when their buyer of children's books offered to show me some of her new favorites. She has never steered me wrong yet so I was eager to see what she had to suggest.

We looked at some novels for older readers and talked about some that we had both read and enjoyed. Then she lead me to the display of picture books and pointed out Waiting for Winter by Sebastian Meschenmoser who wrote and illustrated this book which was first published in Germany.

The illustrations drew me in with their energy. At first they seem almost unfinished, like sketches waiting to be completed. However, as the story progresses the illustrations take on more life and the personalities of the characters shine through. By the end of the book, when winter finally comes, color appears and the pictures glisten with the joy and excitement of the new fallen snow.

This story of a squirrel who has never seen snow but now feels compelled to wait for its arrival is perfect for reading aloud or enjoying alone at any age, though it is written for kindergarten through grade three. Squirrel garners the help of his friends hedgehog and bear who find things that almost match deer's description of winter. A toothbrush is "white, wet, and cold". While hedgehog seems to think that a sky full of falling toothbrushes is reason for ecstasy, the reader will see the humor in the two page illustration of this imagined version of winter. Similarly tin cans and socks come close to snow, but not quite. Then a first flake is spotted on bear's nose. Awe and joy fill the final pages of the story. Be sure to look inside the back cover for the final twist to this story of friendship, patience, and the joy of winter.

Since I loved this book and the buyer at Nicola's loved this book, why did I title this post "We Can't All Agree". In my excitement I showed this book to my husband. He laughed, not at the book but at me. He thinks the story is odd and rather pointless; the illustrations are definitely not his cup of tea. I should point out that he is an engineer who likes to think in an orderly way. I don't know if he thought like a five year old when he was five. He certainly doesn't now.

Take a look at this book and let me know if I am the one who is right or if my husband is.

Listening to an Author

Last week I had the opportunity to hear Carlos Ruiz Zafon speak at Nicola's Bookstore. He is the author of The Shadow of the Wind and now The Angel's Game, a second novel in what he hopes to make a quartet. I read The Shadow of the Wind shortly after it came out in English and was intrigued not only by the deeply complex and fascinating plot but also by the beautiful language used to tell the story. It was an easy decision to jump at the chance to hear him speak. I am so glad I did as he offered many things that made be think. You can read more about him at his official site and then read on for some of my thoughts on what he said about reading and writing.



Zafon began his career as a novelist with a novel that won a prestigious prize for young adult novels in Spain. He said that the lure of money and fame is important to any author so he wrote some more young adult novels. Being pegged as a young adult author did not appeal to him because he never liked to read books labeled as being for such a finite group. Zafon sees himself as writer and reader without divisions for age or other limitations. He said he never read books called "young adult" when he was a young adult. He sees readers as a community and that all books that are good are for all members of that community. (This was the first time I wanted to stand up and cheer during his talk. I was moved by how succinctly he put this idea and struck by how it resonated with me.)



Maybe that was not the first time I wanted to cheer. The discussion began with Zafon discussing the idea that "Books do not need passports." This is again a reference to the world community of readers. A good book is a good book. It is that simple. They may need translation to make them accessible (Zafon's books have been translated into more than 35 languages) but the heart of the truly good novel will touch the heart of readers everywhere. Books are what can and does tie people together despite surface differences.



Readers put themselves into a book. This is why Zafon, despite his many screenplays, does not want to see his novels become movies. (Another time I considered a hearty round of applause.) A well written book has to tread a fine line as it leaves just the right amount of the story to the imagination, inviting the reader to claim the story, mixing it with personal experiences and opinions. The screenwriter, Zafon suggests, writes so that the actor and director create the nuances of the story. The author must guide the reader to find those nuances. Naturally, these nuances are colored by the personality and personal experiences of the reader. This is why the movie of a beloved book rarely meets the viewers' expectations. Frequently, I hear people say "The movie is not nearly as good as the book" but rarely does anyone express the opposite opinion. (I did not love Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake but did enjoy the movie. The not loving the novel is probably what allowed me to enjoy the movie. The movie version of The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman was a travesty, totally failing to capture what I loved about that wonderful trilogy.) When you read a book, appreciate what is put into and put yourself into the book. Then, if you must, go to the movie. Don't do it the other way around. The movie will color the way you picture the novel.

