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August 2007 Archives

August 5, 2007

End of Summer

We are at the beach at the moment, then head back home and very shortly will be in the throes of preparing to return to school which seems to happen earlier every year. In Georgia there are school systems that now resume their fall schedule in July. Which sort of prompts the question, when does summer end and fall begin?

Sally fondly recalls when she was growing up in South Carolina, how school always started after Labor Day and she reacts almost with moral outrage at the ever advancing schedule of school. It didn't start earlier in her day in part because the schools were not air-conditioned but even September in South Carolina heat can be pretty brutal. She recollects one of those early childhood dilemmas that help train our thinking for later life decisions. Do you wait till the last possible moment before the bell goes before arriving at class thereby maximizing your socializing time (and anyone that knows Sally knows that that is a pretty important goal)? Or, alternatively, do you show up as early as possible and have a chance at getting a seat near the large fan lethargically pushing warm humid air around the room, or at least around the few kids seated near it?

There are many markers we can use for end of summer. When things stop growing and you start harvesting is, of course, an age old one. When school starts again has become kind of a traditional measure. The Autumnal Equinox is the astronomical measure, occurring this year on September 23 (at 09:51am). Some people even say summer has ended when commuter traffic patterns return to "normal".

Which is really to say that many things are what they are based on how we choose to see them. Years ago I had a vivid experience of just how powerful our preconceptions can be in interpreting the evidence around us. We were living in Stockholm, Sweden at that time but had been home to the US to visit family in Tulsa, Oklahoma in the late summer. We had had a full-on summer and were already pretty tired before embarking on our return journey. Flying back to Sweden was a fairly circuitous route at that time. I think we flew from Tulsa to Chicago and/or New York to London and then to Stockholm. We started out in the afternoon from Tulsa, made our various US connections, flew overnight and arrived in London in the early hours of the next day.

At that time my sister was in college in London, though she was away at some summer job when we passed through. We had decided in advance, though, to break up this marathon trip and rest and catch-up at her flat in London before proceeding on to Stockholm the next day. After processing through the ever crowded Immigration lines at Heathrow airport, we rented a car and drove into downtown London, dumped all our stuff at her flat, and had a quick light meal. We debated whether to try and take in some sights or go to a museum, but decided we were just too exhausted. So exhausted in fact, that we decided to turn in at about 3pm and get a full night's sleep, wake at 7am, pack up and head back out to the airport for the last leg of our journey, the noon flight to Stockholm.

And that's what we did. We set two or three clocks to our wake up time of 7am, and tumbled into beds, sofas, sleeping bags, where ever we could find space in her small apartment and slept solidly till the alarms went off. We woke, had showers, had breakfast and began to tidy up and pack up the few things we had taken out. We commented on how, when you are so, so tired, even a long sleep of sixteen hours could feel like just a brief snooze.

My job was to take all the suitcases out and pack them in the car. We had been awake a couple of hours at this point. My sister's apartment was in one of those old Edwardian apartment buildings, always fairly dark and grungy with little natural light filtering down to the ground floor apartment she had. Even so we noted how gray the day was.

I took a first load of incidental bags out to the car even before we had breakfast and mentioned on my return that it looked like in fact that it was more than an overcast day, there must be a storm system coming in because it was getting quite dark. Later after breakfast, I took the next load of luggage out and suggested we might want to check the weather forecast because it was really getting quite dark, and looked like there was going to be a big storm. Taking the last load out, I returned and reported that it was so cloudy and had gotten so dark that the street lamps had come on. We might want to check with the airport and see if the flights were being delayed or cancelled.

It was only at this point, having been awake two or three hours, that we twigged to the fact that something was just not quite right. How could there be such a big storm, so big and dark that street lamps were coming on? And then it occurred to me, could it possibly be that we were looking at nightfall rather than a new day? It was so firmly set in our minds that we needed to head to the airport to catch the plane that we couldn't allow the idea that in fact we were still half a day ahead of departure. Our senses told us one thing, our minds, with their unassailable assumptions, told us another. And how to resolve our predicament? There was nothing on the TV or radio that was giving us a clue. There was no internet.

