From "Huh?" to "Wow!" – and Beyond

"Will they like it?"

Can there be any more basic question for a first-time author as his debut effort finally reaches the marketplace? In my case, at least, yes there is.
And it's this:

"Will they get it?"

Since I began work eight years ago on The Day-Glo Brothers -- the story of how two polar-opposite siblings came together during the Great Depression to create daylight-fluorescent colors -- I've encountered two recurring reactions as reliably paired together as Goofus and Gallant.

From one of my partners at the very first critique group I ever attended: "Love the topic!"

Soon thereafter, from one of the first editors to see the manuscript: "This topic is too rarified."

In an introductory email from an already published author of nonfiction: "It had never even occurred to me that someone invented Day-Glo!"

Discreetly asked by one attendee of an author panel I'd just participated in: "What's Day-Glo?"

My all-time-favorite combination of these reactions came the day after I received Tony Persiani's final sketches. Without planning to, I found myself test-marketing the sketches to two very different audiences.

First was at my dentist's office. When the hygienist wasn't in the exam room, I pulled the sketches from my bag to review them. When she returned, she asked about the pages in my hands. I clarified that I'd done the text but not the art, and then I explained what Day-Glo is and hit the highlights in the story of how Bob and Joe Switzer had invented those colors.

"They sound like nerds," she replied.

Next was at my mechanic's. One moment I was giving him my email address for his mailing list, and the next thing I knew we were discussing the book-marketing plans behind my vanity web address.

For this tangent we'd gone off on, I was lucky enough to have not one but two visual aids: the sketches I'd again taken from my bag, and the daylight-fluorescent green service report on the counter between us.

I poked the report and said, "I've written about the guys who invented this color."

My mechanic's response was, "Wow!"

Until a month or two ago, I honestly had no idea which reaction would win out. Would audiences scratch their heads over why anyone would choose to write, let alone publish an entire book, about such a random topic?

Or would they share in my delight that this off-the-beaten-path story -- which struck me long ago as having the potential to be one cool-looking picture book -- had been so vividly executed by Tony and the folks at Charlesbridge? In other words, would they get it?

Early signs are encouraging -- reviews have been full of plays on "bright" and "brilliant" and "enlightening." While I had hoped for that response to the Switzers' tale, I hadn't counted on it. And I certainly hadn't counted on the reactions I've received to my own journey with this story. The obscurity of the topic, rather than being a handicap, is being seen as a virtue, as a sign that turning it into a book involved considerable legwork, much of it uphill.

It did, and it was. But I have to confess, it's also been fun. The research was fun, from interviewing Bob and Joe's spouses and little brother (all now in their 80s or 90s) to laying my hands on the actual, original notes from the Switzers' first experiments.

It was also fun to figure out how to tell this story in a way that takes the science seriously without letting explanations bring the narrative to a halt -- right up through the final, last-minute text change that my editor and I worked out in real time via cell phone and instant message.

And now that I think about it, not knowing how the end result would be received, or even what the end result would be -- well, that was fun, too. It reinforced the fact that I was chasing after this project not because of what others' reactions might be, but because I loved the story, believed in its possibilities, and was enjoying myself mightily.

I guess it must show. When Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast featured Tony and me at the end of June, one commenter noted, "Chris's enthusiasm not just for the subject itself, but for learning about it, is palpable and infectious."


I like that. I get it. And I can't wait to do it again.

---

Chris Barton is the "bright," "brilliant," and "enlightening" author of The Day-Glo Brothers, with "exhuberantly retro" illustrations (so says Publishers Weekly!) by Tony Persiant. New from Charlesbridge.


Download this activity and discussion guide.
Watch this animated explanation of the mechanics of fluorescent light and color.

"[T]hese . . . brothers shine even more brightly than the paints and dyes they created. "
--Kirkus Reviews

"The story is one of quintessentially American ingenuity... "
--Publishers Weekly

How a Public Law Became a Children's Book

The quickest way to raise a public school teacher's anxiety level is to add something to an overcrowded curriculum. Public Law 108-477 does just that. It requires public schools to provide an educational program on the U.S. Constitution on September 17th, Constitution Day. In 2005, the year the law went into effect, the teachers at my elementary school wondered how they would find the time to present a meaningful Constitution Day lesson on short notice. Enter the specialist team, consisting of the librarian (me), the art teacher, and music teacher. We decided to lighten the classroom teachers' loads by taking responsibility for Constitution Day. The music teacher and the art teacher promised to plan lessons for grades K-3, and I took on grades 4-6.