In that vein, Zafon was adamant about his commitment to writing a story that merits the reader's giving time and money to that book. He says he does write for others and is conscious of writing a story that he loves with the idea of others becoming as attached to it as he has by the time the novel is completed.

Because English is Zafon's third language (growing up in Barcelona he learned Spanish and Catalan), it is not the language in which he writes. He talked at length about the process of translation. His translator Lucia Graves discovered his book in a Spanish bookstore and approached him about translating it. She is not a recognized translator but soon proved that she had a better idea of what he wanted than any of the others. Apparently several translators are offered the opportunity to submit a translation of a chapter of the book. Zafon and others looked at these translations before selecting the translator. Because he is fluent in English (he currently lives in Los Angeles), Zafon was able to read every page of the translation and make suggestions. He felt that soon Graves was inhabiting his mind. The translation of the second novel went even more smoothly because the author and the translator were thinking along the same lines. This is a luxury he does not have with translations into languages with which he is not familiar. All he can do is hope that when in goes on book tour in Korea or Estonia or wherever that he will still receive a positive reception. In the past week I have thought a great deal about the burden that falls on the translator. It is an amazing talent to be able to not only convey another person's text but also the emotions behind the words.

If you get a chance to hear a favorite author, I urge you to do just that. Not only will you probably end up with an autographed copy of the book and a brief moment of interacting with the author, you will also learn a great deal about reading, writing, and human nature.

A Library Without Books

If you were to go to Emerson School right now you would see the room that was and is to be the library/media center looking very different than it did just two weeks ago. The carpet is gone. The walls that were the tech office are gone. The bathrooms at the top of the stairs are gone. Even the big, ugly heating pipes are gone.

Those of us who have know Emerson since it first was built at its current site see something vaguely familiar because this is how that space looked some 25 years ago. The current library area was once the common space in the middle of the school with classrooms opening out onto it. At the far end one can now see the raised area where classes used to sit to have a group picture taken. It brings back memories. (Since that time, this space has served many purposes, including being the gymnasium before becoming the library.)

For me, it has also stirred a more recent memory from when I was applying to library schools. I went to a local open house of the Information Science department. It was one speaker there, someone in the library education division, who convinced me to go elsewhere for my degree. She boldly and proudly stated her dream of having every library go virtual. "Imagine," she said, "Imagine a library where you are never bothered by people directly asking you questions. Imagine a library that is never dirtied by the muddy feet of noisy children." That is about when I started closing her out.

This interaction at a library school open house kept me away from some of the technologies far longer than it should have as I protected myself from what this woman predicted was right around the corner. (I was not going to be the one who opened the door that final crack to let virtual libraries take over the world. Read Alcatraz vs. The Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson to read a somewhat fictionalized account of how much power librarians, especially in a virtual state, could have. It's a great summer --or any time--read for grades four and up.)

My reasons for wanting work in a library would list noisy children and helping answer questions right at the top. I don't even mind muddy shoes all that much, though maybe that will change with new carpets in the the library. I want real children and real people with real questions frequenting the library. There are many things that the virtual world can do and does quite well but I am optimistic that we there will be no serious attempts to take face-to-face interactions out of the picture. People need to hold some books in their hands but more importantly they need to have another human being sharing those books with them. When there is a reference question or a reading suggestion, how nice to have a person in the flesh there to interact immediately. Yes, you can "Google" something and find lots of answers. Better yet, you can go to a respected data base and get more information. What a librarian does--or is supposed to do--is help you work out your question so that you know what to ask the Internet or data base in the first place. For pleasure reading, the personal is even more preferable. No computer to my knowledge can see the twinkle in your eye when a suggestion hits target or the polite shrug that indicates that the discussion has wandered down the wrong track.

Emerson's library is getting many improvements this summer. Right now it is a bare space but soon the wall will be up and then carpeting will reappear. The shelves will move in. Then I will get the books back out for everyone to enjoy and I will be there to answer questions, suggest a good book, and put the solid paper and paste of that book into waiting hands.

