And there it was,
flying high like a quiet beauty.
“Swimmy”
My beloved picture book.
The first book I read aloud to my preschoolers,
forty years ago.
Jennie
And there it was,
flying high like a quiet beauty.
“Swimmy”
My beloved picture book.
The first book I read aloud to my preschoolers,
forty years ago.
Jennie
My two favorite READ posters
from Literary Hub @ lithub.com
Dolly Parton has done more
for putting books into the hands of children
than anyone.
Bless you, Dolly.
Look at the books she is reading!
Every Very Hungry Caterpillar Day
is a good day.
I’m filled with joy.
Yo-Yo Ma is reading Goodnight Moon.
It doesn’t get better than that.
I recite this book to children every day,
just before chapter reading.
It’s a ritual that brings children comfort and language.
Yo-Yo’s beloved cello gets to enjoy the book.
P.S. Stay tuned for my favorite new picture books I read this summer.
Jennie
I never tire of visiting the the Eric Carle Museum, because every visit has something new and exciting. Yes, every visit.
I had no idea his favorite color was yellow.
No wonder he has created so many suns.
This is the first photo I have seen with
the Very Hungry Caterpillar
perched on Eric Carle’s shoulder.
I have read this over and over again. It’s powerful.
I want to yell and jump up and down, because this is the fundamental way to introduce young children to art and literature.
When Eric Carle died, this was the cover of the New York Times Magazine. No words needed, his shoes say it all.
One of my favorite authors, Astrid Sheckels, has written a new book.
It is always exciting to listen to an author present their book and having a meet & greet at the book signing.
Walter the sea dog from Astrid’s previous book, Sea Dog is part of this new and wonderful alphabet book, Sea Dog Boats.
Here I am, under an Eric Carle tree. Lucky me!
Jennie
All in a day, I bumped into ‘bookends’, parents of a student in my first class forty years ago, and parents of a child this past year.
Michelle was one of my first students. The local newspaper came to take photos when the new school opened. 1984.
There I am along with Michelle on the far right of the photo.
She never really left. As the years went by she became my Summer Camp assistant counselor (we had so much fun), and we even accidentally wore the same clothing.

Michelle visited on occasion to read or do science experiments with the children. She was always a terrific guest.
School closed for a few years while we (finally) did the big rebuild that we desperately needed. Fortunately we were able to move into a great space in our local prep school, almost across the street. By that time, Michelle had been a teacher at the school for many years. On occasion she would walk to our playground area on the campus to say hello. Here is the conversation I will never forget:
Hi Michelle! How is teaching going?
Great. I’m a Director.
Wait, you’re not old enough to be a Director.
Jennie, I’m 40.
After my shock we laughed. Well, we laughed our heads off.
My other ‘bookend’ parent belongs to Wren, who had a wonderful year in my classroom. She was the reader, the Gloria lover, the friend to everyone, ‘sharp as a tack’ and ‘bright as a star’.
We even sang together on YouTube.
Wren’s dad was so excited to see me and share a photo of Wren with ‘the’ magazine.
We talked and talked, remembering the past year. One day I will hopefully have decades of memories with Wren, as I have with Michelle.
Jennie
Noah was my student, over twenty years ago.
He loved music.
It was my autoharp and singing that helped him adjust to school.
We have stayed in touch.
When he was in high school he came to play the keyboard, drums, ukulele, and other instruments for my class.
His former class.
He connected with children, and they connected with him.
Every day a child would ask, “Is it a Noah day?’
College came next.
Noah kept in touch, and he talked with me about teaching.
He had found his two passions – music and children.
Over the summers he told me he wanted to be a speech pathologist.
Wonderful! He had lots of questions.
Now, he has his Masters and is on his way.
The story gets better.
Noah visited me again this week.
We swam together.
And then we talked…and talked.
He told me stories about the children,
little things, funny things, important things,
the things that ‘stuck’ with him.
He was full of life, wanting to tell me what happened.
And then I told him stories about teaching children,
little things, funny things, important things,
the things that still stick with me.
The conversation became deeper.
How is it for teachers today in the classroom?
How can you teach everything you need to teach,
and still be there for so many children,
all of whom are on different levels,
and many of whom have issues?
Noah said to me,
“It’s all about the connection, not the content.”
Yes, yes, yes!!!
Noah, you ‘get it’. Children will learn from you
because you connect with them.
As the evening wore on, Noah told the dinner group
about his visit to Philly (Philadelphia) to see his sister,
and going to a nightclub where jazz
was played, impromptu.
As he described the jazz,
the other guests went off into other conversations.
Not me!
I was glued as he described the 92-year-old
bass player who could barely walk up to the stage.
He must have performed like James Jamerson.
We talked about the sax, how it is ‘the’ instrument.
Everyone missed the great conversation.
Noah doesn’t miss a beat,
especially when it comes to teaching children.
Jennie
As always, a trip to the Eric Carle Museum is full of the unexpected, with moments that linger long after my visit. First, I met Penelope in the hallway.
Penelope Rex is the character in Ryan Higgins’ new book. It is an outstanding book, and Penelope is a character every child loves. She’s a T-Rex dinosaur, yet she’s just like the child who reads the book – with worries, adventures, and feelings.
Her new pet is Mittens, the saber-toothed cat. Yes, Mittens is a big problem for Penelope. I can’t wait to read this book to my preschoolers in the fall. This is coming from yours truly, the ‘Mrs. Picky’ of picture books. I highly recommend this book.
The author, Ryan Higgins, was the big event at the museum, reading the book to a packed house. I decided to wear my Mother Bruce apron the museum gave to me, as Mother Bruce is one of his first books, and still an all-time favorite. Ryan was thrilled, and we had our picture taken together. Of course he signed the apron.
I’m holding a Mother Bruce stuffed bear. Now, I need a Penelope and a Mittens stuffed animal.
The exhibits at the Eric Carle Museum never disappoint. I leave feeling exhilarated, with a full heart and soul. Really. How can one not be ‘moved’ by Eric Carle’s magnificent art?
This exhibit is all about birds, “Birdwatching with Eric Carle”. If you like birds, this is an exhibit not to be missed. I couldn’t stop looking at the rooster. Being inches away from ‘the real deal’ is humbling. If you’re in western Massachusetts, the exhibit is there through most of August.
Do you know metafiction, in art? Metafiction is fiction about fiction – books that contain pictures about pictures and stories about stories.
When crayons go on strike in The Day the Crayons Quit by Oliver Jeffers, one of the best books, there it was – Duncan’s green crayon and letter.

