Dedication by Annette Simon

Annette’ childhood copy of Green Eggs and Ham

To you, my companion, The Picture Book.

Together, we’ve smelled flowers with Ferdinand and walked to Paris with Henri, planted a rainbow and grownvegetable soup. We’ve rocked in our school shoes. We’ve rhymed with dust bunnies. Under a red tree and anowl moon, we’ve gone on a bear hunt to where the sidewalk ends. We’ve interrupted a chicken, flown the polar express, looked at Lincoln, and beheld the bold umbrellaphant. We’ve heard Maestro play, beseeeechingly. We’ve chicka chicka boom boomed, tikki tikki temboed, crash bang walloped, click clack mooed and oink-a-doodle-dooed. This is just to say, we’ve gone, Dog. Gone! (If not exactly taken Grandfather’s journey.)

Fortunately, we’ve enjoyed tea with Fancy Nancy, bread and jam with Frances, blueberries with Sal, and green eggs and ham. In a boat. With a goat. In the rain. On a train. We gave a mouse a cookie; we’ve shared nine kinds of pie. (Mmm…affirmative!) We’ve devoured stone soup, a leaf, an apple, a pair of pears, three plums, four strawberries, five oranges, cake, ice cream, a pickle and some cheese. Someone else swallowed a fly. Arnie the Doughnut is safe.

You and I’ve made life-long pals: Olivia, Sylvester, Strega Nona, Maisy, Amos McGee. Corduroy, Cinderella,Thumbelina and a curious monkey. The Great Pumpkin, the Happy Hocky Family, Scaredy Squirrel, Viola Swamp, Miss Rumphius and Eloise. Tra-la-LAA!–Captain Underpants! The Grinch and Stinky Cheese Man.Elephant and Piggie and the velveteen rabbit. Officer Buckle and Gloria, Shark and Train and Hippo! No, Rhino.Yo! Yes?

Once upon a twice, we pressed Here and traveled There. We’ve wished for wings that worked. We’ve made way for ducklings, been too absolutely small for school. We’ve questioned brown bear, brown bear, and survived a monster at the end of this book. We’ve whispered goodnights to a gorilla, a chair and an iPad. We’ve loved to the moon and back, but we’ve yet to let a pigeon drive the bus. (Maybe on a snowy day…?)

Ah, if we were in charge….We’ve contemplated polkabats and octopus slacks, a red thread, a freight train, aduck on a bike, what if we had duck feet, flotsam, stars, snow music, 17 things I’m not allowed to do anymore,dinosaur vs. bedtime, the moon in my room, a bird on your head, balloons over Broadway, the mysteries ofHarris Burdick, the adventures of Hugo Cabret, the fantastic flying books of Mr. Morris Lessmore, and that some days are like that, even in Australia. We’ve pondered all the world. And that Libby died.

Thanks to you, cherished chum, I know a lot of things. I know that if you shake your fist and throw your cap to the ground, copycat monkeys will, too. I know how the sphinx got to the museum and how to get a kite from a tree. I know a hole is to dig, an egg is quiet, dragons love tacos, and children make terrible pets. I know where the wild things are, who took my hat, and how to get a king out of the bathtub. And while I don’t know where we’re headed next, I know that I can’t wait.

May I bring a friend?

Annette Simon

Annette says that when she was in kindergarten, she was named Best Artist in her class.

When she was in the third grade, she won her school’s Fire Prevention Week poster contest.

After she graduated from the University of Cincinnati’s College of Design, Architecture, Art and Planning, Annette earned awards as an advertising creative director.

Now, she writes and draws for young readers. Simon says she could not feel more honored.

Annette wants to know what picture books are your favorite. Leave a comment letting her know two or three of your favorite, and on August 4th we will randomly draw one winner. The winner will receive a copy of Annete’s book Robot Zombie Frankenstein!

Favorite Books I Read to My Kids by Megan Bostic

I have two daughters, now ages 14 and 16. We used to read all the time when they were little. I have to say, I was really picky about the books I read to my girls. I wanted funny. I wanted touching. I wanted educational. I wanted beautiful and/or vibrant illustrations. So here are a few of the books that were my girls’ and my favorites.

If You Were My Bunny by Kate McMullan

My mother bought me this book when I was pregnant.  My daughters loved when I sang to them (we had our favorite songs too), and well, I loved singing, so it was a great combination. The melodies in the book were familiar to them, all sung to the tune of classic lullabies. The lyrics are very sweet, and honestly, some of the lyrics of the old lullabies were frightening, so it was a pleasant change.

I love how the book conveys the child’s uniqueness, how the mother would choose them from all the rest, and what she would do to make them happy. The illustrations are wonderful too, expressions of love between a mother and child.

By the time my kids had outgrown this book, the pages were a mess, ripped, wrinkled, and worn.

Goodnight Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann

I love how this book tells most of the story through the pictures, and how vibrant they are. The animal’s faces are so expressive as they escape from their cages and follow the zookeeper home. The book is also full of little subplots, like the tiny mouse hauling the banana around.

It was fun teaching my kids about different animals while reading Goodnight Gorilla. As we read the book, I’d point to each animal and ask them what it was. It empowered them and educated them.

My girls thought this book was hilarious, too. I think they liked the fact that the animals refused to go to bed. They would crack up (and I would, too) at the page where you see nothing but eyes.