I was sent out to find the answer. Showing what I think was a fair degree of resource for a twelve year old, I walked around the corner to the tube station, down the stairs and up to the man at the information booth. It was one of the more embarrassing conversations I have ever started. "I know this sounds silly but could you tell me, is it 10pm at night or 10am in the morning." Giving me a patient look that could only have been worn by someone having spent years answering stupid-tourist questions, he politely told me it was 10pm at night.

How could this have happened? Returning to the apartment, I realized the source of our problem was the mechanical, wind-up clocks - no digital clocks then. When we had turned in at 3pm and set the mechanical clocks for 7, we had failed in our exhausted and befuddled state, to recognize that the next 7 was at 7pm, not 7am the next morning. We had slept only four hours and then failed to recognize what should have been the so obvious signs of dusk for what they were.

After all the mental preparation for departure it was a little disconcerting to turn in once again.

So it is with the stories we highlight this week. Stories where it is our decision about what we expect or desire that actually then defines reality. It might be a story such as Summer of the Swans where, despite plenty of reasons to distrust one of the characters, Sarah Godfrey decides that she will set aside that well founded bias and in doing so opens up the door for a better outcome than she could have anticipated. That touchstone of American children's literature, Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House on the Prairie is full of instances where the outcome is contingent on a conscious choice to see the positive side of a set of unalterable circumstances rather than the equally valid negative side. In Stuart Little, the Littles have to move beyond their expectations and decide that the fact that Stuart is a mouse rather than the boy they intended to adopt is incidental. In Hoot the children decide that they don't have to accept the development of the land and the destruction of the burrowing owls. And probably the most famous instance is in L. Frank Baum's Wizard of Oz when only after Dorothy points it out to them do the Cowardly Lion, the Tinman and the Scarecrow realize that they respectively are courageous, have a heart, and have a brain ("if I only had a brain").

Reality is reality and we can't change that, but we can change how we view it and how we respond to it. I am not advocating that we take a naïve Pollyanna-ish attitude and just see the positive, but I think it is a useful, and indeed a critical skill, when faced with circumstances we cannot directly change, to know that by our choice alone, we can choose to make the best of the situation and by doing so we can sometimes even change the outcome, as in Shiloh.

And that is when summer ends; not when school starts, not when the sun sits somewhere in space where the celestial equator intersects the ecliptic, not a date on the calendar. It ends when we let it end and move on to the next thing we focus on.


Picture Books

The Emperor's New Clothes by Hand Chrisitian Andersen and illustrated by Virginia Lee Burton
Stone Soup written and illustrated by Marcia Brown
Mike Mulligan and His Steamshovel written and illustrated by Virginia Lee Burton
The Yellow Star by Carmen Agra Deedy and illustrated by Henri Sorensen
Harold and the Purple Crayon written and illustrated by Crockett Johnson
Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln and illustrated by Michael McCurdy
I Have A Dream by Martin Luther King, Jr.
The Secret of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman and illustrated by T. Bruce Taylor
The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper and illustrated by George and Doris Hauman
The Sneetches and Other Stories by Dr. Seuss
The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge by Hildegard Swift and illustrated by Lyndy Ward
Many Moons by James Thurber and illustrated by Louis Slobodkin
Mailing May by Michael O. Tunnell and illustrated by Ted Rand


Independent Readers

Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum and illustrated by W.W. Denslow
Summer of the Swans by Betsy Byars
Hoot by Carl Hiaasen
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle
Stop the Train! by Geraldine McCaughtrean
Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Call it Courage by Armstrong Perry
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson and illustrated by Donna Diamond
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
Stuart Little by E.B. White and illustrated by Garth Williams
The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White and illustrated by Fred Marcellino
Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder and illustrated by Garth Williams

Young Adult

Belles on Their Toes by Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Holes by Louis Sachar
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss and illustrated by Louis John Rhead

August 12, 2007

You See, But You Do Not Observe

For children, the whole world is new and they explore it avidly from the very rudimentary beginnings (will this fit into my mouth?) to increasingly sophisticated efforts to understand what is going on in the environment about them. It was an unexpected thrill a couple of years ago when I first caught one of the kids, not reading a book or magazine I had bought for them, but rather, one of my magazines, written for an adult, in this instance, New Scientist. It was so unexpected and out of the routine and yet, on reflection, I knew that it was both a natural and a desirable progression. I also realized that I would have to start hiding my magazines until I was done with them.

