(If you can't see the pictures, click to go directly to The Pithy Python.)
Kelly and Tony's second and third grade students have spent much of the year immersed in their central subject, focusing on the encounter between the Separatists (including Pilgrims) and the Wampanoag Native Americans. The big question was, "How did the natural environment affect the built environment of each culture, including their daily living, arts and stories and philosophies for their community?" The student projects then tackled the subsidiary questions: What did they eat? What did they wear? What were their houses like? What was their art/jewelry like? What kinds of stories did they tell? The final products focused on the Wampanoags, now in the library to the delight of all our visitors. Come see!
I got this charming email from a group of 3rd and 4th graders in Cecelia and Sarah's class:
Dear Natalie, We are doing a service learning project on a
book called The Janitor's Boy. And we want to go to your library and
scrape the gum off the tables. If that's okay with you. Your library
tables may get covered in gum if we don't. A boy in the book scrapes gum
off chairs and tables, so we'd like to try it ourselves. Please type
back. Sincerely, Elena, Mitchell, and Jasper
So sure, I typed back. How could I resist? I was SO glad to get the gum scraped from the underside of the tables. The only table in my library with gum under it was a battered old table that came to me from the High School. So now it's no longer in danger of getting covered in gum.
Meanwhile, the wild rumpus has begun. We are now checking out books, up to fifty per family, for the entire summer. I love to watch the joy of the kids and hear the appreciation from the parents, who note that having a stack of carefully selected library books makes summer reading so easy. And it is such a gift to have help from Shannon, our high school intern, and Katie, our indefatigable volunteer, to make this massive undertaking so successful. Checkout statistics:
My colleague Patrick stuck his head in the door early this week to tell me he had just learned that Maurice Sendak had died. I was overcome with such a sense of loss. In fact, I wandered aimlessly around the library for the next fifteen minutes, sad, reminiscing. Sendak was one of my favorite authors before I knew the word author. My younger sisters and I shared his Nutshell Library from earliest childhood and can still recite most of Pierre, Chicken Soup with Rice, Alligators All Around and Once Was Johnny. We acted them out. We poured syrup on our hair. I hit them with the folding chair. (Really.)
I vividly remember my mother's discovery of Higglety Pigglety Pop: Or, There Must Be More To Lifeand quoting it to us in veiled but unmistakably hostile grievance. I think it encapsulated her own sense of entrapment and dissatisfaction in that early era of the women's movement far better than anything written by Betty Friedan or Germaine Greer.
I also remember reading Outside Over There, Mickey In the Night Kitchen and Where The Wild Things Are to my sons when they were young. It was truly mind-blowing, disturbing stuff to me. I had just finished an M.A. in English Lit and here were nightmare visions equivalent to Kafka: encompassing coded images of parental sexual activity, the Holocaust, an orgy and death, death, death. And then forgiveness and nurturing and love: Max returns to the world of language and to his lovingly-provided dinner: "And it was still hot."
I teach Where the Wild Things Are to 11-12 year olds on occasion, explaining Freudian terms, consequences of transgressive behavior, private fantasy, aggression, word vs. image, child vs. mother, and far more. There is a reason it ranks first in every librarians' poll of greatest picture books. Sendak respected kids enough to address both their nightmares and their joys in being alive. As these students exclaim to me, "I loved that book when I was little. We read it all the time. But I had no idea why I loved it -- and now I do!"
As the tributes to Sendak poured in this week, I was moved to tears by one in the New York Times about a 15 year old girl, sitting in the police station, who had been sexually abused. Like so many children in utterly different circumstances, she too found comfort in Where the Wild Things Are. My colleague Anna sent me this letter to Sendak, among his favorites:
“Dear Mr. Sendak,” read one, from an 8-year-old boy. “How much does it cost to get to where the wild things are? If it is not expensive, my sister and I would like to spend the summer there.”
Some recent interviews are below. I would love to hear other memories (comment link, below). I will miss him.
(If you are having trouble seeing the pictures, click to go directly to The Pithy Python)
Two little girls, about age six, were sitting on a bench in the hallway waiting for their teacher to open the door. An elementary mother walks by and into the headmaster's office, a women in her late 30s. One child looks at the other and asks, "Is this old people's day?"