Book Clubs

Yesterday was something of a big day for me. Both of my book clubs met to discuss what to read for our next round of books. Having both groups meet for the same purpose with the span of a few hours offered me the opportunity to compare the two clubs and think about why I enjoy being part of two avid reading groups.

One group is made up of people with some connection to Emerson School, though we noticed yesterday that I was the only one in attendance who is currently employed at the school. This was a fluke that comes with summer activities leading us in many directions. Many of us have known each other for years and the group has grown up with some stalwart charter members. We have been in existence for at least a dozen years, probably more--I have lost count. Because we have been meeting for so many years and most of us see each other in the work setting and in other social settings, the group feels pretty comfortable about discussing almost anything. Over the years we have read from nearly every genre. There are books that we have all loved and others that we have all hated. The best books for discussion have been those with people on both ends of the continuum--some thinking we had just completed a work of literary genius while others consider the book a waste of time and brain cells. More than once we have left a meeting with minds changed about the book. More often we have gained new insights into ourselves and others. Sometimes our meetings have little discussion of the book and other times we are so eager to discuss that we barely have time to decide. Our meeting yesterday lasted for nearly five hours.

Looking at our selections for July to December, I predict we will continue to have wide ranging discussions that bring us closer together and get us excited. What more can we ask?

As we selected books to read, we were not afraid to try something new and different. Our selections range from an odd sounding dark sounding science fiction novel to a substantial biography of Alice Roosevelt. There are some that sound like fluff with a little substance and others that will be substance with a a little fluff. It makes me want to start reading right away. I did, but then set the biography aside for some things that I had checked out from the library that need to be read and returned.

My other book club is much younger and an effort to get neighborhood ladies together. I have not been as good about getting to the meetings as I would like to have been. Still, the joy of reading good books and sharing them with an interesting group of people is very evident in this group. This group does not have the common bond of being mostly a bunch of teachers which adds a different twist. This neighborhood group has the math and science folks and the literary purists and the folks somewhere in the middle. So we have read some pretty heavy science and some pretty heavy classic literature. They really keep our minds going. The discussions get just as involved as in my other book group. Each year we become more of a cohesive group and each year the pleasure of being with these women grows.

This group has chosen some good non-fiction about China and another non-fiction about sushi. We will be reading some Faulkner for the literature group and some other solid novels as well. This group tries to always have at least one selection about strong women to be read and discussed in March for International Women's Day.

The moral of all this is that I think book clubs are great. Discussing books with others is one of the best ways to make them come alive while strengthening bonds of friendship. Whether you are 6 or 65, if you have the opportunity to join a book club, I urge you to sign right up. It is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done.

A Reader Well Made

Happy Birthday to my second born child, a lovely daughter who is now a high school math teacher in the San Francisco area who has grown up to be what every parent their child will be. ( I am lucky because both of my daughters fit this category.) Among her many other talents, she loves to read. I am confident that Geetha's love of reading helps to make her not only a great teacher but also a strong, contributing member of society at large.

Of course, I would love to take full credit for this but know that some of it is just a part of her nature. She has that natural love of learning that became apparent the minute she became aware of the world around her.

I read to my children practically from the moment they were born--or maybe before they were born. We looked at books and loved books. We played word games as soon as they began to express an interest in language. The girls also watched their parents--both parents--read for pleasure. Study after study suggests that these are things that inspire children to grow up to be readers.

One of my greatest delights was reading to my children in bed at night. Perhaps the first time that Geetha read a word--at least the first time that I was sure she had picked out the word by herself without any memorization of familiar texts--was when I was reading Heidi to both girls. Jaya was on the top bunk, enjoying the story in her own private world there. Geetha was beside me. Suddenly she called out, "Up! See it says up!" Since Heidi travels up and down the mountainside frequently throughout the book, there were plenty of repetitions of this short word. Geetha figured out which set of letters were there when I was reading "up". I think Geetha was about three at the time. If I had not read to her, she would not have had that opportunity to put the letters together with the words and thus start on her journey to enjoying all that reading has to offer.

