Our grown children live far away.
One is on the east coast and one is on the west coast.
Between them we have five wonderful grandchildren.
Whenever they visit, it is special.
Here I am with the west coast gang.
Ice cream was the highlight.
Here in New England we have farms in beautiful rolling hills,
that make their own ice cream,
the real deal.
Even the trash cans are cows.
Bottom line – family first.
Jennie
Dogs really do make the best books, because children love dogs. Well, most everyone loves dogs. When the dog in a book is more human than dog, the storyline is like a glistening taffy pull.
Katherine Applegate has done her writing magic again, along with Gennifer Choldenko.
DogTown is a dog shelter. Chance is one of many dogs there, along with his friend Buster, and robot metal dogs. They’re a new thing for pet owners; no mess, no food, etc. Metal Head is one, but he’s different. And there’s Mouse. From the smallest yet most important of feelings, to the biggest, bravest adventures, this book has it all. What happens to them and what they do is nail biting and heart pounding. The escape from the shelter to find their human… well, you’ll have to read the book.
Mouse and His Dog is the sequel. Mouse and Buster, characters from the first book, are BFFs. Buster has always been in the shelter’s basement with the other dogs who are not prime-time for adoption, nor ready for Reading Buddies…. until Saanvi comes along and wants to read to Buster. The two become bonded until an elderly couple comes to the shelter and adopts Buster. Buster’s escape is classic, so he is put on The List along with Stewie. They need to escape, and how Mouse pulls this off is riveting. Smokey the robot dog wants to come along, but he is slow and… well, you’ll have to read the book.
These books don’t have the classic pathway of solving a problem. It becomes far more difficult and complicated as the stories progress. That’s what makes the books so good. The reader is surprised at the unexpected. The authors also make sure to include the Reading Buddy books. They don’t miss a beat!
If you think children’s books are only for children, think again.
Jennie
Hubby snapped this picture of me,
completely engrossed in reading
Amanda in Scotland
The Standing Stones.
Thank goodness for Amanda. This weekend I’m busy with an annual writer’s conference on line. I’m exhausted. There was an hour window of a break, so I climbed into the latest Amanda book. Ah! Life is good. Gloria wanted to be there, too.
I can’t wait to finish the book tomorrow! It is so good. Thank you, Darlene Foster, for giving us Amanda and her adventures. This latest book is wonderful!
Jennie
For all the artists out there; writers, painters, musicians, sculptures, film makers and more – there is an artist retreat open for you. Really!
It all began in 1907, founded by composer Edward MacDowell and his wife, pianist Marian MacDowell. MacDowell, originally known as the MacDowell Colony, is a prestigious artist residency program in Peterborough, New Hampshire. The program’s mission is to provide a supportive and inspiring environment for artists to create enduring works of art. They envisioned a place where artists from various disciplines could find solitude and inspiration to produce significant work.
Oh boy, this has become the ‘Real Deal’. I was there, and I have so many stories to tell you.
One day each year, MacDowell is open to the public. It’s called MacDowell Day, and it’s big. People from all over the world visit. Since 1960, an award – the MacDowell Medal – is given to an artist. I was there to see Alfredo Jaar receive his award.
Some of the artists who have received the MacDowell Medal are:
It gets better.
The MacDowell land is 450 woodland acres. Spotted among the woodlands are cottages for artists, called studios. An artist stays there for a month to six weeks, writing, composing, painting, etc. Lunches are hand delivered to their doorstep – a tradition that began with Marian MacDowell delivering lunch to her husband as he worked at composing. Artists-in-residence gather together for breakfast and dinner at the main house, sleep there, and spend their days at their studio.
It’s impossible to walk the grounds
and tour all the studios in one visit.
The original studio is a log cabin built in 1899, and the last studio was built in 1937. All thirty-two studios are charming and well maintained.
The first studio I visited was the Watson (every studio has a name and a purpose), and a musician was doing her artist-in-residence. She was delightful, and very excited to be in the same studio where Leonard Bernstein composed.
The original log cabin.
Here are more studios:
The artist here was a sculptor.
Her work with clay and resin was amazing.
One of my favorite studios was for writers – Banks. It has a beautiful view.
The writer was excited to be doing her artist-in-residence in the same studio where Louise Aronson wrote her award winning book, Elderhood.
My favorite? The Tombstones! ‘They were here’ markers. Every artist-in-residence signs the Tombstone. Every studio has their Tombstones mounted.
