All posts by Abby

Summer reading

Recovered

I look forward to summers because I actually have time to write blog entries and to read (no tutoring in the summer means evenings are free to have some fun).  But first I have to get over that big hump at the beginning of the summer, the Ice Cream Social, AND take a couple of days to recover from it. 

So the Ice Cream Social was last week, and thanks to an army of volunteers who helped out on the day of the event, we managed to pull it off.  Even with a record number of attendees.  Wow.  But let me tell you, it’s a Herculean effort to plan, organize, and run the Ice Cream Social.  I’m not complaining – it’s only once a year, and it’s a total buzz to run it – I’m just saying that it takes a lot to get this event off the ground.  Judy, bless her soul, volunteered to go to BJ’s to buy the toppings and paper goods: check that box on the list.  Jennifer made a million little bubble wands out of pipe cleaners: check that box off.  Lots of teens and moms volunteered to help out with the activities and ice cream scooping (twelve of them in total): check.  Baskin Robbins agreed to sell us the ice cream at their cost:  big, big check (it was still $120 for that ice cream!).  Renee reminded me of one essential ingredient to changing to our Wednesday rain date – notifying Constance to alter the website before Constance left on vacation: whew, another big checkmark.  You get the idea.

I changed the format of the Ice Cream Social this year, skipping a performer and substituting multiple activities for that performer.  It IS a “social,” after all.  So there was a paper airplane making station, run by Ben and Sarah, a face painting station with Alyson and Liz (and me), the ice cream scooping station with the intrepid team of Amy, Deb, Andrea, Jenny, and Vicki, and the bubble blowing/sidewalk chalk drawing station with Jennifer, Erica, and Lizzie.  (Not to forget Marie, who helped with cleanup.) 

Once kids got their ice cream sundaes, they could run around the large expanse of the library lawn and have fun at the activity station of their choice.  I wasn’t sure how well this would work, but it was fantastic.  Instead of ending at 4 PM, things were still going strong at 4:45.  I actually had to wrest the last bucket of bubble blowing solution from an eager crowd of five or six kids, and Alyson and Liz only finished face painting at 5, when the library closes.

I learned a few key things from this particular Ice Cream Social:

  1. No longer can I depend on my prior formula for allowing for fifty extra attendees above those who preregistered.  This year we had TWO HUNDRED extra attendees, and actually ran out of bowls.  And the whipped cream ran out within ten minutes.
  2. I suck at face painting.  I figured I’d do well with it, because I’m pretty artistic, but truth is I’m terrible at it.  You want WHAT on your face?  A unicorn????  A soccer ball flying through the air into a goal????  A flaming baseball????  Any chance I can sell you on a flower or a butterfly?
  3. Next year we need way more volunteers.  Why didn’t I think to ask the Friends for help on that front?  Duh.
  4. Cheap fun is the best fun.  The feedback after this “bargain” Ice Cream Social was the best I’ve ever gotten.  So the change of format from performer to activities was incredibly smart, thank you very much. 
  5. When you host a party for over 400 people, you’re bound to be ridiculously tired afterwards.

I still have bruises all over my hips from hauling chairs and tables, but I’m not tired anymore.  And it’s going to be a full year before I’m that exhausted again.  Until then, I can just enjoy the memories of an event that was a success despite a few small glitches.

Etc., Spare time - Culture

Asparagus

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Last night we were making dinner, and I held up the last of the bunch of fresh asparagus from Verrill Farm.  “Want some?”  I asked Jim.

“Um, no,” he replied, “How about those snap peas in the fridge?”

“You don’t like asparagus, do you?”

“I do,” he said, “Just not three nights in a row.”

“But you didn’t have any last night!”

“No, ” he said, “but you did.”

Oh.

I get it.

Summer reading

Summer has begun…

Starting with movie night last Thursday, summer has officially begun at the library.  Our first movie was Bee Movie, which was a surprising hit (we reached capacity in the room, holy smokes!) and which both Jim and I enjoyed – once the problem with the sound was resolved.  (How frustrating to hit play on a movie for a huge crowd, only to find out that the sound wasn’t working!)

Next up:  the Ice Cream Social, which is scheduled for Tuesday.  Hopefully we won’t have to use a rain date this year.  And coming up on July 1, the first “real” program of the summer, a visit from Audubon Ark as they do a program on Habitats.  They’ll bring a skunk and painted turtle with them to show to the kids; it should be a fantastic program.