I actually didn’t own this book, my mother did, so reading it was a treat. Whenever we walked through the door, my youngest would go right to it, sit down, and read it. I loved hearing the sound of her laughing while she did.

My Many Colored Days by Dr. Seuss

This one is tied for my favorite children’s book. Of course, we loved all the Dr. Seuss books, but this one is different. Mostly Dr. Seuss books are filled with whimsical, vibrant illustrations and crazy rhymes. My Many Colored Days is vibrant, but the illustrations and rhyming are quite simple, and I think that’s needed for a book like this.

The book brings color and poetic prose together to illustrate the different emotions we all feel. This was especially helpful for my younger daughter who had a difficult time controlling her moods sometimes. It really does convey the emotions and moods well, too, in a way that a small child might be able to understand them. For instance, “On a green day,” he’s (the figure in the book) is a “cool and quiet fish.” I’d actually read each day in a voice that would also express the feel of the mood, which I think helped my daughters understand it even more.

Not only does the book try to explain how these moods might feel, but it also stresses that it’s okay to feel that way, and that those feelings will eventually go away, and that even though you may be having a brown or gray day, in the end, you’ll go back to being you.

Mama Do You Love Me by Barbara Joosse

This is the other book that is tied for my favorite. It’s about a child’s insecurity about being loved and the unconditional love a mother feels for her child, no matter what trouble she gets into.

The child asks, “Mamma, do you love me?”  But that’s not all. She wants to know if her mother will continue to love her if she gets into mischief and causes trouble.  I love this question the child poses, “What if I stayed away, and sang with the wolves, and slept in a cave.” The mother’s replies throughout the book encompass the depth of what a parent feels for their child. This book, seriously, almost makes me cry.

It also teaches a good lesson about naughty behavior. The mother tells the child she may not always like what she does, but she will never stop loving her.

The other thing I like about this book is the inclusion of the Inuit culture. We’re shown things throughout the book that give us a little insight to the culture.  What they wear, what they might eat, the way they make things from scratch. It’s a good way to introduce a different culture to your children that they may not understand.

And visually? The book is amazing. The illustrations are beautiful, eye-catching and colorful. They help to open the door into the Inuit culture. I wouldn’t mind having illustrations from the book framed and hanging on my living room walls.

Mama Do You Love Me is a good way to teach your children about unconditional love and to reassure them that no matter what they do, you will love them forever.

Megan Bostic’s  name is pronounced with the long e sound, like Meeeeegan. You can blame her mother. She’s a single mom living in the Pacific Northwest with two crazy beautiful teenage girls. 

She writes fiction, poetry, vlogs, blogs, and tries to social network the hell out of her day. She likes soccer, monkeys, and the color black.

She belongs to the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, The Class of 2k12, and the Apolcalypsies.

Oh, and she wrote a book, it’s titled Never Eighteen and you can find it all over the place. It came out January 2012 from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and it’s her debut novel.

Visit her online at www.meganbosticbooks.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/meganbosticbooks, and on Twitter as @meganbostic. 

The Expected/Unexpected Text by Kevin Hodgson

As an adult reader, I revel in the unexpected. I don’t want formula from the books I read. I want to experience twists and turns. I want my writers to take me on what appears to be a familiar walk and then turn it into an unknown adventure.

But as a child, I was almost completely the opposite. I craved the familiar, the known. I wanted the story to be something I could figure out early. I even had the habit of turning to the last page, just to figure out where the story would end before I had even begun.

I was thinking about this shift in my reading habits the other day as my youngest son and I were having an intense discussion about … Scooby Doo. Years ago, when my older son was watching a Scooby Doo episode, I sat down with him on the couch and I remember being transformed back in time. It might have been an updated episode, but the plot was exactly the same as I remembered it from my own childhood.

You know it, too: there’s a mystery or something has been stolen; toss in a few red herrings to send the kids in different directions (making sure that Scooby and Shaggy are always teamed up); the kids catch the villain, often wearing a mask as disguise; as the police cart them away, they mutter something about  “those meddling kids”; and they all celebrate with some Scooby snacks.  My middle son watched Scooby Doo a few years later. Same story. And now my youngest was reflecting on Scooby, too, and he – at age seven — mentioned just how predictable the story is each time. (‘Lest you think all we watch is Scooby Doo in my house, let me say this is not the case. We’re not the home of the Scooby Doo fan club! It just happens to be a good storytelling device here. Honestly!)

Like my boys, I loved Scooby Doo for a time as a kid, and I realize now it is because I knew what was going to happen.  Always. The plot arc was not a weakness to me; it was the strength.

That got me thinking to some of the books that I loved to read when I was young, too. Mostly, they were strictly formulaic, although not quite so adherent to the arc as Scooby Doo.

I devoured every single one of The Hardy Boys’ series, even though I could guess from the first page what was going to happen, and when, and how it would all unfold over the course of the book.  The Encyclopedia Brown series, and then Ellery Queen, all set on a course that resonated with me. I didn’t care. I was absorbing some sort of storytelling concept into my writing DNA.

And that’s what predictable books do for young readers.  I suppose publishers understand this – which is why so many books now seem to follow Harry Potter so closely (lonely child who discovers an unknown strength and seeks revenge).  I even had a parent in a conference ask me, in exasperation, if I could find a way for her son to move past The Warriors series. “It’s just the same story, over and over, “ she noted. “Please,” she begged me.