I read to Geetha well into middle school. We read a wide range of books from classics to the newest thing out. One of my favorite experiences was reading Winnie the Pooh with her first as a young, young child and then when she was about 12, and maybe a few times in between. We had great discussions of the differences in meaning that she and I got as young children and then as we aged. She, like her mother and my mother before me, has re-read Pooh more than once. We discussed what we were reading, no matter what it was. We laughed at Mr. Popper's Penguins, Absolute Zero, and many more. Tears streamed down our cheeks as we finished The Dog Who Wouldn't Be. We have a special bond, my girls and I, over the things that we have read together.

Now my girls live on either coast and I see them all too rarely. We often discuss books, though. They will read something that they think I MUST read and I offer them similar suggestions. Because of their diverse interests I have been introduced to subjects and styles that I would have otherwise overlooked.

Happy Birthday, Geetha, and thanks for all the reading and thinking and living that you have inspired.

A Book Lover in the Making

A friend of mine has the flu--the nasty, ache-all-over, wanting-to-curl-up-in-a-corner type. (They didn't test for swine flu, so let's assume it is generic.) This is not good. But I got a bonus from her misfortune. I got to spend several hours yesterday enjoying her 1 1/2 year old son. Dominic is cute as a bug and lots of fun. I have known and hugged him mercilessly since the day he was born (and before that I just loved him without the hugging). His mother and father have read to him from very early in his existence.

It is not wonder, then, that Dominic loves his books. They are scattered around the house so he can grab them whenever needed. There are special books that are just read at bedtime and others that are available any time of the day.

One of the many highlights of yesterday was watching Dominic pick up a book on his own and read it to us. He may not have enunciated the words in any way that I could understand. He may not have started at the beginning and finished at the end. What he did do was clearly enjoy the book. He picked up. Turned it until it was right side up. Then he began to read. It was clear that he was reading because he used expression as he read, pausing every so often for dramatic effect. He turned the pages. He stopped to admire the pictures and point to things that interested him. It was wonderful and spontaneous.

Dominic won't really be reading for several years now, though he is so bright that it might not be that many years. What he is already doing is loving books and adventures that they contain.

Here is where I get on my little soap box: READ TO CHILDREN. Start early and keep reading to them as long as they will let you.

My younger daughter let me read to her until she was well into Middle School. I can only hope that she enjoyed it as much as I did. I know that she is still a reader and library user. I enjoy sharing book ideas with both of my daughters.

Watching the growth of appreciation for books and reading is one of the many joys of parenthood. I am so lucky to be getting the opportunity to observe it again through Dominic and through my niece's daughter who, at five, is now an independent reader. (I wish you were closer, Elise, so I could share books with you on a regular basis.)

Subbing in Seventh Grade

Call me crazy but I think that seventh graders are great fun.

On Monday morning I had the opportunity (created by a teacher's sick baby boy--note: he is the cutest baby boy I know) to substitute in a 7th grade Language Arts/ Social Studies class. I hope those kids are not reading this because I am going to confess right here and now that they are hilarious. It took all of my will power to keep from laughing out loud for the entire hour.

The discussion of "In Flanders Field" was amazing. We went from deep thoughts to the most inane comments without batting an eye. Is this a pro-war or an anti-war poem? Someone argued that it might be both because it was, as stated in stanza two, written by the dead. The dead get a little confused at times, you know.

Vocabulary words were equally productive. Somehow we managed to leave behind the words for a discussion of the importance of parents. I think it came from trying to decide whether indulgent or strict parents were better. These 12 and 13 year olds are at exactly the right age to begin thinking that parents are really not that necessary to them any more. The suggestion came that somehow every person be given $20,000 upon reaching the ripe old age of 13 and be sent out to make a fortune. A wiser voice thought that might be too little for someone setting out in the world--no one mentioned the lack of education--and opted for $1,000,000 at age 13. "But what would that do to inflation?" someone asked. "You're right," came the reply. "You couldn't even afford a loaf of bread then." And so it went.

