Destination Reading

            I have always had an insatiable wanderlust.  I’d go anywhere.  I look at friends’ and family members’ pictures from around the world and wish I was there.  There isn’t a single place where I look at the pictures and think, “Meh.”  Well, maybe Vegas.  It’s not that I wouldn’t go there, but I think it’s last on my list.  After Antarctica.

            Add to that wanderlust a passion for both history and geography, and I’m doomed.  Every place is fascinating to me.  I want to know more and do more.  Every time I visit a new place, I feel like I’m home.  There’s always some aspect of  every place I go that speaks to me. 

            When I read a book, the literary element that speaks the strongest to me is setting.  I had never put my wanderlust and setting together before, but it’s been true my entire life as a reader.  Not only is setting the most tangible element for me, I can even forgive a weak story line or poorly written characters if the setting is stellar.  Likewise, if a setting is weak, I cannot get into a story. 

            Three years ago, I had the opportunity to do a Study Abroad experience in the UK.  The program was about British children’s literature and photography.  The children’s literature was already a passion of mine; the photography has become one.  We read British authors who lived and wrote in the Northumberland and Cumbria areas of England and then traveled there and saw the places we had read about.  There is only one word to describe the experience: wow.  

            Probably my favorite place we visited was on a weekend, so it was not included in our regularly scheduled tours.  We went to Edinburgh, Scotland, which was about an hour train ride away from where we stayed in Alnwick, England.  Edinburgh will probably forever remain my favorite city in the world.  To say I am in love is probably an enormous understatement.  Even though I love cities, I have never loved a city the moment I stepped foot on solid ground, but Edinburgh was like that for me.  There were men playing bagpipes in kilts on the corners, haggis stands, lovely open-air markets, high-end boutiques, and little touristy shops.  Edinburgh Castle is the most imposing structure I have ever seen (and it’s built on a dormant volcano, for Pete’s sake), and the juxtaposition between the medieval buildings, the first skyscrapers (several floors are often underground), and the ultramodern buildings is nothing short of fascinating.  Add on top of that a people who are friendly, jovial, and slightly superstitious, and it’s an all-out blast.  If I could pick up my family and move to Edinburgh today, I would do it without a second thought.  For real.

            The worst thing about visiting places that you fall in love with is returning home.  The drive back to our house from the airport was depressing.  Nothing was beautiful, hilly, or green.  There was no sea on the horizon.  The buildings were dull in their uniformity.  How can you be homesick for a place you’ve never called “home?”  But I was.

            To try to stave off my self-proclaimed “homesickness,” I began looking for books that took place in Europe, especially in England and Scotland.  It was kind of a challenge until my husband bought me a nook.  He probably curses the day he gave me that thing.  Truthfully, though, it was the nicest gift I have ever been given.  Much to my husband’s chagrin, Barnes & Noble has made some serious green off me.  I’m a fast reader and I am a sucker for their recommendations.  That’s a dangerous equation.

            One of the first books I purchased on my nook was Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto.  I read that book a year and a half ago and I still think about it frequently.  The story was mesmerizing, but the sense of place Sotto was able to weave into the story immerses the reader in a way that few authors are able to do.  Sotto takes you through Europe geographically and historically to learn secrets that you can only guess at in the beginning of the story.

            Another book I truly enjoyed was The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Schaffer and Anne Barrows.  This book takes place beginning in 1946 in England where the main character is a writer.  She begins corresponding with some people on the island of Guernsey, which is between England and France in the English Channel and was occupied by the Nazis during World War II.  The story is written entirely in letters.  It is a lovely story and one I could not put down.  To be honest, after reading the book, visiting the Channel Islands has become a slight obsession for me.   

            Last year, I found two books, A Discovery of Witches and Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness, that I think were meant exclusively for me.  These books take place in England and Scotland, and parts of them even take place in Alnwick.  Not only did I find the idea of the story truly fascinating, I got to revisit my study abroad experience as well.  Win-win.

