As I’m writing this, I can hear breaking news being televised in the next room, reporting that police officers in Baton Rouge have been shot and killed. After I first heard about this and had a chance to process my now all-too-familiar shock and disgust, it occurred to me that our country has reached the point when the mourning periods during which we lower the American flag to half staff are now overlapping, due to the frequency of such tragedies. These events of extraordinary violence have become so familiar we use the names of their locations as shorthand: Orlando. Baton Rouge. Minneapolis. Dallas. San Bernardino. Charleston. Newtown. All of this is to say nothing of the wider problems also occurring throughout the world.
When I was a kid in the age range of the middle grade reader, our most immediate access to the events of the day was either the evening news, the newspaper that arrived the following morning, or occasional thirty-second bulletins on the radio. Social media and a twenty-four hour news cycle defined by divisiveness, hatred, and fear has to make it harder for kids these days. Even if they don’t closely follow what’s happening, they live in a world saturated by all variety of things going wrong. As they get older, they become more aware of the boundaries that separate people as lines are drawn between ideologies that don’t agree. Talking about things like politics and religion have become conversational third rails, since expressing beliefs or aligning yourself with any kind of strong opinion too readily invites conflict.
When thinking about problems like these, it’s hard for me to separate my roles as a teacher and a writer, because, for better or worse, I see them both as much as who I am as what I do. Teachers can have a great deal of influence on their students. They plant seeds regarding character. They try to act as role models worth emulating. When the school year is done they send their students into the future and usually will never know how much difference they made, if any at all. It’s frustrating, but it’s something you learn to accept. In the end, all you can do is hope you made a difference.
One way teachers work to make that difference is through books. They put a lot of thought into what they read to their classes, and what titles are included in their classroom libraries. They’ve all seen students unable to choose a new book to read, and usually can figure out which books those perplexed students will enjoy. They help desperate parents of reluctant readers find books their children might connect with.
This is where writers come in. We need to give those kids books to read, and ideas to think about. We make our characters handle difficult situations and resolve the conflicts that follow. Some of those conflicts are things middle grade readers might experience in their daily lives, or are only aware of from a third-person distance. Some might even be so utterly fantastical they could never happen in real life, but they can still give readers things to consider.
We also give them examples of consequences that follow certain decisions and actions. I think it’s fair to say that most writers have favorite books from when we were younger. How many of those books might have helped shape our view of the world as adults?
Even a book intended to be little more than a fun story has merit. Maybe silly is exactly the kind of thing that will win over a reluctant reader, and convince them to broaden their horizons and try reading something new. Maybe it just provides that reader with a welcome escape from what they’re facing in the real world.
Not every book that makes it on a library shelf is going to change the trajectory of the entire human race, but that doesn’t mean it won’t challenge some reader out there. Even when we’re frustrated enough to scream from all of the work that comes with our drafting, and revising, and editing, and revising again, everything we do is a small step in the direction of someday making a difference. When we write, our goal is to communicate an idea or provoke an emotion at some level. Isn’t that ultimately the purpose of art?
It’s easy to feel helpless when things in the world are going so wrong, and so many problems feel like they’re beyond our control. The next time you sit down to outline, or stress-spiral through your notes, or hack away at your current work-in-progress, remember that each paragraph you write is a contribution to the greater cultural thumbprint of literature. Writing something can make a difference, whether it ends up on bestseller lists, or is only enjoyed by a small circle of people, or just helps you understand your own world better. You probably won’t ever get to know what kind of reach your work has or how many people could be influenced by it, but that’s okay.
Regardless of where you are on your own writing journey, there will always be value in the effort. Your effort could someday plant an idea with someone, and help them find the tools they need to make their world a better place.
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2016
Monday, June 6, 2016
Visiting a Young Authors Conference
From all the time I’ve spent on Twitter trying to build up my social media street cred, I’ve come to realize that writing conferences are going on everywhere and all of the time. I’ve never been to one so they’re all a little mysterious to me; I’ll read posts about people who are so excited to attend them, or I'll see pictures they take of people they meet up with, along with lists of the agents and authors amassing their collections of airline miles as they travel across the country to make appearances. Meanwhile I still wake up every morning hoping my lesson plans for the day will be adequate, and the school lunch menu will include something I can manage to choke down with minimal effort.
But not long ago I realized that this premise isn’t exactly true. It turns out there is one writing conference I’ve attended, and several times over.