This is a MacDowell Tombstone photo.
Dear bloggers/writers,
Hello! You can be there. Really. There is no cost. MacDowell wants to give artists a place where they can write, etc. I hope you consider applying.
I will be back there for MacDowell Day next year!
Jennie
This cloud appeared late afternoon.
It was one bright streak
coming out of a gloomy gray cloud.
What does that say?
Nature always gives us messages
in their art,
telling us to look
and to think.
So I looked, and I thought.
I felt hope and goodness.
I smiled for a long time.
I thought of Anne Frank’s words,
In spite of everything, I still believe people are really good at heart.
I thought of E.B. White’s words,
Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
Look up, because nature is waiting for you to see, and hopefully feel.
Jennie
Our neighbors came over for a swim after dinner. Things had started to cool down and the sun was behind the trees. Their children love us, and of course follow me everywhere. 6 and 4 year olds do that (thank goodness.)
It Happened Like This…
On the way to the house the 6 year old asked,
“Jennie, is Gloria inside?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Can I hold her?”
“Of course you can.”
“Can Gloria swim?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Does she have a bathing suit?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
I knew exactly where this was headed, so I took the ball and rolled it, went with the flow, grabbed the brass ring. You get the picture. By this time we were inside, and they scooped Gloria off the couch.
“Maybe we could put Gloria on the raft in the water. If we hold onto her she won’t be scared.”
That’s exactly what we did! Gloria had a grand time, and we did, too.
Getting everyone onto the raft.
Tah-Da!
On a side note, these children have seen Gloria once in a while at my house. I briefly explained about her, and they nodded. That was that. I haven’t really brought Gloria into their lives like I do in the classroom at school. Isn’t it interesting that they understand her and ‘get it’, when I have done nothing to promote her?
Gloria has a magic all her own.
Jennie
History is an abstract concept for children, so if I can link something tangible – like me – to history, perhaps they can have an understanding.
At the end of the school year we read non-fiction chapter books. Little House on the Prairie is a favorite. In that book, the things I can personally connect to learning history and bringing it to life are:
Let’s start with my grandmother.
My grandmother Nan was born in 1886, the same year Laura Ingalls Wilder’s daughter was born. They both have the same name, too – Rose! What a connection. There’s more.
Nan as I remember her.
Nan when she was 14.
Just think- I not only spent time in her childhood home as a child,
I visited there when I was 14.
My granddaughter just turned 14.
Nan in 1909 when she was married.
Look at that hat and muffler!
The log house.
Nan was born and raised in a log house in West Virginia. While Pa built a one-story house, Nan’s was a two-story house. Still, it was built the same way.
She told me all about that house. I spent time there as a child. I love that house.
That’s me, visiting the house in 2016.
Nan was a storyteller. Oh, those wonderful stories and memories! I remember her stories well, and my own childhood events have become the foundation for ‘Jennie Stories’. Perhaps that is why I enjoy Pa’s stories in Little House in the Big Woods.
The log house is in Lowell, WV. Today it is known as the Graham House, named after a family member who built it, and is on the National Historic Register. But, back then in the 50’s, my family still owned the house. The history is thrilling; it is the oldest two-story log house west of the Appalachian mountains, built in the early 1770’s. My grandmother, Nan, lived in the house until she was married. She told me many times the story of Indian raids. On one occasion the children were in the summer kitchen and ran to the house. The boy did not survive and the girl was kidnapped. It took the father eight years to get his daughter back, trading horses with the Indians – hooray for family stories! They are the glue that keeps us together.
As a child, listening to this story is much like my preschoolers listening to my childhood stories. I know how that feels, and I, too, made those pictures in my head. That’s what children do when they hear a Jennie Story or chapter reading, like the Little House books. Stories are the keepers of words and memories.
My grandfather in the mines
One of the most thrilling chapters in Little House on the Prairie is Pa digging a well with his neighbor, Mr. Scott. The life and death adventure of digging a well, and the deadly gas deep in the ground, became a lesson in history. I had family history that was much the same.
Pa and his neighbor, Mr. Scott, were digging a well. Pa was careful to lower a candle each day into the deep hole to make sure the air was safe. Bad gas lives deep under the earth. Mr. Scott thought the candle was ‘foolishness’, and began digging without sending the candle down into the well. The rest of the chapter was an edge-of-your-seat nail biter.