From the beginning I was enthusiastic. The students at my school in Northern Virginia are from all over the world. Many of them speak Spanish, Vietnamese, or Urdu at home. They can tell me about the history of Bolivia or the government of Bhutan, but they may not know how many U.S. senators we have from each state. One problem with standardized testing is that it assumes a homogenous society where all kids have the same healthy background knowledge of American culture. But a child who just came to the United States last year may not know how to pronounce the word 'constitution' or know that July 4th is considered America's birthday. Even children who were born in America may have gaps in their knowledge of American government. How many families discuss the Articles of Confederation at the dinner table? How many third graders can explain representation based on population?

American government is taught in elementary school. But it is presented on a particular schedule in prescribed amounts at specific grade levels. And Ancient Greece, Native Americans, map skills, economics, Mali, China, magnets, and simple machines must often be taught in the same quarter. When classroom teachers are held accountable for a long list of "essential knowledge" for standardized tests, it is inevitable that some topics will be "left behind" in the scramble to cover everything required. The dedicated classroom teachers I know work many additional unpaid hours to prepare students. And they are frequently frustrated by an inability to linger over subjects students are excited by or need more time to comprehend. In a test-driven educational environment, a teacher may have to accept that her class is able to spout the parts of the water cycle quicker than the houses of Congress, because she is responsible for the rest of the curriculum.

However, the rules in the library are different. While I am expected to support the curriculum, I also have the freedom to enrich it. When Constitution Day came along, I grabbed the opportunity to teach more than was "required" about the creation of our government. I spent hours researching the topic and crafting lessons that would leave an impression and be fun. The fourth through sixth graders come to me for forty minutes in the afternoons, tired from morning academics and often sweaty from the gym. Library lessons need to be engaging, or I spend the afternoon mentally counting to ten, biting my lip, and using my "teacher stare."

So I printed off copies of the original Constitution from archives.gov on gold parchment paper and encased them in plastic sleeves, allowing the kids to see the giant "We the People" that begins the document and examine the signatures at the end. I created a crossword puzzle, I made the pieces for a game I found on the Internet, and I wrote a play. It wasn't a long play. Only four minutes. That's all the time we have on our in-house television show, a program that I, like many school librarians, am in charge of. When I passed out the script to my fourth graders, I had the power to promise a live captive audience. The chance to be on television made my classes stand up straight and speak loudly with expression. I chose thirteen students to represent the thirteen original colonies in a play that briefly covered the weakness of the Articles of Confederation and how a new form of government was created at the Constitutional Convention of 1787. We held rehearsals and made costumes of poster board cut-outs in the geographic shapes of the colonies. And on Constitution Day, September 17, 2005, thirteen fourth graders proudly performed live via in-house television for our school. It was a moment of triumph for me and for them. But then it was over, and I was left with this four-minute skit. Was there a way to share it with other students? Could I expand the text and publish it as a play or a picture book? I brought the script to my writing group and we discussed it. There's not much of a market for plays. However, someone suggested that I try a graphic format. Why not? I am a writer who loves a challenge. So I laboriously expanded my skit into a document with text boxes and speech bubbles. This is no easy process because those little buggers migrate all over the page. But I learned how to manage them and ultimately produced a manuscript I sold to the wonderful Emily Mitchell at Charlesbridge. Under her direction, I further expanded the book with historical notes and a bibliography. Then off it went to the illustrator, Jef Czekaj, who somehow knew that it should be illustrated as a play. When Emily told me that he had devised the illustrations in the conceit of a school play, I was too flabbergasted to reply. Did Jef have a sixth sense about the performance at my school? I haven't had the courage to ask. But the result is Unite or Die: How Thirteen States Became a Nation, featuring thirteen exuberant young actors dressed as the original thirteen colonies, dramatizing the conflicts and compromises of the 1787 Constitutional Convention.


Watch a video trailer of Unite or Die.

Have fun with this Readers' Theater Guide and share Unite or Die with your students.

Visit Jacqueline Jules online.

Posted by Jacqueline Jules, author of Unite or Die: How Thirteen States Became a Nation.

Book On Nonviolent Protest Becomes Family Affair

Listen to an interview with author Anne Sibley O'Brien on Maine Public Broadcasting.

Visit the After Gandhi website.

Learn more about After Gandhi, Anne Sibley O'Brien, and Perry Edmond O'Brien.

Pass the Peace!