Up here in the suburban sprawl surrounding the Twin Cities area, an organization known as Success Beyond the Classroom hosts a Young Authors Conference on several days throughout the school year. The school where I teach has sent students to participate for well over a decade. I’ve been fortunate enough to chaperone this event a number times, most recently just a few weeks ago. The conference was held at a local college with the campus all but abandoned between terms, making it the perfect place for a few hundred middle grade kids to spend their day moving from session to session and learning about many different kinds of writing. Our school had close to twenty fourth and fifth graders attending this year, chosen by their language arts teachers to be some of the most expressive and motivated writers in their classes. Usually these turn out to be some pretty interesting kids to hang out with on a field trip.
The day started in the Great Hall with a morning dance party that eventually evolved into a keynote address, from author Michael Perry, after which the students attending began rotating through their sessions. These were led by local artists of nearly every imaginable voice, including fiction, non-fiction, illustration, poetry, and songwriting to name a few. Luckily, as a chaperone, I was able to crash a few sessions and take in some of the excitement.
My first session was the one I was looking forward to the most, a talk on magical realism in fiction by Abby Cooper. (Her book Sticks and Stones will be released next month, by the way, and you should probably add pre-ordering it to your To-Do List for June.) Abby is one of several authors to get a break through Brenda Drake’s Pitch Wars/Pitch Madness contests, which is also true for a number of us here at Middle Grade Minded. Because of that we all share a few social networking ties, and I was looking forward to finally meeting Abby in the real world. I messaged her ahead of time to let her know I’d be there and would do my best to find her. When I saw that one of the girls in my homeroom class had a ticket to her morning session, I decided that'd be a good time to tag along.
The room was nearly full when I arrived. We said a quick hello before the session began, then I found a seat in the back row and settled in to hear what she had to say. Abby was a very kinetic presenter, keeping the students engaged the whole time and encouraging them to share and discuss their ideas. It was a great way to warm into the day for the kids in attendance.
My second session was about telling life stories through poetic structure. I could only stay for part of it since I had to take care of some chaperone responsibilities, like knowing where the lunches were and helping our students find them. Right after lunch we visited a sizable book fair put on by The Red Balloon bookshop of St. Paul. While browsing, I found a stack of copies of Dan Geimenhart’s book The Honest Truth and added it to my stack. I felt pairing it with a bookmark I’d collected earlier for Brooks Benjamin’s My 7th Grade Life in Tights made a nice Middle Grade Minded traveling billboard to carry around for the rest of the afternoon. (I am nothing if not a supportive co-contributor.)
I had to pass on my original choice for the one session remaining after lunch due to a standing room only crowd in a small and stuffy classroom, and decided to find a quiet study corner in the hallway where I could start reading The Honest Truth instead. I had just enough time to get caught up in Mark and Beau’s story before the day was over, and we needed to collect everyone for the bus ride back to school. It was an amusing ride, because of the conversation I had with the student of mine who had been at Abby’s morning session with me. She hadn’t raised her hand to share the magical realism idea she’d worked on, so I asked what she had written about.
“I wrote about that thing you did that one time, with the lunch bag.”
“What thing I did that one time with the lunch bag?”
“You know, when someone forgot their lunch bag, and you wrote that thing on the board. I wrote about the stuff people forget at school when they go home, and then all the stuff has a party at night but the custodian finds out.”
“You should’ve raised your hand!" I said. "She would have thought that was so cool!”
She paused and looked at me, somewhat suspiciously. “Why were you talking to her after?”
“Well, we kind of know each other.”
“Kind of?”
“We’ve known each other through Twitter for awhile, but this was the first time we’ve met in real life. So we talked a little bit.”
She paused again.
“Wait: You’re saying…that you know…Abby Cooper?!”
Finally I was able to impress a student.
I’ve chaperoned this conference four or five times now, and by far my favorite thing about it is always sitting in on the sessions and listening to so many creative and intelligent kids ask questions and share their ideas about writing. For someone who has spent decades on the front lines of public education, seeing such a heavy concentration of talent and enthusiasm congregate like that, and having the chance to witness it from the periphery, is truly inspiring. It gives you hope that despite all of the negative commentary about the electronic state of childhood in the 21st century and the broad criticism frequently directed at public education, there are still kids out there who can proudly own the label Best and Brightest.
It also reminds you that the stewardship of the yet-to-be-written books we’ll all want to read in the future is in very capable hands.
But not long ago I realized that this premise isn’t exactly true. It turns out there is one writing conference I’ve attended, and several times over.