Other great programs coming up this summer include:  “Hurdy Gurdy, Monkey and Me,” a real organ grinder with his monkey Coco; another Audubon Ark program on Backyard Wildlife, with an opossum and a mallard duck; “Animal Antics,” a puppet show by Sparky Davis, who has a fantastic reputation; and a concert with Davis Bates and Roger Tincknell, perennial favorites at the library.  Not to forget the three other family movie nights – 101 Dalmatians, The Spiderwick Chronicles, and Nancy Drew.  Lisa will be running four movie nights for ages thirteen and up as well.   And, of course, there will be book group meetings, one meeting for each grade from three to six and the teen book group.  For the younger crowd, Jennifer will be running Mother Goose on the Loose storytimes every Wednesday, except for the two Wednesdays that Alex Andrews will be visiting with her Music Together program.

It’s a full summer, with lots and lots of fantastic events.  I’m psyched.

Teaching

Goodbyes…

I’m finished with this school year’s tutoring; no tutoring this summer.  I’m relieved – exhausted – and sad. 

Each girl had one final lesson with me last night, and each girl was clearly having a tough time saying “goodbye.”  M., my motivated and enthusiastic student, was acting out in strange ways, giggling too loud and hard and being a bit silly.  And another sure sign of stress popped up, as she struggled terribly with a problem that only surfaces for her when she’s stressed out: she kept giving the letter j the hard sound of g, making “Cajun” become “Cagun.”  Over and over and over again, which is not like her at all.  But M. and I resolved the bittersweet sadness of summer vacation approaching by reminding each other that we’ll be working together in the fall.

It was a different story for A., who has graduated from my instruction and will no longer need me next year.  Last night was definitely our last lesson together, and A. kept writing little notes to me on the edge of her paper: “I’ll miss you!”  “You’re the BEST teacher!”  and “Thank you for teaching me!!!!”  Lots of smiley faces and lots of cute, sweet comments.

At the last moment this past weekend, I decided to buy a book or books for each girl as an end-of-school-year present, and I am so glad that I did.  As I left last evening, each girl was happily clutching her book(s), and I know for sure that they’ll read them over the summer.  For M., I picked Blue Balliett’s The Calder Game, and for A. I chose Blue Balliett’s Chasing Vermeer and Michael Buckley’s The Fairy-Tale Detectives. 

And the girls each bought me a present, presents that show how thoughtful and perceptive they each are.  A. got me a bag chock-full of Lindt truffles to feed my chocolate addiction, and a bar of pink grapefruit soap from the Body Shop to feed my soap addiction.  M. made a point of telling me that she had paid careful attention last week when I talked about my favorite things to do, so she picked out a cool, funky pair of slippers and a gift certificate to the Concord Bookshop.  “Because,” she said, “You told me your favorite thing to do is read a book while sitting by the woodstove with a cat in your lap.  So you can wear the slippers to keep your feet warm and use the gift certificate to get a new book.  See?  I was paying attention!” as she tapped her forehead.

Great kids, both of them.  I’ll miss them this summer, for sure.  But, as with all bittersweet things, there is a good side:  more sleep for Abby, less of a sense of perpetual exhaustion.  Goodbyes are hard that way, both good and bad and happy and sad.  Have a terrific summer, M. and A.!

Children's book reviews, Children's literature

Mr. Maxwell’s Mouse

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My love affair with Mr. Maxwell’s Mouse began about a year and a half ago, when my friend and former Alcott School colleague Gayle asked me for title suggestions to use with her fourth grade class’s project on animal characterization.  I randomly and quickly scanned the library shelves for picturebooks that had animals with distinct and developed personalities, sent her an email list, and thought nothing more of it until a month or two later.

Gayle and I sat down to share coffee and breakfast that month or so later, and I had completely forgotten about the list of books I had sent her.  But she hadn’t.  She thanked me again for the list, and told me that she had immediately gone and purchased all of the books I had recommended (I gasped inwardly at that, remembering that it was a quickly assembled list), and that while all of the books were great, one stood out:  Mr. Maxwell’s Mouse by Frank Asch and Devin Asch.  Her class had loved it, and it had proved to be an excellent model for her creative writing exercise on creating memorable and unique characters.