How do we help children on this journey of discovery (Get that out of your mouth!)? As we pick and choose the books we provide them, we are making conscious or unconscious choices about the facts with which we are stocking their minds as well as the models for how to obtain and interpret those facts. The stories are providing them vicarious lessons about life itself and how to hold fast to facts, but to have the humility to understand that facts only take you so far. When the facts have taken you as far they can and you are left without answers, you are then in the territory of assumptions and probabilities, morality and ethics; the place where true wisdom is developed. It is a long journey. A journey often launched by the simplest of questions: Why? and Did you ever notice?

As a parent I have frequently found myself caught on both sides of the same coin. I have often been arrested by the level of detail that the kids will notice about something; detail which completely passed me by. It will usually arise when they are recollecting something and wanting to discuss it.

Child: "Daddy do you remember that little toy doll house when we were at the museum?"
Me: "No. Where were we?"
Child: "Well, it was in a big building and we were in a room that had three floor to ceiling windows and the curtains were made of red velvet and they had gold trim at the bottom with little pearly designs up the edges and the curtain rods had lions heads at the end."
Me: "Oh."

And then there are the other occasions when I wonder whether my children and I are actually in the same dimension. Some years ago, I had taken the family to Sweden where I had lived during part of my childhood. We spent a few days touring around Stockholm, the capital city where I had lived. We then flew down to Visby, Gotland. Gotland is the largest island in the Baltic Sea and Visby is a charming medieval walled Hanseatic League city where it is easy to feel as if you are still in the 1400's it has so many ancient churches, houses, halls, etc.

We had been in Visby for two or three days (and therefore had been in Sweden for nearly a week) and were driving one afternoon from some fascinating site to another. Sally was in the front seat, the three kids in the back, everyone chit chatting about something, all the things that they had seen, the differences, what they liked about Sweden, what had surprised them the most, etc. when my oldest son asked "Daddy, why are all the signs in Swedish?". Trying to not preface my answer with "As you might have noticed," I responded "Well, we are in Sweden and they speak Swedish here". Pause. "Humph. That's annoying."

I think all children are perfectly capable of impressive observation; it is just a matter of how often they turn their attention to something, or the type of details that attract their notice. How can we train them to both focus their attention and scan broadly? These are techniques that can be learned. I am currently reading a fascinating history of electricity Empires of Light and in it a contemporary describes the powers of observation of Michael Faraday, one of those catholic geniuses that provide seminal discoveries in many fields.

The intentness of his vision in any direction did not apparently diminish his power of perception in other directions; and when he attacked a subject, expecting results, he had the faculty of keeping his mind alert, so that results different from those which he expected should not escape him through preoccupation.

There are plenty of books which we will cover later about interpreting the world around you and figuring out how to make choices (ranging from the likes of Mrs Piggle-Wiggle, through Mama's Bank Account and All-of-a-Kind Family). But before you interpret, you need facts and before you have facts you must discover through observation. Which books help children learn how to discover their world?

There are so many reasons to enjoy Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes (and his other writings). One of the things which he does well, and which I think is often a characteristic shared with many other of the more enduring stories by other authors, is that there is so much information as well as wisdom embedded in his tales that is entirely incidental to the story you are reading and enjoying. He doesn't tell the tale to belabor some tendentious point, but the information is there for you to pick up osmotically. There is nothing quite like being improved while you are enjoying yourself.

I think Doyle answers my above question.

"It is a great thing to start life with a small number of really good books which are your very own." Through the Magic Door

"It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important." A Case of Identity

"You see, but you do not observe." A Scandal in Bohemia

"I never guess. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts." A Scandal in Bohemia

For children, we need to help them filter and comprehend the sensory tumult that cascades upon them, helping them sort fact from fiction, safe from dangerous, good from bad. And one of the best ways to do that is through stories. Simply the act of listening attentively to a story from start to finish is a major skill accomplishment. All story books share that characteristic. But some can help build the capacity to not just pay attention, but to observe and interpret information as well.

Before you get into the physics of sci-fi and fantasy, the metaphysics of ghosts stories, or even the romance of languages, all of which open up new worlds, there are books that in one way or another instruct us in how to observe the real world around us.

Many children enjoy a couple of types of activity books that are not stories but do help train them in the skills of focus and attention. Spot the Difference books are one type of activity book which I used to enjoy immensely. I could sit for hours trying to find that last difference that I knew was there and yet could not identify. Another type of activity book for early readers is the Word Search books in which they have to pick out a word embedded in a block of text. Again, it is excellent training in letting your eye pick out a pattern not immediately obvious.