Do not be offended, wonderful seventh graders, but it strikes me that these conversations are not that far from those of my eager kindergarten students. You ramble off on unexpected paths with the same ease and disregard for where the teacher might have hoped you would go. Whether you are 5 or wishing you were 15, the trip is half the fun.

I don't want anyone to get sick again, but I am willing to sub with the seventh grade again any time. It was a real treat.

Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3, 4

This week the school has a strange feel. Kids are either louder or much quieter than usual as they bounce from standardized testing in the very quiet, controlled atmosphere of testing to the euphoria of relief that one more test is done. Only the students in kindergarten through second grade are living a normal life--normal except for the more ardent shushing that they hear as they march down the hall past doors with yellow signs declaring "Testing! Do NOT disturb."

Now is neither the time nor the place to enter into the wide world of controversy surrounding standardized tests. Most of the time I can find a reason to agree with all of the arguments, both pro and con.

I have been trying to remember when I started taking tests. I remember tests in third grade but don't know if that was the first year or just a continuation from years before. I have been saying that they were CAT--California Assessment Tests--but as I think about it they were probably from the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. I will say that CAT is much more interesting sounding that ITBS which is why we always used the longer name in some permutation of my life.

Just like most students I have talked to this week, I remember thinking that the testing process was pretty boring. For me the worst part was the rote reading of the instructions before every test. My last name at the time was almost as long as my current last name so had more letters than could fit into the space on the test. Each time we started the test the teacher would read with boredom dripping from the monotone of her voice, "If your name does not fit in the space, please raise your hand." Then she would look pointedly at me. I would raise my hand and explain that the line was two spaces short. The teacher would tell me to put in as much as I could. It was the testing ritual that stays with me all these years later. What the questions were are long gone from my memory, but I know that the line for last names had 11 spaces.

Parents, teachers, and society sometimes seem to make the testing process much more intense than anyone intends. That is why I like the picture book Testing Miss Malarkey by Judy Finchler with illustrations by Kevin O'Malley that give even more personality to the story. Miss Malarkey is a good teacher. Readers of others in this series already know that. Suddenly, however, she is chewing her fingernails and looking very stressed. It is time for the state sponsered IPTU test. (Say it out loud and you will agree that someone is deserving of pity.) All the other teachers are equally stressed as they practice filling in bubbles in art class and do "yogurt" in P.E. to help them become "one with THE TEST." Even the aptly named cafeteria lady Miss Slopdown is focusing on THE TEST by serving no more potato chips and lots of fish. The school brings in Dr. Scoreswell, The Svengali of Tests to help the parents understand what to do help with the test. The questions that the parents ask him are hilarious yet more than a little frightening in how close to reality they may be. On test day there are sick kids and sicker teachers. When the story tells about one girl who, told to erase all pencil marks, erases the entire test. Throughout the story, adults are telling the kids to relax, have fun, and not worry about THE TEST. The actions of the adults tell another story.

I enjoy reading this book to the classes that are in the midst of testing. It helps them relax. They find new humor in it every year.

Next week the testing will all be little more than a memory for the kids. We can only hope that parents and teachers remember how relatively small the impact this test has on the students and their future.

Hi

Hi Veronica. See I remembered to post something for you, perhaps my only regular reader.

Three Cups of Tea

On Saturday, January 24, 2009, Greg Mortenson, author of Three Cups of Tea for adults as well as a new young reader's edition by the same title and a picture book called Listen to the Wind: The Story of Dr. Greg & Three Cups of Tea, spoke to a packed auditorium at Ann Arbor's Huron High School. Mr. Mortenson (he is a nurse but not a doctor) has gained well deserved praise for his work to bring schools to remote areas of Pakistan and Afghanistan. His work began when he was trying to climb K2, the world's second highest mountain, as a memorial to his sister. He got lost after failing to reach the summit and wandered into a small village. After they nursed him back to health, he stayed to learn more about the village. He saw the children gathering in a clearing and scratching in the dirt with sticks to try to learn from the teacher who could not come to the town every day. He vowed to build them a school.

