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Tips for Teachers is a monthly column in which experienced teacher and children’s librarian Emmie Stuart shares book recommendations and a corresponding teaching guide for fellow elementary school teachers.


I have never lived on a farm, and I don’t really like animals. So why do Carl Larsson’s farm paintings hang on my living room and kitchen walls? Why do I cherish my annual tradition of visiting a local farm with a friend and her children? Why do I always slow down to admire the tidy and picturesque family farm that I pass on the way to my parents’ cottage in rural North Carolina? Why do weathered red barns, rolling fields bordered by white fences, the smell of hay and the clucking of chickens fill me with deep nostalgia? Why do farms have such a tight grasp on my heartstrings? 

I blame it on stories. I read my childhood copy of Trinka Hakes Noble and Steven Kellogg’s The Day Jimmy’s Boa Ate the Wash so many times that it’s now held together by Scotch tape. Each year, when my family pulled down our heavy box of Christmas books from the attic, Joseph Slate and Ashley Wolff’s Who Is Coming to Our House? was the one I wanted to find first. I can still hear my mom’s voice reading Charlotte’s Web to me and my sister. Yes, farms hold a beloved place in my heart and imagination. 

The kindergarten classes at my school are about to begin a nine-week study of farms and farm animals. I can’t wait to share the following three books with my students. I can only hope that these books’ agrarian settings, memorable characters and reassuring stories impress themselves upon my students’ hearts and minds, fostering a lifelong fondness for farms. 


The Barn by Leah H. Rogers book cover

The Barn

By Leah H. Rogers
Illustrated by Barry Root

In this gentle narrative about a weathered wooden barn that overlooks rolling hills and a white farmhouse, the barn reminisces about its construction. A communal barn raising brought it into existence over a century ago. Using the phrase “I am a barn” as a refrain, the barn narrates in lyrical prose. All day long—from the morning, “when the sun begins to grow over the treetops” and “strands of sunlight reach through my cobwebbed windows,” to the evening, when “the chill night air blows quietly down my stone aisle”—both animals and people come in and out of the barn’s shelter.

Rogers’ text is rich with sensory language and gentle rhythm. Root’s watercolor and gouache illustrations are suffused with golden light as they warmly depict the barn, animals and surrounding verdant hillsides. Familiar and comforting, The Barn offers children a beautiful and meditative look at a rural farm. 

  • Farm life

The idea of a barn raising may be unfamiliar to some children. Read Patricia MacLachlan and Kenard Pak’s The Hundred-Year Barn to learn more about this tradition. Older students will enjoy clips from this documentary about an Amish barn raising. Ask students if they can think of similar events that have happened in their community. How do communities or neighborhoods come together to help others?

Extend the idea by discussing family farms. Read Cris Peterson and Alvin Upitis’ Century Farm. Show clips of what it’s like to be a child living on a family farm. 

  • Art study

Ask students to tell you what they notice and wonder about in Root’s illustrations. Point out where the barn is located in relation to the rest of the farm. Show students more pieces of art featuring barns and farms, and ask them to verbalize what they notice and wonder about them. Finally, provide photographs of barns in different landscapes. Let students choose one to re-create using watercolors, oil pastels or colored pencils.

  • Through the seasons

The Barn takes place on a summer day. Reread the book as a class, recording details from the the text and the illustrations that signal its summer setting. Read Alice and Martin Provensen’s The Year at Maple Hill Farm, Donald Hall and Barbara Cooney’s Ox-Cart Man and Eugenie Doyle and Becca Stadtlander’s Sleep Tight Farm. Using details from these books, ask students to articulate what would change if The Barn’s narrator were to describe a day in another season. Using a circle graphic organizer, have students draw or write seasonal details about a farm.  


If You Want to Knit Some Mittens by Laura Purdie Salas

If You Want to Knit Some Mittens

By Laura Purdie Salas
Illustrated by Angela Matteson

A young girl describes how to knit mittens, a process with no fewer than 18 steps. The story begins at an apple orchard where the determined protagonist talks her dad into buying a sheep. Next comes a “long, chilly winter” through which the girl keeps her new sheep “warm and well fed.” Spring arrives and brings a flurry of activity, including shearing, soaking, squeezing, carding, spinning, growing and dyeing wool. Finally, it’s time to “get some knitting needles and learn to knit.” When winter arrives again, the girl has a pair of marigold-yellow mittens and true friendship with her woolly companion. This sunny story of creativity and resourcefulness provides a lighthearted entry point to discussions about how farms produce and provide.  

  • Thank you, farmers!

Show students a scarf, sweater or pair of mittens made from yarn, and ask them how many of the steps needed to make the knitted item they can recall. Segue into a discussion about the many products we get from farms. As a class, brainstorm a list of these things.

Read Lisl H. Detlefsen and Renée Kurilla’s Right This Very Minute, G. Brian Karas’ On the Farm, at the Market, Pat Brisson and Mary Azarian’s Before We Eat and excerpts from Nancy Castaldo and Ginnie Hsu’s The Farm That Feeds Us. These books will show students how we depend on farms and farmers. 

Use white card stock to create notecards for students. Cut small slits on the bottom of each card with a craft knife. Pass the cards out to students and guide them in writing thank-you notes to a local farm or farmer. Let students choose pieces of yarn to weave in and out of the slits at the bottom of the card; this activity helps develop fine-motor skills. 

  • Yarn measurements

Cut pieces of yarn into various sizes and invite each student to select two or three pieces. Ask students to measure their pieces of yarn using rules or yardsticks and to record their measurements. Next, invite students to use the yarn to measure things in the classroom. Older students should record their findings using a number-sense sentence, like this:  

The pencil sharpener is greater than 6 inches but less than 12 inches. 

