Tag Archive for James Preller school visits

Snaps: Visit to Conrad Weiser Middle School

Last week I enjoyed three days of school visits in Pennsylvania. It was nicely varied, since the first day was at a K-6 elementary school. On a visit of that nature, I do three completely different talks to a variety of ages, which helps me from becoming too terribly sick of myself (an occupational hazard, I’m afraid). The next two days were at middle schools, and to my great pleasure included giving writing workshops to small groups of students (about 25-30 each).

While I do have doubts about my ability as a writing teacher, I have to admit that I must know something, all these years and books under my belt. Mostly though, I really think these students want a moment to shine, and share, and it’s my honor to try to support them in their efforts. I just want to find the good qualities in each shared sample and encourage, encourage, encourage.

At one school, Conrad Weiser Middle School in Robesonia, PA, the day began with a general presentation for grades 5-8 in a large auditorium, filled with somewhere around 650 students. Not at all scary, but . . . you really don’t want to bore 650 middle school students.

And I don’t even juggle.

Oh, and get this: At the 3rd school, Brandywine, the school jazz band played (I think) “Birdland” and (I know) “Rockin’ Robin” while the students filed in. That was a first for me — a warm-up act! Wish I had a photo of those guys, they were excellent, and reminded my of my son, Gavin, who plays guitar in his middle school jazz band.

Don’t tell my kids — especially Gavin — that I show pictures of them to crowds like this, their smiling gobs on ten-foot screens. They would be mortified. In fact, Gavin’s default position these days, when it comes to his father, is mortification and embarrassment. Sigh.

On every trip, you make some friends and then never see them again. So here I am, wearing my current go-to sweater, still a little glassy-eyed from my recent (losing) bout with pneumonia, with a couple of students and librarian Kathie Matthew. Don’t go by his expression, the guy in the left is actually thrilled beyond belief. Okay,  maybe not.

Without Kathie’s enthusiasm and energy, the whole trip would have never happened. So thanks again for a great day, Kathie. God bless librarians, each and every one!

Fan Mail Wednesday #143-146: Some Recent Letters from Teachers about BYSTANDER

I’ve been getting a lot of mail from teachers who are using Bystander in their classrooms. From early on, that was my hope for this book — a talking book, a valuable conversation starter in the hands of a good teacher and a lively classroom. I’m happy to see that it’s been embraced in the 5th grade, as well some 4th-grade classrooms. Overall, most readers seem to be in grades 6-8.

Here’s a sampling of emails from teachers I’ve received over the past few weeks. As always, some personal info has been deleted to protect the innocent  . . .

Hi James,

I’m a 4th grade teacher in Iowa. Today I started reading Bystander aloud to the class. I think this is my 3rd year in a row reading the book and I LOVE IT!!! As the kids were listening their mouths were ajar. (I love that!)

Thanks for sharing your awesome talent –- with such an important message.

Cheers,
K

And from Hawaii . . .

Dear Mr Preller,

My name is ____ ______ and I am a 5th grade teacher on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. I am currently reading the book with my students and I have some students who would like to write you some “fan-mail” and replies to reading your book. On your web site you do not have an address in which we could mail you. Could you possibly email me your address?

Any help would be much appreciated. Thanks so much!

Love the book! My students cannot put it down!

Sincerely,

G

I replied: James Preller, 12 Brookside Drive, Delmar, NY 12054.

I also might have added something about being available for school visits. Aloha, baby.

Hi James!  I teach fifth grade and we read Bystander as a class.  They LOVED LOVED LOVED it.  You are a rock star.  One of my students took the initiative to write you a letter but I cannot find the address to send it.  He even included a self-addressed stamped envelope in the hopes of hearing from you.  Can you please send me the address?  I would really appreciate it.
V

And lastly, from the Windy City . . .

Mr. Preller,

I would like to inquire about having you come to visit our middle school in late August or early September of 2012 (the beginning of the next school year).

We have adopted your novel, Bystander, as an all-school summer reading novel for all students in our building, grades 6-8 (about 900 students).  Our School Climate Committee has been meeting this year to develop a more effective anti-bullying initiative in our school, and your novel is a perfect match for this project.

Please let me know your availability and fees.  We are located in _______, Illinois, a northwest suburb of Chicago.  Here is a link to our school’s web page linked to our district’s site if you would like to get a sense of our community.

Thank you,

M

I replied, in part . . .

M,

This sounds wonderful, though there are some obstacles in our path.

