Monthly Archives: April 2008

Read Like It’s An Ice Cream Cone

Read Like It’s an Ice Cream Cone

This week we started our tenth book in the One School, One Book program at Fox Elementary School. We’re doing Heartbeat, by Sharon Creech, the first time we’ve done a second book by an author we’ve done before.

We’ve waited some time to do this book – essentially waiting for National Poetry Month. Like Creech’s Love That Dog, Heartbeat tells a story through easy to read, virtual prose poems. But this time the story is beefed up, encompassing and weaving together as many as six themes (much as Creech does in her longer novels for older children, like Walk Two Moons.)

On Friday we introduced the book to the children via an assembly. Each time we do a new book, we have to come up with a new idea for the assembly, too. I believe a hallmark of the assembly is that it should not tell too much, that it should introduce some element of the book that will spark children’s curiosity, but that the book itself should remain somewhat mysterious. The idea is to induce children to lean forward and look harder to find out what the book is about. To bring that curiosity and enthusiasm home to their families.

So we decided to “introduce” the children to each of the story’s six “themes” – but elliptically, symbolically, suggestively. We put up on the stage, on little individual pedestals: a pumpkin, a stuffed animal alien, a pair of running shoes, a set of drawing pencils in a fancy case, a Max (from Where the Wild Things Are) figurine, a thesaurus, and a set of false teeth in a jar. (Heartbeat is narrated by a 12-year-old girl who likes to run, and draw, and write, who is friends with a boy named Max, whose mother is about to have a baby, and whose grandfather is losing his memory.) We displayed each of these items to the children, telling them they represented “things to look for in the story,” but did not explain anything further.

Then I read a sample chapter.

Now reading an excerpt is the tried and true, fail-safe method of introducing your One Book at the Assembly. In this case we opted for the excerpt because I wanted to share with the children the importance and value (and technique) of reading a poem slowly, not just racing thru because there are so few words on the page. [Caveat: I never tell anyone how they should read a book. If children, or families, want to read the book quickly, of course that is their pre-rogative. The suggested technique is just that - a suggestion. Mere advice.] The particular challenge was to find a method that children, upon hearing it, might actually be able to take home and share with their families.

So I asked them (knowing the answer) if they knew what it was like when you have an ice cream cone, and you don’t want it to go away too fast, you want to make it last as long as possible. My recommendation was to try to read the poems in Heartbeat like that – savoring the juicy words and choice phrases, letting yourself absorb the emotional moments before moving onto the next one – reading the poems in Heartbeat as if they were an ice cream cone. Each poem a lick that you want to finish tasting and enjoying – savoring – until the next.

And so I read an eight-page poem, “An Apple A Day,” a poem you can read in less than a minute if you’re flipping pages. But it took us a good 3-4 minutes, because there is humor, and story, and imagery, and detail, and inner mental life all in this poem, and we wanted to taste and recognize each of those elements.

It is no easy feat to hold the attention of kindergarteners in the front row when you’re reading a poem like that, with no pictures and no real action. But it seemed to work. Sometimes the words are enough – when you’re licking them like an ice cream cone.

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The Power of Patience

January 11. Friday evening. “I’m tired of that stupid book.” My eight-year-old daughter, reluctant to continue with the Golden Compass, which we had started over Christmas.

February 29. Friday afternoon. “Papa, would could you read a little Golden Compass.” This, as she lay in the bathroom, amid towels and pillows, having left school early, having thrown up, still queasy and weak and wary of throwing up again. A very timid endorsement, perhaps succumbing because of her nauseous weakness.

March 3. Monday morning. My daughter is white as a ghost, listening to the penultimate chapter of Part 2 (Bolvangar). She stares straight ahead, beyond rapt, petrified of what may occur in one of the scariest and ominous passages we have ever read aloud. (To a parent, monitoring the vicarious reactions of children-listeners, it is a memorable, all-time moment.)

March 4. Tuesday evening. “Papa, keep reading! Don’t stop! Come on, Iorek Byrnison!” This, amid the last chapter of Part 2, of the Golden Compass. To a parent, these are the golden words you want to hear, that mean your child is hooked, that mean you have done the right thing carving and creating and preserving the time to read.

And in this case, it means that I was a) right to put the book away on the shelf for a month (maybe forever), and b) right to attempt the book in the first place, content in my parental confidence that something that began slow would eventually thrill and entertain.

These are essential and valuable principles to understand and remember about reading aloud to your children. But easy to forget or lose sight of amid the challenges of parenting and the complexities and tensions of our lives.

1) It’s right to challenge them. In our case, my eight-year-old wanted to read the Golden Compass, not because her older sisters had, but because she wanted to see the movie. (And we have a strict rule in our family: If the movie comes from a worthwhile work of literature, you have to read the book first. No shortcuts short-changing the long-term value of literature.)

2) It’s OK to put a book down. One is always reluctant – and often feel guilty – but it’s vital that reading aloud not be a forced thing. If a book isn’t working, then continuing to read it can negatively re-inforce the impression of reading aloud as boring, drudgery, forced. Figuring out when is the trick. At the very least, you’ve got to finish the first chapter to get used to an author’s prose style. (Modeling that kind of patience is beneficial for your child.) And some books don’t start off with a bang, even if they have varied pleasures further in. But if you’ve finished a defined chunk of the book – in this case Part 1, 150+ pages – it’s OK to acknowledge, perhaps this isn’t the right book, or the right time for this book.

3) ‘Father knows best.’ But usually – unless the book is brand new to the parent reader, too – a parent does know what pleasures lurk deeper inside a book. And a parent has the patience to soldier on through a section that feels or seems slower to a child. No book is perfect. But the lesson here is that it is worth persevering until your listener is hooked. You can’t overuse the notion of “just one more chapter” or you lose your credibility. But it’s prudent and wise to offer a little carrot or reward to reach a milestone while you’re letting a book work it’s patient magic.

In the case of the Golden Compass it took longer than I thought. But two sections (and 300 pages) in – with two more books to complete the trilogy – I am sure we were right and our patience has been rewarded. It’s worth remembering, as a parent reader, that a child doesn’t need to be perfectly, 100% fulfilled or satisfied every second of every reading experience. A little unsatisfied curiosity, a little impatience, these are normal and necessary to appreciating the value of any experience – a movie, a baseball game, a hike. And it’s worth remembering as parents that we have the patience to share and bestow on our children to wait for the part that hooks you.

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