Friday, March 30, 2012

(If you are having trouble seeing the pictures, click to go directly to The Pithy Python)



Some lucky family at the school auction bought these panels, copies of a portion of our library mural by Elaine Clayton. As my late mother-in-law always said, "Enjoy them in good health, darlings!"

This week in the library:

6 year old, at the computer catalog: How do you spell "apocalypse"?
Adult volunteer: Do you want help finding a book?
6 year old: No, I just want to type it and find it myself.

Me, giving an art history talk to 4th/5th graders: "Here is a Madonna and child from the 13th century..."
Several children exclaim: "That doesn't look like Madonna!"
So I had to explain the difference.
Just like the old George Carlin lecture:
"JFK: The Man AND the Airport."

I gave a booktalk featuring high-interest science books to a group of 5th and 6th grade boys. We had a hearty discussion after I shared the book Parasites, with speculation about the disgusting effects of pinworms and tapeworms. One boy helpfully added that his father, as a pediatrician, had seen a kid with such a bad case of pinworms that... well, I cut off the discussion and the boys spontaneously passed around the hand sanitizer. We went on to talk about maggots, leeches, and self-exploding ants with great gusto.

And, for the last couple of weeks I have shared three short videos (Share With Care, Your Photo Fate, Think Before You Post) with 5th and 6th grade students, focusing on cybersafety and ethical online behavior. Our discussions were by turns serious and hilarious. I did emphasize that my concern is mostly about protecting one's privacy and not hurting or embarrassing others or oneself, and not so much about the creepy stalkers one hears about. One thing that lightened the discussion: I told these students that, in past years, I had implied that only kids and teens put inappropriate pictures online, forwarded bad stuff or otherwise generated embarrassing or hurtful junk. This year, I was able to cite a number of adults who have suffered consequences from online misbehavior:

  • The Federal judge in Montanta who sent out a disgusting racist joke about President Obama
  • The AFLAC guy who tweeted appalling jokes following the Japanese tsunami
  • Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps, whose photo smoking marijuana was posted on someone else's Facebook page
  • The U.S. Congressman who unzipped his pants, took a photo and sent it out on Twitter. After their gasps, and some knowing nods, I ask if anyone remembers his name. The shrieks of laughter when I said "Anthony Weiner" helped mitigate an otherwise depressing topic.
I'm off next week for spring break. On my reading pile:
Laurel Snyder, Bigger Than a Bread Box.
Jennifer Holm, The Trouble with May Amelia.
Candace Fleming, Amelia Lost: The Life and Disappearance of Amelia Earhart.
Irene Latham, Leaving Gee's Bend.
Eugene Yelchin, Breaking Stalin's Nose.
Kimberly Brubaker Bradley, Jefferson's Sons.
I can't wait!

Friday, March 23, 2012

How Do You Tell If Someone is a Jew? and Other Questions Young Readers Ask

(If you can't see the pictures via email, click to go directly to The Pithy Python.)

This fall, I read aloud The Travels of Benjamin of Tudela to a 4th/5th grade class who were studying the Middle Ages. It is a fictionalized account of Benjamin, a Jewish man from Spain, who in 1159 set out on a 14 year journey that took him to Italy, Greece, Palestine, Persia, and Egypt. It is a miracle that Benjamin's own travel story, which was translated into many languages, survives. We talked about how dangerous it was for anyone to leave his or her own community in the 1100s, and how Benjamin worked hard to learn new languages and fit in: he remarks that he would have been in grave peril if anyone discovered he was a Jew. Which prompted the question, "How do you tell if someone is a Jew?" Before I could answer, and with a rabbi's daughter sitting right at my feet, children called out, "You can tell by their hair!" "You can tell by their big noses!" I restored quiet and then asked them, "You want to know how you can tell if someone is a Jew?" They all nodded. And I said, "By how they dress." Long pause. "In Benjamin's time, Jews usually lived apart, in a ghetto, and wore traditional and distinct clothing. And nowadays, how do you tell?" Long pause. "You just can't. Period. Not unless the person is wearing traditional clothing, such as a yarmulke."

Oddly, the same exact question came up recently when I was reading another magnificent picture book aloud, this time to fifth and sixth graders studying WWII. The Grand Mosque of Paris: A Story of How Muslims Saved Jews During the Holocaust, is a riveting account of courageous Muslims, including the rector at the mosque, who sheltered Jews in their homes, hid them in the mosque, created false identity papers for them, and whisked them to safety in the south of France. And in this case, the students asked how the Nazis identified Jews, many thousands of whom were assimilated and had no distinctive clothing. I had to tell them the grim news that the French were keenly aware of who was Jewish and many people enthusiastically turned their neighbors over to the Nazis. The brave Muslims in this gripping story helped us talk about unimaginable horror by highlighting individual, personal decisions to do good.

