Yo Yo Maggie, 4th grade.
Gavin, 6th grade.
Around the web . . .
* This was sweet and lovely and instructive on the value of seeing things from a different point of view.
* I recently read this book and it’s just about perfect, a 135-page gem.
* Paste Magazine recently listed their “15 Favorite Tina Fey Moments” and I laughed all the way through. I bought the audiobook of Bossypants for Lisa, and she loved it.
* OMG (and I never, ever type “OMG” — so take note, people!), have you seen the brilliant, beautiful cover that Greg Ruth did for The Secret Journeys of Jack London by Tim Lebbon and Christopher Golden? It does everything a cover should do, makes you want to pick up the book and read it. Greg Ruth, my goodness. Wow.
* Okay, I guess Lois Lowry can be president after all. Seriously, I love her blog, somehow all that great humanity comes leaking through. And if my math’s not wrong, she looks terrific 97 years old.
* This is my favorite song from the new Fleet Foxes CD, “Helplessness Blues.” It’s a fan-made video of “Lorelai,” which opens with Brian Wilson-era harmonies and a touch of Dylan. “I was old news to you then, old news, old news to you then.”
Ah, the joys of middle school life. Is anyone else out there in the midst of it? It’s a really complex time for those kids. And they might be, possibly, out of their minds. Helplessly so.
Anyway, the scene: Gavin, my 6th-grader, comes to me in the morning. He needs me to write a note giving him permission to ride the bus to a friend’s house after school.
That he comes to me with a Post-It Note we’ll ignore.
As I’m about to write the brief note, he says, “Don’t try to write anything funny.”
Because parents can be so painfully embarrassing . . .
When you do school visits, there are many pleasures — a few quiet moments spent in conversation with a librarian, the roaring laughter of a large group of kids, the student artwork in the hallways, a teacher who says something nice. It’s all too much for me to describe.
Today I cleaned out the large, stuffed book bag that I carry on school trips. In one zippered pocket, crumpled in the bottom, a found a folded sheet of looseleaf paper. A note. I remembered the blonde-haired girl who came up to me with it in her hand. A second-grader, I’d guess. I’d spoken to her grade earlier in the day and now, evidently, she’d sought me out. The girl did not talk, but looked at me with something close to awe. She pressed the paper into my hand, smiled shyly, and quickly walked away, if only because running was not permitted in school.
I don’t remember where we were, which school, which state. It was just one of those little moments that happen along the way when you are an author, and when you’ve been blessed to connect with a reader. Some kid somewhere who picked up your book.
Thank you for the note, Avairee. I LOVE IT.