Younger students may simply write whether the item is longer or shorter than their piece of yarn.

Next, put small objects such as cubes, popsicle sticks or dominoes at various stations around the classroom. Ask students to choose a piece of yarn and complete the number sense sentence like so: 

My piece of yarn is as long as 20 cubes, six popsicle sticks and 12 dominoes. 

  • Yarn art

Take students on a nature walk to collect 8- to 10-inch sticks. Provide long pieces of different yarns. Students will choose four or five pieces of yarn and wrap them, one by one, around their stick. This may sound like a simple activity, but it requires perseverance and fine-motor skills. You can tweak this activity by letting students wrap the yarn around simple cardboard shapes. If time permits, teach older students how to finger knit.


Cold Turkey

By Corey Rosen Schwartz and Kirsti Call
Illustrated by Chad Otis

It’s no surprise that Turkey wakes up “c-c-cold,” because it’s 10 degrees outside! Bundled up in a green coat, a blue scarf, black boots and a red and white striped hat, Turkey ventures out for a trip around the barnyard. As he checks in with each animal, including Sheep, Chicken, Horse, Cow and Pig, he finds them just as cold as he is, so compassionate Turkey shares his warm clothing with them. When he arrives back home, he is “cold and bare / in just his birthday suit!”

Meanwhile, his barnyard friends have joined forces and built a roaring campfire. They beckon Turkey to join, and soon our cold Turkey is a “toasty turkey.” Equal parts humorous and warmhearted, Cold Turkey is filled with vibrant language and clever wordplay. It’s a tender and tongue-twistingly terrific read aloud.

  • Alliteration

From a chilly chicken to a shivering sheep, Cold Turkey is full of alliteration. Define this term for students and locate examples in the book. If time allows, read other books or poems with alliteration. I like A My Name Is Alice by Jane E. Bayer and Steven Kellogg, Animalia by Graeme Base and the poems at this link. Provide students with an alphabetical list of adjectives and ask them to write and illustrate their own name alliteration sentences, such as, “Industrious Iris illustrated an interesting icy igloo.”

  • Readers’ theater

After reading Cold Turkey aloud for a second time, assign roles to several students. Give the students signs, props or costumes to designate their characters. Make a large part of the classroom a “stage” and help students act out the story. For the first time through, narrate the story. As students become more familiar with the process, let different students narrate or retell the story as their classmates act it out.

Take a trip to the barnyard with experienced teacher and children’s librarian Emmie Stuart as she explores three picture books all about life on the farm.
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Two picture books explore the art and craft of writing and storytelling, offering advice and encouragement for budding young writers.

In How to Make a Book (About My Dog), Chris Barton answers a question that children often ask him when he visits schools as a children’s author: “How do you make your books?” 

Barton guides readers through the process from start to finish in great detail, using his dog, Ernie, as a hypothetical subject for a nonfiction picture book. He begins by discussing the research he must do even when he’s working on a familiar topic. He describes drafting and revision, explains how illustrators come on board and contribute, and then ends with the nitty-gritty of copyediting, printing and shipping books. Along the way, he introduces the team of people who help to transform ideas into books that readers can hold in their hands, including literary agents, editors, art directors, typesetters, proofreaders, publicists, warehouse employees and more. 

How to Make a Book (About My Dog) perfectly addresses the intense curiosity many children have about the mechanics of writing and publishing a book while shining a light on many stages in the process to which readers are not often privy. Barton’s narration is engaging and full of personality, and Ernie becomes a fun character in his own right. The book’s extensive back matter provides a detailed timeline that reveals exactly how long it took to create this very book, beginning when Barton and his family adopted Ernie from a rescue organization and touching on an early concept for a different book that ultimately didn’t work out. 

Illustrator Sarah Horne dramatizes each step with bright, cartoonlike scenes and characters. Infographics, panels and charts; arrows, stars and other visual icons; and a wide variety of hand-lettered fonts transform what could be a dry nonfiction text into a friendly and appealing journey. This guide showcases the challenging but rewarding work of bookmaking with humor and optimism.

Author (and BookPage contributor) Deborah Hopkinson and illustrator Hadley Hooper’s The Story of a Story takes a poetic approach to the question of where inspiration comes from. In rhythmic free verse, Hopkinson addresses a child with “endless curiosity, / and a deep longing / to create, to write, / to say something about the world—to tell a story.” 

Hooper’s illustrations show the child coming inside on a snowy day, taking off their coat, hat and boots, and sitting down at a table in front of a big window. Everything the child needs is at hand: paper, pencils, a snack and even a faithful dog at their feet, but “the words won’t come.” Darkness falls and crumpled papers pile up around the table. While taking a break to eat a cookie, the child notices a chickadee outside the window who is also eating. Inspiration doesn’t so much strike as emerge slowly, and the child returns to the blank page, picks up their pencil and begins again, writing “just one word. And then another.”

Hopkinson’s use of the second person gives the text an intimate feel, and her short sentences draw readers into the push and pull of the blank page, capturing the way that inspiration is so often a series of starts and stops. Hooper uses a spare color palette dominated by blues and whites, with occasional pops of yellow, brown and red, conveying both the wintry setting and suggesting the calm stillness of mind required for creativity to flow. 

As much about perseverance as it is about creativity and storytelling, The Story of a Story has a wonderful focus on process over product. It offers lovely encouragement to young writers, urging them to push beyond obstacles in their paths and discover the stories that only they can tell. 

Two picture books explore the art and craft of writing and storytelling, offering advice and encouragement for budding young writers.
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In this cumulative picture book, debut author Anne Wynter and Caldecott Honor illustrator Oge Mora knock it out of . . . well, out of the red brick building. 