            A few months ago, I stumbled upon a book called On Dublin Street by Samantha Young.  The story is about a woman named Joss Butler, an ex-pat who moved from Virginia to Edinburgh to escape life experiences that left her haunted.  She becomes entangled with the lovely Carmichael family, who embody everything that I have come to admire about the Scottish people.  Not to mention they all have that amazing accent.  I read On Dublin Street twice back-to-back.  There are currently two books and one novella (the novella is Until Fountain Bridge and the other novel is Down London Road) in that series.  I’ve read them all.  What I like the best about Young’s series is that the sense of place is highly developed.  When Joss is moving about Edinburgh, she shows you what she sees.  At a pivotal point in the story, Joss escapes to Edinburgh Castle and finds security in Mons Meg.  She describes the view from up there, and let me tell you, it is truly breathtaking.  All the things you can see at street level in Edinburgh, you can see from a bird’s-eye view from the castle.  I’d love to personally thank Samantha Young for her stories and their amazing setting, and someday, I hope I will be able to.  Particularly, I’d like to thank her for that scene.  It spoke volumes to me.  

            So where does the title of this post come in?  After some intense thought (okay, I thought of it in the shower-don’t tell me I’m the only one who has epiphanies in the shower) I have termed the type of reading I do when I look for books with a particular setting “Destination Reading.”  You’ve heard of Destination Weddings, I’m sure.  Well, “Destination Reading” employs the same philosophy.  Drop the reader in a beautiful location, plan an interesting story for them, and watch the magic happen.  It’s a pretty solid formula, at least as far as I’m concerned.  The preceding books I have listed are solid “Destination Reading” for the United Kingdom, and I could list many more-not to mention excellent “Destination Reading” for other places throughout the world. 

The best “Destination Reading” for me is the kind that incites my wanderlust.  It makes me want to drop whatever I’m doing, hop on a plane, and see how far I get before I run out of funds.  Someday I’m going to do it.  This is the reason I keep my passport in my armoire and not the safe.  Just in case.        

    

           

                       

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The Power of Suggestion

I haven't been able to sleep since 3:00 this morning.  I tried reading (the book was too scary and therefore not relaxing enough to fall asleep by), playing Sudoku (I always try to beat my fastest time so that's not relaxing either), and counting sheep (boring, but I have to pay attention to what I'm doing or I lose count).  So I hauled myself out of bed and into the living room, where I grabbed the first movie I saw and started it.  

Fortunately, the movie is You've Got Mail, one of my all-time favorites.  I think there are two reasons for that: 1.  Meg Ryan owns a children's bookstore, which if I'm being honest, is my dream job (after teaching, of course), and 2.  because of the following line, "Don't you just love New York in the fall?  Makes me want to buy school supplies.  I would buy you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."  Joe Fox is a man after my own heart!

Watching You've Got Mail got me thinking about how much I want to go to New York.  I've never been there, and I love everything I see and hear about it.  And then, I started thinking about owning a children's bookstore, which led to the books Meg Ryan reads in the film.  

Until I saw this movie, I had not read Jane Austen's classic Pride and Prejudice.  After hearing Kathleen Kelly (Ryan) tell Joe Fox (Tom Hanks) that she has read the book 200 times-"I get lost in the language: words like thither...mischance...felicity.  Read it; I know you'll love it!"-I picked up a copy and read it myself.  I did love it!  

My favorite scene in the movie is when Joe Fox (Hanks) brings his young aunt and brother to The Shop Around the Corner during story time.  Kathleen (Ryan) is sitting in a corner with a princess hat on her head and reading from a book that is charming all of the children (and adults) in the room.  Now, I know they're all paid actors, but I couldn't wait to figure out what that book was.  It seemed so familiar, yet I could not place it.  The first thing I did after I bought the movie was to freeze the frame and zoom in so I could figure out exactly what book had those people so mesmerized.  I was thrilled to learn that the book is Boy: Tales of Childhood, Roald Dahl's childhood biography, and a book I already owned.  So I skimmed through a copy and found the chapter called "The Great Mouse Plot."  I was excited; I had a new text to share with my kids at school!  