Mr. Maxwell is a gentleman cat who has just received a promotion at work and decides to celebrate at lunch that day.  Though each day he always eats the same lunch menu item (baked mouse) at the same restaurant, Mr. Maxwell deviates on this day of his promotion and orders the live mouse instead.  The mouse arrives at his table, delivered by Clyde the head waiter, “stretched out on a single slice of rye toast as if sunning itself on a sandy beach.”  And the mouse proceeds to cleverly stall and manipulate Mr. Maxwell, distracting him with such comments as, “It’s very comforting to know that I’m serving such a courteous customer,” “I always thought that when it was my turn to be…ahem…eaten, I would be enjoyed with a fine glass of wine, ” and “I’ve heard that this year’s Beaujolais is exceptional, but shamefully overpriced.  So I’d suggest one of the fine Rhine wines – anything between the years ’78 to ’85, but not the ’83.  That year produced a very bitter crop of grapes.  Unless you prefer a white wine with mouse – then almost any chardonnay will do.”

Ultimately, the mouse gets Mr. Maxwell to blindfold himself with his napkin, the better to kill the mouse with whom he has now become too well acquainted to kill openly.  The mouse snags the tip of Mr. Maxwell’s swishing tail, guides it to the plate, and utters the countdown to the moment of knife killing mouse – but, you guessed it, Mr. Maxwell’s knife ends up cutting his own tail, not the mouse, and the mouse escapes. 

I love, love, love this book.  It’s a joy to read aloud, since you can create three great voices: Clyde the waiter, Mr. Maxwell, and the mouse; the words flow incredibly well; and the audience’s tension is palpable as the plot develops.  Will the mouse die?  Will he outwit Mr. Maxwell?  The ending isn’t at all obvious as you read the story, and Asch and Asch masterfully build the suspense up to the climactic moment of knife striking flesh.  Pictures and text weave together seamlessly, culminating in one wordless, tilted two-page spread that depicts the mayhem in the restaurant after Mr. Maxwell cuts his own tail (and the boys in the audience inevitably relish the bit of blood on Mr. Maxwell’s tail).  And the final bit of text, a letter sent from the mouse to Mr. Maxwell in his hospital room, neatly and subtly finishes the tale off in a satisfying, and reassuring (nobody got hurt, really) way.

If you don’t know this book, do find it and enjoy it.  These are some of the best developed characters you’ll ever find in a picturebook, and their interaction with each other withstands multiple readings.  And, unlike some of the books mentioned in my last post, Mr. Maxwell’s Mouse doesn’t hit you over the head with one single message.  There are layers of meaning and interpretation here, as well as a story that just begs to be enjoyed as a story.

Children's literature

Message laden

I noticed something very interesting this past week while reading books to the kids at the elementary school:  there are some picturebooks that I thought were fabulous when they arrived at the library and I read them to myself, but those same books seem ponderous, heavy-handed, and didactic when read aloud to a group of children.

For instance, I loved Tim Egan’s The Pink Refrigerator, a story about a rat (I think he’s a rat) named Dodsworth who runs a thrift shop and spends most of his life sitting in an easy chair watching his favorite T.V. shows.  On one of his daily trips to the junkyard to find items to sell at his shop, Dodsworth happens upon a pink refrigerator that provides him with inspirational messages (“Read more” – “Paint pictures” – “Play music” – “Learn to cook” – “Keep exploring”) and with the tools to follow those messages: paints and a sketchbook, a set of books, ingredients and a cookbook.  Inevitably, Dodsworth becomes so wrapped up in each of these new activities that he stops watching his television shows, and eventually he bicycles off to explore and find the ocean.

It sounded great when I read it to myself, but as I read it aloud to several third grade classes, it felt more and more preachy.  I kept reading it to the classes mostly to observe their reactions to it – and not surprisingly, the kids weren’t entirely sold on the book.  No negative comments from them, but no positive ones, either. 

Other books that I read last week that felt message-laden when read aloud were: Dexter Bexley and the Big Blue Beasty by Joel Stewart, A Visitor for Bear by Bonnie Becker, Duck at the Door by Jackie Urbanovic, and Gorilla, Gorilla by Jeanne Willis.  Dexter Bexley was a total flop, hated by the kids and not enjoyed much by me either, so I dropped that one from my repetoire almost immediately.  The message in A Visitor for Bear isn’t so heavy-handed, and it allows the reader to play with the characters’ voices, so I continued to read that book to a good reception.  Duck at the Door is just funny enough that the kids and I didn’t mind its message of tolerance, and I do still love that Gorilla, Gorilla has a great twist on prejudice at the end (though I haven’t quite figured out what I think of the racial undertones – a small white mouse terrified of a giant black gorilla who turns out to be her child’s savior and her own protector…hmmm…as I think about it more, quite the politically correct white man’s book).