In a similar vein, Jean Marzollo and Walter Wick have a series of books "I Spy . . ." such as I Spy Treasure Hunt, I Spy Mystery, I Spy Christmas, etc. that are an excellent and fun way to train your eye to see that which is not obvious. The books are usually formatted in a double spread photograph with some rhyme at the bottom of the page identifying a dozen or so items to be spotted in the photo above. It sounds easy but it can be quite engaging and challenging.

Finally, in the training-of-the-eye category, there is the ever popular Where's Waldo series (Where's Waldo, Where's Waldo in Hollywood, Where's Waldo; The Great Picture Hunt, Where's Waldo; The Wonder Book, etc.) As you might guess, the exercise is to pick out the pseudonymous Waldo from the crowds in which he is usually lurking.

Margaret Wise Brown wrote a marvelous story, The Little Noisy Book (currently out of print) that is good for reading to three and four year olds. The protagonist is a dog, Muffin, who has gotten a cinder in his eye and the vet wraps a bandage around his head for a day. The whole story is then constructed around what Muffin hears and trying to guess what it is. Kids love to play the game in the story and of course it is easy to extend the game into real life as well. It can be one of the first formal lessons in paying close attention.

Margaret Wise Brown also has a couple of other books that, by emphasizing the world around us, are good for bringing things to the attention of children that they might not notice. Little Fur Family has a, surprise-surprise, little furry protagonist who explores his world and his discoveries become those of the reader, noticing things they have probably seen but never noticed before. Likewise with Wait Till the Moon is Full. Sally used to read this one to the kids on a full moon and then take them out and get them to realize you could have moon-shadows, that the night was bright enough to see without a flashlight, etc. Their excitement at simple discoveries is the perfect antidote to the jadedness we as adults can too easily acquire.

For six to ten year olds, if you can stand it, riddle books and joke books are often a popular past time. With these types of books, they have moved beyond the simple task of decoding words. The humor is only gotten when you understand the verbal legerdemain that is being pulled on you. Excellent training for observing what is out of the ordinary.

Along about this age is when kids often start reading such mystery series as Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. While relatively light in structured analytics and fact finding, there is enough there, along with the simple fact that they are a fun read, to warrant inclusion in this list.

Also good at this age and older is Snowflake Bentley, the story of an amateur scientist in Vermont who was the first to systematically study and photograph snowflakes to understand the geometry of their shapes. It is worth reminding kids that for all our huge institutional and university research centers, much of our scientific knowledge was originally generated by gifted amateurs pursuing their science as a love rather than an occupation (Darwin and Einstein leap to mind), and that, even today, there is a role for the attentive amateur. Even with all the major space telescopes around the world and in space, each year hundreds of comets, asteroids, etc. are located and identified by enthusiastic amateurs with backyard telescopes.

Theodoric's Rainbow (currently out of print) is a similar tale set in a Dominican monastery in the middle ages. A highly fictionalized account (we know little of him other than his research) of a real monk, the story explains how Theodoric rejected the wildly speculative superstitious explanations offered by his fellow monks for rainbows and the experiments he undertook to discover what caused these beautiful gifts of light.

Beyond the independent reader level, you are entering the territory where a child is more likely to be learning from examples of explorers, scientists, etc. which we will cover in separate essays and booklists. However that journey can only be undertaken through the power of sustained attention and observation, the habits of which can be cultivated at the earliest ages, always sustained by the twin questions: "Why?" and "Did you ever notice?"

What books have you used to help your children observe their world more closely?


Picture Books

I Spy Christmas by Jean Marzollo and illustrated by Walter Wick
I Spy Mystery by Jean Marzollo and illustrated by Walter Wick
I Spy Treasure Hunt by Jean Marzollo and illustrated by Walter Wick
Little Fur Family by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Garth Williams
Snowflake Bentley by Jacqueline Martin Briggs and illustrated by Mary Azarian
Wait Till the Moon is Full by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Garth Williams
Where's Waldo by Martin Handford
Where's Waldo in Hollywood by Martin Handford
Where's Waldo; The Great Picture Hunt by Martin Handford
Where's Waldo; The Wonder Book by Martin Handford


Independent Reader

The Best of The Hardy Boys by Franklin W. Dixon
Nancy Drew by Carolyn Keene


Young Adult

Empires of Light by Jill Jonnes
Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

August 19, 2007

Building Things

Water Rat from Wind in the Willows is right, "There is nothing - absolutely NOTHING -- half so much worth doing as simply messing-about in boats." But it is a close run contest when it comes to building things and I think as adults, particularly for those of us living in cities, pursuing professional careers, seeing all our time sliding away into commitments to be here, attend that meeting, take the kids over there, etc. we tend to forget the simple pleasure of building something.