This year, as I was teaching my second grade students about the writing trait of Voice, I pulled out Boy and told them I couldn't wait to share this story with them.  We had already read Matilda aloud, so I used that as an "in."  I shared that Boy is full of voice, and even though the cover doesn't look all that intriguing, the writing inside is captivating.  I began to read, mimicking the inflection Meg Ryan uses in You've Got Mail, reading until Roald and his buddies had snuck the dead mouse into Mrs. Pratchett's jar of sweets successfully and seemed to have gotten away with it.  "But," I told the kids, "there's more to the story!  The next chapter involves the headmaster, a police officer, and Mrs. Pratchett herself."  They begged me to keep reading.  Since it was a writing mini-lesson, I couldn't, but I did show them the three copies I have in the classroom library.  As soon as The Daily 5 was over and it was time for snack, 7 kids bolted to the classroom library, arguing about who touched the copies first and therefore who would get to put the book in his or her book box.  I heard a lot of deal-making and "if you let me have it, we can read it together during Read to Someone!" from that corner of the room.  By the end of snack break, one of my boys had engaged me in a conversation about the next chapter.  He couldn't wait to read the rest of the book and learn more about Roald Dahl.  For the rest of the year, none of the copies of Boy were ever in their designated basket in the classroom library, they were in a book box or the hands of a second grader, and the conversations I heard around me had some reference to the book in them almost every day.  I didn't even mention the influx of Roald Dahl books my classroom saw! 

Have you ever noticed that when someone suggests a book to you, especially if it's someone you respect or admire, you get the book without hesitation?  I didn't quite realize the extent to which I do that until I truly pondered the You've Got Mail situation.  I did it with that movie, when my student teacher recommended The Great Gatsby (which I've read but haven't yet seen), when my brother recommended the Lucas Davenport novels by John Sandford (that's what I was trying to use, unsuccessfully, to fall back asleep this morning), when a friend and colleague recommended Gone Girl or when an ER nurse recommended 11/22/63-the list goes on and on.  I buy them or wishlist them so that I can start as soon as I finish the book I'm currently reading.  

Our students do that, too!   Every read-aloud I do in my classroom turns my students into book detectives and negotiators.  They want the book I'm reading in their hands.  They look in our classroom library, the school library, and if the book is very new and they can't find it in either place, they negotiate with their parents to buy it for them.  "Mrs. Aanenson, can you get that at Amazon?  Where did you buy that book?  Could you buy a copy for the classroom library?  Can I look at that during Read to Self/Read to Someone?" are questions I hear each time I bring out a new title.  These are some of the most gratifying questions I think I will ever hear.  To know that children can be influenced to love literature?  Amazing!

A few years ago, I had a reluctant reader in my fifth grade classroom.  She wasn't unique because she was a reluctant reader.  Every classroom has a few of them.  She was unique because I could see how badly she wanted to love to read, but was too afraid to become emotionally invested in a book.  Much of her reluctance came from early struggles with reading.  Because of that, she had decided that she hated to read and her parents told me that despite the fact they purchased books for her frequently, she refused to read them.  When I read to my class, she would sit with her arms crossed over her chest, and as far as I could tell, she completely ignored me.  I decided to take action to see what would happen.  First, I looked for books about kids who struggled in school, but became successful.  Second, I scoured my classroom library and our school library for books on topics I knew would interest her.  

Early in October, I read Patricia Polacco's wonderfully poignant story Thank You, Mr. Falker aloud.  I always cry at the end.  It never fails.  That story touches the very deepest part of my teacher soul.  As I looked around at my class, I was astonished to see that there were very few pairs of dry eyes.  My biggest surprise?  My reluctant reader had to get up to get a tissue.  My class and I then had a heartfelt discussion about things that they found difficult and what they had done to overcome those difficulties.  Every single student had something with which they struggled.  I watched my reluctant reader's eyes get bigger each time someone shared something that was hard for them.  I don't think she believed that she wasn't the only one who found something difficult.  

That day, she started asking more questions and requesting some individual instruction.  I promised her two things:  that I would find her books on topics she would enjoy, and that by the end of the school year, she would love to read.  In November, I began reading aloud There's a Boy in the Girls' Bathroom by Louis Sachar.  My students loved it, but the best part of reading that story to my students was watching my reluctant reader.  She laughed aloud at the funny parts, asked questions about the story, made predictions, clarified when she was confused, and engaged other students in discussions about the book.  

