THE THE HOUSE THAT GEORGE BUILT- SUZANNE SLADE

 I'm always fascinated by how books can help people see the world in different ways. That definitely happened to me this week.  On Saturday, I blogged about Charles R. Smith's new book, BRICK BY BRICK. Monday, I found THE HOUSE THAT GEORGE BUILT, by Suzanne Slade. Slade adapted the old folk tale, "The House that Jack Built," into a fun, multi-genre picture book that recaps the building of the White House. The left half of each two-page spread is factual, a paragraph or two, and the right half includes the rhyme. In one of the early pages, for example, we learn that there was a contest to draw the plan for the President's House. The winner, James Hoban, received $500. On the right side, there's a portion of the cumulative rhyme.

This is the design,
that would stand for all time
That was drawn for the lot,
that grand scenic spot,
for the President's House that George built.

Throughout the book, the spotlight is on Washington. He's a hands-on, problem solving hero. When builders discover that there is not going to be enough stone, Washington decides that the White House will be two stories, rather than three. Money is tight so Washington suggests that they use wood instead of marble for the floors. And then, after all of his hard work, George Washington never even got to live in the White House! (Oh, and in case you are wondering, for seventy years, it was the largest house in the U(nited states. The cost was $272,000 or 4.9 million today). 

Having just read BRICK BY BRICK, I kept looking for a discussion of the slaves who did the actual building of the house. I was surprised when they were mentioned in only a very cursory way.  I am thinking that it would be really interesting to pair the two books to help kids explore author's perspective. I'm planning on trying it in a fourth grade classroom next week.

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL- TOGETHER WE STAND

Inauguration Day seems a perfect day to share AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL: TOGETHER WE STAND, the newest retelling of Katherine Lee Bates' song, "America the Beautiful." Each line of the famous song has its on its own two-page spread, illustrated by a well-known children's author: Bryan Collier, Raúl Colón, Diane Goode, Mary Grandpré, John Hendrix, Yuyi Morales, Jon J Muth, LeUyen Pahm, Sonia Lynn Sadler, and Chris Soenpiet. I'd love to have any or all of them hanging in my living room. You can see a few here, if you'd like.

Additionally, down one side of each two-page spread is a presidential quote.

"I believe that every human mind feels pleasure in doing good to another."  Thomas Jefferson 

"The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much. It is whether we provide enough for those who have too little."   Franklin D. Roosevelt 

"Change will not cofe if we wait for some other person or if we wait for some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek." Barack Obama

Each of these quotes is topped by a national landmarks or symbol: things like the Statue of Liberty, the American Flag, White House, the American Rose, and the Capitol Building. Readers can find more information on these landmarks and symbols in the Author's Notes.

The New York Times reviewed the book here. 

IN THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY- Joyce Carol Thomas

When Joyce Carol Thomas was about ten, her family boarded a train and immigrated from Oklahoma to California. IN THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY, is Thomas' memoir, a love song to California, that follows the family's journey to their new home. 

IN THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY is a quiet book, brimming with beautiful word portraits. It's not a book that I'm sure kids will love on their own; I think it's one they will fall in love with when they hear it read aloud. I see myself using it again and again in mini-lessons on how authors use details, or on how carefully they choose their words,  or on surprising images.

Listen:

The waiting train huffs

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

And I worry, worry, worry,

Hissing wheels

hiss, hiss, hiss

and I'm afraid we'll

miss, miss, miss

the train! 

************

And so we ride into early afternoons

past quick and slow-stepping lizards

basking hood-eyed 

on dazzling rocks.

We ride into late afternoon

past a snake whose body is a pen

writing calligraphy

on the paper-dry earth.

****************

Beyond the bay

mountains topped with ice cream snow

rise

reaching toward the cloud-powdered sky

in the Land of Milk and Honey 

Thomas' beautiful language is paired with the signature sepia illustrations of one of her favorite partners- Floyd Cooper. Perfect!