But books like these provide a map of the known territory for readers finding their ground. My sons read The Magic Treehouse, and The Secrets of Droon, and other series that followed a similar pattern.

What we teachers and parents hope is, at some point, these readers begin to abandon that predictable path for the unknown worlds of literature. And when they become writers, those influences provide a framework for creation. This is why reading aloud to young children is so important. It plants the seeds that can be harvested later.

For me, this is why books like The Invention of Hugo Cabret and The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet and Regarding the Fountain and other novels that push into the boundaries, and beyond, are such a joy. I may have some formulas ingrained in my brain from my years of reading The Hardy Boys and watching Scooby Doo, but that only sets the stage for the unexpected read, which is the thing I hope for more than anything these days when I open the pages to a book.

Kevin Hodgson teaches sixth grade and he no longer reads the last page of books first. He blogs at Kevin’s Meandering Mind (http://dogtrax.edublogs.org/) and can be found on Twitter as @dogtrax.

Top Ten Literary YA Reads by Beth Shaum

Many of us who read YA literature with regularity know what a wealth of great authors are out there writing today. So a rash of recent articles calling for us to only read Classics or proclaiming some books are more equal than others really bothered many of us who are fighting to show everyone what merit YA literature has in the 21^st century. Thus this post was born.

 

So let’s start first with defining what “literary” means. While I like dictionary definitions, I have my own definition of the word and that is a book or piece of writing that can generate a prolific, educated discussion, removed from shallow statements like, “Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?”

 

Now I feel that this list is almost arbitrary. I wrote it more to prove a point and generate discussion than to come up with THE ULTIMATE list of 10 literary YA books. So with that in mind, when you’re done reading this list, share with me your favorite literary YA reads.

 

In the meantime, here are my Top Ten Literary YA Reads:

 

1. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

 

Despite some criticisms that TFiOS is not an accurate portrayal of how teenagers actually talk and behave, this is one of the most moving pieces of YA lit ever written. And John Green has never been one to pander to popular culture so I don’t think he was going for “typical” anyway. He writes books for people who think critically and thoughtfully. Oh and let’s not forget that the title of this book is an allusion to the great work of Shakespeare, Julius Caesar:

 

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

 

 

2. This Dark Endeavor by Kenneth Oppel

 

In this prequel to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, readers can see how Victor Frankenstein’s tragic downfall began at an early age. Want to teach teens about tragic heroes? How about allowing them to read about one their own age? Perhaps it might even be the impetus for them to pick up a classic text like Frankenstein and read it on their own.

 

 

3. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

 

When I first read this book, I had to sit with it for a while to really appreciate how truly special it was. But to have Death as a narrator? I bet a lot of authors who write for adults are kicking themselves for not coming up with something so ingenious and “literary.”

 

 

4. Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson

 

While many people would have probably chosen Speak for this list, I decided to choose a lesser-known LHA title instead. Wintergirls is much more haunting and poetic in its writing style than Speak and even though it’s been three years since I read this book, the main character of Lia still haunts me.

 

 

5. Going Bovine by Libba Bray

 

I have a love/hate relationship with this book. I love it because it is so full of the humor and wit we are used to seeing from Libba Bray. At the same time, it felt so over-saturated with literary elements that I often found myself forgetting to sit back and comprehend the story. Still, the characters were memorable (a yard gnome who thinks he’s a Norse god? Hilarious!) and I loved that there were lessons to be learned amongst the humor.

 

 

6. Beauty Queens by Libba Bray

 

Most of you would probably assume, as did I, that Beauty Queens is a light, humorous romp on a desert island with ditzy blondes in bikinis. And it is. At first. But the more you read, you begin to realize that this book is also a political statement, an imploring for the reader to question the gender roles and stereotypes we’ve become accustomed to in our society. It has quite the subversive message and yet somehow, Bray manages to do all this with her trademark wit and humor.

 

 

7. Liar by Justine Larbalestier

 

Upon first reading, I would never have labeled this book as literary. But the more I think back on it, there was so much going on that still leaves me with questions and I can imagine the discussions it could generate among teens. In the book, the main character Micah is a compulsive liar with a secret. The secret, you discover in the middle of the story, is so far-fetched and crazy that you wonder: is she a liar because she has to protect her secret or is her secret just part of her lying game? You want to talk to students about the idea of unreliable narrators? Here you go.

 

 

8. Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly

 

There are so many beautiful layers and corners to explore in this book that one could not possibly begin to cover them all. People who don’t like historical fiction are at first turned off from the fact that this book deals with the French Revolution, but it is not purely historical fiction; it is actually more a contemporary story since the main character lives in modern times. And the way Donnelly writes of music, both classical and contemporary, with such fluidly and authority, you would swear she moonlights as a music critic.

 

9. Please Ignore Vera Dietz by A.S. King

 

When you’re first introduced to the main character of Vera, you make a judgment about her: that she doesn’t care about school and that she’s turning into an alcoholic. This judgment begins to fall apart once you continue reading and realize that despite working a full-time job, she gets straight A’s in school, enjoys doing her homework, and is only drinking to numb the pain from her best friend’s death. I envisioned lots of thoughtful classroom discussion while reading this book.