Then, my students and I started writing book reviews on index cards and placing them in library pockets on a bulletin board to suggest books we thought others in the class might enjoy.  I noticed my reluctant reader surreptitiously checking those reviews with increasing frequency in November and December.  Right around Christmas break, shortly after we had finished Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls, my reluctant reader came to me and said, "Mrs. Aanenson, you're my best teacher and my worst teacher.  You're my best teacher because you made me love to read.  You're my worst teacher because I don't get enough sleep anymore because I can't put my books down!"   When we got back from winter break, the kids shared their favorite Christmas gifts.  My reluctant reader's favorite gift was a set of 16 Newbery award books she had received from her aunt.  She had read two of them over break and wrote book reviews to share that day.

So what does all this have to do with the power of suggestion?  Think about it for a minute.  Have you ever read a story to your students and then later watched them check it out from the library?  When you choose a book for a Guided Reading group or Literature Circle, do the students ever look for other books by that author or on that topic?  When you or your students do book talks in your classroom, how often do your students choose to read the book?  After you've done an author study, do your students seek out the books you read, or find more books by or about the author?  Do they write letters asking for more information about the author?  Do they write in the style of the author?  Do they read aloud, mimicking your inflection or the author's?  This is the power of suggestion at work, friends!    

Passion for literature is infectious.  I truly believe that passion is the most powerful weapon in my teaching arsenal for getting kids to read.  The power of suggestion, especially when it comes to books, has effects much more far-reaching than we can possibly anticipate.  I want my students to argue over who gets the read-aloud book first!  I hope my students ask if I can get a copy of a book they love for the classroom library!  When my students clap at the end of the story, it brings tears to my eyes!  It means I am igniting their passion for literature with mine.  Like a candle that lights another candle, the original flame will not be diminished by passing the light on.  We, as teachers, can continue to light our students' candles by sharing new titles, genres, and authors, enticing kids to read, and sharing with them excellent books that will leave them wanting more.  In turn, our students will pass their own flame on to someone else.

 

The Big Wish

Here's my first literature-based product to go on TpT, and I thought I'd share it with all of you, too.  It is based on the story The Big Wish by Carolyn Conahan, which is one of my favorites! 

The Big Wish is about a girl named Molly who has a dream of creating a World Record Wish.  She has a yard full of dandelions, and while her neighbor thinks they are a nuisance, Molly insists that she has to shelter them because they will grow to become wish puffs.  The people of the town get excited about the World Record and it is decided that a contest will be held to see which wish is the best.  When the big day comes, Molly can't decide which wish to choose.  She allows everyone to pick a wish puff and make their own wishes.  This is a fantastic story about the value of our hopes and dreams, and that everyone's wishes are a little different. 

Hopes and Dreams with The Big Wish

I Believe In Books

During one of my graduate courses for my K-12 Reading Certificate, my professor asked the class to write about what we believe in.  The title was "I Believe In ____."  She said we would have three minutes to get our rough ideas down on paper.  It took me barely a complete breath before I decided that "books" would fill in the blank.  I started writing and couldn't stop, even when our three minutes were over.

I think that most people would scoff at my choice of topic, considering that I could have picked "Jesus" or "World Peace", but I still stand by my choice.  Here's why:

My husband and I have three beautiful boys.  Beautiful might not be the right word for them, but I'm going with it.  They are rambunctious, gregarious, and full of all of the things that little boys should be full of.  But getting to the point where we had three beautiful boys wasn't an easy journey.  Carter Xavier was born on August 13, 2001.  When he was born, my husband and I looked at each other and agreed that we had to "do this again."  So, in 2002, I was pregnant again.  Unfortunately, I miscarried that baby, which my doctor told me is normal; it happens to almost everyone.  Eager to provide a sibling for our son, we got pregnant as soon as was physically safe for me.  In February of 2003, we were excited to be expecting again.  We couldn't wait!  Carter was going to be a big brother!  Then in June, I began my Master's program and shortly after that, I had the blood test to check for all the things that blood tests check for.  It was during class that the Ob/Gyn's office called and left a message on my cell phone to please call them at my earliest convenience. 