(Thanks to Jennifer "Cupcake" Cook for this one.)
Two other little girls. around age 7, were checking out. Lauren asked one with a broken arm, "When do you get your cast off?" And her friend replied, "Soon! And I will get my full best friend back with NO HARD PARTS!" (Makes you wonder if the friend has been conked a few times by the cast.)
The Lettuce-Eaters
Ken, a teacher of 6 and 7 year olds, came up to the library to tell his class about a change in schedule immediately following their library time. "Today you can head to the playground for fresh air break, or you can go to the lettuce tasting table and have salad." And all the kids exclaimed with some variant of, "Yay! I know what I'm going to do! I'm going to go taste salad!" That should warm many a nutritionist's heart. And certainly Tania's, who has worked so hard with so many classes in the Farm-to-School endeavor.
A mother came by this week to get books for her 8 year old who was recovering from abdominal surgery. She told me that the surgeon came in to chat with her son afterwards, asking the boy where he went to school and what his favorite subject was. He answered, "Well, it's not exactly a subject but..." and he went on to tell the doctor why library is his favorite part of school. He said that, unlike at his old school library where he always felt rushed, he gets time to think, browse, and ask me or friends for advice on what to read. He was a new kid this year and I have so enjoyed watching him use this library in a thoughtful way. And hearing that made me glow all day.
It reminded me of NPR's Story Corps project,National Teachers Initiative, featuring adults who contact and interview favorite teachers from when they were young. The first time someone suggested I do this was the late David Mallory, who ran magnificent teacher development seminars at the Westtown School. I vividly recall the group, after five days of lectures, films, seminars and discussions, meeting for a wrap-up. A roomful of experienced and gifted teachers were reduced to wiping their eyes or even sobbing. When I told our headmaster, Paul Bianchi, about it, he remarked that teachers are some of the most wounded and criticized members of our society, and a week of affirmation must have touched their hearts. So here's one interview that touched my heart: a neurosurgeon successfully restored a patient's ability to speak; the ecstatic patient asked him about his favorite teacher and then said, "You make sure you call that teacher." The teacher's response is so moving: he says that day, that call, ranks up there with the birth of his children as a lifetime highlight. Click here listen to the story and others like it. And then go call or write your favorite teacher. Your words will be treasured.
Last week, a choosy sixth grade girl came back for something to read. Evelyn is not an especially strong reader, but she has been straining at the traces, dying to read upper school titles like Jay Asher's 13 Reasons Why (a heartbreaking story of a teen suicide) or Lauren Myracle's ttfn (high school girls experiment with marijuana and get into sexually precarious situations). We have worked all year to keep Evelyn in our elementary library: our school wants 6th graders to have a chance to be kids. Happily, we were able to divert her. She has devoured the Lauren Myracle titles for younger kids and enjoyed edgy mysteries and horror fiction by Willo Davis Roberts, Mary Downing Hahn, Bette Ben Wright and Neil Gaiman. I can see her becoming a much stronger reader because of the quantity of age-appropriate books she enjoys. I was ready with some new suggestions but she told me her father had said she had to read The Diary of Anne Frank.
Reluctantly, I retrieved it from the junior high collection. This is a book that is near the top of my list, What Not To Read (in elementary school), where I note that entire conferences are held on how to introduce young children to the concept of the Holocaust. The nature of evil gets to the heart of questions about what it is to be human. Children should build up to this devastating diary with any of the exquisite, sensitive novels or memoirs about the Holocaust that feature children who survive. It's awfully hard for elementary-age children to invest deeply in, and identify with, a character who doesn't survive. (For eloquent and in-depth explorations of teaching the Holocaust, visit the website of the United States Holocaust Museum.)
I asked Evelyn, "Have you read Number the Stars? Stones in Water? The Island on Bird Street? The Devil's Arithmetic?Four Perfect Pebbles?" No, she hadn't read any of them but those weren't titles her father told her to read. Evelyn took Anne Frank. She returned it the next day, saying it was too hard.