The books all tell this story and how he worked to get the school built in that first town. His fund raising was truly grassroots. It did not become productive until he got school children in the United States behind his project. Children collected their pennies to make major contributions to his building projects. As his funding grew from children and adults, the scope of Mr. Mortenson's project grew as well. Now he has funded and helped build more than sixty schools for both boys and girls in remote areas that previously had little or no educational opportunities for their children.

There are many ways that you can learn more about Greg Mortenson, his books, and his work.

You can visit his personal website.

You can read more about the books at the website linked to Amazon.

You can learn more about Mortenson's Central Asia Institute at its website.

You can learn how to schools are helping to support the building of peace and schools at the Pennies for Peace website.

I have great praise and admiration for what Greg Mortenson has done and continues to do. He is a moving speaker who clearly believes strongly in what he is doing and makes great personal sacrifices to see that his work will continue.

With that in mind, it gives me great pain to complain about his books. It seems that all too often books about good and meaningful things are poorly written. I enjoyed reading Three Cups of Tea for what it talked about. It was exciting at times and interesting. It was inspiring. It was not, however, an enjoyable read. The ghost writer usually writes for Parade Magazine--the one that comes in Sunday newspapers. Unfortunately, he writes this book much like he writes his brief magazine articles. Sometimes they simply fall flat. It gives the book the book a feeling of being rushed and not of great importance to the ghost writer. Where Mortenson's voice comes through is where the most inspiration appears.

The young readers version, while also important to be read, is a bit "dumbed down" for my taste. The questions in the end for Amira Mortenson get a little simplistic, though Amira's voice is clear and real. The study guide, like so many book club or readers' guides, asks questions that are too fact related ("What is the name of ________?") or that will not lead to discussions that will last longer than a couple of sentences. This is a big complaint of mine about most of these end-of-the-book questions. Please read this book. It is valid. It is important. It just is not that well written.

I love the pictures in the picture book. They are marvelous collages that give a feeling of warmth and depth. The writing will not win awards, but the point will get across to the youngest reader that it is important to give of one's self.

Read these books. Think about what Greg Mortenson is doing and how it will positively change the world.

Knucklehead

When I was growing up the term "knucklehead" was commonly applied to kids in general, but most often, I suppose, to boys. My father often referred to my brother as a knucklehead. I always figured that what something that was unique to my neck of the woods but not the rest of the world. Now I find out that it was also a term that was used in Flint, Michigan, in about the same time that it rang in my ears in Huntley, Montana.

How did I learn this nugget of truth? I just finished reading one of the best memoirs I have ever found--Knucklehead: Tall Tales and Mostly True Stories About Growing Up Scieszka by Jon Scieszka. With lots of family pictures and other memorabilia of life in the 1950s and 60s, each chapter relates some wonderful memory of this man who is now the first National Ambassador for Children's Literature. (This gives him a job of championing children's literature throughout the nation.) He says he is attempting in this book to answer the question of why he decided to become an author. Perhaps he answers this question, but mostly he entertains.

My first reaction upon completing this book was to think about my own childhood. Let me begin, then, by apologizing to my brother Karl for not being a boy. Scieszka was one of six boys. My poor brother just had a little sister to harass, but no on with whom he could bond as boys surely do. He never played football with me so he never got to break my collarbone. Scieszka participated in games that resulted in four broken collarbones for his little brother Gregg. Brother Karl never got to play any of the great (that depends on your perspective here) bathroom related games that Scieszka played with his brothers. Karl did introduce me to some great swear words--but, of course, I have forgotten all of them.

Jon Scieszka clearly had an interesting (and completely normal and happy) childhood. It is difficult to predict what the current generation will find the most humorous, but there will surely be snorts of laughter rising from faces hidden deep in this book. It is written for grades three to seven, but should be read by everyone. You can learn more about Jon Scieszka at his official site which has information about his books and a generous dose of Scieszka humor.

What are his other books you ask? Well, they include The Time Warp Trio series, The True Story of the Three Little Pigs, The Stinky Cheese Man, The Math Curse, Science Verse, and Baloney, Henry P. among many more. I know very few people under the age of 20 who have not read at least one of these books. If you haven't read them, now is a good time to give them a try.

