The entries collected here recount those instances when kids suddenly “get” something you’ve been teaching, when their new understanding stands out in their handmade books, and best, of all, when making a book sparks that leap.
The other night I found myself in a standing-room only auditorium packed with some 1,600 souls, thunderously clapping and whistling and cheering. It was the kind of jubilant noise that in my little circle might be reserved for the president-elect … or maybe Rafael Nadal … or Evgeny Kissin.
But this outpouring was for the quietly magnificent poet Mary Oliver.
Her appearance yesterday in San Francisco was sold out before I had thought to get tickets. But a tip from California Poets in the Schools—thank you, CPITS!—sent me to Santa Rosa for Oliver’s reading on Monday night instead.
Oliver has a mystic’s soul, exquisitely attentive, alert to quiet transformations, reverent and appreciative whatever her day’s walk serves up. And she’s so meticulous a craftsman, her words simultaneously spare and lush, that you can smell the salt air of her coastal home as you read. She’s my kinda celebrity.
Here’s an excerpt from one of the poems she read, called Mindful:
“Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or lesskills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needlein the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and overin joy,
and acclamation.”
This February, the San Francisco Center for the Book is fortunate to host English book artist and children’s literacy expert
Invariably, they’re eager to do their best when writing about their favorite subject—themselves—and often ask thoughtful questions. Recently a 5th grader working on a Yakety Yak book asked whether his bio should be written as a narrative or presented as a list of facts, like this: