Spring Break Reading: The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane**

Prior to saying goodbye to my eleventh graders before our ten day Spring Beak, I suggested that they find a book or two to read during our time apart. Though more than a few groaned, a few asked for suggestions to which I replied a number of titles from high school cannon, such as I know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, and even a classic from middle school that most had not, surprisingly,  even heard of, The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton. At this point a couple of students began reminiscing about titles they had (shock of shocks) enjoyed reading that I had not heard of. One young lady mentioned her affection for a book read in middle school entitled The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. As she began describing the book as being about a "rabbit doll that gets lost," I scribbled the title in my notebook for future reference. Maybe it was the promise of a rabbit protagonist or the recollection of my own prior devouring of the wonderful The Sage of Waterloo by Leona Francombe, also about rabbits.  These factors along with the student's passion for a book read years ago moved it to the front of my spring break reading list.

Right to the top of the pile.

A longtime high school teacher, I have often searched for "lighter" fiction for sharing with students, and as a reader I, too, struggle with finding meaningful books with slightly less angst. I continue wishing for lighter literary entres to consume. Given both these factors, in addition to considering myself a reasonably "well read" person, I am embarrassed to share that I had not heard of writer, and Newbery medalist, Kate DiCamillo previously. If The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane is any indication, I have been missing out by having not picked up any her many titles before. My student was telling the truth, and showing a pretty good memory in giving me a short synopsis; the book is indeed about a somewhat snooty, China rabbit (not a "doll" as he reminds us at every turn, though something he'll need to come to terms with) who goes missing. During a decades long journey, Edward comes to learn the value of loving and being loved.

This 211 page book is a joy, and like most good books, defies being placed into a box. I found this book in the children's area of my local bookstore, and after reading am going to share it with my mother who, like I, is beyond the publisher's target audience. Edward's travels take him through multiple relationships and a variety of lifetimes, but never loses a sense of the timeless. DiCamillo's narrative is further enhanced through the inclusion of illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline. Beautifully rendered in black and white, Ibatoulline's illustrations avoid anchoring the story and character in a specific time period, and do nothing to mitigate the reader's ability to imagine the events as taking place right now. Perhaps it was my nostalgia but I found the drawing reminiscent of Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit art (my son's nursery had a border of the characters).

As a middle-aged high school teacher, I was impressed by DiCamillo's willingness to avoid writing down to her audience. There are heavy questions posed and big themes explored throughout, such as love, death, regret a nd patience. Lines such as "How does a China rabbit die?" (page 47), seem perfectly at home in DiCamillo's world of China rabbits and hobos. Vocabulary such as "ennui" (page 3), "discerning" (65) and "contrarian" (194), suggest an excellent opportunity for readers of all ages to add valuable words to their working vocabulary.

I am grateful for the quick conversation with one of my student's for leading me to this beautiful book. I strongly recommend The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline to readers of all ages looking for a powerful complex read disguised as a children's book about a China rabbit!

**Originally posted March 13, 2018

Need for Lighter Literary Entrees

Just as we are what we eat, what is ingested intellectually (and let's face it, often on a spiritual level) can color one's outlook. Neither a "good" or "bad" thing, depending on the nature of what is being read, the experience can lead into some dark, though not wholly unsavory, places. This reality is further enhanced in the winter months of perceptibly shorter days and longer periods of darkness...

As a result of recent wear-and-tear that has kept me from running, I have more time. In an effort to fill this gap constructively, I have been reading quite a bit, perhaps more than usual. Though not part of some New Year's literacy resolution, since the start of the new calendar year I have been taking in numerous titles in rapid succession including The Southern Reach Trilogy (Annihilation, Authority and Acceptance) and Borne by Jeff VanderMeer, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Roadside Picnic by Boris Strugatsky and Arkady Strugatsky, Monsters Among Us: An Exploration of Otherworldly Bigfoots, Wolfmen, Portals, Phantoms, and Odd Phenomena by Linda S. Godfrey, March Book One by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin, and Nate Powell, and Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.

As is always the case with new menu items, in some case I have taken one or two bites and walked away. The Breach by Patrick Lee, for example, just didn't offer enough nutritious value to warrant a full commitment. My personal reading, as has been the case for going on 35 years(!), is always supplemented by a healthy diet of 6-17 comic book titles weekly ranging from the familiar (Action Comics, Detective Comics, The Walking Dead, Black Panther) to "smaller" titles (Evolution, Atomic Robo, Saga, Hack/Slash or Bloodshot).

Each of the literary dishes on this reconstituted diet plan contained some very satisfying flavors in the moments of their enjoyment. In retrospect, however, the majority also possessed some dark and bitter tones. There is a valid argument to be made that much good reading, when considered beyond the superficial, does. Of course, this type of diet does not come without consequences, especially to a body (or mind--trying to stick to my metaphor!) already deficient in certain nutrients. Just as a lack of sunlight in one's day may require adding a Vitamin D supplement to any gustatory regimen, at some point, lighter, more uplifting literature becomes a necessity.

This is where I am at today--in dire need of some light, airy, new reading! While I have a number of books of poetry I turn to for warmth, and more than enough long boxes of past favorites from a "friendlier" time in comic books, filling this requirement in traditional longer-form narrative literature is always a challenge. Interestingly, two recent titles I have enjoyed in the past deal with anthropomorphic animals--a pattern I am unsure as to why it exists it my personal reading tastes (especially as I no longer literally "eat" animals). The first came from a recommendation made on NPR Radio. A few summers ago I read a wonderful piece of historical fiction entitled The Sage of Waterloo by Leona Francombe. It remains the rare book that is neither insultingly silly or immature, that tells a compelling story with weight in a manner that suggests joy and warmth. It also serves as a reminder of the value of expanding one's book choice as it was purchased on a lark, but was significantly rewarding. The second was first read ten years ago and (brainstorming as I write this) may very well get reread soon for purposes of sharing with my current high school juniors, Benjamin Hoff's The Tao of Pooh.

With these two titles (and a few others) in mind, the search for lighter literary entrees continues as I attempt to cleanse my intellectual and spiritual palette of some darker (albeit delicious) flavors...

"Official" Summer Reading: How Dare the Sun Rise

Synopsis from Greece Athena Library school handout for one
summer reading option.

Our school's summer reading program (as part of a district wide expectation) is mixing things up with this year's assignment. Last summer we offered ice cream treats as the carrot for reading a single text during the summer months (a half-sheet with basic information needed to be submitted as evidence), and this year's final product will be participating in a book talk regarding the text read using notes kept on a more extensive work sheet depending on whether the text is fiction or non-fiction. Numerous staff members have also elected to read the same title will also be completing the task and participating in the conversation.

I signed up to read the recently published How Dare the Sun Rise by Sandra Uwiringiyimana with Abigail Pesta. The synopsis shared with students (above) prompted quite a bit of interest on the part of my current eleventh graders as well as my teaching colleagues. With my task clear, I picked up a copy from the local Barnes and Noble and very quickly made my way through it. (A quick check of the local library online card catalog informs that there are 38 copies within their system, too.)

How Dare the Sun Rise is an incredibly engaging and honest autobiography of Congolese refugee Sandra Uwiringiyimana and her family finding their way from a satisfying existence in Africa though a series of hellish events (thus the subtitle Memoirs of a War Child) until finding a purpose and sense of acceptance in the United States. A traditionally structured autobiography, it is the conversational tone and the manner in which Uwiringiyimana uses the differences between the two cultures to shed light on the strengths and weakness of our American culture that elevates the text. The journey Uwiringiyimana and her family take is powerful. Despite having read and taught numerous immigrant experience works ranging from Upton Sinclair's muckraking classic The Jungle to Francisco Jimenez's short story "The Circuit," How Dare the Sun Rise presents a compelling voice that is underrepresented among the genre. The first person perspective of the Congolese refugee experience is fresh and informative. While I have taught students in my classes who have themselves shared a similar set of circumstances, the trauma likely experienced precluded too much sharing. As many good reads do, however, it raises more questions as it answers others...

As interesting as Uwiringiyimana's odyssey to (and through) the United States is, I really found myself drawn into the unique perspective of the author's veiled social commentary on facets of American culture that most are frequently not meaningfully discussed in many classrooms.  Issues such as obesity, modern segregation in the American public education system, as well as subtle racism within the larger American black community are woven into her story. A clear emphasis on the significant power of education is key to the author's story. That this belief is ingrained in her by a feminist father (the author's words), who himself was a product of patriarchy, is in stark contrast to the apathy illustrated by some American students observed by Uwiringiyimana as a public school student here in America. Consistent with her articulated goal in sharing her story, the author clearly hopes to spark conversation among young people regarding these issues and others.

I look forward to discussing How Dare the Sun Rise by Sandra Uwiringiyimana with Abigail Pesta upon returning to class in September. My hope is that even those students and staff who had not previously signed up to read this title will do so in addition to the others: Highly recommended.

A Muster of Faux Classroom Crows

More than just someone to watch over our accolades and team pictures.  (10/11/13)

Over the past five(!) years, I have purchased an artificial crow/raven to adorn my classroom each year. (Yes, crows and raven are NOT the same, but as birds, the two possess enough superficial similarities that I use the names synonymously--fortunately I am not an ornithology teacher.) At the conclusion of each school year, I remove them from the shelves, screens and unused, ancient tech around the room until the following August at which time they will each return to (slightly) different locations.

The crow chick perched on the 

deer skull is a recent addition. When 

it's previous perch, this was taken, 

the mounted television was removed, 

the small crow moved around before 

settling there. (9/1/15)

The first faux crow found it's way into our classroom in the same way most English literature teachers acquire them, as a prop for an October reading of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven." In each successive year, however,  I have continued to acquire a new one during the Halloween decoration sales at local party supply stores. Nowadays, Halloween decorations are on sale in mid-August (along with Thanksgiving things!), hence this year's pre-school-purchase.

A morbid, and astute, reader may presuppose that the presence of a murder (or muster) suggests something "bad" is going to happen in this room. Though in Medieval time ravens would tend to congregate on the battlefield to feast on the corpses of the fallen, that depressing intention is not what's behind this style choice--at least not intentionally. Each new school year the presence of the artificial ravens in the classroom elicits a now familiar question from new students: "What's with all the birds/crows/ravens?"

As ours is an English classroom, I like to have some literature-based responses to the question of "why", ranging from the familiar to the esoteric (with secret hopes that during the course of our time together, the unusual will become more familiar). Just a few responses with a literary bent that I may offer during varying points int eh school year include:

As fate would have it, this freebie
poster was received in my school
mail today! (9/1/15)

• "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe: Most students are at least vaguely familiar with the poem if for no other reason than it's pop culture references in many a comedic television aside. For some, even those who've "read" it, the symbolism of the raven is often not so clear. Given the poem's close association with Halloween, they do understand it to be somehow dark or evil. Morbid, right?
• Did you know that good ol' Willy Shakes refers to the raven more often than to any other bird? In a number of William Shakespeare's works such as Othello and Macbeth (a play we will work with during the school year), the black bird makes an appearance. For example in Lady Macbeth's speech in Act I Scene V of Macbeth: "The Raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan/Under my battlements...".
• With any luck, we will be reading some excerpts from Keith Baines' translation of Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur this year, whcih allows for this connection: in Celtic mythology, ravens are often associated with warfare and the battleground (especially in Irish mythology). In Welsh mythology, ravens figure as the army of King Arthur's knight Owain. King Arthur's messianic return is an aspect of the legend of King Arthur, the mythical 6th-century British king. One recurrent aspect of Arthurian literature was the notion that he would one day return in the role of a messiah to save his people. Other less common concepts include the idea that Arthur was absent leading the Wild Hunt, or that he had been turned into a crow or raven.



Someone has to use the
ancient overhead--why not a
Raven? (10/11/13)

• A Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin is the fourth of seven planned novels in the epic fantasy "A Song of Ice and Fire" series of novels. The words "crow" and "raven" play multiple roles throughout the series. The most obvious for those who have never read the books or seen the HBO show is the historical one suggested above: A Feast for Crows clearly suggests (though no surprise to fans) that this book will have a hefty headcount of dead to be eaten.  Also, in the Fire and Ice mythology, a "Crow" is the name given to those men who serve on the Wall, the immense ice structure which separates the northern border of the Seven Kingdoms from the lands beyond. Men of the Watch dress entirely in black, giving rise to the nickname "crows"--which is what the Free Folk commonly call them. Finally, characters uses ravens as messenger birds throughout the series. Additionally, the Three-eyed raven appears in Bran Stark's dreams to guide him on a quest. Interesting side note, I had not previously realized: The first name "Bram" is derived from a convergence of two separate etymological sources, one being an abbreviation of "Abraham", but the other being the Gaelic word "bran", meaning "raven". That Martin guy is clever!
• In the past my students and I have read and analyzed J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit (1937), a novel chock full of inetersting tidbits about archettypes and etymology. This was also news to me, but really cool: Roäc is the leader of the Ravens of the Lonely Mountain. Roäc was the son of Carc, and as such "a descendant of those [ravens] that had remained on the hill even after Smaug had driven out their old allies, the Dwarves". Roäc is likely an onomatopoeic name. (Source: Tolkien Gateway)

Like good literature, I like to allow for a number of possible interpretations. For this particular artificial classroom muster, I choose to leave just "what" they mean, ambiguous, though surely those students who fail to put forth energy and effort will see them as circling their the fading life of their individual grades, and others will see them as delivers of a message of growth and learning that will allow them to reach new heights.

A panoramic view of a classroom surrounded by faux crows circa October 2013.

Ghosts of FCBD Past: Raising a Reader! (2014)

"Not only are comics fun, they're an incredible tool for helping to create a  genuine love of reading."~Jennifer L. Holm

I've posted previously about the positive impact my own lifelong appreciation of comic books has had on me from instilling an understanding of the value of a good vocabulary (as a child) as well as reinforcing the application and analysis of literary strategies (as a high school English student and, later, teacher).

Last May, on the annual celebration at my local comic shop that is Free Comic Book Day, one of the four books I selected from the table of offerings was a Comic Book Legal Defense Fund publication entitled Raising a Reader: How Comics and Graphic Novels Can Help Your Kids Love to Read! by Meryl Jaffe, Phd. While I can attest to the personal positive impact of comic book reading, I am often on the lookout for publications or online articles that corroborate what I already think: comic books can engage non-readers in a way that few other things can. Despite my own extensive personal experience with the medium, Raising a Reader did present some excellent suggestions for helping those unfamiliar with how to read a comic book as well as offering some very well articulated affirmation of the medium's larger potential as a gateway to reading. As suggested in the introduction by Jennifer L. Holm, also quoted above, "from verbal and visual literacy to critical thinking and memory, comics are a great tool to give young readers a head start."

Though I love buying and reading comics weekly (New Comic Book Wednesday makes the dreaded "hump day" a favorite day of the week), my wife has always insisted that comics were "too busy" for her to follow. After reading Raising a Reader, it occurs to me that her feeling may be largely due to her never having learned how to read them properly (a skill by now she has little willingness to cultivate). I have been reading and collecting comic books for so long that I instinctually understand how to walk through the narrative, focusing on panels in sequential order whereas she simply sees the singular page made of multiple colorful panels.

As an educator, especially of English Language Arts, I am often inundated with edu-speak around college-and-career readiness in the context of the not-so-new-anymore Common Core curriculum. I love the page below as it addresses in a very logical, and well-stated, manner the potential positive impact of the comic book /graphic novel genre on the development of valuable communication skills in readers. Though I am the first to call "b.s." on those who validate the regular showing of television shows such as CSI in science classes and Numbers in math course, movies frequently in high school classes, I find the assertion (and the analysis provided) that "graphic novels foster and strengthen  multiple learning skills" to be credible and spot on... I only wish I'd thought of it sooner!

Raising a Reader! also reminds that comic books and graphic novels not only engage readers, but have some valuable lesson for writers as well. The severely uniformed may suggest that the medium is less thought out in its construction than say novels or poetry. Quiet the contrary, as we are reminded that "[graphic novel] creators are thoughtful when designing their pages and panel arrangements, carefully guiding their readers' eyes and attention." This level of intention that is important to carefully constructing any communique is an important element of developing skill as a writer that is too often taken for granted or, in an age of templates and stems, even less clearly taught as a skill unto itself.

As the page below suggests, and given the publisher, in addition to promoting how to raise one's child to love reading through the enjoyment of graphic novels and comic books, Raising a Reader also informs regarding the dangers of ignoring assaults on the First Amendment.

The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund exists primarily as "a non-profit organization dedicated to the protection of the First Amendment rights of the comics art form and its community of retailers, creators, publishers, librarians, and readers." In this capability, the CBLDF provides "legal referrals, representation, advice, assistance, and education in furtherance of these goals."

Many of the larger comic book publishers will use Free Comic Book Day to tease upcoming mega-events, but the CBLDF offering from last May is worthy of re-issuing each year. When it comes to issues of the power of the medium and the subtle intent by some to subvert free speech, there is no better primer. At my local comic shop, in addition to each years new FCBD offerings, extra copies from years' past are also available for $1. Should you come across a copy of Raising a Reader, I strongly recommend picking one up and (after reading it yourself) passing it along to an educator for sharing at their place of employ.