Up here in the suburban sprawl surrounding the Twin Cities area, an organization known as Success Beyond the Classroom hosts a Young Authors Conference on several days throughout the school year. The school where I teach has sent students to participate for well over a decade. I’ve been fortunate enough to chaperone this event a number times, most recently just a few weeks ago. The conference was held at a local college with the campus all but abandoned between terms, making it the perfect place for a few hundred middle grade kids to spend their day moving from session to session and learning about many different kinds of writing. Our school had close to twenty fourth and fifth graders attending this year, chosen by their language arts teachers to be some of the most expressive and motivated writers in their classes. Usually these turn out to be some pretty interesting kids to hang out with on a field trip.
The day started in the Great Hall with a morning dance party that eventually evolved into a keynote address, from author Michael Perry, after which the students attending began rotating through their sessions. These were led by local artists of nearly every imaginable voice, including fiction, non-fiction, illustration, poetry, and songwriting to name a few. Luckily, as a chaperone, I was able to crash a few sessions and take in some of the excitement.
My first session was the one I was looking forward to the most, a talk on magical realism in fiction by Abby Cooper. (Her book Sticks and Stones will be released next month, by the way, and you should probably add pre-ordering it to your To-Do List for June.) Abby is one of several authors to get a break through Brenda Drake’s Pitch Wars/Pitch Madness contests, which is also true for a number of us here at Middle Grade Minded. Because of that we all share a few social networking ties, and I was looking forward to finally meeting Abby in the real world. I messaged her ahead of time to let her know I’d be there and would do my best to find her. When I saw that one of the girls in my homeroom class had a ticket to her morning session, I decided that'd be a good time to tag along.
The room was nearly full when I arrived. We said a quick hello before the session began, then I found a seat in the back row and settled in to hear what she had to say. Abby was a very kinetic presenter, keeping the students engaged the whole time and encouraging them to share and discuss their ideas. It was a great way to warm into the day for the kids in attendance.
My second session was about telling life stories through poetic structure. I could only stay for part of it since I had to take care of some chaperone responsibilities, like knowing where the lunches were and helping our students find them. Right after lunch we visited a sizable book fair put on by The Red Balloon bookshop of St. Paul. While browsing, I found a stack of copies of Dan Geimenhart’s book The Honest Truth and added it to my stack. I felt pairing it with a bookmark I’d collected earlier for Brooks Benjamin’s My 7th Grade Life in Tights made a nice Middle Grade Minded traveling billboard to carry around for the rest of the afternoon. (I am nothing if not a supportive co-contributor.)
“I wrote about that thing you did that one time, with the lunch bag.”
“What thing I did that one time with the lunch bag?”
“You know, when someone forgot their lunch bag, and you wrote that thing on the board. I wrote about the stuff people forget at school when they go home, and then all the stuff has a party at night but the custodian finds out.”
“You should’ve raised your hand!" I said. "She would have thought that was so cool!”
She paused and looked at me, somewhat suspiciously. “Why were you talking to her after?”
“Well, we kind of know each other.”
“Kind of?”
“We’ve known each other through Twitter for awhile, but this was the first time we’ve met in real life. So we talked a little bit.”
She paused again.
“Wait: You’re saying…that you know…Abby Cooper?!”
Finally I was able to impress a student.
I’ve chaperoned this conference four or five times now, and by far my favorite thing about it is always sitting in on the sessions and listening to so many creative and intelligent kids ask questions and share their ideas about writing. For someone who has spent decades on the front lines of public education, seeing such a heavy concentration of talent and enthusiasm congregate like that, and having the chance to witness it from the periphery, is truly inspiring. It gives you hope that despite all of the negative commentary about the electronic state of childhood in the 21st century and the broad criticism frequently directed at public education, there are still kids out there who can proudly own the label Best and Brightest.
It also reminds you that the stewardship of the yet-to-be-written books we’ll all want to read in the future is in very capable hands.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Celebrating I Love to Read Month
For as long as I can remember, the school where I teach has celebrated February as I Love to Read Month, and this year was no exception. I don’t think I have to sell the readers of this blog very hard on how important it is to get young kids interested in reading, so I’d imagine you’d all be on board with this.
Our calendar fills up with events and activities taking place throughout the month, all somehow related to reading. Each week features some kind of a dress-up day. Sometimes the connections to reading seem like a bit of a stretch, but the kids still love them. Read a Shirt Day, Read a Button Day, Read a Hat Day have all come up in the rotation over the years, and are good inclusive ways to get students participating. We’ve even had a few “Dress Like a Book Character” Days before, which often end up with debates about whether or not SpongeBob can be counted as a book character on the same level as Pippi Longstocking just because he has his own joke book (and someone was super excited about repurposing their Halloween costume in the name of school spirit). This year the events included “Slip Into a Good Book Day,” when the kids, and adults, all had the chance to wear and show off their favorite slippers. “Sports Team Day” made the calendar because...well, I guess athletes read? “Sweat it Out With a Good Book Day” is also known as “Mr. Mulroy’s Favorite Day of the Year” because I can wear sweatpants to school and nobody will even think twice about it. A few times during the month we’ll take a building-wide pause for a “Drop Everything and Read” break, and yes, that includes the staff. I promise you there are few on-the-job moments that get much better than a reading break that is not only sanctioned, but required. If we ever see Drop Everything and Read fall on a Sweatpants Day some year, my life will pretty much be complete.