“WaaaAAH!” yells baby Izzie, popping up in her crib and waking her neighbor’s parrot in the apartment building where they both live. The baby’s squalling and the bird’s squawking then wake Benny, Cairo and Miles from their sleeping bags (chips, popcorn and books in this spread suggest a sleepover had been in progress). The “Pitter Patter STOMP” of the trio playing flashlight tag then wakes downstairs neighbor Natalia, who decides it’s a great time to launch her new toy rocket; it soars out of her bedroom window with a “PSSHEEW!” 

Wynter’s story is tightly constructed and carefully paced. Each spread builds upon the one before and recounts the growing list of sounds. By the time we reach the book’s midpoint, a car alarm, Natalia’s rocket, the children’s game, the parrot and baby Izzie have succeeded in awakening Everybody in the Red Brick Building

The adults quickly take charge, soothing screaming Izzie and the parrot, turning off car alarms and flashlights and securing flying rockets. The soft sounds that compose the book’s second half, which include a street sweeper, acorns falling from a tree and wind chimes, also build cumulatively, but this time to send the residents back to sleep. Baby Izzie, who’s been awake the longest, receives the full benefit of all the sounds, with the marvelous addition of the “pah-pum . . . pah-pum . . . pah-pum of her mother’s heart” as they nestle closely together in a cozy magenta armchair.  

Mora’s art is the ideal match for Wynter’s engaging text. Her illustrations incorporate the story’s sounds (such as the parrot’s “Rraak! WAKE UP!” and the car alarm’s “WEEYOOOWEEEEYOOOOO!!!!”), collaged in her distinctive style and sweeping across the book’s spreads. The book’s climax, in which all the sleep-disturbing sounds fly forth from the building, is expertly composed. Mora knows exactly how to use elements like simple shapes to keep a busy event from being too visually complex or overwhelming. As always, her textured, highly patterned artwork invites lingering looks and repeat reads.

This gentle sonic adventure is just right for sending children off to sleep. 

Debut author Anne Wynter and Caldecott Honor illustrator Oge Mora knock it out of the red brick building in this cumulative picture book.

In author-illustrator David Biedrzycki’s hilarious new picture book, secret agent Bubble07 is an alien who happens to look like a plush unicorn and has been tasked with a challenging mission: to infiltrate a human Earthling family and determine if the unicorn army should invade Earth. 

Bubble07 is beamed down into a video arcade, where a lucky dad snags it in the claw machine. In a series of interplanetary dispatches, the absurdly adorable unicorn agent files reports on daily life with its new family—an existence made somewhat more difficult by the family’s very huge, very hairy dog, whom Bubble07 suspects “might be onto me.” As time passes, Bubble07 relays many Earthling customs and delicacies that could improve life on the home planet, such as celebrating birthdays, telling bedtime stories and, above all, eating peanut butter cookies. 

Bubble07’s primary Earth contact is the family’s daughter, who hosts tea parties, brings the unicorn to school for show and tell, takes swimming lessons (Alert to home planet: Unicorns don’t float.) and gives the agent lots of loving snuggles. After 100 days, Bubble07 has gathered enough clandestine intelligence to make a final recommendation to its “fearless leader” as to the suitability of Earth for unicorns.

Thanks to the book’s large-format design, inventive text and a final twist in the endpapers, Invasion of the Unicorns succeeds on every level. Biedrzycki has crafted a read-aloud that will delight children, and its wry humor means that adults won’t mind repeat reads. Bubble07 is an endearing protagonist who surveys our world with curiosity and occasional alarm that Biedrzycki always plays for a lighthearted laugh. His pencil and watercolor illustrations are soft and warm as they portray a loving family and their diverse community.

This agent can only conclude this report by declaring Invasion of the Unicorns a treat for unicorn lovers in every galaxy.

In this hilarious picture book, a cuddly plush unicorn is actually an interplanetary spy, and the result is a treat for unicorn lovers in every galaxy.
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Based on a “fantastically fun daladala ride” that author Naaz Khan once took in Zanzibar, Room for Everyone is an entertaining and bighearted joyride of a picture book that features fabulous illustrations by Mercè López. 

Musa and his sister climb aboard a daladala, a type of Tanzanian minibus, heading to the shore “to feast on fish at the Friday bazaar by the blue crystal waters of Zanzibar.” The bus and Khan’s pleasing prose bounce along rhythmically. The text is full of satisfying alliteration, flowing dialogue and rhyming couplets that are a delight to read aloud. 

The daladala has only a few passengers when the siblings board, but as they travel along, the driver spots people in need of a ride and yells, “It’s hotter than peppers out there in the sun! Come in, there’s room for everyone!” The additions include an older man with a bike that’s missing its seat; a herder and his two goats; three vendors carrying baskets of fruit; a farmer with four pails of milk; and so on. By the time the daladala finally reaches the shore, it’s packed with people, fish, chickens, large kitenge umbrellas, coconuts, a team of scuba divers and much more. 

Room for Everyone is an energetic counting book. Numbers on each spread stand out in a larger font and contrasting color. Key words and phrases also receive special attention with changes in size and color: For instance, in yellow and salmon lettering, “six stinky chickens” and “squawking” leap off a page’s jade background. 

The book’s palette is especially rich, featuring saturated yellows, sapphires and teals balanced against occasional warmer, softer hues. López’s delicate, fine-lined drawings are expressive and dynamic, filled with movement and momentum. 

Throughout the journey, Musa sustains a concern that the bus is overcrowded, but everyone manages to carve out space or wiggle their way in. After all, as the daladala’s passengers and driver alike shout, “There’s plenty of room for everyone!”