 

 

10. Delirium by Lauren Oliver

Since the popularity of The Hunger Games, the dystopian genre has been so over-saturated that, when this book first came out, I almost dismissed as just another author trying to cash in on a trend. However, what sets Delirium apart and also makes it “literary” is in the beauty of Oliver’s simple yet lyrical prose. Even further to Oliver’s credit is her ability to subtly weave a developing and evolving protagonist through a suspenseful, page-turning plot. And the idea that love is a disease? That’s certainly not going to generate classroom discussion.

Okay… time to discuss. Do you agree with this list? What titles would you have liked to see on here instead?

 

Beth Shaum teaches middle school English and literature in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan. Her students straddle the line between middle grade and young adult literature in their maturity so she is always on the lookout for appropriate YA reads for her classroom.  Follow her on Twitter: @FoodieBooklvr or read her blog: A Foodie Bibliophile in Wanderlust

Sharing the Joy of Books by Kristen Keyser

Life, for me, has been divided into colorful arrangements of books. My childhood is marked with books big and small – read-along and picture books. My adolescence navigated by books that chipped away at my teenage angst. They helped me look beyond myself. I ate up the words of authors S.E. Hinton, Madeleine L’Engle, Gary Paulsen, Louisa May Alcott, Harper Lee.

Books are testaments to life survived and more importantly lived. I remember the comfort books and the words inside offered me when coming to terms with the death of my father. L’Engle’s A Ring of Endless Light and Wrinkle in Time were my constant companions. The pages, ink, words compile together offer more than just mere book. They offer an undiscovered world. A new perspective. A chance to escape reality or crash into reality.  They offer hope.

Since books played such an important role in helping me work through, grieve, and celebrate my dad, I figure they can help anyone in any situation. Sometimes I pick up a certain book as a gift and pass it to friends and family in hopes they are comforted and I use the book as a source of encouragement. Children’s literature and young adult books are a veritable resource for such gifts. I  have given Markus Zusak’s I Am the Messenger as a graduation gift. Zusak gives us the story of ordinary becoming extraordinary. This is my go-to book for older teens. For times of trouble and heartache I share the gifts, words, hope of Kate DiCamillo’s The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and Max Lucado’s You Are Special. For beginnings I give Oh, the Places You Will Go by Dr. Seuss.

I also find that I can connect and build relationships with and through books – especially with my nephews. Last year, we had a contest going to see who could read the Harry Potter series the quickest. Those boys left me in the dust. I finished up nearly two months later and found myself marveling at the wonder of J.K. Rowling’s world and if I might someday receive an invitation to Hogwarts. When my nephews were very young, inspired by Captain Underpants, I dressed myself in superhero underwear over my clothing and proclaimed myself as Auntie Panties. Books help you create adventure and excitement. It may even make you seem a bit bizarre, but it makes such an impression. To this day, when my nephews want to grab my attention all they have to do is yell Auntie Panties at me. We cast spells like Harry, Hermione and Ron, we salute each other like the Katniss and others from District 12, and we are very concerned with the Cheese Touch. It is almost impossible to get rid of once you get it. I want to impart the whimsy, magic, comfort, and joy books give to me to others. Being silly with those boys is worth it.

The other children I know know by now that I am going to ask them what they are reading when I see them. We celebrate and talk about fictional characters as if they are real. If it’s a new series they have discovered, they put me onto those. For months, we all devoured The Hunger Games trilogy – dissecting characters, arguing strategy, sharing heartaches and triumphs. I want to hear about it all and I listen with open ears.

For the past ten years I have worked in both academic, private, and public libraries. I call myself a faux librarian and help customers and students – young and old – who I find are rather intimidated by the library itself and their librarians to become acquainted with the library setting and introduce them to the librarians. Librarians are such a rich resource of what is, what has, and what will be great reading materials. Libraries are a great way to learn, grow, and experience the world. Every day is an opportunity to help widen a student or customer’s eyes to what a library really has to offer.

My question for you is this: How will you pay it forward? Maybe it will be by sharing what you are reading and asking what others are reading. Maybe you will write book reviews and share on Facebook, Twitter, and blogs. You share your reading delights with anyone and everyone. You give, donate, share books. And of course you just keep reading. You never know what lurks inside the closed covers of a book. And it’s waiting to be shared.

Kristen Keyser is a faux librarian at a community college in Oklahoma. She is a writer who spends her time reading, watching Wes Anderson films, and hanging with her family. Most people call her Keeks. She also has a blog, Keeks (www.theycallmekeeks.com), where she writes about life, sincerely but rather irreverently. You can find her on Twitter as @keeks4prez and on Goodreads as Keeks.

Life Lessons from Louisa: Little Women by Colette Marie Bennett

Louisa May Alcott’s seminal work Little Woman is on the recommended list of “Texts Illustrating the Complexity, Quality, & Range of Student Reading 6-8 for the Common Core State Standards (CCSS)-English Language Arts.”

My teacher brain considers the academic value this book has in vocabulary and style and determines this classic novel is worthy of a recommendation.  My teacher brain appreciates the novel’s setting and  educational connections to the 150 Anniversary of the Civil War.

However, my reader’s brain harkens back to its juvenile beginnings and screams loudly, “Oh, please. Oh, please, don’t teach Little Woman!”  According to my 11-year-old self, “You will ruin this book!”