The Time Warp Trio series keeps growing with books for recently established readers who want to travel back in time with a trio of wild and crazy boys. Even their titles are good for a life because they often contain a pun like The Not-So-Jolly Roger or Da Wild, Da Crazy, Da Vinci.

The True Story of the Three Little Pigs lets the wolf finally tell his side of the story and is a favorite picture book that is remembered and enjoyed well into middle school and beyond.

The Stinky Cheese Man is another favorite, especially of boys who like the almost potty humor of it, that keeps being read long beyond the many other picture books have been discarded.

The Math Curse shows how math is a part of everything we do and how, if one is to dwell on it too much, it can take over your life.

Science Verse gives a scientific bent to favorite poems and familiar songs. It is one of my favorites to dig out and relearn the great verses that also confirm scientific facts that I may have forgotten.

Baloney, Henry P. is great not only for the tall, tall tale it tells, but for all the words from other languages that are quickly learned while reading it.

Knucklehead is the story behind all of this humor. So, all you knuckleheads should get your hands on it as soon as you can. You will be wiser for it.

Maggie Mab and More

Today, December 20, brings us to the winter solstice (the actual time is 7:04 a.m. EST, December 21). A Detroit area Celtic band called Finvarra's Wren does an annual solstice performance. This year they will be at the Ark in Ann Arbor at 8:00 p.m.--just 11 hours before the actual solstice.

From my standpoint, the most important part of their performance will be the inclusion of a book by a friend of mine. Valerie Scho Carey retold a British folktale in her book Maggie Mab and the Bogey Beast (Arcade/Little Brown & Company, 1992). While the book is now out of print, Finvarra found it and will bring it to life as a part of their performance.

Valerie is one of the few authors I know and she is certainly the only one I can say, and I say it with great pride, is a good friend of mine. I first got to know Valerie when her daughter and my daughter were in the same first grade class at Emerson School. Now both of those young women are well into their adult lives, but Valerie and I still get together semi-regularly (though not often enough) for lunch and a good visit.


You may never have the opportunity to sit down to lunch with Valerie Scho Carey, but there is no time like the present to acquaint yourself with her books.


Maggie Mab and the Bogey Beast is the tale of a kind, good-natured old woman who was "poor as the sound of a tin bell." One night Maggie Mab stayed out later than usual helping a farm wife with chores. Even as she set off for home she knew that the bogey beast could be about on such a night, just waiting to do a little mischief. The shape-shifting bogey beast, as everyone knew, could play relatively harmless pranks or turn to mean tricks that had led to some real trouble. As she walks, Maggie Mab's foot suddenly hits something hard that turns out to be an iron pot left in the middle of the road. The pot is full of gold. She decides to haul it home. When she stops to rest, she finds that the gold has turned to a lump of silver. Maggie Mab does not complain nor does she complain when it changes again and again. By now, the reader knows this must be the work of the bogey beast. Will Maggie Mab finally get the best of the beast? This tale is full of wonder, wisdom, and good, old-fashioned humor.


Harriet and William and the Terrible Creature (Dutton Children's Books, 1985) was Valerie's first published book. Harriet and William are twins who seem to have little in common. William prefers to stay at home and tend his garden, but Harriet, who loves adventure, builds a space ship and travels to strange planet with nothing but "rocks and stumps, stumps and lumps" and a dragon-like creature who has eaten all the trees and flowers leaving only rocks to crunch. Perhaps if Harriet can bring back William and his gardening skills things can be improved. In 1985, Booklist saw this as a story about accepting people for who they are. That is but a part of the story, especially if viewed from today's perspectives. It seems to me to also be a story about the importance of saving our natural resources.


Quail Song (Putnam Publishing Group, 1990) is one of my favorites to tell or read. Set in the American Southwest, this Pueblo story features the familiar trickster coyote. However, in this tale, he is tricked by a clever quail. "Ki-ruu, Ki-ruu," quail cries in pain when she cuts herself on a piece of grass. Coyote thinks this a beautiful song and demands that quail teach it to him. The song just won't stick in coyote's head, falling out at every stumble, and he must repeat his demand until finally quail gets the better of him.