This entertaining joyride of a counting picture book features bouncy rhymes and expressive, dynamic illustrations.
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Contrary to what its title might suggest, A Big Cheese For The White House is not about any of our presidents’ rise to power. Candace Fleming once again takes a fascinating bit of historical trivia and renders it into a droll tale for young readers. In an introductory note, Fleming states that while the events are all true, the characters are not, and that she has taken some license, such as using the term White House rather than President’s House, as it was known until the early 1800s. In this humorous story, the people of Cheshire learn that President Thomas Jefferson was eating cheese made in the town of Norton, Connecticut. Led by the wise and optimistic Elder John Leland, the Cheshire villagers rise to the challenge to outdo their rivals and create a bigger, better cheddar for President Jefferson to eat. With nearly everyone lending a hand, they use the milk of 934 cows, creating a cheddar weighing 1,235 pounds and standing four feet highÐbig enough that the president will never again need to serve Norton’s cheese. Sure enough, by the time the cheese gets from Cheshire to Hudson, New York, to Washington, D.C., people are eagerly awaiting its arrival.

This book is brimming with colorful characters, like Goodwife Todgers, Humphrey Crock, and Farmer Fuzzlewit, who lend their time and talents to the effort. Only Phineas Dobbs, the resident naysayer and pessimist, repeatedly proclaims that It can’t be done. S.

D. Schindler’s illustrations perfectly mirror Fleming’s wry, understated text. The color-washed pen and ink drawings create cartoon-like characters that are both realistic and humorously distinctive. Their unusual features and facial expressions match the quirky names Fleming has given them. Our country’s archives are filled with examples of entrepreneurial spirit and stick-to-it-iveness, but this story is light, witty, and above all educational. Two themes emerge. One is that with enough hard work and cooperation anything is possible, and the other is that the whole is truly greater than the sum of its parts.

This book is so entertaining that children won’t believe it is based on a real event. As parents will attest, any story that leads to an interest in history is a refreshing and welcome addition to the bookshelves. A Big Cheese For The White House is a delectable triumph for Fleming.

Lisa Horak is a freelance writer.

Contrary to what its title might suggest, A Big Cheese For The White House is not about any of our presidents' rise to power. Candace Fleming once again takes a fascinating bit of historical trivia and renders it into a droll tale for young readers.…
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Pull up a chair and dig into a four-course feast of picture books! These books offer innovative depictions of what it means to express gratitude, to share a meal and to be both welcoming and welcomed.

Thankful

“Every year when the first snow falls, we make thankful chains to last us through December,” explains the narrator of Thankful. She is stretched out on her bedroom floor, surrounded by a halo of colorful construction paper, hard at work transforming it into a paper chain. As she lists the things for which she is thankful, readers glimpse scenes of her life with her parents, new sibling and pet dog, at her school and with her friends. 

Author Elaine Vickers’ text is wonderfully evocative. The girl’s list includes concrete and sensory observations, such as gratitude for “the spot under the covers where someone has just been sleeping” and “a cloth on my forehead when I feel sick.” In a humorous beach scene, the girl reflects that she is thankful “for wind and sand—but not at the same time.” 

Readers will be entranced by Samantha Cotterill’s outstanding and unique art. To create her illustrations, Cotterill creates miniature 3D interiors, populates them with cutout characters, then photographs each diorama. She includes charming details, including real lights in various rooms and shining car headlights, along with construction paper chains so realistic in appearance that you’ll feel you could almost touch them. Colorful and original, Thankful will spark young readers to create their own thankful chains—and may inspire them to try their hand at making diorama art, too.

Let Me Fix You a Plate

The excitement of family gatherings is at the heart of Let Me Fix You a Plate: A Tale of Two Kitchens, inspired by author-illustrator Elizabeth Lilly’s annual childhood trips to see her grandparents. The book follows a girl, her two sisters and their parents as they pile into a car and drive first to West Virginia to their Mamaw and Papaw, then continue to Florida to visit their Abuela and Abuelo, before they finally return to their own home.

Lilly’s energetic illustrations capture these comings and goings, as well as the abundant details the narrator observes in her grandparents’ homes. At Mamaw and Papaw’s house, she sees a shelf of decorative plates and coffee mugs with tractors on them, eats sausage and toast with blackberry jam and helps make banana pudding. Abuela and Abuelo’s house is filled with aunts, uncles and cousins and the sounds of Spanish and salsa music. The girl picks oranges from a tree in the yard and helps make arepas. 

Throughout, Lilly’s precise prose contributes to a strong sense of place. “Morning mountain fog wrinkles and rolls,” observes the girl on her first morning in West Virginia, while in Florida, “the hot sticky air hugs us close.” Lilly’s line drawings initially seem simple, almost sketchlike, but they expertly convey the actions and emotions of every character, whether it’s Mamaw bending down to offer her granddaughter a bite of breakfast or a roomful of aunts and uncles dancing while Abuelo plays guitar. Like a warm hug from a beloved family member, Let Me Fix You a Plate is a cozy squeeze that leaves you grinning and a little bit breathless. 

Saturday at the Food Pantry

“Everybody needs help sometimes” is the message at the heart of Saturday at the Food Pantry, which depicts a girl named Molly’s first trip to a food pantry with her mom. 

Molly and her mom have been eating chili for two weeks; when Molly’s mom opens the refrigerator, we see that it’s nearly empty. In bed that night, Molly’s stomach growls with hunger. Molly is excited to visit a food pantry for the first time, but she isn’t sure what to expect. As she and her mom wait in line, Molly is happy to see that Caitlin, a classmate, is also waiting with her grandmother. Molly greets her enthusiastically, but Caitlin ignores her. “I don’t want anyone to know Gran and I need help,” Caitlin explains later.

Molly’s cheerfulness saves the day, and the girls’ interactions contribute to a normalizing and destigmatizing representation of their experience. Molly asks her mom questions that reveal how the food pantry differs from a grocery store. Mom must check in before she begins shopping, for instance, and there are limits on how many items customers can have. “Take one bundle” reads a sign in the banana basket. 