Louisa May Alcott’s engaging story centers on the travails of four sisters and their beloved Marmee struggling with financial hardships, illness, romance, and death. This novel was, and still is, my first literary love. My copy was a Christmas gift when I was 10 years old, the Deluxe Illustrated Edition,-January 28, 1947, Penguin Group – with Louis Jambor illustrations. I loved the pen and ink drawings that accompanied many of the chapters, but the cover was my favorite. This painting shows all the girls singing around the little spinet that Marmee plays. Jo stands behind Marmee, while Amy and Beth sing opposite her with Meg’s back to the viewer.

Like most readers, I empathized with the unladylike and plain-spoken Jo, Louisa May Alcott’s alter ego.  Like Jo, I, too, wanted to be a writer. I imagined the dusty attic garret and a chest filled with dog-eared stories and dramatic props while I sat in the 1960 pink-flowered wallpapered bedroom of my colonial styled home. I read and re-read, switching the routines of my own household in 1960s Westchester County for the routines of the 1860s in a small cottage in Massachusetts.  I imagined my own flirtation with a dashingly handsome neighborhood Laurie, and I imagined my conversation with the handsome dark stranger, Mr. Bhaer. “Heart’s dearest, why do you cry?” he would say, and after I raised my tearful face to him, we would kiss under the large umbrella in the rain.  Heck, I even had Jo’s long chestnut hair.

Louisa (I could never refer to her as Alcott!) introduced me to characters who lived lives of exemplary virtues.  There was charity as in Chapter 2 when Marmee challenged her daughters,

“Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?”

The telegram that arrives with the news of Mr. March’s illness in Chapter 15 is accompanied by the paragraph,

“How still the room was as they listened breathlessly, how strangely the day darkened outside, and how suddenly the whole world seemed to change, as the girls gathered about their mother, feeling as if all the happiness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them.”

How universal is that moment for all readers when their world also could change on a piece of terrible news? Louisa captured that moment and then provided an insight into Marmee’s strength and how she would unite the family through this crisis as well,

“Mrs. March was herself again directly, read the message over, and stretched out her arms to her daughters, saying, in a tone they never forgot, ‘I shall go at once, but it may be too late. Oh, children, children, help me to bear it!’”

Forgiveness was the theme in Chapter 8 after Amy, sullen and headstrong after destroying several of Jo’s stories, was rescued from a skating accident on a frozen lake. Jo was so relieved that her sister was safe that, “Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.”

Finally, Louisa taught me to accept death. I remember the unflinching honesty with which she communicated the death of gentle Beth when, “Mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again.”

I had never lost a character that I cared about in a novel; when I lost Beth, I felt as though I had lost a dear friend. Louisa was more than a writer. Even though 124 years separated us, she, through Little Women, taught me about life; she was my mentor.

Now, I am a little suspicious that the CCSS recommendation of this text for grade 8 students satisfies two criteria: a 19th Century female author and accessibility to a text in the public domain (e-text). But perhaps my suspicions are unwarranted, and there is a genuine interest in recommending Little Women. However, while I want students to experience Little Women, I would prefer for them to discover Louisa the way that I discovered her, as an independent reader. I shudder to think a student will be forced to read the novel rather than discover this story, and, although I am not gender-biased with literature, I would not assign this novel to low-reading level, pre-teen boys.  Moreover, I still cannot imagine how I would “teach” the book as a whole class novel. Could I do lessons looking for rising action, conflicts, literary devices, and vocabulary?

To reconcile my teacher’s brain with my 11-year-old reader’s brain, I have copies for students to select individually or in small groups. If a student should ask for a recommendation for a great book, I might suggest Little Women, and for the curious student who lingers over the text, I will tease her with its wonderful “hook,” the story’s opening line, “Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.” I know that despite CCSS recommendation, Little Women does not need me in order to be taught; Louisa does all the teaching herself.

Colette Marie Bennett is the English/Social Studies Dept Chair Regional District #6 in CT with 20 years teaching experience in grades 6-12. She blogs about increasing classroom libraries, literacy ,and education at http://usedbookclassroom.wordpress.com/  Tweets as @Teachcmb56

Jack and Larry by Barbara Gregorich Reviewed by Mike Curtis

Larry the Cleveland Baseball Dog!   Did you know there was such a thing?  It sounds like an unwelcome character in one of those Disney Air Bud movies about dogs playing basketball and going to the moon and running for president…  but it’s not.  Larry was real, he was the Cleveland Baseball Dog, and his story is a heartwarming, beautiful tale about friendship.

I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about baseball history, yet I’d never heard of Larry either.  But there he was, on the shelf at my local library – in my favorite section – “new juvenile fiction.”  By all rights, this thin trade paperback with the black and white cover should have been lost amongst all the new, colorful MG books, tucked between offerings by Adam Rex and Gary D. Schmidt – yep, it wasn’t even shelved in the right spot – but somehow it caught my eye, and I’m so glad that I found Jack and Larry. 

We live in a world where there are no more baseball dogs.  Maybe we’re better off in a world where we take our sports seriously, but there’s something to be said for the days when people wore a shirt, tie, and an awesomely cool hat to a ball game.  There’s something to be said for the days when baseball really felt like a national pastime, when ballplayers loved the game so much that they spent the winters barnstorming their way through the southern states, and the game was full of characters like Max Patkin, the clown prince of baseball;  Bill Veeck, the king of the publicity stunt; and Eddie Gaedel, the 3’ 7” pinch hitter.