This year the students can fill out paper Book Circles when they finish reading a new book (or complete a chapter, depending on their grade and reading level). Each circle puts them in a weekly drawing for a Barnes & Noble gift card, along with the potential thrill of hearing their name announced over the intercom as one of the winners. As the month progresses, the completed circles are displayed in the school’s main hallway in an overlapping chain that looks like a comically long rainbow-colored worm crawling along the walls and the ceiling. The whispers and giggles that my students are always trying to sneak under the radar all but die out when we down the hallway now as each each of them scans the circles to find the ones they turned in. In another hallway display, a collection of photos shows staff members posing with some of their favorite books from elementary school, holding open the book and hiding most of their face with the cover. If you ever found yourself in our hallway, you’d see my eyes peeking up from behind a copy of my definitive childhood book, A Wrinkle in Time.
The headlining event of the month is I Love to Read Night, which could best be described as a combination of a family information night and a reading carnival. There’s a book fair, and catered food brought in from our local Buffalo Wild Wings (yes, I had some). Bingo games, technology explorations, story time, family word games, crafts, and a wide assortment of standard carnival games keep everyone busy. All of the activities are run by staff members, school parents, community volunteers, and even National Honor Society members from the nearby high school. I assume the night was a big success this year, but since I spent my two-hour shift chasing down taped-up rolls of toilet paper at the T.P. Toss, I didn’t get out to see much else.
Last Friday every student in the school had a chance to play Bango For Books, which is very much like a perpendicular version of a similar game, but in this one everyone eventually wins and the prize is a brand new book of their choice. Unfortunately one of my students was sick that day and didn’t get to play, but the announcement was made at the start of the game that all teachers should select books for any absent students to make sure each child got one. As the announcement was made, I looked at one of my girls sitting at a nearby table. She read my expression and anticipated the question I was about to ask, saying: “She likes books about pets.” First of all, this was such a perfect third grade kind of thing to say I had no choice but to smile. And I loved that she knew this about her friend. I’d like to think that knowing what kinds of books you like should be near the top of any friendship checklist.
We still have one more week before I Love to Read Month closes, as well as a few more special days and fun events. From there we continue on, and hopefully the students are ready to move through the rest of the year with a renewed appreciation or a new discovery of the joys of reading.
Our calendar fills up with events and activities taking place throughout the month, all somehow related to reading. Each week features some kind of a dress-up day. Sometimes the connections to reading seem like a bit of a stretch, but the kids still love them. Read a Shirt Day, Read a Button Day, Read a Hat Day have all come up in the rotation over the years, and are good inclusive ways to get students participating. We’ve even had a few “Dress Like a Book Character” Days before, which often end up with debates about whether or not SpongeBob can be counted as a book character on the same level as Pippi Longstocking just because he has his own joke book (and someone was super excited about repurposing their Halloween costume in the name of school spirit). This year the events included “Slip Into a Good Book Day,” when the kids, and adults, all had the chance to wear and show off their favorite slippers. “Sports Team Day” made the calendar because...well, I guess athletes read? “Sweat it Out With a Good Book Day” is also known as “Mr. Mulroy’s Favorite Day of the Year” because I can wear sweatpants to school and nobody will even think twice about it. A few times during the month we’ll take a building-wide pause for a “Drop Everything and Read” break, and yes, that includes the staff. I promise you there are few on-the-job moments that get much better than a reading break that is not only sanctioned, but required. If we ever see Drop Everything and Read fall on a Sweatpants Day some year, my life will pretty much be complete.
This year the students can fill out paper Book Circles when they finish reading a new book (or complete a chapter, depending on their grade and reading level). Each circle puts them in a weekly drawing for a Barnes & Noble gift card, along with the potential thrill of hearing their name announced over the intercom as one of the winners. As the month progresses, the completed circles are displayed in the school’s main hallway in an overlapping chain that looks like a comically long rainbow-colored worm crawling along the walls and the ceiling. The whispers and giggles that my students are always trying to sneak under the radar all but die out when we down the hallway now as each each of them scans the circles to find the ones they turned in. In another hallway display, a collection of photos shows staff members posing with some of their favorite books from elementary school, holding open the book and hiding most of their face with the cover. If you ever found yourself in our hallway, you’d see my eyes peeking up from behind a copy of my definitive childhood book, A Wrinkle in Time.