But it is not lost on children. It is most startling how resourceful they can be in finding things to make out of the simplest of ingredients when the circumstances are favorable and the spirit moves them. I recall how once - I was so impressed - on investigating my eight year old son who had been suspiciously quiet for some hours, walking into his room and finding that he had built a life size figure of a robot from note paper, string and cellotape. He was six feet tall, had articulated joints, moving fingers, everything. Wow!

And I certainly remember the hours I spent as a child in all sorts of building activities ranging from putting together puzzles, to building plastic models, to constructing a tree-house. I was fortunate in that my father was of that generation when most people were not long removed from the farm, that incubator of wide-ranging skills. He was a young engineer, rising in his profession, living and raising his family in difficult circumstances in the developing world. And in the midst of all the obligations arising from those circumstances, I recall his always making a point of having me as his helper whenever we had to do repairs around the house. These repairs might be as simple as changing some light bulbs, or as complex as rerouting plumbing in the house. Living in the developing world, for most things, if it was to be done at all it was you that had to do it.

While I would most certainly not hold myself out to be a gifted handyman, I find that there are many things I can still do that I might not have done in years simply by recollecting those chores and tasks undertaken with my father. Hearing his patient explanation of the outcome we were trying to achieve, the tools and materials we needed, the steps in the process, how long each might take, what might go wrong and for which we needed to be prepared and then the actual work itself. There was the rhythm of the saw and the soft smell of cut wood, the tang of cut steel, the sharp smell of creosote, the vibration of the electric drill. And my amazement at how, having tightened a screw to the extent achievable with my six or eight year old arms, then seeing my father then snug it down with two or three more effortless twists.

Making and building things is an education in itself that you then find yourself using in all other walks of life. There are all sorts of adages you absorb (ex. Take your time; Measure twice, cut once; Always use the right tool for the job) that you then later find equally applicable to many other circumstances. Nothing teaches you to maintain your focus quite like working with tools where lack of attention can have consequences beyond just being fussed at.

At some point I took up whittling and made all sorts of things, wooden snakes, slingshots, even a balsa wood guillotine. I don't know what it was I was making one afternoon sitting on my bed carefully cutting a piece of wood (always cut away from you; carry sharp objects pointed downwards; don't run with sharp objects), using a scalpel for my whittling knife. OK, that was the first rule broken. But at least I was cutting away from myself. Anyway, something distracted me and my eyes were averted just at the point when I was applying extra pressure to the scalpel to overcome some flaw or knot in the wood. Too much pressure as it turned out, and the scalpel overshot the point of resistance and plunged into my thigh.

My response could only have been that of an eleven year old: surprise - how could this happen when I was being so careful?; thankfulness that nobody, particularly my mom, had seen this mistake; and concern that my mother would notice the cut in my pants (I think they might have been my nice plaid bell-bottoms). Next, oddly enough, amusement at the sight of the scalpel sticking straight up out of my leg since I had instinctively released it. And finally the realization that this hurt a little, but fortunately not as much as one might have expected: a band-aid was all that was needed for the wound and the cut in the pants was small enough to be passed off as an unfortunate tear but easily stitched. I then finished the whittling albeit after having gone and found a proper knife and I don't think I have ever been distracted and wounded myself since.

It is hard not to be over-protective of our children, but making and building things is one way for them to make the little mistakes early on when the consequences are not severe, and to allow them to learn the skills that, in fact, do prevent the major errors later.

Beyond the enjoyment (and frustration) of building something yourself, there is then also the pleasure of the final product. I have a number of the various craft items that I put together in my childhood and now easily see the issues, the flaws, the not-quite-so-perfect paint job, but I know that at the time of its creation it was perfect.