I live outside of Albany, NY, so there is travel to consider. Generally speaking, I prefer to have a minimum of three full days of work for any trip. Four is better. The best arrangements come when schools in a district coordinate their efforts — and share the expense of plane tickets — and I’m invited somewhere for 4-5 school days.  Is that enough to get you started?

Lastly, thank you. I’m very glad to hear about your efforts, and glad that my book might help in the process for cultivating a safe, happy community of learners.

My best,

JP

Fan Mail Wednesday #127 (Writing Advice)

Certainly by this point, faithful readers of jamespreller.com have realized that for me, “Wednesday” is a mystical proposition rather than, say, an actual day. Fan Mail Wednesday happens when I get around to it, basically, and these days it’s been tough. I’m traveling like never before. On Tuesday I was in Hudson, NY, and yesterday in Deep River, CT. In both cases, everyone had read my book, Bystander. Teachers, administrators, students, everybody. Incredible. Even the janitor gave me hug (no, not really).

I gave my fancy new Power Point presentation and I think I’m getting the hang of this thing. Talking about Bystander — my writing process, yes, but also about the bullying themes in the book — really challenged me. In the end, I realized that I did not write an anti-bullying prevention program; I wrote a story. And that story, and literature in general, can be a powerful tool for standing in someone else’s shoes. For learning compassion, empathy.

Frankly, at this point, I sense that many of us are becoming a little sick to death of bullying as the pervasive “it” topic. As I darkly joked with an administrator yesterday, predicting the spat on new bully-themed books that are surely to come, “Bullies are  the new wizards.” But I do know that this subject matters. And matters deeply, urgently. Character matters. Building community matters. Caring, tolerance, relationships, peacefulness, civility — all these things are a vital part of school, and life. Bullying is just a subset of those overall goals. There is no learning until community exists.

Anyway, here’s an absolutely terrific letter from K . . .

Hi, it’s the girl that was going to email her piece of writing to you at Mt. Greylock Regional High School (AKA: K_____)

I’ve never actually written an email to an adult before, so I have no idea how or what to type. I wish I could’ve had more time to talk to you at the workshop — Bystander was AMAZING. I spent hours reading it and then had to hide it in my bed with a flashlight when I was supposed to be in bed. Please don’t tell my parents. (:

(Oh, and I have a question. I was dying to ask you but completely forgot to. When you were in the auditorium with us, you said you had some pictures in your books (I’m having a short-term memory loss at the moment, can’t remember which books they were…) that were done by somebody that also drew graphic novels, if I’m correct. Which graphic novels were they? I could’ve sworn I heard you say “Kanon” and “Clannad,” which are my two favorite books/shows ever. )

Your blog is also amazing. The picture of the little kid getting “eaten” by the shark costume made me smile. It made my day.

By the way, when I got home, I showed the paper that you signed to my little sister. She said that you actually showed up at her school, too. Lanesborough Elementary. And she was incredibly jealous about the autograph. She says hi, by the way. 🙂

And… I’ve decided to type out the writing piece that I wrote on here because I reaaally want your advice on how I can become better at writing. (I’m starting to think about being an author, it sounds fun. ♥)

—–

[K’s Writing Sample]

The adrenaline flowed through me, being the only thing that made me keep moving onwards. Whenever I slowed down, the fear crashed into my mind, interuppting all tired thoughts.

I was running from my once-best friend. Dakota, the girl I had once shared my feelings with and had fun with, was now hunting me down. Slowly, a little hand grasped my bigger one, our fingers entwining. Angel. I would never let you go.

Staring downwards, still running for my life, big blue eyes met my brown ones. They were curious, wondering what exactly what was happening, but overall, terrified. Her lower lip trembled.

“Why is she chasing us?” Was Angel’s question. I had no idea myself. Shaking my head, I turned away. Angel whimpered softly, and clutched my hand so tight my fingers went numb. “I’m scared.”

Smirking, trying to stay brave (although my insides were crashing apart), I turned back around. “Me too.”

“I miss Dakota,” Angel started wiping her face with her dirty sleeve. How long had we been running? Gritting my teeth to keep back tears, I sniffled.

“Me too.”

Then, like God despised the both of us, he performed his “magical powers,” and created a miracle. Rain. I finally let my tears go, collapsing to my knees as I called out Dakota’s name over and over again. Wide-eyed, Angel stared at my tear-stricken face. She gripped my shoulders, glancing around cautiously.