Tsugele's Broom (Harper Collins, 1993) is an old Polish tale that Valerie tells me has special meaning to her because it was shared with her by her parents. In this clever tale, Tsugele is a strong willed girl who vows that she will never marry unless she can marry a man as faithful and dependable as her broom. This story caused me to think about what I value in my husband and in a broom. I think if I used my broom more often I could make a better comparison.

The Devil and Mother Crump (Harper and Row, 1987) features an old woman who some folks said was as "mean as the Devil." Others would argue that this baker woman was "meaner than the Devil." When news of Mother Crump reaches Lucifer himself, he decides to find out for himself who really rules the world of mean. Mother Crump settles for no nonsense and outwits the devil himself. This is the longest, most detailed of all of Valerie's books. (The others are all in picture book format.) Each full page of text in this book is faced with a full page illustration by none other than Arnold Lobel who gives added humor and depth to the tale.

As you can tell, I am quite fond of Valerie Scho Carey and of all the books she has written. She has a unique way of bringing old folk tales and new stories to life for readers of all ages.

Bravo, Valerie! Thank you for being my friend.

Make Way for Boston

Today, December 16, is the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party when colonists dumped tea into Boston Harbor. By coincidence, yesterday I returned home after a long week-end in Boston. I went to hear my daughter sing the soprano solo in Handel's Messiah. She was wonderful. Her voice brings tears to my eyes and shivers to my spine. Of course, I am a biased mother, but she is getting more paid singing jobs all the time and it makes her happy. Makes me happy, too.

While in Boston we we had the time to go for a walk in the Public Gardens which have been a part of Boston since the 1600s. My husband, who was born and raised in India, does not have the connections to American history that I do so, while he was interested in the history that surrounded us, he did not feel quite as I did.

It was when we rounded a bend in the path and saw the Swan Pond just ahead that I felt the biggest surge of memory. It wasn't that I was picturing our colonial forefathers gathering on the the green grass. No, I was seeing the pictures in Robert McCloskey's Make Way for Ducklings.



There, ahead of me, was the island where the Mallard Family had settled to raise their family. That must be the street that they crossed with all of their family in tow. I could almost see the plump policeman with his hand in the air, stopping traffic for the family.

Frankly, I was amazed at how moved I was and how it all came crashing to my attention. The swan boats are put away for the season, but the rest is there. The only change from the picture above is that the ducks were wearing festive red ribbons to help them celebrate the holiday season.

If you have not read Make Way for Ducklings in awhile or, perish the thought, you have never read it, I highly recommend that you give it a try. When you are lucky enough to go to Boston, you will relive this favorite story the same way I did.

Quote of the Week--#003

It would be a good idea if children would write books for older people, now that everyone is writing for children.

G. C. Lichtenberg
Quoted in Quotations on Education
compiled by Rosalie Maggio


When I was young--probably about 10--I decided that I agreed with Lichtenberg. (I had never heard of him, but now, thanks to Wikipedia, we all can know about him. He really was an interesting guy.) I set out to write something tentatively titled "All About Adults by a Kid". I struggled unsuccessfully for several year to write something interesting.

Finally I decided that it was a lost cause. All I could think to say turned out to be roughly what my mother kept telling. "Adults just want what is best for their children." " Adults always know best." Who wanted to read that? I was never 100% convinced that this was even true much less that I it was worth repeating or that anyone would want to read it.

I think Lichtenberg would have suggested just writing a story and letting adults get some insight into what children think. I never did that. I hope that someone will take on that task and that publishers will publish it without platitudes or jokes about the improbability of a child being able to write a book. There are lots of published books out there that would have been had they been written by a child. There are also lots of things that children could say that adults have forgotten.

Yes, there are many, many books written by adults trying to use the voice of a child. Some are really quite good. The works of Christopher Paul Curtis, Roald Dahl, and Daniel Pinkwater come to mind almost immediately. I have had to struggle a bit to think of others. Even authors that we think of as really knowing children usually write in the third person. Any suggestions?