And last week, I shared the picture book My Name Is Bilal with a group of 2nd/3rd grade students as part of a unit on immigration to America. In the story, a young Muslim boy and his sister must learn to cope with their new school and classmates who mock them for being different. The word "Muslim" was new for many children, but a couple of children commented that Muslims are terrorists who attacked the U.S. Before I could address that issue, however, one little boy said very calmly, "I'm a Muslim." The intellectual leap the group made at that moment was palpable. Someone blurted, "But he doesn't look like a Muslim!" I carefully explained about diversity of dress and observance among Muslims around the world, as well as tackling the terrorist stereotype.

Children spend a lot of their time sorting things into categories. It's what we teach from infancy on, with colors, shapes, coins, cars, you name it. It's the job of parents and teachers, however, to help dispel stereotypes. Frank conversations can emerge naturally when we read aloud to children: we get insight into their thinking and we can model our own thoughts about complex subjects. Two of my favorite children's writers are eloquent on these topics: Coloring Between the Lines by Anne Sibley O'Brien and Mitali's Fire Escape by Mitali Perkins

I only wish that the parent who, long ago, accused me of having a Jewish agenda in the library, and of relentlessly teaching about the Holocaust, had realized the richness and diversity of the library's holdings and the quality of discussion we have every single day. The way these children respond to books is a source of profound optimism for me.

Friday, March 16, 2012

The Architects

(If you are having trouble seeing the pictures, click to go directly to The Pithy Python)

First, a few submissions from the Idea Box (spelling intact):


  • Box car chillrin
  • I love you lorin and nadl [Lauren and Natalie]
  • make more I broke my trunk book's [I can't make more but I will buy more copies]
  • true wolvs books
  • five pigs in the hose
  • scare [scary]
  • teenager books
What's up in the library this month? The 8 & 9 year old students from Martha & Elisa's class have finished their research project on architects. Adorning the library are their fanciful takes on a dog house in the style of a particular architect. Starting with a smallish cardboard "house," these creations take on all shapes and sizes. The families that create these projects tell me they recognize "their" architect on travels for years and years. Come in and see!

What would a doghouse designed by ... look like?

Eduardo Souto de Moura by Jack


Jorn Utzon by Molly


Frank Gehry by Elliott


Mario Botta by Eli


I.M. Pei by Tanya


Renzo Piano by Sophia



Frank Lloyd Wright by Micah


Paulo Mendes da Rocha by Hayes



Oscar Niemeier by Sarah



Zaha Hadid by Katherine


Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron by Eli


Tadeo Ando by Alie


Alvaro Siza by Dagem



Norman Foster by Jack


Christian de Portzamparc by Karma



Kazuko Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa by Alice


Rem Koolhass by Keyes


Thom Mayne by Will




Richard Meier by Mary



Michael Graves by Lylah


Antonio Gaudi by Sadie




Aldo Rossi by Vinson



Richard Rogers by Khari


Philip Johnson by Eddie


Kenzo Tange by Dylan



Charles Rennie McIntosh by Mackenzie


Santiago Calatrava by Jacob

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

They Picked WHAT? They Rejected WHAT?

(If you are having trouble seeing the pictures, click to go directly to The Pithy Python)

Library assistant Lauren created a display of parenting books, accompanied by an iconic image of a parent:

The kids have no idea. Some parents do. We have a good time. And now for something completely different.


Two big anniversaries this year, and from the very top of the list of greatest children's novels ever!

From 1952: Charlotte's Web, E.B. White's masterpiece, turns 60. Happy birthday to Fern, Charlotte and Wilbur. I'm planning a celebration for next fall. CW has the single best opening line of all time: "Where's Papa going with that ax?"

A funny thing happened on the way to the Newbery award, however. (E.B., however, would never have ended a sentence with "however." Sorry.) Charlotte's Web lost the Newbery Gold Medal to...drumroll, please...Secret of the Andes by Ann Nolan Clark. Since the proceedings of the Newbery committee remain sealed forever, we will never know: Was it the death of Charlotte? The failure of the story to come full circle back to Fern and family? For more ruminations on Newbery failures, click here. In vindication, I don't know anybody who's read Secret of the Andes.



From 1962: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. Another classic opening line, one which sophisticated young readers recognize as a wink-wink cliché: "It was a dark and stormy night." This time, the Newbery committee picked a work that is enduring, timeless, popular and magnificent. But the thing almost didn't get published at all: L'Engle submitted it to many publishers and got a sheaf of rejection letters; most claimed it was too hard for children. (J.K. Rowling had the same problem with you-know-who. So did William Golding with Lord of the Flies. All in good company with Judy Blume, Stephen King and John Grisham.)

L'Engle adamantly refused to write down for her audience, even at the risk of remaining unpublished. It remains part of the canon, and one which faces challenges from parents who claim it offends their religious sensibilities and demand its removal from school libraries. Ironically, it also faces complaints from those who claim it is overly religious.

Atlanta's own Theatrical Outfit is performing a stage adaptation from April 12-May 6. Take your kids. Anyone remember reading it as a kid? How did it affect you? And for that matter, has anyone slogged through the other three in the series? What was up with that?

NPR recently aired an appreciation: