A Little Something Different
Turns out, it’s really hard to work full time, go to school part time, and homeschool a toddler and a first-grader during a global pandemic…and do anything else. So, it’s been a while since I’ve had any time to write this blog, but I’ve been thinking about it (and you, dear readers) while I’ve been away. First, a quick update: our family, including grandparents, are all healthy and we have managed to stay so the whole time we’ve been in pandemic mode. Our kids now only wear pajamas. We only wear pajamas about 50% of the time. I’m still teaching, a combination of online and in person; when in person I wear a PPE suit of armor and we’ve been extremely fortunate to keep all faculty, staff, and students in our program healthy. There have been some dark and difficult moments. We mourn the loss of social connection for our kids, the difficulty of not seeing or supporting family living abroad, and sometimes the workload of ALL THE THINGS gets pretty heavy, but more often I’ve been grateful for the many moments as a family—teaching my daughter to tie shoes and tell time, teaching my son how to read, seeing my parents at least every other day. I feel far more connected to my family than in past years, even if I feel a little less connected to the larger world. We are working on appreciation, gratitude, perseverance…and flossing, as a family.
So, without further ado…first post in SIX MONTHS!!
I love a good book. Luckily, so do my children. Through them, I get the opportunity to read (and re-read) some great books. In the past year, I’ve revisited the Wizard of Oz Books, the Little House on the Prairie series, the Narnia books and soon, the Secret Garden. I wrote about some of these books here. It’s been really interesting to see how these books are simultaneously timeless (still engaging—as in the case of the Little House books—over a hundred years from when their action occurred) and also dated. The books have sparked some interesting conversations about the settling of our country, the glorification of war, and most especially, gender roles. I’m OK with this, at least if we have the conversations, because literature is supposed to be thought-provoking, and books can be the starting point of deep conversations about history and society.
Over the past year or so, I’ve been mentally putting together a list of books that focus on kids (or crayons) that are unique, odd, or a little bit different. I love the messages in these books, which all celebrate the value of difference but also acknowledge how uncomfortable it can sometimes be when you’re the one who’s different. Of course, each of us is different, but sometimes it sure doesn’t feel that way. Middle school, I’m looking at you.
Weslandia by Paul Fleischman, illustrated by Kevin Hawkes
Weslandia, by Paul Fleischman, is the story of a young boy who is ostracized by his peers. When school finally lets out for the summer, all he feels is relief. Early on, he discovers a plant which grows abundantly in his backyard. No one can tell him what it is and the plant, like Wes, is often spurned: His neighbor routinely digs it up and tosses it out because it’s not something recognizable like a squash or a flower. Wes opts for the road less traveled. He tries eating it, building with it, dressing in it, and before long, he has created an entire economy using this single plant. This book hits many of my buttons at once: frugality, resourcefulness, oddity, and finally, redemption. A great read.
Lyle, Lyle Crocodile by Bernard Waber
This is a classic book (read: kinda old) but a fun one, especially if you have ever lived or routinely visited New York City. Lyle who is, as the title suggests, a crocodile, lives on East 88th street with his human family. He is peaceful and well loved by all his neighbors, except one. Events transpire and Lyle is deported to the zoo, courtesy of this cranky neighbor, only to save the day and return home a hero in the end. In addition to the great message (never judge a person by their snout and tail), there are multiple fun NYC references: holiday shopping at a “department store” (pick whichever one is your NY icon), ice skating in Rockefeller Center, and playing childhood games on the stoop.
Radio Dog by Anne Iglehart and illustrated by Roger Pare
In a nutshell, Radio Dog is rescued from carnie life by a little girl. His hopes for a better future are dashed, however, when he realizes he is to be only one of many neglected stuffed animals. What’s more, his roommates aren’t super excited about the interloper whom they dub “carnival riff-raff.” They particularly dislike the fact that he is part appliance, part AM/FM radio to be specific. In the end, however, Radio Dog’s oddity is what saves not only him but also the rest of his stuffed compatriots. This story has several great themes: inclusion, responsibility, even peaceful protest (I swear). Unfortunately, it seems to be the only book Iglehart has written (at least as far as my Internet search skills have revealed), which is a shame. I’ve owned this book—published in 1979—since my parents read it to me and its story is not diminished whatsoever by the years gone by.
Red, a Crayon’s Story by Michael Hall
I have personally never read Red Crayon, by Michael Hall, but it comes highly recommended…from my daughter, who read it with her (virtual) class today. (Thanks Miss G!) Red Crayon is the story of a blue crayon who comes in a red wrapper. His well meaning friends, family, and teachers try all manner of things to get him to embrace his identity as rouge, but all fail. Finally, he finds a crayon who needs him for just who he is: colorist of sky and sea. (This is also the place where I want to tell you that I once went to an author reading, and a guest in the audience told everyone he was a monochromatist. What is a monochromatist, you ask? Well, apparently, it’s someone who only wears—and sometimes dyes their hair—one color. This friend’s was yellow, which feels important to say. I am pro monochromatism, and weirdness in general, and really feel like red crayon would feel the same. Consider yourself informed.)
The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf illustrated by Robert Lawson.
Continuing the theme of misunderstood animals, Ferdinand is a bull with nothing but peace and love in his heart. While his buddies brutishly bullfight, in the hopes of making the big leagues, Ferdinand is content to sit and smell the flowers…literally. This book is another oldie but goodie, and Robert Lawson’s black and white illustrations are beautiful and look almost like woodcuts. Also a fan of nonviolence! I recommend doing a little Wikipedia research on the author, too, who was accused of a lack of patriotism because of the anti-violence message of this book.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by JK Rowling
I know, I know. Either you’ve already read this book a million times and don’t need anyone to tell you how awesome it is, or you’re rolling your eyes thinking, “I was pretty sure when I read that monochromatist thing, now I’m certain. NERD ALERT!!” Yes, I too, mocked the folk who dressed up in costumes and waited at bookstores four hours before they opened, chatting of Quidditch while panting after the next book in the series glowing in the window. Just hear me out. We have all (I hope) had a moment in life when we felt like we didn’t fit in anywhere and then suddenly, miraculously, we found our tribe. There are many things to love about the Harry Potter series, but this is absolutely one of my favorite aspects of them. Harry is living in a basement (basically), terrorized by his only living family, plus he’s got that weird scar. Then, suddenly, his life turns around. Feeling lonely and like you don’t fit in, kid? Have no fear. You’re probably just a wizard!
p.s.- Rowling has a new children’s book, the The Ickabog, and all profits from the book support vulnerable populations affected by Covid-19.
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