–
For years on school visits, I’ve often enjoyed lunch with small groups of students. Problem is, I never get to eat. These days I’ve tried to shift that to a shorter, very loose Q & A session (25 minutes). I usually explain it as “Cookies and Conversation.” Last week one librarian gave it a fresh twist. Nice! They come for the Oreos . . . and stay for the conversation.
–
–
–
I finally did it. Parted with some hard-earned cash to print up flyers in the hope they’ll lead to more school visits. I don’t know why I resisted. Felt a little egotistical somehow. Anyway, I’ll bring them to book festivals, share them with librarians. But if you are interested in having me visit your school — or your school district for a multiple-school visit — I’d be happy to send along a few. I could also send a PDF, which is faster, easier, cheaper. But, admittedly, not as much fun.
Anyway: thanks for your interest. Write me a note at [email protected] and we’ll start this ball rolling. Still some openings at the end of this school year. It’s a great time to start thinking about 2019-2020 school year.
–
–
I’m 58 today. All day. Was just sent this photo from a school visit in East Williston, NY. I’m pleased to see the background image, the photo of my brothers & sisters a few years before I arrived on the scene, the youngest of seven. There’s been no greater influence on my writing — on my self — than the family I come from. In some respects, it surprises me how much I talk about family at the younger elementary levels. I want them to look around at the people in their lives, and value what they have: the stories that are right there.
–
–
This one is from Weber Middle School, also on Long Island, where I spoke to 6th graders who had all read Bystander. Obviously, I very different presentation. In this one, we were able to fit into a spectacular library for an intimate conversation. Some rooms are tougher than others. The cafetorium can be hard on an audience. I’m always grateful when we can find this type of warm, comfortable setting. It makes a difference.
–
–
And, okay, sure: happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me! Grateful I can still do this job, still speak to young people, still live this life of books and dreams and thoughts and feelings and words, words, words. Couldn’t last a year without the support of teachers and librarians and parents who share my books with young readers. Thank you!
–
–
–
I’d like to share a story with you — a story that gets deeper and more lovely as we go along — and it all comes back to how blessed I feel to play a small role in this incredible world of children’s literature. Authors, readers, teachers, librarians, parents, all of us joined in the same magical dance of literacy and empathy and kindness.
It can be a hard way to earn a living, full of soul-crushing rejections and ever-present financial worries, but it’s also obviously the best job ever.
I visited two K-3 schools in the Rochester area last week, Thursday and Friday, November 1st and 2nd. This tied into the Rochester Children’s Book Festival, which took place on Saturday the 3rd. This is a unique festival, with heart and soul, and I’m grateful to have been invited several times over the years.
Let me tell you about this girl I met. For some reason, maybe because I was her first “real, live” author, Lauren was smitten with me. We connected during my school visit, to the point where she returned home and urged her mother to please, please, please take her to see James Preller (again) at the RCBF. Her mother obliged, gladly.
Let’s pause now for some photos, combined from those two visits, including several which were sent to me by Lauren’s mother, Kara, who granted permission to post them here. She wrote:
You made quite the impression on Lauren. She read the whole way home and drew an amazing picture of one of the Jigsaw Jones books you signed for her.
We’ll get to the heart-melting part of this post in a moment, but first some quick snaps . . .
This guy greeted me in the lobby at one of the schools . . .
Due to time and space restrictions, I gave “big” presentations to grades 1 and 2 combined . . .
. . . and a small one for the kindergartners. Pro tip: While I’m typically energetic for large groups, I always sit for K-only groups. We keep it mellow & super cozy. . .
Then at Saturday’s book festival, Lauren showed up, beaming . . .
We chatted and took a snap together . . .
Who’s cuter? Do I win?
My pal!
The car ride home was quiet . . .
And she drew a picture for me that very night.
The next day, Lauren’s mother and I exchanged some messages.
She wrote:
As I’m sure you saw from our facebook page, Lauren’s younger brother, Owen, died, and it’s given her an astonishing level of empathy and awareness for others. We actually started an entire book donation program in his name at the hospital where he spent his entire life, and she is very involved in the process of selecting the books for the kids at the hospital. It’s our attempt in turning unimaginable heartbreak into something good.
And it’s true: I had gone over to Kara’s page when I received her friendship request, and learned about Owen, Lauren’s brother, an infant who passed not long ago. Kara writes openly and courageously about Owen, and loss — always with warmth and wisdom. This is one recent message I found on her page, which I find profound and beautiful:
If you know someone who has lost a child, and you’re afraid to mention their child because you think you might make them sad by reminding them they died — you’re not reminding them. They didn’t forget they died. What you are reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift.
Remembering all of the beautiful gifts and appreciation for life that sweet Owen continues to give us, all the babies who left too soon, and the families they left behind.
–
As a parent of a two-time childhood cancer survivor, including five years of chemo, I can relate to Kara’s words. People don’t always know what to do. Whether to say something or, perhaps, not. In my experience, some kind of recognition is always best. And food is always welcome!
If you have something to give to Owen’s book donation program, that’s great. If not, that’s okay, too. Authors and illustrators get asked to do this kind of thing a lot. No matter how you respond, please give a thought to Owen, and remember Kara’s infinitely wise words.
Count your blessings every single day.
Kara credits Lauren with helping their family when they lost Owen. She also credits the kindness of friends, relatives, and perfect strangers. Here’s Kara’s email address if you wish to donate a book or two: [email protected]
Thanks for stopping by.
Oh, and — I see you, Lauren! Terrific drawing. Keep reading!
–
–