I read other books this past week, too:  the Balinese folktale-based Go To Sleep, Gecko by Margaret Read MacDonald (which I love for its unashamed multiple mentions of buffalo poop – shocks the adults in the room each time that I read it, heh, heh, heh);  Tiger Can’t Sleep by S.J. Fore, a book that always goes over well with a young crowd because it’s funny; Princess Pigsty by Cornelia Funke (once again, quite a heavy message, this time of being yourself, but Funke does know her audience, and I’ve never had a flop with this book); Previously by Allan Ahlberg (which went way over the heads of the fourth graders, and was only appreciated by a few fifth graders – I could tell that they thought it was babyish, though it’s really quite sophisticated); One-Eye! Two-Eyes! Three-Eyes! by Aaron Shepherd (based upon the Grimm fairy tale, with a few humorous twists – the prince and Two-Eyes live happily ever after, of course, because they have so much in common…they both have two eyes); and my personal favorite to read to fifth graders, Mr. Maxwell’s Mouse by Frank Asch and Devin Asch (more about why it’s my favorite in the next post).

Lots and lots of messages in these books.  Be yourself.  Don’t watch too much television.  Everything is connected.  Some things you just have to put up with, even if they’re annoying.  The scary beast in your closet might be just as scared of the dark as you are.  Friends are good, better than being alone.  Don’t prejudge people by their appearance.  If you love someone, you just might have to put up with their personality quirks (and other friends).

Is it just me, or do we adults primarily use picturebooks to teach and preach?  Yes, it’s a fact that a society needs and wants to pass on its structure and morals to the next generation, but can’t that next generation also have books that are just good reads?  Why so many messages?  Why has bibliotherapy become such a prevalent disease?  Are these difficult concepts best taught through the reading aloud of a book, or is it better to talk to your kids directly about how to be a good person and navigate the waters of life? 

I don’t remember my mother or father using books as therapy or teaching tools (this doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen, but I certainly don’t remember it).  I do, however, remember having long talks with my parents, and most especially my mother, about life and interpersonal relations and sticky situations.  Rather than teach me through a book’s plot, Mom talked to me about what was actually happening in my life and how to handle it.  If I had a problem with my best friend, we’d work it out, come up with a plan of action, and then follow-up the next day to process whether the plan had been successful. 

But then, my mother was a gifted teacher, and her talents and great patience are not common.  So perhaps these message-laden books are a necessary evil in today’s world of two-income, stressed out families with little time to sit and chat and tease out the intricacies of life.  I don’t really know.  But I do wish the messages could be a bit more subtle, or perhaps even non-existent. 

Etc., Librarianship

The glasses

I finally did it.  After four years of living with a pair of glasses that I picked too quickly and never really liked – they’re rather non-descript and unisex – I finally bit the bullet and committed to a pair of funky, cool glasses.  They make a definite statement; they’re impossible to miss.  Maybe someday I’ll go back to wearing contacts, but for now I’ve got these glasses that Jim tells me look like the ones that belonged to Jimi Hendrix’s brother Leon.

So I guess I’m a real librarian now.  Because all librarians wear glasses, right?

Children, Summer reading

A few more snippets

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Yesterday’s class visits gave me these snippets to share:

I brought out the book A Visitor for Bear by Bonnie Becker to read to a second grade class, and a boy in the class called out, “I heard that book on NPR!!”  (A good indication of the type of town in which I work…)

When asked by Peggy (the school’s library media specialist) whether they knew who I was, several hands in that same second grade class shot up eagerly in the air.  One little girl, a favorite of mine, answered Peggy with the usual response to that question this week:  “She’s Abby.”  And a little boy, whom I also adore, said “I know her!!  I LOVE her books!!!!!!!!!”

Later on, as I was talking about the Ice Cream Social, that same little girl announced in her lovely British accent, “Last year you had the music of the Beatles!”  Which made Jim pretty happy when I told him later, since it was his band that played the Beatles music. 

Another comment that made Jim happy came from a fourth grader:  “Last year you had a BAND playing at the Ice Cream Social.  Are you going to have them again?!?!?!”

After I finished reading to the second graders, and they were busy doing some word searches, a member of the PTO came up to me and introduced herself.  Apparently she had been in the library shelving books as I was reading to the kids, and she commented to me, “Wow – they really like you.  And they really liked your stories.  You’re a celebrity!”

So, I may not have monetary fortune, but I do have a measure of fame.  And I love that I’m just “Abby” to the kids – not Mrs. Kingsbury, not Miss Abby (sorry, but I ABHORE being called “Miss Abby”), not the librarian.  Just Abby.  That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.

Children, Summer reading

Why kids are great

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Some snippets from my week (a fun week, but a loooong week) visiting the classes at the elementary school, doing my regular job in the children’s room in the afternoon, and tutoring in the evening:

A third grader, standing in line to get his summer reading bag today, twinkled his eyes at me and said, “My sister knows you really well!”  “Ah,” I said, “Your sister is Rachael…and I know your sister pretty well, too!”   (His sister is a three year old toddler storytime regular.)  He grinned from ear to ear.

Tutoring yesterday, I had to dictate this sentence to A.:  “Gerry is a terrific person.”  I dictated the sentence, she repeated it back to me, and then she did what she often does – put her left arm kind of over her work so she could write without me seeing.  When she finished writing, we started the proofreading process, and she stifled a couple of nervous giggles before I figured out what was going on.  She had written the sentence twice, once just as dictated, and a second time this way: “Abby is a terrific person.”

Yesterday afternoon, after I had spent the day at the elementary school, two second grade girls came up to my desk hand-in-hand and said, “We just wanted to say ‘thank you’ for coming to our school and reading to us today!”  “Oh,” I said, “It was my pleasure!  Thank you for letting me come visit!”  The two girls giggled and blushed and dashed away as if they had just spoken to a celebrity.

Tonight my other student, M., told me the results of the fourth grade spelling bee that she participated in this week:  she made it to next week’s finals!  This is a student who struggles with encoding and decoding, and who has been working with me using the Wilson Reading System for the last year and a half or so, and she correctly spelled seven out of eight words given to her.  The only word she missed?  Average.  Not bad, considering it’s usually pronounced as a sight word (most people don’t pronounce the “er”).  Yay!  Way to go, M.!!

Yesterday morning, as I was making my way through the school’s lobby to the school’s library, I passed by and greeted another one of my toddler storytime regulars, who was with his mom dropping off his sister for kindergarten.  Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw me, and he stood there frozen in place, watching me go into the school library.  Shortly thereafter, he and his mom followed me in, and she (a wonderful, wonderful mother, by the way) smiled at me and said that she was just going to give Liam a little orientation and explain about the school library and why he was seeing me there and not in my usual spot.  Liam still looked a bit shell-shocked by the whole experience.

Today a young man, an afternoon regular at the library, came into the room and said hi to me, and I responded by wishing him a happy birthday.  “Wait a sec…” he said, “How did you know it was my birthday????”  “Well, I saw your name at the top of the list on a white board…”  “YOU were at MY SCHOOL???  Wow.  Wait, why were you at my school?”  (He’s a fifth grader, and a smart one.)

And my favorite moment, the one that pumped up my flagging ego:  in the fifth grade class that I visited on Tuesday, there were two of my book group girls.  One of them, Sophia, raised her hand and asked me, “Did you get a haircut?”  When I said yes, the other, Madeline, told me, “It looks really pretty!!!”  That’s just the kind of moment every girl (ok, almost forty-year-old girl) needs now and then. 

It’s been a really great week visiting the school.  Lots and lots of great kids, and more stories than I have room for here.  Though I’ll be totally and completely and thoroughly worn out by the time I’m done tutoring tomorrow night, I’ll also have enjoyed one of my favorite parts of the year.  A favorite part that’s been even better this year, since more kids know me now and thus have been attentive and terrific audiences for the stories I’ve read to them in their classes.

And not to forget my two tutoring students, who have very few lessons left (two for M., one for A.), and whom I’ll really miss this summer.  We’ve developed a special bond, and become great learning teams.  Though the tutoring exhausts me beyond measure (just that much extra time and energy spent on the top of an already very busy day), I also find it deeply rewarding.  Great kids with great attitudes and personalities who have made great progress in our time working together.

Etc., Spare time - Culture

Insanity

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It could be the heat, I’m not entirely sure, but I went a little insane this afternoon.

Sitting at the computer, trying to update our woefully out-of-date finances, I suddenly lost it.  Ran and grabbed the vacuum.  Starting vacuuming up the ants that began invading the house this morning.  Didn’t work.  Ran to the foyer.  Grabbed a pair of shoes.  Stomped around the house yelling, “I hate you!  I hate you!  I hate you!”  Along with some other words, not polite ones.*

There are a lot of dead ants in our house now.  But even more live ones, having a little party in our basement.  I’m off to my boiling hot car to drive to the hardware store to buy ant traps – a lot of them.

I hate summer.  Blech.

*  it should be noted that I’m usually quite peace-loving when it comes to insects; the only ones I kill without hesitation are mosquitoes.  Otherwise I usually choose one of two options: walk around and ignore said insect, or gently scoop it up on a piece of paper and take it outside.