Author Diane O’Neil captures her characters’ trepidations head-on. Mom smiles “just a little, not like when they played at the park” at the volunteer who signs her in, and Molly is confused and sad when her mom tells her to put a box of cookies back because “the people in charge … want us to take sensible stuff.” Gradually, however, the occasion transforms into a positive experience for all. 

Food insecurity can be a sensitive topic, and O’Neil—who went to a food pantry when she was a child—handles the issue in a reassuring, informative way. A helpful end note from the CEO of the Greater Chicago Food Depository explains that millions of people in the United States need help just like Molly and her mom, and provides readers resources to find it. 

Illustrator Brizida Magro is a wizard of texture, whether depicting Molly’s wavy hair or the wonderful array of patterns in coats, sweaters and pants. Her ability to capture facial expressions and convey complex emotions is also noteworthy; it adds to the book’s emotional depth and makes the eventual smiles all the more impactful. The pantry shoppers’ diversity of skin tone, age and ability underscores how food insecurity can affect anyone. Saturday at the Food Pantry brims with sincerity and a helpful and hopeful spirit.

A Hundred Thousand Welcomes

“In one place or another, at one time or another, in one way or another, every single one of us will find ourselves in search of acceptance, help, protection, welcome,” writes Mary Lee Donovan in her introduction to A Hundred Thousand Welcomes, illustrated by Lian Cho.

With poetic text that reads like an invocation, the book is a fascinating around-the-world tour that explores the concept of welcome. On each page, a household from a different culture entertains guests. Many pages include the corresponding word for “welcome” in that culture’s language, including words and phrases in Indonesian, Arabic, Mandarin Chinese and Lakota Sioux. Back matter from Cho and Donovan explains the inspiration that sparked their collaboration and offers more information about the many languages spoken throughout the world and a detailed pronunciation guide to all of the words in the book.

Cho’s art is a multicultural feast of families and friends enjoying each other’s company. There’s a German chalet where kids play in the snow, a Bengali family greeting visitors who arrive in a small, colorful vehicle and more. The disparate scenes culminate in two shining spreads. In the first, people of all ages and nationalities share a meal at a table that’s so long, it can only fit on the page thanks to a breathtaking gatefold. In the next, an equally long line of kids sit atop a brick wall, chatting with each other and gazing up at a night sky full of stars as one child turns around and waves at the reader.

Although many picture books celebrate the fellowship of friendship and the love that flows during family gatherings, A Hundred Thousand Welcomes encourages readers to go one step further, to ready their own welcome mats and invite neighbors and strangers alike into their homes and hearts.

Four picture books offer innovative depictions of what it means to express gratitude, to share a meal and to be both welcoming and welcomed.
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Review by Crystal Williams Hope loves going to the country every summer to visit her Aunt Poogee. Hope recounts the events she loves most from these visits, like Aunt Poogee’s stories and the marketplace where they run into old friends like Mr. Stewart (whom Aunt Poogee calls Stew-pot because of his big potbelly ), and Miss Teacup Hill (so-named because when she was born, she was so small her mama used a teacup for a cradle ). It’s stories like these that add to the richness of the book. These characters are realistic and full of life.

Once, while at the market, Miss Violet asks Aunt Poogee if Hope is mixed. Understandably, six-year-old Hope is upset by Miss Violet’s question. Hope even asks Aunt Poogee for an explanation but is told, Baby, don’t you pay Violet no never mind. During the rest of the day, she and Aunt Poogee snap peas, eat dinner, and finally, when it’s bed time, Aunt Poogee tells the story of how Hope got her name a tale about immigrants and slavery, civil rights and freedom. Finally, Hope is told to answer questions like Miss Violet’s with, Yes, I am generations of faith Ômixed’ with lots of love! I am Hope! Hope isn’t only a story about a little girl’s biracial ancestry; it’s also a story about African-American cultural heritage and the power of storytelling. Isabell Monk has written a simple, intimate tale, laying a good foundation for parents and children to discuss the meaning of diversity, history, and family. Janice Lee Porter’s illustrations work seamlessly with the text, creating a powerful statement with colors as bright and vibrant as Aunt Poogee’s pink Cadillac. In a world that is increasingly diverse, Hope offers a great story about America’s growing population of biracial people. Here we find that history and heart merge to provide children with a very clear idea of what makes human beings special our ability to love each other, no matter what color we are.

Crystal Williams is a poet pursuing her MFA at Cornell University.

Review by Crystal Williams Hope loves going to the country every summer to visit her Aunt Poogee. Hope recounts the events she loves most from these visits, like Aunt Poogee's stories and the marketplace where they run into old friends like Mr. Stewart (whom Aunt…
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"Do you know what building this is?” I ask a gym full of third graders as I direct their attention to my next slide.

“Empire State Building!” several voices call out. (Good start. Sometimes kindergarteners think it’s the Eiffel Tower.)

“Exactly! Any idea how old it is?”

“A hundred years,” someone yells. “Ten years,” another guesses.

A boy in front raises his hand excitedly. Maybe he’s a kid who’s really into history, I think. Maybe he’ll nail it on the first try.

I call on him. “How many years old do you think it is?”

“Five thousand!”

Right. Well, therein lies one reason I like to write books that tie into historical anniversaries. Anniversaries help give kids a touchstone—a way to make sense of all that amorphous past that happened before they were born.

It’s a start if, after I visit a school, children can remember a few things: there are cars in the illustrations of Sky Boys, the Empire State Building book set in 1931, but none in Apples to Oregon, a pioneer tale set in 1847; or that not every black-and-white photograph of a man with a beard is a president. More importantly, I hope students continue to find ways to connect with and understand the lives of those who have lived before us.