There are several categories of books that can be helpful in building or fueling an interest in making things. At the most basic level and for the earliest ages, you have things like doing a puzzle (you know exactly that feeling of triumph as the last piece goes in), then you have things like coloring books, and books with punch out pieces such as dresses for paper dolls or pieces for building a version of paper airplane or the like. I would recommend always having some of each of these around for that rainy afternoon. Puzzles in particular can be a fun, though possibly competitive, family activity. Another group of related books would be to do with cooking, but that is for another time.

Among reading books, though, there are really three categories: books that tell you how to build something, books that are about building in general, and books that are stories in which building or making something is a central and pivotal event in the book.


Picture Books

To Fly: The Story of the Wright Brothers by Wendie C. Old and illustrated by Robert Parker

Full Steam Ahead: The Road to Build a Transcontinental Railroad by Rhoda Blumberg Out of Print

Machines at Work by Byron Barton
Mike Mulligan and His Steamshovel by Virginia Lee Burton
One Big Building: a Counting Book About Construction by Michael Dahl and illustrated by Todd Ouren
The Quilt Block History of Pioneer Days by Mary Cobb and illustrated by Jan Davey Ellis
Ten Mile Day by Mary Ann Fraser
Construction Zone by Tana Hoban
Sky Boys How They Built the Empire State Building by Deborah Hopkinson and illustrated by James E. Ransome
Construction Zone by Cheryl Willis Hudson and illustrtaed by Richard Sobol
Alphabet Under Construction by Denise Fleming


Round Buildings Square Buildings, & Buildings That Wiggle Like a Fish by Philip M. Isaacson

So You Want to Be An Inventor? by Judith St. George and illustrated by David Small
The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge by Hildegard Swift and illustrated by Lynd Ward

Independent Reader

Ballpark by Lynn Curlee
Brooklyn Bridge by Lynn Curlee
Capital by Lynn Curlee
Liberty by Lynn Curlee
Parthenon by Lynn Curlee
Seven Wonders of the Ancient World by Lynn Curlee
Skyscraper by Lynn Curlee
You Can Draw Anything by Kim Gamble

Nature Got There First: Inventions Inspired By Nature by Phil Gates Out of Print

In Search of the Spirit: The Living National Treasures of Japan by Shiela Hamanaka Out of Print

How a House is Built by Gail Gibbons
Building Big by David MacAulay
Castle by David MacAulay
Cathedral by David MacAulay
City by David MacAulay
Mill by David MacAulay
Mosque by David MacAulay
Pyramid by David MacAulay
Unbuilding by David Macaulay
Underground by David MacAulay
Empire State Building by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Alan Witschonke
Hoover Dam by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Alan Witschonke
Machu Picchu by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Amy Crehore
Brooklyn Bridge by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Alan Witschonke
The Great Pyramid by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Laura Lo Turco
The Great Wall by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Alan Witschonke
The Hoover Dam by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Alan Witschonke
The Panama Canal by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Fernando Rangel
The Parthenon by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Yuan Lee
The Roman Colosseum by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Michael Racz
Tikal by Elizabeth Mann and illustrated by Tom McNeely
Ben and Me by Robert Lawson
Why Buildings Fall Down by Matthys Levi and Mario Salvatori and illustrated by Kevin Woest
A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park
The Art of Construction by Mario Salvatori and illustrated by Saralinda Hooker
Why Buildings Stand Up by Mario Salvatori
Inventors and Inventions in Colonial America by Charlie Samuel
From Pictures to Words: A Book About Making a Book by Janet Stevens
Built to Last by George Sullivan
Girls Think of Everything: Stories of Ingenious Inventions by Catherine Thimmesh and illustrated by Melissa Sweet
A Subway for New York by David Weitzman

Young Adult

Rocket Boys by Homer H. Hickam
To Engineer is Human by Henry Petroski
The Pencil by Henry Petroski
The Evolution of Useful Things by Henry Petroski
Eureka! Great Inventions and How They Happened by Richard Platt

August 26, 2007

Marking Time

For those of us living away from the Equator, the passing of seasons is something noted but not necessarily noticed. Summer passes at an indefinable point to autumn, autumn to winter but it is the natural scheme of things. But it ain't necessarily so.