The headlining event of the month is I Love to Read Night, which could best be described as a combination of a family information night and a reading carnival. There’s a book fair, and catered food brought in from our local Buffalo Wild Wings (yes, I had some). Bingo games, technology explorations, story time, family word games, crafts, and a wide assortment of standard carnival games keep everyone busy. All of the activities are run by staff members, school parents, community volunteers, and even National Honor Society members from the nearby high school. I assume the night was a big success this year, but since I spent my two-hour shift chasing down taped-up rolls of toilet paper at the T.P. Toss, I didn’t get out to see much else.
Last Friday every student in the school had a chance to play Bango For Books, which is very much like a perpendicular version of a similar game, but in this one everyone eventually wins and the prize is a brand new book of their choice. Unfortunately one of my students was sick that day and didn’t get to play, but the announcement was made at the start of the game that all teachers should select books for any absent students to make sure each child got one. As the announcement was made, I looked at one of my girls sitting at a nearby table. She read my expression and anticipated the question I was about to ask, saying: “She likes books about pets.” First of all, this was such a perfect third grade kind of thing to say I had no choice but to smile. And I loved that she knew this about her friend. I’d like to think that knowing what kinds of books you like should be near the top of any friendship checklist.
We still have one more week before I Love to Read Month closes, as well as a few more special days and fun events. From there we continue on, and hopefully the students are ready to move through the rest of the year with a renewed appreciation or a new discovery of the joys of reading.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Book review: Golden Boy by Tara Sullivan
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Title: Golden Boy
Author: Tara Sullivan
Genre: MG Contemporary
Pages: 368
Publication date: 2013
Publisher: Putnam Juvenile
Website: tarasullivanbooks.com/
My rating: 4.5 spitwads / 5
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There's not a kid on Earth who hasn't felt out of place. There's not a single child who hasn't gone through a day worrying if others are going to cast their little glances and whisper to their friends the one word that no one wants to be called.
Freak.
We've all been there. Heck, I remember letting my hair grow out a little during the summer before sixth grade. Longer hair was cool. And I wanted to be cool. So I stepped on the bus for that first day of school, happily sporting the gigantic ball of brown fuzz I called a hairdo. Which is when the giggles and pointing and name-calling started. But there wasn't anything I could do. As far as I knew, we weren't allowed to go to the nurse for a bad hair day. So I suffered through seven and a half hours of class while my stomach collapsed into a black hole of humiliation.
But I digress.
Because hair is the least of thirteen-year-old Habo's problems. He's a white-skinned boy in a land where white skin is considered a curse. To the other kids in his Tanzanian school, he's a zeruzeru, a nothing. To his family, he's a liability. To local hunters, he's gold.
Habo is an albino. He can't spend time outside because the sun holds a special kind of anger for his easily-burned body. His father left as soon as he was born and his family is burdened with the task of finding ways to make enough money so they don't lose their house. But since Habo can't work in the fields like everyone else, they're forced to travel to Mwanza and live with their aunt.
The plan seems perfect. Except in Mwanza, albinos are hunted and butchered like animals. Their remains are sold as good luck charms to businesses and wealthy households. Even with that threat breathing down Habo's neck, his family can't go back to Arusha. Not when all that waits for them there is a life of starvation. Not even when one local hunter discovers where Habo lives.
Habo has no choice. He flees his aunt's house, hoping to find a place where he can be safe, a place where his family can be rid of him and his curse, a place where he can finally find others like himself.
Naturally, I can't tell you much more than that because SPOILERS.
But I can tell you that the story Sullivan has created here is drawn from her experiences working in Africa, trying to educate people on what albinism is and what it is not. I was shocked to learn that this is a real problem. Kids are getting murdered and dissected and sold and there are some regions where even the local police turn away their eyes while it happens.
I know, right?
Yikes. However, the heaviness of that reality forming the foundation of Golden Boy never casts a too-dark shadow over little Habo. Sullivan doesn't inject a whole lot of fluff and filler into this story. She allows Habo and his desire to be different drive his journey. It's one that's not without danger and risk and heartache, either.
This is an amazing read. For children as well as adults. I learned so much travelling with Habo. I laughed with him. I cried with him. I was scared with him. I rejoiced with him. And even though he faces an enemy we've probably never had to face, we can still relate to his story. Because at its core, Golden Boy is a story of acceptance and tolerance.
And that's something everyone wants. That's something everyone needs.
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