Jack and Larry takes you back to those old days.   I enjoy baseball books for that very reason.  They can be a time machine – not entirely unlike Dan Gutman’s Baseball Card Adventures  – but this is a very different sort of baseball book.   Jack and Larry is not so much about strategy, statistics, or standings so much as it is about the relationships we form in sports.  As a coach of youth sports, as well as a middle grades reading teacher, I’m required to love this type of story.

As a baseball fan since before she can remember, Barbara Gregorich seems to be drawn to the game’s unique stories.  Her previous book is about a women’s baseball league in the 1940s and this tale, given to her by a friend from the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR), is about a baseball dog.  Really, a baseball dog.

You see, Jack Graney was the Cleveland Naps’ (this is before they were the Indians) left fielder and leadoff hitter.  The team was bad.  Real bad.  Jack felt a great deal of that was because of the lack of camaraderie on the team.  That all changed in 1912 when the team’s trainer won a bull-terrier in a card game and brought the dog, Larry, to the ballpark.  Suddenly, a team that had no identity and no spirit began to rally around a dog.

Slowly, Larry brought the team together.  He became Jack’s dog, but the Naps were Larry’s team.  They started to play like more of a unit, more like a real team.  It took some time, but they got better, and, with help from Larry, Cleveland went from perennial cellar dwellers to a respectable ballclub.

This book is about the team while Jack and Larry were there – from 1912 until the early 1920s, how they fared during that time, and the relationship between man and dog, but it also goes beyond baseball to be, according to Gregorich, a “story of what it means to love, to be a teammate, to build a team, to fight on despite horrible losses.”    Larry’s presence in the clubhouse and on the practice field seems to have had a huge impact on the players, but it’s not just the dog or the famous teammates like Nap Lajoie,  Shoeless Joe Jackson, Tris Speaker, and Ray Chapman that make the story.  It’s Jack.

Jack Graney wasn’t a superstar, but he was one of those hard-nosed, blue collar type players that the fans love, but not only was he an important part of the Cleveland team – Jack was living baseball history: he was the first batter to face Babe Ruth, the first to wear a number on his uniform, and the first former player to become a big league broadcaster.

Anyone who’s read Gutman’s Baseball Card books has heard of Joe Jackson and Ray Chapman and the tragedies that awaited them, but that gut wrenching fore-knowledge adds to the power of Gregorich’s beautiful verse.  This isn’t your typical baseball book, replacing box scores and statistics with emotion and feeling, and written in a series of free verse poems that feels like a baseball historian is, in the author’s own words, “having a relaxed, almost playful (but serious) conversation with the reader.”

It truly is a remarkable book.  Let’s take a second to make a list of all the books written for middle graders that tell a forgotten piece of history, include memorable characters, grab reluctant readers with a great baseball story, and do it with perfectly crafted free verse.

1. 1.       Jack and Larry

That’s a short list.

Fittingly, I found this lost story of baseball and friendship tucked in between two much more famous and successful books, almost lost to the glitz and glam of bigger publishers – just like Barbara Gregorich found Jack and Larry’s story amidst all the pages in the history books about Babe Ruth and Joe Jackson. Somehow that story reached out and grabbed her heart, just like her book did for me.  I’m so glad it did.

Mike Curtis is a 6^th grade English teacher in one of those tiny little Illinois farm towns you’ve never heard of.  He’s proudest when he sees a book that’s he’s recommended in his students’ hands the next day.  You can find his MG book, How the Horse was Lost, on Amazon.com, and find Mike on Twitter @MCLiterature. 

Tales of a History Nerd by Sarah Albee

Hello, Nerdy Book Clubbers!

My name is Sarah Albee, and I’m honored to be here today.

I love reading (and writing about) history—social history, especially—and I want kids to love it, too. As a writer, I especially want to reach that ever-elusive population of kids who think they hate to read, let alone read history.

On my daily history blog, targeted at middle-grade readers, I’ve written about royal purple robes that were dyed with snail snot, why people seldom smile in old photos, the eighteenth century Gin Craze, how the fun-loving Minoans enjoyed bull-jumping, a queen who may have been murdered with poisoned scented gloves, debtors’ prisons, locust swarms, how Lewis and Clark relied on mercury-laden laxative pills called Thunderclappers, why dimes and quarters have notches, hair shirts, arsenic poisoning, and why small boys were once forced to wear dresses.  In short, stuff that middle schoolers aren’t likely to read about in their social studies textbooks.

At pretty much every school visit I do, someone (usually a grownup) asks me why I chose to write a book about poop. Well! Here’s my chance to give a more in-depth answer! Let’s examine my early influences—cue the rippley screen and harp arpeggios—what I read as a kid, and how I came to be drawn to this and other offbeat topics.

Me and my three siblings. I’m on the right.

I was the youngest of four kids, and by the time I showed up, my parents had sort of run out of gas as far as actual parenting went, let alone mustering the energy to read me a book. So I did a ton of reading on my own. By the time I reached middle school, I was reading fiction, nonfiction, kid books, grownup books—especially Dickens—detective thrillers, Gothic novels, the encyclopedia—well, you get the idea.

And yet–although there was not a lot of parental reading-aloud going on, both my parents were fantastic storytellers. I was exposed to a lot of spoken history.

My mother, a first generation Italian, and the oldest of five kids, grew up in poverty, in a tenement on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. She catapulted herself through high school and City College with straight As and a fierce determination to make something of herself. I think for her, reading for pleasure was a form of indolence. Forget sitting down and reading. I never saw her sit down, period. She sewed all our clothes, baked bread every Sunday, cooked from-scratch meals during an era when that was not yet fashionable, and oh, yeah, became a college professor. But as I said, she could also tell a story.

My Italian Grandparents

Some of her stories were lovely. Like how she crept out of the bed she shared with her four siblings extra early, to greet her father as he came home from an all-night shift. The two of them would sit together in the tiny kitchen and share a cup of strong black coffee with a slab of thickly-buttered bread. My grandfather let her dunk the bread into the coffee, until the surface was a buttery swirl.

But some of her stories were harrowing. Like the time she trained two pigeons to fly to her window ledge whenever she whistled for them. One day they didn’t appear. She knocked on the neighbors’ doors, hoping the pigeons were just confused and had shown up at the wrong window. They had. The upstairs neighbor, a large, unpleasant woman, told my mother she’d wrung their necks and cooked them for her supper.

From my mother, I developed a fascination for immigrants’ stories, the lives of working class people, and what daily life was like in urban centers, in the U.S. and elsewhere.

My father, also a professor, didn’t read to me often, but when he did, his selections tended to be about the poor and downtrodden, like The Little Match Girl and The Happy Prince (I tear up at the mere mention of these stories). More often, he’d talk to me about public health pioneers and social reformers, like Jacob Riis, and Thorstein Veblen. My favorite bedtime story was about John Snow and the Broad Street Pump. From my father, I became fascinated by germ theory, public health, epidemiology, and—again—the plight of the working poor, an underrepresented group in most history books. In my Poop book, I try to give these people a voice. (And John Snow is one of my “Hygiene Heroes.”)

And nowadays—cue the harp arpeggios and cut back to present day—my choice of writing topics is equally influenced by what my own kids like—or don’t like—to read.

I have one child who will read anything that isn’t nailed down, and two children who would rather clean Yankee Stadium with a toothbrush than open up a book (and they’re Mets fans). They’re beyond Reluctant Readers. They’re Really Recalcitrant Readers. And back in middle school, they loathed reading history above all else. This pained me, because I am a writer, and it pained my husband, because he is a history teacher.

So, having spawned such children, I moved away from preschool books and resolved to write interesting, compelling nonfiction for middle grade kids. My mission is to write for kids like my sons–kids who think they hate history. My mission is to make history interesting. To make it relevant. And to make kids realize that history matters. (My kids actually read nonfiction now without howling.) My forthcoming book, due out next year, is about the effect of insects on human history.

I don’t consider myself a writer of narrative nonfiction. I like to think I write humorous history. But at heart, I still love a good story, and hope that it shows in my writing. My Poop book isn’t really a book about poop. (Psst! Don’t tell!) It’s about the history of human civilizations from ancient times to present day, and how people dealt with the vexing problems of how to dispose of their waste. It’s about diseases like plague and cholera and typhus and polio; it’s about what people wore, what people ate and drank, and public health, and the Industrial Revolution. But kids don’t have to know that right off the bat. If I can hook them into opening my book by asking them how a knight went to the bathroom in a suit of armor, I’ll feel I have succeeded.

Sarah Albee’s most recent nonfiction book is called Poop Happened! A History of the World from the Bottom Up. Her next nonfiction book, due out in Spring, 2013, is tentatively titled Bugged: How Insects Have Affected Human History. She also writes fiction from preschool through middle grade. You can find her history blog at http://www.sarahalbeebooks.com/blog/, follow her on Twitter at @sarahalbee, and visit her Pinterest boards at http://pinterest.com/sarahalbeebooks/.

Sarah is offering a signed copy of her book and SKYPE visit to one of our lucky readers! Fill in the form below for a chance to win!

Mrs. Piggle Wiggle’s Magic – Review by Mindy Hardwick

I was lucky to grow up a home where reading was given high priority. My parents read to my brother and I, and books were regular gifts at birthdays and holidays. To this day, I can go to my bookshelf, flip open any of my childhood books and find the inscription from my parents or grandparents. I loved hearing my Mom and Dad read Little Women, Black Beauty, Charlotte’s Web, and the Little House Books. However, it was the stories of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle which I asked for over and over. The Piggle Wiggle stories had a magical power which lasted long after the story ended and they fascinated me.

Who can forget, Mrs. Foxglove baking her thick chewy chocolaty nutty brownies for crybaby Melody? Or Evelyn Rover, Marcy Crackle, and poor little Cornelia Whitehouse eating whisper sticks? Or the story which horrified me the most—Patsy and her dirty arms that grew radishes! I loved the magic of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and her ability to find a solution for every childhood problem.

Mrs. Piggle Wiggle lived in her upside down house with her dog, Wag, and her cat, Lighfield. Children loved Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and Mrs. Piggle Wiggle loved them. But, she says “grown-ups make her nervous.” As a child, I wanted nothing more than to have my own neighborhood Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. I spent hours walking home from school and studying each house to imagine who might be a Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. The house which, I thought, might come close was the home of a third grade teacher. She was very tall, lived alone in her small house and owned a couple of cats. If anyone seemed they might be able to possess the magic of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, it was her.