I have lived in far northern climes such as Sweden where the change of seasons is very notable, not to say extreme. I have lived in the tropics such as Nigeria where there really are only two seasons: hot and wet and hot and dry. I have lived in extremely temperate climates such as Sydney, Australia where forecasts from one season to the next vary from the depths of winter ("The upper seventies and fine") to the harsh summers ("The upper eighties and fine").

And then there is the correlation between seasons and holidays which seems both natural and necessary. However. For a number of years my family and I lived in Sydney, Australia in the southern hemisphere where the seasons are reversed. While we loved our time there, I never became accustomed to the reversal of the seasons vis-à-vis the holidays. I well remember my continuing sense of discombobulation, sitting in the living room of our house with the sun beaming in, sweltering in the midsummer heat, everyone in t-shirts and shorts, handing out presents from under the Christmas tree on December 25th.

Even getting a tree had been something of a task. Since traditional Christmas trees were neither indigenous to Australia nor part of the local tradition, it was hard to find one in the first place. Unlike the US where every other corner lot seems dedicated to the selling of hundreds of Christmas trees for a month or more before Christmas, in Australia, they were few and far between. Your best bet was a local nursery where you might find one or two dozen trees pathetically parching in the summer sun. Timing was everything. You had to find the nursery, find when their delivery of trees was going to be and then get out there that morning. If you did all that, you stood a reasonable chance, come the day, of not having just the skeleton of a fir tree with a pile of needles beneath it.

The one mitigating factor to this sense of seasonal dislocation was the malicious opportunity to call family in the northern hemisphere, wish them a Merry Christmas and then excuse oneself to go swimming in the pool.

Seasons are really quite a complicated thing when you think about it. They are over-freighted with words, imagery, metaphors, allusions, myths, etc. Pity the poor child trying to make sense of it all. Do you mark the season by the change in temperature or the change in weather or the change in foliage, the progression of holidays or some combination thereof. Our oldest was four when we first moved to Australia and had just begun to associate certain season's with certain holidays (such as winter with Christmas, spring with Easter). Needless to say there was considerable four year old incomprehension when we had to try and reverse those associations and it required an only marginally successful crash-course in astronomy to justify to him why Christmas, despite what he had already learned, was now going to be in the summer.

Children, with their sharp eyes and attuned senses, tend to be much more alert to the changing of seasons, the physical changes that go with the season's changes and of course are full of questions as to why, why, why. For young children, the causes and effects of seasons are fairly complex. G. Brian Karas's On Earth is probably a good place to start a factual explanation to answer the torrent of why's but it is really just a beginning.

I think one of the best starting points is with those picture books that tell a simple story of the passing of the seasons. Stories like In the Small, Small Pond which describes from a frog's point of view, what is happening in the pond as the seasons change. Maurice Sendak's rhyming verse for each month in Chicken Soup and Rice has always been a favorite among our kids with everyone still able to quote some favorite line or other.

I

n August it will be so hot
I will become a cooking pot
Cooking soup of course-why not?
Cooking once, cooking twice
Cooking chicken soup with rice

Elsa Beskow's Around the Year is another good candidate for explaining the month's and the season's. Her beautiful paintings capture the kind of detail that a child often focuses on and can relate to.

Another essential book for many other reasons is, Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire's The Greek Myths. It is beautifully illustrated and a great introduction to young children of all the major Greek myths (and a good precursor to the more complete myths by Edith Hamilton at the Young Adult level). In this instance, the Persephone and Demeter myth is of course pertinent.

There are two Tasha Tudor books which can work in nice combination, helping children to understand the months and seasons (Around the Year) as well as the seasons and their associated holidays (A Time to Keep).

I am very partial to well illustrated stories especially when the verse or narrative tie closely to the illustrations as I think they do well in David Bouchard's If You're Not From the Prairie, which is really about our relationship with a place but is done in verse form by describing the different times of year. It works especially well in the prairie setting where the seasonal changes are extreme. Nancy Kinsley-Warnock's From Dawn till Dusk which is illustrated with woodcuts from the gifted Mary Azarian is another example of narrative (describing the different chores on the farm associated with each of the seasons, set on a New England farm in the 19th century) and illustrations working well together.

For older children, there are a solid swath of books in which the child moves beyond just recognizing the characteristics of the seasons as with the stories for younger children. In these stories for independent readers, the seasons form the backdrop for the story but are also integral in moving the narrative forward. With this device, children move from identifying seasons to beginning to better understand the implications of seasons.