Meanwhile, I offered Evelyn some picture books that would be a thoughtful path into the topic, stories in which individuals act selflessly and with integrity. Here are some of my favorites:
Passage to Freedom by Ken Mochizuki, the true story of the Japanese diplomat in Lithuania who risked his job to sign thousands of visas to help Jews escape via Japan.
Irena Sendler and the Children of the Warsaw Ghetto by Susan Goldman Rubin, a biography of a determined Polish social worker who used ingenious measures to save the lives of four hundred children.
The Grand Mosque of Paris: A Story of How Muslims Saved Jews During the Holocaust by Karen Gray Ruelle, in which the imam and other Muslims whisked Jews to the south of France and hid Jewish children among their own.
The Yellow Star: The Legend of King Christian X of Denmark by Carmen Agra Deedy. Although a legend, this story of solidarity with Jewish Danes has one solid fact behind it: nobody turned their neighbors over to the Nazis in Denmark.
Fireflies in the Dark: The Story of Friedl Dicker-Brandeis and the Children of Terezin by Susan Goldman Rubin, a biography of a renowned artist who chose to accompany children to a concentration camp and help them create art during their tragic time there.
A Hero and the Holocaust: The Story of Janusz Korczak and His Children, by David Adler, a biography of the Jewish doctor, author and founder of orphanages who gave his life trying to protect his orphans.
Unfortunately I couldn't get Evelyn to bite: she can't afford the loss of prestige to be seen with a picture book, least of all around her father. At least for now. But another child comes to mind from many years past, an 11-year old who read everything our elementary library had, especially the picture books, on the subject. One day she sighed and said, "I just love the Holocaust." And it was my privilege to work with her too, gently helping her moderate her language while encouraging her to pursue her interest. Right now she's about old enough to be a Ph.D. candidate in history.
Anybody have any favorite picture books on the Holocaust? Stories of helping children learn about the unfathomable? Please share by clicking the comment button below.
(If you are having trouble seeing the pictures, click to go directly to The Pithy Python)
Manners. What a landmine. I remember my parents' efforts to teach them to me as a child. The nagging. My irritation. The awful dinner hours. And how glad I was, by the time I was in high school at a restaurant with a new boyfriend, that I knew what to do with my forks and my napkin and my olive pits. Although I don't see the children I teach at meals very often, I do see all kinds of other manners. And it is evident which children have been taught some of the social niceties. Here are the manners I wish every child knew:
1. Use a tissue. Sometimes I offer a tissue to a child with a finger up the nose to the second knuckle. He's digging for gold nuggets. Offering the box, I say, "Here, Norbert." And Norbert replies, "What's that for?" Ditto for the child sniffling all through the story. On the other hand, several polite little people actually step away from the group before blowing their noses. Wow!
2. Say hello to people by name. Every single day, Scott Imlay, our Captain of the Carpool, says hello to every elementary student BY NAME. I notice which kids answer in kind. And which kids totally ignore his friendly greeting or look at the ground and grunt. There are three boys, brothers, who come to the library every afternoon. They greet me by name when they arrive, and they say goodbye to me as they leave, smiling, wishing me a good weekend. I adore them.
3. When you ask an adult a question, hang around for the answer. This one amuses me and it happens almost daily.
Regina, age 7: Do you have any books with the tooth fairy?
Me: Yes, they are right over here. Here you go, Regina...wait, where did you go?
And Regina is off chatting with friends across the library.
4. Don't interrupt. Just because you say "excuse me" doesn't mean you can interrupt. I'm talking to you, Grace. Like other teachers of young children, I explain over and over that the best way to get an adult's attention, when the adult is talking to someone else, is to stand quietly nearby. Saying "Excuse me" louder and louder, Grace, just doesn't cut it.
5. Say please and thank you. Some kids say it, many don't. I can do an extended reference interview and help a child find five perfect resources for her report and she doesn't acknowledge the effort at all. Conversely, I can name a dozen kids who ask politely for help and thank me appreciatively. Thank you, parents.
6. Say "I'm sorry." The art of the apology is a magnificent one. The little girl who says to her classmate, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were ahead of me in the checkout line" already has considerable social capital. And the fifth grade boy who looked me in the eye and said "I'm sorry" when I told him a family member had died--I remember it with gratitude every time I see him.