In addition to Sky Boys, written for the 75th anniversary of the Empire State Building, I’ve published a book on Matthew Henson, co-discoverer of the North Pole in 1909 and Abe Lincoln Crosses a Creek, in honor of the Lincoln bicentennial in 2009.

And that brings me to my new book, The Humblebee Hunter, inspired by the life and experiments of Charles Darwin with his children at Down House.

All right. I know. All this talk of anniversaries and I’m a year late. Anyone who was paying attention to the Lincoln hoopla last year knows that Darwin and Lincoln were born on the same day—February 12, 1809.

Sometimes that’s just the way it goes.

Besides, Charles Darwin—as a transformative thinker and scientist, a lifelong naturalist and as a father and family man—is worth reading and writing about in any year.

I first began research on Darwin for a biography for young readers I published in 2005 entitled Who Was Charles Darwin? Among my valuable resources were biographer Janet Browne’s two volumes on Darwin, Voyaging and The Power of Place. (I recommend both, along with Darwin, Discovering the Tree of Life by Niles Eldridge, curator of the American Museum of Natural History.)

Actually, it was visiting the Darwin exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History in June 2006 that inspired me to write a picture book about Darwin’s family life. (It’s not the same as seeing a Galapagos turtle in person, but you can still access the exhibit online.)

As I turned a corner of the exhibit and came upon the recreation of Darwin’s study at Down House, I stopped short, transported into the epicenter of Darwin’s creative life.

This is where he wrote and worked, I thought. Here was a desk crowded with papers, pens and a microscope. And there was his comfy old armchair near the hearth, where he wrote using a cloth-covered board set across the arms. There were shelves crowded with notes for the Origin of Species. And, of course, a bed by the fire for his dog, Polly.

One could almost imagine Darwin here. But it wouldn’t have been Down House without something else—the clatter of children’s feet and the noisy, happy racket of young voices.

Charles and Emma Darwin had 10 children, seven of whom lived to adulthood. And while Darwin never traveled far after returning from his legendary voyage, biographer Janet Browne describes Down House itself as a kind of Beagle, “a self-contained, self-regulating scientific ship.”

While Emma ran things efficiently, Darwin could work in his “cabin”—his study. The children and Darwin’s numerous, far-flung correspondents became a kind of crew, ready to help with a wide variety of natural history experiments from flowers to pigeons, from worms to bees.

Bees were a favorite Darwin subject, and Darwin’s articles on bees are still cited today. In Voyaging, Browne writes that watching her husband bending over a flower, “Emma got the feeling that Darwin would have liked to be a bee above all other species.”

I was fortunate when working on The Humblebee Hunter to have the guidance of talented editor Tamson Weston at Hyperion, who paired the manuscript with gorgeous illustrations by artist Jen Corace that capture the love and warmth of the Darwin family at Down House. The story begins this way:

One summer afternoon, Mother and Cook tried to teach me to bake a honey cake.
But raspberries glistened in the sun, and birds brushed the air with song.
More than anything, I wanted to be outside.
Then, out the window, I saw Father, home from walking on his Thinking Path.
He stopped in the kitchen garden and bent over the beans. He wanted to study the bees.
Mother smiled and brushed a speck of flower from my cheek.
“Henrietta, I think your father would become a bee, if he could. Just like them, he’s always busy.”

While we have descriptions of at least one bee experiment Darwin did with his children, I can’t be sure the experiment described in the fictional The Humblebee Hunter—counting the number of flowers a humblebee visits in a minute—is one that Darwin and his children did together.

But in a letter written to the British horticultural periodical, “The Gardener’s Chronicle” on August 16, 1841, Darwin describes the number of flowers he saw a humblebee (bumblebee) suck in one minute.

Like Darwin, I did research, involving my family on summer days, bending over flowers to watch bees at work. (My results were pretty close to Darwin’s but not always exact.)

So, any idea as to the number of blossoms a bumblebee visits in one minute?

You may have to wait for summer to experiment yourself.

In the meantime, here’s a hint: it’s not 5,000.

Deborah Hopkinson gardens and writes near Portland, Oregon, where she serves as vice president for advancement at Pacific Northwest College of Art. Visit her on the web at www.deborahhopkinson.com. (And if you really want to know Darwin’s count, of course you should do research. The answer appears in Letter 607 in the Darwin Correspondence Project.)

"Do you know what building this is?” I ask a gym full of third graders as I direct their attention to my next slide.

“Empire State Building!” several voices call out. (Good start. Sometimes kindergarteners think it’s the Eiffel Tower.)

“Exactly! Any idea how old it is?”

“A…

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How’s this for an intimate detail: Friends who visit our downstairs bathroom sometimes stay in there a while. Not because of digestive problems, but because the room is. . .very interesting. The walls are lined with joke books, as well as books about bodily functions. Hundreds of books, collected by us on our travels, and also by some bathroom visitors who now scout for us.

Jokes are big in our house. My husband, Paul Brewer, writes and illustrates best-selling collections like You Must Be Joking and You Must Be Joking, Too (Cricket). Being the audience for Paul’s jokes is part of my job. We collaborated on the writing of the funniest biography ever, Fartiste (Simon & Schuster), and are always on the lookout for funny ideas.

I discovered Lincoln’s sense of humor years ago, while researching Lives of the Presidents (Harcourt). His way with words—one reason he’s considered one of our best presidents—is famous, but his way with humor isn’t. His life was so very serious. How bizarre that people called him “so funny he could make a cat laugh” and started collecting his jokes into books. Paul and I eventually hit upon this tidbit as a possible picture book, a way to make Lincoln human, an approach to pull in kids who fear, “Oh, not another boring history book about a dead guy.”