“What’s wrong?” Her horrified whisper made a lump appear in my throat. I swallowed.

“N-Nothing,” I stuttered, although the tears kept falling. Angel stroked my cheek, trying to stop the tears. How great, I thought despite myself, for a 6 year old to be comforting a 13 year old.

Angel sighed, and her eyes caught something glowing in the shadows.

“Celeste,” She whispered my name, terrified. I don’t like the tone of her voice…

“What?” I tried to stay somewhat calm-sounding, but not even her could miss the panic.

“Flashlight beam.”

Dakota.

I got up.

—–

So that would be it. ♥ If I ever do become a author, I’ll aim to make that a part of the first book that I publish. ♥ What do you think of it? 🙂

Sincerely, K_____

I replied:

Dear K_____,

Thank you for your fantastic email and writing sample. I loved visiting Mount Greylock. I don’t normally get the opportunity to teach writing workshops, since schools usually want me to see as many students as possible, and workshops are of necessity small and intimate. I feel inexperienced, like I really have no idea what I’m doing. Yes, I’ve been writing professionally for 25 years — I must know something! — but teaching is a different skill. And teaching writing, well, I’m not at all sure how to go about that.

Personally, I never really took writing classes. I did one workshop in college and didn’t like it. I tried another one some time later, for poetry, and it was okay. So my experience is that I’ve learned by reading — deeply, widely, attentively — and by doing. That is, by writing. Getting published, I’ve also had the opportunity to work with editors who’ve been very smart, so I’ve learned from them, too.

I have no memory of writing in school, though I suppose it must have happened. I did keep journals, though, in my teenage years and beyond. Note the distinction, “journal” not “diary.” I was never one for documenting the day. “Dear Diary, today I went to Auntie Em’s for lunch. We had grilled cheese sandwiches.” And so on. I used my journal to write thoughts, ideas, observations, poems, short stories. It was a place to go with my thoughts, and every writer needs a blank page.

The artist I mentioned was Greg Ruth, who illustrated A Pirate’s Guide to First Grade. You can learn more about Greg by clicking here.

Illustration by the insanely talented, Greg Ruth.

Your writing sample was very dramatic, very exciting — and left me, the reader, with so many questions. In short: I want to know more! I love how you drop us right into this thrilling moment, running for their lives (I think), frightened, desperate. And also, the relationship between the sisters, the hands clutching. This is exciting stuff. Even the name, Angel, is arresting. So, really, I think you’ve GOT TO KEEP GOING with this story.

What’s the deal with Dakota?

You can do that in at least three ways, it seems to me: 1) By seeing your sample as somewhere in the middle of your story, and going back to write what led up to this moment; 2) Through flashback, perhaps entering the thoughts, memories, of the main character; 3) By having Dakota herself appear, and all of this come out through dialogue. My point? You’ve grabbed us, gotten our attention, now you’ve got to answer our questions.

You wrote your piece in our workshop, probably not knowing the answers yourself. Don’t worry; that’s writing. Sometimes we write to figure it out, to discover, to learn. Think of it as a journey — and follow, follow, follow.

I don’t think that it’s productive to worry too much, at this stage in the journey, about getting things perfect. But as a reader, I did feel some confusion about Dakota. They were running from her . . . but missing her? They were running from her . . . but suddenly stopping to cry out her name? Has she transformed in some way? Is the real Dakota gone? What’s happening? You don’t need to answer every question in this one scene, but you do need each character’s actions to make sense and be consistent. Every moment has to ring true.

Thanks for your letter. And say hello to your sister. Good luck with the writing. And please, above all, HAVE FUN with it. Enjoy yourself. I like how in real life you have a younger sister. I think you could go deeper into that fictional relationship in your story. Sisters. It’s something you know in your heart.

My best,

JP

Dear Teacher: An Author’s Take on School Visits

I have been enjoying school visits for the past 15 years. I’ve played a role in great successes and I’ve had visits that have felt flat and, for me at least, unrealized.

Same guy. What was the difference?

Which is another way of asking, “What makes a successful author visit?”

Here’s a clue: I don’t think it’s the author. I’ve given talks when teachers have walked into the room enthusiastic and eager — curious to meet me, to hear my talk — and I’ve seen teachers arrive late, who appear put-upon and vaguely annoyed. They flip through papers, check their watches, see it all as an inconvenience rather than something germane to their mission as teachers. Students feed directly off those attitudes; it’s what they are taught. I’ve seen kids enter a room bubbling with excitement. I’ve seen it in their eyes. They were going to meet a real, live author. Someone whose books they’ve talked about and read. Other times, other groups: it’s more like, “Why are we here again?” They may not even be sure.