BRICK BY BRICK- CHARLES R. SMITH

Monday, January 21st, is Inauguration Day. It seems a perfect time then, to share Charles R. Smith's latest picture book,  BRICK BY BRICK. This picture book tells the story of how the White House was actually built.

By slaves.

Did you know that?

I didn't.

In the author's notes, Smith says:

When construction began in 1792, it (the White House) was in the middle of nowhere.

Manpower was needed to clear the forest, build the house, and make all the beautiful details inside. Lots of manpower. Local workers including immigrants from Scotland and other countries were hired, as well as free blacks, but it wasn't enough.

That's where the slaves come in.

After realizing there weren't enough workers in the population to assist in construction, the government looked to slaves to round out the workforce. Slave owners from Virginia and Maryland received five dollars a month to rent out each slave. After a hard day of work, slaves returned to a small, shared hut and ate from the rations of pork, beef, and cornmeal provided to them. 

Slaves endured a snake-infested swamp island and mosquito swarms to dig up the stones needed for the walls of the house. They endured hour after hour of cutting and trimming wood, often until their hands were bloodied or deformed. The work was hard on the body, especially the hands. 

I chose to focus on the hands…

 And so Smith takes readers through the slaves' building of the White House- digging and breaking the stone, sawing down trees, making bricks, building walls, completing the finish work- focusing on the hands with his typical, gorgeous, rhythmic, repetitious poetry,  and tight-in specificity. Listen to a page:

Sawyers saw blades
through logs of oak wood,
seven days a week
where a forest once stood.

Alick
Ben
William
Moses

Simon
Peter
Frank
Thomas

Up, down, push, pull
two men per pit saw,
spraying sawdust
until slave hands are raw.

Slave hands saw
twelve hours a day,
but slave owners take
slave hands' pay.

Hands also feature prominently in Floyd Cooper's illustrations. Cooper, illustrator of many, many books, including classics like BROWN HONEY AND BROOMWHEAT TEA and MEET DANITRA BROWN, and newer work like QUEEN OF THE TRACK: ALICE COACHMAN, OLYMPIC HIGH JUMPER, and IN THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY is right up there with Kadir Nelson on my list of favorites. The illustrations for BRICK BY BRICK, done in tans, browns, sepia, and blues, are perfect.

A book you will definitely want to share this week…

POETRY FRIDAY

Each year, the Denver Public Schools publishes a volume of student poetry.  A POEM KNOWS,  Volume 5, arrived in local bookstores a few weeks ago. On the website, teacher/editor Steve Replogle says:

 The series has published poems and artwork from about 1,500 students. That's a lot of children! Once upon a time, they were happy to find themselves as published poets, applauded at our receptions and celebrated by their communities. Many of those students are now in high school and preparing to go to college. It may not be long until they begin to publish books of their own…

"A Book Knows"

A book knows

what you want to learn about

and what you want to hear. 

It loves to be read and admired.

It is a house for words. 

When you flip the page

the words get in order.

A book knows. 

DAC, 1st grade

"Boxes"
 The boxes are red
The boxes are blue
The boxes are pink
The boxes are green
Happy birthday!
AS,  Kindergarten

"What If It Rained 
Chocolate?"
 If it rained chocolate
In the winter
It would rain hot fudge
And it would stay hot forever
And we would still it it
If we waited
It would cover the whole grass
We would be able to make chocolate angels
and chocolate men
My dogs would be able to roll in it
CS, 3rd grade

"Early Each Sunday"
You used to be a preacher
because you wanted to teach about God
 and things like that
You'd wake early each Sunday, and
then you'd be gone
to stand in the spotlight of the stained glass
 windows and candles
lighting the faces
of the men
and the women
 and me
Smiling, you'd smile back.

But…
Now that's over, you wake early
each Sunday
to listen to a voice that isn't yours
standing in the spotlight of the stained glass
windows and candles 
lighting the faces of the men
and the women
 but not me, because it isn't the same

But Grandpa, since you're now retired
You can spend more time with me.
CL, 5th grade

"Pencil"

You walk tall jumping from page to page
Correcting words and making others
Deleting some words and moving on
Laughing and crying through different poems.