Paul made trips to the library and scoured books—some of them over 100 years old—to find the best jokes. We worried that the jokes wouldn’t be funny all these years later, and of course not all of them were, or else were too wordy or required too much explanation. So we were relieved to discover enough material to work with, and from different periods in Lincoln’s life so we could structure this as a biography.

Lincoln Tells a Joke tells the president’s life story through his love of jokes and witty remarks, from the joke books he adored as a child to the ones he kept in his desk drawer at the White House. To him a sense of humor was more than just entertainment. Jokes helped him to win people over, give orders, get along with difficult people, get out of answering questions he didn’t want to answer and fight his own depression. Finally, they helped him keep his balance as he navigated the country through its worst crisis, the Civil War, when the country threatened to split apart.

As many thousands of Lincoln books there are, few focus on his humor (the last book to do so was in 1965, long out of print). Most scholars may have found this approach too trivial, whereas we show how it was just the opposite; humor helped in the development of Lincoln’s famous writing skills, and it also helped him survive and go on to protect the country.

He’s a seriously important president, but also one of America’s first stand-up comics—controversially so. One of the things John Wilkes Booth (and many others) couldn’t stand about him was his way with jokes, which they found unseemly in a president.

Lincoln himself believed that humor should be taught in schools, that jokes were just as valuable as the 3 R’s. We hope Lincoln Tells a Joke will pull in students of presidential history as well as kids who simply like jokes.

Not to mention friends who visit our bathroom.

Kathleen Krull is well known for her innovative approach to biographies for young readers. Her recent books include Lives of the Pirates: Swashbucklers, Scoundrels (Neighbors Beware!) (Harcourt); The Brothers Kennedy: John, Robert, Edward (Simon & Schuster); The Boy Who Invented TV: The Story of Philo Farnsworth (Knopf); and more as featured at www.kathleenkrull.com. Kathleen lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, children's book writer and illustrator Paul Brewer.

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How’s this for an intimate detail: Friends who visit our downstairs bathroom sometimes stay in there a while. Not because of digestive problems, but because the room is. . .very interesting. The walls are lined with joke books, as well as books about bodily functions.…

Behind the Book by

From her home on a Missouri farm, writer Kate Klise has collaborated on many imaginative and funny children’s books with her sister, illustrator M. Sarah Klise. Here she explains how she became interested in Ella Ewing, a real-life giantess and the subject of the Klise sisters’ sixth picture book, Stand Straight, Ella Kate: The True Story of a Real Giant.

No, really. I promise. I did not write Stand Straight, Ella Kate while driving. I’m not nearly that coordinated—or should I say crazy? But I did have an epiphany while driving that shaped the text of the book.

A little background: I first read about Ella Ewing in Rural Missouri, a terrific magazine published by my electric cooperative. I was shocked to read that Ella Ewing (1872-1913), who toured the United States as the World’s Tallest Woman, grew up just a few hours north of my 40-acre farm. In all the years I’d spent as a child reading about bearded ladies and tattooed men, how had I missed Ella Ewing, the Missouri Giantess, who stood eight feet, four inches tall in her size 24 shoes?

I ripped out the Rural Missouri article and sent it to my illustrator sister Sarah, in Berkeley, California, with the note: “Wow. Do you love her or what?” Sarah read the story and sent it back to me with “LOVE her!” written above Ella’s photo.

I think what initially drew us to Ella was the look of grace and quiet elegance on her face. But there was also something Mona Lisa-ish about her. Who was this woman? What was her story? I set off to her old hometown in northern Missouri to find out.

There’s been very little written about Ella other than an out-of-print self-published book by Bette J. Wiley and a 1977 master’s dissertation by Barbara Chasteen. Both were helpful, but I needed primary sources. So I was thrilled to find that the Scotland County Memorial Library had a file folder filled with photos and newspaper articles about Ewing.

I learned that she was a woman who, beginning at age 18, appeared in museums and traveling circus shows. For seven hours a day, she stood in a long dress with a serious expression on her face while people bought tickets to stare at her. She was paid as much as one thousand dollars a month, which was a lot of money back in her day. Still, imagine being promoted as a “freak.” Even newspapers of the day used this term.

The more I read about Ella, the more I fell in love with her. She was funny. She was kind and patient. And she had a sense of dignity lacking in those around her—the promoters, reporters, people who laughed and gawked and stuck pins in her leg to see if she stood on stilts.

But there was the problem. How could I write about Ella without seeming like I was gawking at her, too? I couldn’t figure it out. For the first 10 or 12 drafts, the story wasn’t working. 

And then I was driving down a country road, thinking about Ella, wondering how I could respectfully tell her story, and listening to the radio when I heard Arlo Guthrie sing: “I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans. I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done.”

That’s when it hit me. I needed to rewrite the text in the first person. I needed to be Ella.

I drove home—and okay, maybe I was driving a little fast. But I waited to text until I got to my desk, where I rewrote Ella’s story from her perspective. And that’s when the story started to work.

I’m sure some people will read Stand Straight, Ella Kate as a when-life-gives-you-lemons, make-lemonade kind of story. And in a sense, it is. But to my mind, Ella’s story is a more universal story about growing up, literally, and how so often the things we dislike about ourselves as children, the things that make us different and cause people to laugh at us, are the very things that allow us to take extraordinary journeys.

In my case, for all future journeys I’ll have the radio playing in the hopes that I’ll be lucky enough to hear my text “sing” while driving.

Kate Klise and her sister, M. Sarah Klise, have co-created many epistolary novels for young readers, beginning with Regarding the Fountain and continuing with their new series, 43 Old Cemetery Road. Kate’s next novel is a solo project titled Grounded. It will be released by Feiwel and Friends in November.

Author photo by Dawn Shields.