Here’s what I’ve concluded: A school visit isn’t something that happens to a school. It is something that a school does.

Let me put that another way:

Authors don’t “do” school visits.

Schools “do” author visits.

It’s an important distinction. An author visit is not passive for the school. It’s active. And it requires a lot of work, with a lot of different people pulling on the same oar. Schools make these visits happen — and by “schools” I mean the principal, librarian, teachers, service workers, and PTA/PTO. The author showing up? That’s after most of the real work’s been done.

At least 85% of what transpires for a visit is up the school, not the author. In fact, it’s not that much about “the event” itself, which happens in a flash and is soon over. A small part of a given day. The author comes and goes. Then it’s P.E. and lunch and recess and the math quiz. What endures is what happens in the school before and after the visit.

For an author visit to make sense, it has to be part of some greater context, a school’s emphasis on literacy, it’s fundamental belief in the value of reading and writing. The author is part of something much larger. Or else, seriously, don’t bother. Save the money.

Schools should think of a visiting author as a distant uncle they’ve invited over for Thanksgiving dinner. They’ve been preparing, shopping, cleaning, and cooking long before Uncle Jimmy ever shows up. Sure, he’s funny and nice and will add to the festivities, might even help make it a wonderful afternoon. But without all your work — if there’s no turkey! — then it’s not going to be much of a visit. And guess what? Uncle Jimmy isn’t going to hang around to do dishes. He won’t be eating the leftovers either.

What you get out of an author visit is in direct proportion to what you put into it — just like everything else in life.

There’s a wealth of practical “how to” information out there addressing every aspect of the successful visit. For some easy tips, try starting at these sites:

* How To Have Great Author Visits — from Pamela Curtis Swallow and Deborah Heiligman

* Planning, Fundraising, & Tips — from Scholastic

* Terri’s Tips for Terrific Author/Illustrator Visits — from Theresa Finch, Librarian

* Visiting Authors Dot Com — lots of good stuff here, start digging.

School Visits: Some Photos

Here’s some photos from a recent school visit to Jefferson Elementary, in Schenectady, New York (but it sure looked like Rotterdam to me). We had a great day, thanks largely to the efforts of the tireless Beth Bini and the whole Jefferson Elementary Wrecking Crew.

I believe that 80% of the success or relative failure of a school visit comes down to the school. The advance work of teachers, the PTA, the support of the administration, etc. They lay the groundwork for a positive visit. Or not. Then the author comes in and basically does a job, which is the final ingredient. Essential, for sure. But without that preparatory effort by the school leaders, reading books, talking about writing, building a sense of anticipation — excitement about books! — then the author is running uphill all day long and the whole day just isn’t what it could be for the students.

Which is why I’m so grateful to Beth, and everyone else at Jefferson.

Anyway, here’s a bunch of photos of me, me, ME, mememe. A little gross, but I don’t do this too often and the shots are kind of cool.

Somebody at one of the presentations took these pictures. This would be from my talk to K-1 students. I do entirely different talks for grades 2-3, 4-5, and middle schools. Here I’m reading my new book, Mighty Casey: “Still, the hounds took the field/ with bounding, bursting pride/ win or lose, they did their best;/ they could always say, “We tried.”

It’s hard to make out here, but I love the Elmo, a camera-projection-thingy-tool-gizmo that makes it easy to show images up on a big screen, even for semi-Luddites like me. Two outs, bases loaded. Uh-oh. It’s Casey at the bat.

I like to show kids the books that I made, and sold to friends and neighbors, when I was a kid. This shot is from Tarzan’s Adventures, available for only twelve cents, with the numbers written backwards. Fortunately my mom bought and saved the lone copy. My other books from that time, such as Hercules Kills Danger, are gone forever.

This is right before I nearly killed myself by standing on a folding chair (bad idea).  I’m explaining that if it was me up in a tree, and not Tarzan, that I’d definitely stay up there until the lion went away. Which is why he’s a better character for a story than I’d ever be. You see,  I was a boy, and I wanted things to HAPPEN in my stories. Otherwise, why write about it?

Wake Me In Spring — no idea what I’m doing here. The truth is, I don’t have a license to do this stuff. I half expect to get hauled away any minute.