Not to be too morbid, I hope, but books with a strong season element to them also provide an opportunity to begin laying a foundation for children to understand the cycle of death and rejuvenation. If you are anticipating the loss of an elderly pet for example, it is great some months in advance to have read something like Elsa Beskow's Around the Year , or Helen Dean Fish's When the Root Children Wake Up, where the concept of the cycle of life has already been established. Books with a seasonal element that also include loss such as Jack London's Call of the Wild or Frances Hodgson Bennett's The Secret Garden, are of course more appropriate to older children.

As always, given that teenagers/young adults are fairly incomprehensible beasts, it is somewhat challenging to identify just what would be of interest, or to whom. Seasons and cycles of change are especially relevant to this time of life but they are usually getting a fair exposure to the relevant books and stories in either school or religious instruction. There are a handful of books that tell in an interesting way the story of how we name days, months, developed calendars, etc. including David Ewing Duncan's Calendar and Bonnie Blackburn and Leofranc Holford-Strevens' The Oxford Companion to the Year.

For some there might be interest in one of my favorite lesser known authors, Roger Welsch, a "tree farmer" in Nebraska but in reality one of our finer essayists. His It's Not the End of the Earth But You Can See It From Here is a fine collection of stories about small town living but has a couple of essays describing his adventures and experiences with the local Lakota Indian tribe, and particularly about the deeply divergent cultural comprehensions of time.
Picture Books

The Four Seasons of Mary Azarian by Mary Azarian - Not Available

The Four Seasons of Brambly Hedge by Jull Barklem - Not Available

Around the Year by Elsa Beskow
If You're Not From the Prairie by David Bouchard and illustrated by Henry Ripplinger
The Little Fir Tree by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Jim Lamarche
The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton

The Winter Wren by Brock Cole - Out of Print

My Favorite Seasons by Dandi and illustrated by Teddy Edinjiklian - Out of Print

Book of Greek Myths by Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire

When the Root Children Wake Up by Helen Dean Fish and illustrated by Sibylle Olfers - Out of Print

In the Small, Small Pond by Denise Fleming
Paddle to the Sea by Holling C. Holling
Tree in the Trail by Holling C. Holling
On Earth by G. Brian Karas
From Dusk till Dawn by Natalie Kinsey-Warnock and illustrated by Mary Azarian
The Happy Day by Ruth Krauss and illustrated by Marc Simont

A Circle of Seasons by Myra Cohen Livingston and illustrated by Leonard Everett Fisher - Out of Print

Mousekin's Woodland Sleepers by Edna Miller - Out of Print

McCrephy's Field by Christopher A. Myers and Lynne Born Myers and illustrated by Normand Chartier - Out of Print

When the Frost is on the Punkin by James Whitcomb Riley and illustrated by Glenna Lang - Out of Print

Chicken Soup with Rice by Maurice Sendak
Song of the Water Boatman and Other Pond Poems by Joyce Sidman and illustrated by Beckie Prange
Woods by Donald Silver and illustrated by Patricia J. Wynne
Around the Year by Tasha Tudor
A Time to Keep by Tasha Tudor
Welcome To The Ice House by Jane Yolen and illustrated by Laura Regan
When the Wind Stops by Charlotte Zolotow and illustrated by Stefano Vitale


Independent Reader

The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford and illustrated by Carl Burger
Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich
Stone Fox by John Reynolds Gardiner and illustrated by Marcia Sewall
Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George
My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George
Seaman by Gail Langer Karwoski and illustrated by James Watling
Big Red by Jim Kjelgaard and illustrated by Bob Kuhn

The Robber Girl by Astrid Lindgren - Out of Print

The Call of the Wild by Jack London and illustrated by Andrew Davidson
Nature in the Neighborhood by Gordon Morrison
Pond by Gordon Morrison

Circle of Seasons by Gerda Muller - Out of Print

Have You Seen Trees? by Joanne Oppenheim and illustrated by Jean Tseng - Out of Print

The Sign of the Beaver by Elizabeth George Speare
Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder and illustrated by Garth Williams

Young Adult

The Oxford Companion to the Year by Bonnie Blackburn and Leofranc Holford-Strevens
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and illustrated by Tasha Tudor
Calendar by David Ewing Duncan
It's Not the End of the Earth But You Can See It From Here by Roger Welsch