You know that "feeling" you get when something isn't right and that you are going to be dealt a blow that you aren't sure you'll recover from?  I had that feeling.  I left class, stood out under a maple tree next to the English building, and called my doctor's office back.  I was right.  A problem showed in the bloodwork and I had to go in for an ultrasound that afternoon.  We went together, saw the baby and the heartbeat, but the technician noticed a strange sound that she couldn't see with the limited equipment they had at that hospital.  So they scheduled an appointment for me with a perinatal specialist who could do a level 2 ultrasound at a specialty clinic in Minneapolis.  We prayed and hoped and hoped and prayed, but it was no use.  Our daughter had three chambers in her heart, underdeveloped kidneys, underdeveloped lungs, and a cyst running from the crown of her head to below her tailbone; all the result of a chromosomal abnormality called Turner's Syndrome.  There was nothing they could do.  Olivia Leigh was stillborn on July 11, 2003, roughly 24 weeks after her conception.  It was the most devastating day of our lives.  10 years later, I still think about Olivia every single day without fail.

We moved on, as parents do, picking up the pieces of our lives and our broken faith that everything works out the way it's supposed to.  The November after Olivia was born (no, we did not wait for the prescribed amount of time-we knew that if we didn't try again as soon as possible, we never would) we learned we were pregnant again.  July 8, 2004 might be the most amazing day of my life.  Camden Douglas arrived that day, healthy and beautiful and smiling from the moment he was born.  Four years later, on May 2, 2008, Collin Tate joined our family, full of mischief and spunk.

That has nothing to do with books, you might say.  Well, here's where it comes full-circle.  As I mentioned, when I was pregnant with Olivia, I started my Master's program.  I dropped out when I learned that we were going to lose her with no intention of ever returning.  I quit reading, I quit listening to music, I quit watching tv and movies.  I heard pain in every line of every song and saw it in every letter of every word of every story I read.  The only thing I still read was children's literature, but I put up a wall between my heart and the books. 

Fast forward to 2008, when Collin was born.  I decided that I needed to get my Master's degree.  I had been teaching long enough and it seemed all of my colleagues had theirs.  So off I went.  My first class was Teaching Young Adult Literature (because students in Curriculum and Instruction had to choose a class outside their major to fulfill all of the areas required for a Master's Degree).  We had to purchase something like 16 novels for the class, all Young Adult.  Our professor, truly one of the most talented and engaging teachers I have ever had, made us live, think, and breathe books.  We read at least two novels a week, she read to us in class, we did projects and activities, and we discussed books.  I had forgotten how much I love books.  Literally.  Forgotten. 

I had been a reader all my life.  Even as a child and a teenager, my parents would turn my light off, and after they went back upstairs to their bedroom, I would either hide in my closet with the light on or turn on my bedside light and read until the wee hours of the morning.  I was tired all the time.  But I had to know what happened!  I loved the characters, the excitement, the wondrous places in the stories.  After Olivia was born, that was lost.

During the course of Teaching Young Adult Literature, I found my way back to books.  Even though we read two novels a week, and even though there was homework and school work and housework, and even though my husband worked nights (and I had a second grader, a preschooler, and an infant), I started reading again.  I read the Twilight Saga in a week and a half (through final exams, even) and then started working my way back into adult books (Dan Brown, Janet Evanovich, and it spiraled out from there).

What did I find when reading these books?  That struggle is part of the human experience.  That loss makes characters in stories stronger.  That love transcends heartache in stories (even though sometimes that love isn't the kind you were expecting).  That children, yes children, are what give stories great hope.  That the characters I liked the least were the ones who let adversity defeat them.

Then I took a good look at myself.  I had been living for the last five years, but I had not been allowing myself a life.  I had my children and they were everything to me, but somehow, somewhere, I had lost me.  So bit by bit, story by story, I started piecing myself back together-or rather, building a new and better me.  The characters I truly loved became a part of me.  The stories that spoke to me began to infiltrate my life.  I started reading again, not just a little, but voraciously.  I read everything and anything I could get my hands on.  I remembered what I felt like when I fell in love with my husband, and yes, I fell in love with him again.  Instead of hiding my feelings about my children on a scrapbook page, I gave it to them full-bore in real life.  I allowed myself to live-to love, to care, to be excited and sad and scared and deliriously happy-and yes, even to hurt, because all of those emotions are part of what makes a life.

So, I believe in books.  I believe they have the power to connect us to something greater than ourselves.  I believe that sometimes we need to find the rawness of someone else's experience to realize that we are not alone in our struggles: that heartache is universal and that-most importantly-it can be overcome.