The classics were there; Little Fur Family, Grover in The Monster at the End of This Book, and Harold and the Purple Crayon. Mo Willems’ Pigeon books have become the new classic.

Wordless books that take the reader into a new world were part of the exhibit. Journey, by Aaron Becker and Flotsam, by David Wiesner are two of the best. These books take the imagination on great adventures, and they spark language and dialogue.
This exhibit ‘has it all’.
I was recently featured in a monthly magazine for our community. What could be better than me holding a print of The Very Hungry Caterpillar? The museum was excited to get the publication.
Jennie
Yes, I am a believer. Perhaps because I have the heart of a child, I can openly see and feel. All it takes is an encounter with a ghost or a spirit, and one cannot deny their existence. I have had more than one!
When fellow blogger Don Ostertag at donostertag.wordpress.com recently commented on the ghost at the Guthrie Theater, I replied that those of us who have seen ghosts are believers.
“You’ve seen a ghost, or been in the presence of a ghost?”
“Yes. A few times.”
“Really? Please tell the story.”
“It happened like this.”
My first encounter was as a child. I woke up in the middle of the night, looked out my bedroom window, and watched an angel or ghost fly across the sky. I can recall this as vividly as the day it happened. She wore a white dress, and looked back at me, smiling. I was mesmerized and not afraid at all. My parents, siblings, and friends thought It must have been a dream or just a cloud. Nope. She was real.

My second encounter was at summer camp. I loved summer camp! As a child I spent a month every summer in rural Salt Rock, West Virginia at Camp Dekanawida. Younger children lived in tents, older children lived in cabins. My memories and experiences are fond ones. One evening on my walk back to my cabin, there was my father standing in the middle of the road. He had died in a terrible car crash years ago when I was five-years-old, and I had never seen him since then. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there looking at him, and he just stood there looking at me. Then he was gone. I wasn’t afraid. I was glad to see him once again.
My third encounter included other family members. We were in the car headed to the Norfolk, Virginia zoo. Our new baby granddaughter was in her carseat in the back, next to the window. I was beside her, and Hubby was beside me. Our son was driving and our daughter-in-law was in the passenger seat. Granddaughter had been very quiet and happy the entire car ride. We came to a traffic light stop, which was beside a cemetery. As soon as the car stopped, granddaughter whipped her head around to look out the window at the cemetery. She became excited and very happy, chatting in baby talk and waving at the cemetery. The minute the light changed and the car began moving, she returned to her quiet self. Hubby and I still talk about that moment. It’s been said that babies can see ghosts and often babble with them. I can vouch that it is true.
My fourth encounter was with Milly the Quilter. Many of you remember my stories and blog posts about Milly. We had ten wonderful years together in my classroom, as she worked with children to make beautiful quilts. They hang at museums and places of prominence. When Milly became sick with kidney failure, she was moved to a care facility. I visited her often, and we enjoyed reminiscing. Her proudest moment was presenting her quilt to the Governor of Massachusetts, who dropped onto one knee and clasped her hands to have a private conversation. Not a dry eye in the house. One day I got a call from her granddaughter to tell me her health was rapidly deteriorating. Shortly thereafter she called to say, “Come now!” I jumped into the car and drove (way too fast) to get to Milly. When I was five minutes away, I had a huge wave rush over me. It nearly knocked me to the back of my car seat. Suddenly, there was peace, a tidal wave of peace. I knew Milly had died. She was right there with me. She was smiling and telling me it was okay. That was her way. When I got to her care facility, her granddaughter told me I’d missed saying goodbye, as Milly had died five minutes earlier. “I know. She was with me five minutes ago. She smiled and said it was okay.”
From time to time (not often) I feel a very strong presence of my grandmother, and Hubby’s mother. I talk. They listen. It’s really wonderful.
I ask Hubby, “Do you ever feel or see your mom or dad, or brother, or sister?” No, he never does. I ponder why I’ve been lucky to feel and see ghosts, spirits, and angels. Honestly, I believe my open heart and mind, much like the children I teach, holds the key.
Jennie