CH, 5th grade

Read about how the books came into being here.

Order the book (and read more poems) on the DPS Poetry wikispace.

Violet Nesdoly is hosting Poetry Friday today.

SLICE OF LIFE

Son #2's voice pulls me from a sound sleep.

"Zay is on the phone. He needs to talk to you. It's an emergency."

I look at the clock. 1:30.  Emergency?  I imagine smashed cars, dismembered limbs, police blotters… My heart is pounding, but I try to sound calm. "Hi Zay, what's going on?"

My son, 900 miles away, is not so calm. "Why did it take you so long to answer the phone?  I left my computer at the airport."

I immediately picture Zay's Apple laptop sitting next to a chair on some concourse. Or, now, ten hours later, probably in some very far away city.

"I'm sorry," says Zay. "They made me take off my knee brace because of the metal. And I had to take off my jeans to do that. And they wanted me to hurry. And then I couldn't get my brace back on. And I just forgot to pick up my computer. "

I think of myself, going through the security lines at the airport. I'm not an every week traveler, don't have an airport security routine in my repetoire. Trying to juggle laptop, purse, carry on, etc. always leave me a little unnerved. I always think I am going to lose my driver's license or my ticket. Then Zay was trying to manage the whole knee brace ordeal too. I might have forgotten the computer too. I try to "choose kind."

"It's ok, Zay, they probably still have it in security. I will go to the airport in the morning."

I lay in bed trying to figure out this latest "mother emergency." Where I might find his lost computer at the airport. How I can pack the computer so that it will arrive in Arizona in one piece. How I will come up with the money to replace the computer if it's not there. My alarm goes off at 6, and before seven, I have braved the -2 degree temperature, scraped off the car, and am on my way to DIA.

First I ask a maroon-coated security guard. "Nothing is kept at in the security area," she says very authoritatively. "It's delivered to the Lost and Found office every twenty minutes.  You will need to go to that office, which is located in the far southwest corner of the main terminal,  about two blocks south of where we are currently standing. And the office doesn't open for 45 minutes, until 8."

I head that direction, hoping she is mistaken about the time. After wandering around for 15 minutes, in the administrative bowels of the airport, I finally find another maroon coat. "It is in this corner, but it's not on this floor," this one tells me. I go down the escalator and determine that the first guard was right about the time. The Lost and Found does open at 8. And of course I have not brought a book. I buy a cup of coffee, consider visiting a bookstore (you can never have too many books, right?), and sit down to wait the 30 minutes.

Finally, it is 8 o'clock. It takes the attendant about ten seconds to tell me that they do not have my son's year-old laptop. He suggests I go back to the security lines. Sometimes computers are left there. I walk the two blocks back down the airport, to the security area.

The woman at the entrance to security looks a little doubtful. "We don't usually keep that stuff," she says. "What you are going to need to do is get in this line." She points toward the first class boarding line, where approximately two-thirds of the people are decked in the Ravens' purple and black, evidently returning to Baltimore, after Saturday's game. "When you get to the front of the line, ask for a supervisor and see if they can help you."

Twenty minutes later, I reach the front of the line. The guard checking tickets radios someone in the back, and points to a spot out of the line, where I am allowed to wait. Ten minutes later, a supervisor appears.

"Yes, we have a computer," he says. "Can you tell me about the identifying features?"

"It's a Macbook Pro," I say confidently. "Silver, but it has a black breakproof case." 

I think that will be enough information, but evidently, they have several silver Macbooks in black breakproof cases in the backroom.  "Can you tell me about the identifying stickers?" asks the supervisor.

I struggle to remember what stickers are on my son's computers. All I can picture is his brother's computer, which often resides in the middle of our kitchen table. Then he asks about the screen saver. I don't know what that looks like either. He asks what name is used for log in. I suggest several options, but none of those are right.

"You have to tell me something," declares my friend the supervisor. "We don't just give away laptops."