7. When you are late to a class, slip in quietly. I don't like to punish the prompt kids by making them wait for stragglers. My class gets started, the lesson or story is underway, and one or two loud children burst in, shouting "We didn't hear the teacher call us! We were on the playground!"
8. Compliments only, please, no personal comments.
"Natalie, your tooth sure is crooked." 'What is that weird bump on your foot?"
9. Move aside if you are in a bunch on the sidewalk and someone needs to get by. Notice if others are being inconvenienced. I'm talking to you, high school students!
10. Be kind. I see little acts of kindness all day. Sharing a lunch, offering a seat, holding a door, offering sympathy -- we can explicitly teach children that we value these kinds of acts. They make our school a good place to be.
And now, for your viewing pleasure, Mind Your Manners, 1953 (11 min). Remember this sage advice: "Girls, let the men help. They enjoy it." And I loved the comment,
"Jack goes through this entire film being unbelievably polite,
but the weird leer on his face makes you wonder what he's really
thinking." Your own comments are most welcome -- click on the button below.
Friday, April 13, 2012
(If you can't see the pictures or video in email, click to go directly to The Pithy Python.)
Monday is elementary conference day when parents come in for their 30 minutes with their child's teacher. Psychologist Michael Thompson, author of numerous books for parents, writes eloquently about this annual or bi-annual rite.
"Fear infects the relationship between independent school teachers and independent school parents--a fear that is often denied and only painfully approached." Wow - what a disturbing and startling notion. Parents and teachers bring many fears to their relationship, some rational and some not. Our school has worked hard to demystify the world of the parent-teacher conference, including hosting Michael Thompson a few years ago.
In his talk, Thompson observed that parents are trapped by their love for their child, anxious that they themselves don't measure up as parents, and sometimes transfer their own past negative experiences in school. Teachers, who may spend more hours of the day with a child than the parent, have immense power over that child's life. At the conference, the parent may deploy the professional skills that have worked for her so well out in the world, even though they might not be helpful in a school situation. For example, a litigator may cross-examine the teacher or a mental health professional might analyze the motives of the teacher.
On the other side of the coin, teachers bring a variety of fears to the conference table. Teaching is organic, difficult, intensely personal and hard to measure. Meanwhile, teachers are seen by parents through the distorting eyes of children. (I vividly remember one parent who believed his child who claimed to have been banned from the library for overdue books. For the record, I've never banned a soul in my life.) Teaching is a low status job in our culture, putting teachers at a psychological disadvantage with highly accomplished parents. Good teachers spend their day identifying with the feelings of children and using language and vocabulary appropriate to the ages they teach. It can be a challenge to switch gears. Thompson writes, "Every teacher has been scarred by at least one threatening, out-of-control parent."
Ultimately, Thompson argues, teachers need to remember that parents are sometimes afraid because of their profound love for their child, and parents need to remember that teachers often feel exquisitely vulnerable. If both act accordingly, they can work together to make a strong partnership on behalf of the child.
And why, you may ask, is the librarian reflecting on all this when she doesn't conduct conferences? Ahh. Because the teachers, especially at conference time, often send parents to our rich parenting section for books! Check them out! We've got books on learning styles, diet and eating disorders, anxiety, child development, children's literacy...and, of course, titles by Michael Thompson:
Mom, They're Teasing Me: Helping Your Child Solve Social Problems
Best Friends, Worst Enemies: Understanding The Social Lives of Children
The Pressured Child: Helping Your Child Find Success in School and Life
Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys
And, speaking of Cain, here's a 10 minute video about a boy that I would love to teach at Paideia. It's worth the time it takes to watch it-- and click the comment button below to let me know what you think. The ingenuity and creativity of children is why I come to work. Thanks to Lyn Thompson for the link.
I have been the Elementary Librarian at the Paideia School since 1995. I have been a hungry, passionate, addicted reader since approximately 1964. I have two grown children; they might be embarrassed to have you know that I read aloud to them until they were in high school. But they enjoy reading too.
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