I love this chapter. So did the children. I realized I could connect what happened down in that well to something real; a portrait of my grandfather as a little boy wearing miner’s gear, including a candle on his helmet. My grandfather and his father had mines in Pennsylvania and West Virginia. I grew up with their stories and photographs, including this portrait.
I brought it to school the next day to show the children. “This is my grandfather”, I said. “He went deep under the earth, just like Pa and Mr. Scott. What is that on his head?” Children couldn’t sit. They jumped up, pressed against me and each other, all wanting a closer look. “That’s fire!” someone said. “No, it’s a candle.” “A candle is fire.” “What did he do?” Ah, those wonderful, spontaneous questions that spark the best learning. This was ‘a moment’, fifteen children eager to hear more and learn.
I told them about mining, going underground, and about the candle. I then showed them the Garth Williams illustrations in the chapter ‘Fresh Water to Drink’, with Ma and Pa turning the handle of the windlass to get Mr. Scott out of the well, and Pa digging the hole that is as deep as he is tall.
We talked about how hard that would be. We imagined what it would be like inside the hole: Dark or light? Hot or cold? Then someone asked, “How old is your grandfather?”
I was connecting generations and bringing history to life.
I want my preschoolers to have a firsthand piece of history. It is a ‘real’ way to enhance learning. That happened with my Grandfather’s portrait, and with chapter reading Little House on the Prairie.
Indians
Some history was not good, like the Indian raids on my family’s log house, but in order to grow and develop we need to learn from that history. Pa’s neighbor, Mr. Scott, said
“The only good Indian is a dead Indian.”
Yikes! Yes, I read those words to children. I have to be true to history and to the author. I ask children, “Is that true? Why would Mr. Scott say that?” “Indians just look different, and many people are afraid of someone who looks different – like Gloria.” That was an ‘ah-ha’ moment of learning for children. Thank you, Gloria. You bring more diversity and understanding to children than you know.
I hope you have enjoyed this series, how I make history come alive for children.
Jennie
I’ve lost hubby to Dan and Willow’s new book,
Poetic Justice.
Isn’t that wonderful?
Jennie
As I read one of the classic children’s books, The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton, it turned out to be an unexpected history lesson. This wonderful book begins with a charming little house on a hill, living through days and nights and the seasons. She loves the countryside and the changes. The early illustrations capture all the images of the seasons. At this point in the book children are hooked, because they love the little house. As I turned the pages they knew summer followed spring, then autumn then winter. Each page was predictable.
The next page was the game changer. A road is being built by the little house, yet the children couldn’t see what was happening on that page. How could they not see?
I went back and forth between the previous page and this page, asking plenty of questions. Were they so focused on the house that they couldn’t see ‘the big picture’? Once the children saw what was happening, the story changed; there was much more than just the little house. We talked about steam shovels and trucks, and the smoke from the steam roller. From this point forward, every page in this book shows a significant change, and we jumped in with both feet. The tenement houses were built, and that was the trigger for history. We talked about the buildings; they were different. Then a child commented on the cars passing by. Yes, they were different, too.
The cars started most of the conversation. I told children that my grandmother drove those cars and my mother was a little girl riding in those cars. Generations are a concrete way to teach history to young children. It’s their closest connection to an abstract concept. Children identify history through their parents and grandparents, and a few lucky ones may have a great grandparent. It starts with something close to home, like a car, and that can be the catalyst to talking about history. That’s exactly what we did. The next page, and the next, and so on were steps in history. Trains and subway cars were a natural curiosity, since children were captivated by cars. Then came the twenty-five and thirty-five foot buildings. We talked about Boston and about Groton, and who has the tall buildings. We even imagined how high twenty-five stories would be.
Of course we never forgot about the little house, especially when she was moved from the city back to the country. This was perhaps the most exciting page; it sparked great conversation. Children asked how they did that, moving the house, and also asked how deep the hole was, and if the house was okay. This is the pinnacle in education. This page is all about math, science, engineering, kindness, history, and language. I think that’s why children like this page. There is so much to talk about and so much to learn.
The rest of the book is wonderfully predictable, as it should be. After all the lessons and learning and dialogue that transpired while reading this book, the little house comes to rest at a new place in the country, much like where the story began.
When I was in first grade, this was the one book I remember my teacher reading aloud. Frankly, that is my strongest memory of first grade. Now that I am the teacher, I have a greater understanding of how a picture book can teach history and beyond. That’s what I do.
Jennie
P.S. Stay tuned for Part 3.
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| Stevie Turner on Gloria’s Return From… |
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A Teacher's Reflections 