 

From her home on a Missouri farm, writer Kate Klise has collaborated on many imaginative and funny children’s books with her sister, illustrator M. Sarah Klise. Here she explains how she became interested in Ella Ewing, a real-life giantess and the subject of the Klise…

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April brings the first signs of spring—warmer days, blooms in the trees—or at least the hope of spring, if you're somewhere still suffering through the last gasp of winter. With all the changes in the natural world, it's a fitting time of year for National Poetry Month. We've been celebrating with hilarious new rhymes for young readers and even verses for babies.

Firefly July: A Year of Very Short Poems is something quite special. Thirty-six very short poems, selected by poet and anthologist Paul B. Janeczko and illustrated by Caldecott Honoree Melissa Sweet, take us through the four seasons. There's no better way to introduce little ones to the verses of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Richard Wright and more.

We asked Janeczko and Sweet about their favorite poems from Firefly July:


Paul B. JaneczkoPaul B. Janeczko, editor

Pick a favorite poem in this book? Oh, my. That's the anthologist's delight: I get to include all my favorite poems that fit a particular collection. But let me offer two of my favorites: "In the Field Forever" by Robert Wallace and "The first September breeze fluttered" by Liz Rosenberg. Like the other poems in this book, they show a reader that a good poem is built on a clear and vivid image, one that appeals to the reader's senses.

Beyond that, they were written by poets that don't normally write for children, and I want my young readers to reach a bit, so I always include poems written by poets not considered to be "children's poets."

Click images to view larger.


Melissa SweetMelissa Sweet, illustrator

Making the art for Firefly July went very smoothly until I came to my favorite poem: "Window."

This poem captures the staccato feel of traveling by train at night, and it reminded me of taking the train from Maine (where I live) to New York City—a very scenic ride.

The art took a few tries before it expressed what I wanted.

The first attempt was to make one big picture, then divide it up into by drawing windows on top of the painting . . . but there wasn't enough detail or variation in the scenes.

Next, starting with the dark background and pasting down each window separately . . . it was too messy and not cohesive enough.

What was missing? Making a list of imagery I remembered from previous train rides: street lights, backyards, woods, towns and cities, roads, nocturnal animals, harbor with fishing boats, rivers, a clock. People all ages reading books, dozing, looking out the windows.

On the final try, I concentrated on each train car, one at a time—Who was in it? Where were they going? What did they see?—and painting very loosely, letting the watercolor softly tell the story.

The final piece reflects the quiet elegance of a train at night, each moment a new scene rambling by. It became my favorite spread, and I happen to know it was Paul’s favorite, too!

Click images to view larger.


 

FIREFLY JULY: A YEAR OF VERY SHORT POEMS. Compilation copyright © 2014 by Paul B. Janeczko. “Window” from Chicago Poems by Carl Sandburg, copyright 1916 by Holt Rinehart and Winston and renewed 1944 by Carl Sandburg, reproduced by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.  “In the Field Forever” by Robert Wallace from Ungainly Things. Copyright © 1968 by Robert Wallace. Used by permission of Christine Wallace. “The first September breeze fluttered” by Liz Rosenberg, used by permission of the author. Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Melissa Sweet. Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Candlewick Press, Somerville, MA.

Firefly July is something quite special. Thirty-six very short poems, selected by poet and anthologist Paul B. Janeczko and illustrated by Caldecott Honoree Melissa Sweet, take us through the four seasons. There's no better way to introduce little ones to the short poems of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Richard Wright and more.

We asked Janeczko and Sweet about their favorite poems from Firefly July:

Behind the Book by

Alan Rabinowitz is a champion of wildlife conservation. He is president and CEO of Panthera, a nonprofit wildlife organization devoted to protecting big cats. As he shares in his charming picture book for children, A Boy and a Jaguar, Rabinowitz's passion for defending wildcats comes from the struggle to find his own words as a child.

Alan RabinowitzMy entire childhood and adolescence was characterized by the inability to speak. Until I finally was given the tools to manipulate the hard contacts in my mouth when I was a senior in college, I was not able to speak a full sentence or communicate a full thought fluently—except to my animals.

I remember feeling as if I lived in two very different worlds. The world of “normal people,” in which I felt apart and dysfunctional, yet which dominated my waking hours, and the more comfortable world of my animals. Strangely, it was the world of my pets, whom I could talk to and express myself that was the real world to me. While I felt completely normal and fluent inside my own head, the only living things that seemed to understand that, who listened without judging me, were my animals.

Eventually it became easier to avoid even trying to speak, to avoid the uncomfortable looks, the snickers, the pity of the human world. I remember being sent home from school early one day after being taken to the nurse’s office. Called on to speak in class by a substitute teacher, I had purposely dropped a pencil under my desk, bent down to retrieve it and stabbed the point of the pencil into my hand. Retelling the story to my animals that night, I thought nothing of the pain in my hand, but I reveled in the small victory at not having to be embarrassed and shamed once again in front of my classmates. The animal world saved me. And I made a promise as a child to help save them, to give them their own voices, if I ever found my own. 

This book is not simply about my childhood and finding the voice that I so desperately sought to help my animal friends. This book is about all young people who feel discarded, misunderstood or ignored. Finding strength through adversity, young people need to see that what makes them different can also make them stronger. This book is about victory. The victory of realizing that what sets you apart empowers you to seek out your dreams and achieve any goal you set in life.  


Alan Rabinowtiz collaring a jaguar in the Brazilian Pantanal.

 

Thanks, Alan!
Images © Steve Winter/Panthera.

Alan Rabinowitz is a champion of wildlife conservation. He is president and CEO of Panthera, a nonprofit wildlife organization devoted to protecting big cats. As he shares in his charming picture book for children, A Boy and a Jaguar, Rabinowitz's passion for defending wildcats comes from the struggle to find his own words as a child.

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