The Poems Are Told For You: Poetry and Parody in the Classroom

Parody has had a long tradition across many times and cultures. Lewis Carroll famously used serious, dry poems as fodder for clever parodies like "Father William." Many contemporary films and books for young people give a nod back to the plots and styles of Jane Austen (e.g., Clueless), William Shakespeare (Ten Things I Hate About You), William Blake (A Visit to William Blake's Inn), and Emily Dickinson (The Mouse of Amherst). In my children's poetry books Because I Could Not Stop My Bike and Other Poems and I Must Go Down to the Beach Again and Other Poems, I similarly transform classical works by poets such as Blake, Shakespeare, Dickinson, and Poe into poems with child-friendly themes like riding a bike, eating macaroni and cheese, and going tot he beach. In this way, I have tried to draw on the beautiful and varied rhythms and meters of famous poems while giving children of all ages a topic that they can relate to.

The benefits to children are several: most important of these, to ignite their interest in poetry by giving them poems they would love to read over and over. I wanted them to laugh and have fun, to be touched by a thought they may not have considered, or learn something new about their world. Each of my poems starts with an "apology" to the famous author from which the inspiration was drawn. I always intended the poems to work on two levels: to stand completely alone without any need whatsoever of the original works to appreciate the new ones, and yet also to have extra meaning for hte grownups and teenagers who were familiar with the originals. Like Sesame Street's "Letter B," "Cereal Girl," and "Monsterpiece Theater," the humor becomes multi-layered--both the actual rhyming story is funny (for children taking it literally) and the wordplay provides a bit of amusement for the grownups and older children who recognize the sources.

After a recent interview that I had on NPR's "Morning Edition" with Renee Montagne, I was surprised by how polarized some of the responses were to my having taken the classically great poems and changed their topics to ones of interest to children. Some responders were worried that these parodies represented a "dumbing down" for kids, and advocated reading the original works by the masters, even to younger children. Their "poetry purist" position seemed to indicate that playing around with poems suggests disrespect for the original authors. A popular educator bloggist, Miss Rumphius, countered with the following viewpoint:

"Since when is parody dumbing-down? Frankly, to parody well you need extensive knowledge of the original work. I think kids, particularly those in middle school could really exercise some poetic muscle by writing parodies of their own. I haven't seen the books (yet), but they seem like they might make wonderful mentor texts."

While I can understand that a poetry lover may be apprehensive that someone is playing irreverently with their favorite work, I must agree with this bloggist that a really good parody does indeed require a deep understanding of the author's style. As I wrote these poems, I began to appreciate the poets in a way that I never had before when merely a reader. It was as if I felt my way inside their way of making rhythm and rhyme, and in doing so, expanded my own skill and understanding. In fact, it was suggested to me by a theater professor at Guilford College that my poems are not really parodies at all--not in the definition of mocking or making fun of hte original work, not intended to spoof. "What I really think you're doing, " he wrote to me, "is taking the image patterns and meters of great poems and placing child-accessible thoughts in the poetic structure in the same way the more complicated thoughts are placed in the orginals... It gives the child a kinesthetic experience of the poem."

When authors engage with classical works in a playful and interactive way, they give permission for others to do the same. Literature doesn't have to be static. So long as we give the proper credit; a parody can show deep respect for a poet's talents even as it sings a silly tune. I have heard from teachers and librarians all over the country what a useful and fun exercise it is to encourage students to attempt writing "transformations" in their classrooms. Obviously this task will be easier for some than others, but all will emerge with a little better understanding about what poets are trying to do when they sit down to create. I don't like poetry that makes someone feel bad because they can't understand it. I want children to feel alive about poems--that they can act them out, laugh with them, sing them, or write their own. In my author visits to schools, I adapt activities from the poems across grade levels--from using puppets with first graders to engaging middle-schoolers in humorous dramatic readings of the poems, I have found that students can make a strong connection to poetry at their own developmental level. If they feel even a little more inclined to play with language, I have been successful. To that end, I leave you with a thought inspired by John Donne and which has become my tagline: "Do not ask for whom the poems are told/the poems are told for you."



Posted by Karen Jo Shapiro, author of Because I Could Not Stop My Bike and Other Poems, and I Must Go Down to the Beach Again and Other Poems.

The Author and the "Pilfered Pentameter"

Today, author Karen Jo Shapiro was interviewed by Renee Montagne on NPR's Morning Edition.

You can hear the interview online at http://tinyurl.com/c32rd2.

Karen Jo reads from her books Because I Could Not Stop My Bike and I Must Go Down to the Beach Again. Find these and other great poetry books at Charlesbridge.com.