"Let me call my son," I say, digging through my purse for my cell phone.

It takes three calls to wake Zay. "Why are you calling so early?" grumbles he who woke me at 1:30 this morning. I tell him I am at the airport. I need him to describe his computer. Finally, after a little more grumbling he describes the black and white stickers on the trackpad, and the red and black city scene screen save. I pass the information on to the supervisor and within a few minutes, another agent appears with the computer.

It is almost 9 by the time I reach my car, computer emergency solved. I still need to go to figure out how to pack the computer, take it to UPS, and get it mailed back to Arizona, not to mention handle the regular Sunday stuff- grocery store, laundry, and the usual bulging teacher bag.

Just another day in the life of a mom…

IT'S MONDAY- WHAT ARE YOU READING

Sometimes, you just need to revisit an old friend. That's what I did this week. I went back and reread TOUCH BLUE by Cynthia Lord. I had read the book a couple of years ago, but lately, maybe because I'm about to become an "empty nester," I have been thinking a lot about my boys and the journey we have taken as a family. Lots of times, I think, people kind of "romanticize" the life of kids who have been in the foster care system. I loved the movie, THE BLIND SIDE, for example, but Michael Oher's experiences, at least as they are portrayed in that film, don't match my boys' reality in any way, shape, or form. Even though foster care might sometimes be the best alternative for kids, it's still incredibly hard, and leaves deep and long lasting scars, that aren't fully healed, even many years later.  Cynthia Lord captures that beautifully in TOUCH BLUE. Here are some of my favorite lines:

“Do you think Aaron’s mom misses him?”

“I expect so. It’s very hard to know you’ve hurt someone you love. But his mom had a lot of chances to make this right, and she didn’t do what she needed to do. She didn’t show up for meetings or to take her drug tests.  I guess the judge decided it was time to stop giving the chances to the parent, and start giving the chances to the kid.” pp. 52-53

***********

People say it’s better to know the truth, but what if the ending’s a bad one? Is it still better to know? Or is it kinder to keep that string of hope dangling? To believe that maybe if you just wait long enough, everything could still end the way you want? p. 86

********

I notice something sparkle near my feet among the tangles of rockweed. I reach down a palm-sized circle of blue sea glass, just the bottom of a bottle. Once it was someone’s trash, but now the ocean has tumbled it all smooth and beautiful.  p. 2

 ********

Dad shifts the cooler in his hand. “This is going to take work, Tess. We need to earn his trust. We need to be stubborn.”

I tip my chin up to look at him. “I thought being stubborn was a bad thing.”

He smiles. “Not always. Stubborn can also mean, ‘I won’t give up on you.’”  Pp. 51-52

******

My mom would never miss seeing me in a concert. She’d write it on the calendar and be there in time to get a good seat. I imagine what it might be like for Aaron: standing up at the end as the audience applauds, but she’s not there. Or unwrapping his trumpet that Christmas morning and not being able to hold it up and show it to her.  Or seeing his birthday cake in front of him and she’s not telling him to make a wish. But it’s all a big white blank in my imagination, because I can’t even pretend what it would feel like to not have my mom at those times. 95

I also enjoyed two new picture books by one of my all-time, absolute favorite author/illustrators, Kadir Nelson. I'll be using these in a presentation on intermediate grade picture books in a couple of weeks.

And then my dear friend, Kyle, introduced me to  BLACK DOG by Levi Pinfold, which I also absolutely love.  A terrific book for enjoying, also for including in a mini-lesson on theme. And I love the illustrations, wish this one would win the Caldecott…

As far as professional reading, I'm still lugging around BOOK LOVE, which I read over break, and revisiting that on a pretty much daily basis. And the leadership team at school is reading LEVERAGE LEADERSHIP, so I'm working my way through that book.

This week's pile includes COLLATERAL by Ellen Hopkins. I picked it up thinking it was YA, but it's actually an adult novel in verse, about a young woman who falls in love with a soldier/poet. I'm only a few chapters in, but am loving it so far.