As I grew older, my reading habits soon outgrew Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and I moved onto the “problem” novels of the 1980s. These were novels about issues such as alcoholism, divorce, and scoliosis. Some of my favorites included, Tiger Eyes by Judy Blume, The Late Great Me by Sandra Scoppettone, and Deenie by Judy Blume. By this time, I knew Mrs. Piggle Wiggle was never going to come out of the pages of her stories, but reading became my Mrs. Piggle Wiggle medicine as I struggled to find answers to my family’s problems = problems which I didn’t want to share with my friends or a school guidance counselor, but I could find in the pages of my novels. Reading those ’80s problem novels gave me insight into how a character solved a problem, and most importantly, the issues were named and gave me the hope that the secrets I’d been keeping about my family could also be named.

The medicine of reading stayed with me into my career of writing for children.  A few years ago, I volunteered to facilitate a poetry workshop with teens in a juvenile detention center. I was just beginning my writing career, and I’d always been interested in working with kids in detention.  The first couple of years, the poetry workshop was based on the work of Richard Gold at Pongo Publishing in the King County Detention Center in Seattle.   In the workshop, we read and wrote poetry about the youth’s experiences. However, gradually, I expanded the workshop to include young adult novels with characters and issues that the kids were facing.  Some of their favorites have included Crank and Glass by Ellen Hopkins and Perfect Chemistry by Simone Elkeles.  (The entire list of YA novels and memoirs used in the poetry workshop can be seen at our blog: www.denneypoetry.com).  After the kids read the books, so many times they say, “That character is just like me! They’re doing things I do!”

When I wrote my second book, a young adult novel entitled, Weaving Magic, the voices of the teens at the poetry workshop crept into my writing.  Weaving Magic is the story of sixteen-year-old Christopher who is fighting to stay sober while fifteen-year-old Shantel is struggling in the aftermath of her mother’s death and seeking refuge in a fantasy world. But the unacknowledged roots of their problems refuse to stay buried and soon, the two are headed toward a deadly magic trick. One of the themes I explored in Weaving Magic was the idea of starting a new life clean and sober as a teen.  So many of the teens in detention want to live a different life, but find it extremely challenging when they return to their schools and communities.

When I sit at my writing desk, I think of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. I may not always write the magical stories of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, but I do hope to bring a little bit of that Mrs. Piggle Wiggle story magic and medicine to the teens in my stories.

Mindy Hardwick’s tween novel, Stained Glass Summer, published December 2011, and her young adult romance, Weaving Magic, published in April 2012. When Mindy is not writing, she facilitates a poetry workshop with teens at Denney Youth Juvenile Justice Center. The youth’s poems can be seen at www.denneypoetry.com.Mindy is a frequent school and library presenter and included on the Washington State Arts Commission Teaching Artist Roster. You can learn more about her at www.mindyhardwick.com, follow her on Twitter @mindyhardwick or read her blog: www.mindyhardwick.wordpress.com

A Nerdy Book Club Confession by Shana Burg

I have a confession to make. Come closer, so I can whisper! Okay, here goes: as a kid in elementary school, I didn’t go to the library and load up on story books. I didn’t hide under the covers with a flashlight reading well after lights out.

Of course, the reason I’m whispering this secret is because I’m a writer, and as you probably know, writers are supposed to be excellent readers from birth. Like my childhood friend Tracey, who would literally walk down the street with a 500-page book splayed open in her hands, reading while also attempting to carry on a conversation with me and our other friends Valerie and Judy, and eating a stick of licorice.

Clearly, next to Tracey, I was a total reading loser. Not only could I not read and walk and talk at the same time, but it would probably take me at least a year to read a book as long as hers, if I ever got up the guts to try.

Back then, I thought you were either born to read or you weren’t. So I was content with my lot in life as an average reader. I enjoyed all books by Judy Blume and Paul Zindel. They made me laugh and Valerie and Judy read them too, so we had fun conversations about the juicy topics like puberty and boys that these authors explored.

It is only now, so many decades later, that I look back and see that I actually was a big reader, but I didn’t really think the books I read counted because they were nonfiction. I vividly remember that in third grade we needed to do a report on a bird. I chose the Hawaiian honeycreeper. I went to the library with my mother and came home with a huge stack of books. I was lying in bed—it must have been around midnight—and I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited to learn about this bird. So I sneaked down the dark hall to the stack of books and opened the one on top of the pile and read a few facts, before I tiptoed back to my room.

In middle school and high school, I was fascinated to read books about the history of the town where I grew up, about the civil rights movement, and about the horrors of the Holocaust. It was in high school that I began to love reading books that qualify as fiction, although the novels I loved were still heavy on the facts: One of my favorites, Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Patton, was about a boy living under Apartheid in South Africa. Another book that made me think—a book I’ll never forget—is Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo, about a man with no arms or legs who came back from war in Vietnam.

Really, it is only as an adult, that I’ve become what I’d call a voracious reader. I’ve trained myself to be one, the way that some people force themselves to get in shape by working out, at first just running a mile but then increasing to six. I’ve always wanted to be like my friend Tracey, who was born to read, but I just wasn’t. So I pushed myself to read all kinds of books for all ages. I’d set goals of how many books I’d read in a month, in a year. I’d keep lists of what I read.

And then, one day, finally, I was off running. Not quickly, but still, I couldn’t stop.

Shana Burg is the author of Laugh with the Moon and A Thousand Never Evers. You can follow Shana on Twitter @ShanaBurgWrites or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ShanaBurgWrites.