Celebrate Poetry Month -- still three more days!

Tales from Bologna

Truck Stuck, Italian Style.

You never know when life will imitate a children's book.

There I was, on vacation in the beautiful Tuscan countryside, resting up after the vigors of the Bologna Children's Book Fair. My traveling companion and I had just picked up our rental car, a Fiat 500, in Florence and were heading south through Chianti country. My Frommer's guidebook mentioned that there was a lovely castle and winery outside of Greve in Chianti, so when we saw the sign for Castello di Verrazzano, we hooked a right and zipped straight up the side of a mountain into wine paradise. We drove into the estate past a large tractor-trailer that was preparing to leave, the only thought in our minds being how many wines we could sample before safely navigating the precipitous road back down to the valley.

Inside the tasting/dining room, a brick-oven fire glowed seductively, and we sampled three lovely wines, accompanied by the most delicious bruschetta ever (just olive oil and salt, but wow). We chatted a bit with the wine guy, bought a bottle of Chianti Classico Reserva, and headed back to the car.

We were greeted by the sight of the tractor-trailer, now jack-knifed and blocking the exit of the parking lot. Its cargo bed, containing about 700 cases of wine headed for the US, was twisted precariously and crushing the cab. All the guests were stuck at the winery until the Italian firefighters arrived to address the situation.

Resigned to our horrible fate, we returned to the tasting room and drowned our sorrows in free wine and cheese. Eventually (the Italians have a very different sense of time than we Americans), the firefighters arrived and attempted to crane the truck's cargo back to equilibrium. Alas, it was to no avail. Next came the forklift attempts to unload some of the heavy pallets, which only resulted in the truck tipping even further in the wrong direction.

Now you would think that with wine in abundance and vehicular entertainment on display (never mind the cute Italian firefighters), that the time would have passed pleasantly. And that was indeed the case . . . for the first five hours. When it became clear that the entire truck would need to be unloaded, by hand no less, before any of us could leave our vinous prison, a certain restlessness set in along with the alcoholic sedation. Though the truck's release seemed imminent, the winery staff sensed our unease and quickly offered us a choice: two free bottles of wine each, or a free dinner. The other American guests took the wine and left, shackled to their schedules and itineraries, but I was raised never to turn down a free meal, especially in a country known for its gastronomic prowess. What followed was a seven-course meal, replete with wine parings. Not to bore you, my dear reader, but take a gander at this:

ANTIPASTO
Mixed plate of salami and other cured meats, paired with the 2006 Vino Rosso

PRIMO
Pasta pappardelle with wild boar sauce, paired with the 2006 Chianti Classico





SECONDO
Roasted pheasant and potatoes, paired with the 2005 Chianti Classico Riserva

CARNE
Steak Fiorentina and mixed-green salad, paired with the 2005 Sassello (a supertuscan)

FORMAGGIO
Pecorino and parmesano reggiano with balsamic vinegar and hot pepper jelly

DOLCI
Apple torte, paired with vin santo, a desert wine

CAFFE
Espresso and cantucci (like biscotti), paired with grappa

After a meal like that, driving was out of the question, so we threw ourselves on the mercy of our hosts and rented a room in a farmhouse down the mountain. As we wobbled and rolled out the door, I thought to myself, maybe I should have told them to let the air out of the tires on the left side of the truck and we could have avoided all this unpleasantness.

************
Yolanda is the editor of Truck Stuck (written by Sallie Wolf; illustrated by Andy Robert Davies), in which two children help a truck get unstuck by letting the air out of the tires.

Humpty Meets Critics' Approval

The students from Cunniff Elementary School, some of the most notoriously harsh book critics, stopped by the Charlesbridge offices last month to take a look at our spring line up. We anxiously held our breath as the children looked the new books up and down. After many minutes of silence they finally spoke. "Can I go the bathroom?" one first-grader asked. "Why is there a Mr. Potato Head on that shelf?" another student wanted to know. And "What's a typewriter?" wondered a confused kid. We slowly began to breathe again and started answering their questions. It seemed they liked the books and wanted to know more about how we made them. We took them on a tour and gave them the low-down on how books go from a typed manuscript to a polished and bound product. When they returned to their school they wrote a story about their experience at Charlesbridge, as well as a review of the book What Really Happened to Humpty? by Jeanie Franz Ransom in which they excitedly exclaim, "Good job, Jeanie!" To read their stories click on the links below:

• Book review of What Really Happened to Humpty

• Story about Charlesbridge