Showing posts with label Caldecott. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caldecott. Show all posts

Monday, February 28, 2011

No, David!

I first heard about No, David! from Charlie's day care teacher, who recommended it as a perennial favorite in her class. Then, when he switched schools a few months later, I heard about it from his new day care teacher. Within a couple more months, I was hearing about it from Charlie himself. Really, it's completely understandable. What could toddlers possibly like more than watching a kid do all the things they're not allowed to do, and getting to tell him "No, David!" on each page?

David writes on walls. He balances precariously on top of a chair to reach the cookie jar on a high shelf. He tracks mud through the house and splashes water out of the bath. He runs outside without any clothes on!!! He bangs pots and pans together, plays with his food, shoves everything into his mouth at once, and chews with his mouth open. He jumps on his bed, picks his nose, and breaks a vase by playing baseball inside the house. David is in sooooooooooo much trouble. But his mother still loves him, and gives him a big hug on the last page.

The story is told with an absolute minimum of words. Each two-page spread is an illustration of a single bad thing David does. The only words are variations on "No, David!" The illustrations are not really to my liking. They're done in a style I refer to as "dumb cartoon," so I was surprised to see that this is a Caldecott Honor Book. Still, they do provide a fair amount of detail to discover, and they manage to tell the story entirely on their own.

Charlie loves to tell me rambling and semi-coherent vignettes from this book. "Mommy say 'No, David!' Maybe he fall and bump his head because he trying to reach the cookie jar waaaaaay up high and it on the shelf and he maybe fall and bump his head so she say 'No, David! That is not ok!' Ask for a cookie maybe?"

This is on my kid's all-time most-loved toddler books list. Highly recommended.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

A Chair for My Mother

A Chair for My Mother is a wonderful story about the importance of work, savings, and family. I remember this book from when I was a child, and it was featured on Reading Rainbow, but judging by the number of Amazon reviews, it's not too widely known. If this is your first introduction to it, you are in for a real treat.

The book is narrated by a young girl who lives with her mother and grandmother. About a year ago, their house burned down. Everyone was safe (even the cat!), but all of their possessions were completely destroyed. The mother works as a waitress, so the family doesn't have very much money. They move into a new apartment, and their extended family and neighbors all pitch in to donate furniture and other necessary items. But there is not a big, comfy chair for them to relax in. So the mother brings home a huge glass jar from the restaurant, and they save up their coins until they have enough to buy the perfect chair.

The story is told somewhat out of order, beginning with working at the diner, moving through how they save up the coins, taking a flashback to tell the reader about the fire and moving into the new apartment, then culminating with filling up the jar, shopping for a new chair, and bringing it home to enjoy. This structure adds a lot of interest compared to the straightforward narrative arc of most picture books. It means the story is a bit more complex to follow, but I don't think Charlie had much trouble grasping that we were moving back and forward in time.

This is an incredibly useful book for introducing children to two major economic concepts: the importance of work for earning money, and saving and spending.

Work enters the book on page one. The opening line is about work ("My mother works as a  waitress in the Blue Tile Diner."), and by the end of the first paragraph, the little girl has a job, too. She visits her mother at the diner after school, and the owner pays her to do small tasks like refilling ketchup bottles. The girl clearly takes pride in her work and in her ability to earn money to spend herself and to contribute to her family's finances.

Work is fulfilling and necessary, but it's also exhausting. When mama comes home from work, "[s]ometimes she's so tired she falls asleep while I count the money out into piles." And making ends meet is not easy. When there are not many tips, mama "looks worried." Grandma apparently does not work, but she's responsible for the shopping in the family, and is always looking for "a good bargain on tomatoes or bananas or something she buys." Life is not all just candy and roses in this book. I really like the way the budgeting issues are presented. They are clearly there, but the book doesn't beat you over the head with them. This is a family that is not exactly struggling to make ends meet, but that has to stick to a pretty strict budget. They're not lacking for food or clothing or other necessities of life, but they've suffered a setback and they don't have much extra to go around. Nobody whines and cries over not being able to have the newest shiny toy, but working, earning money, and saving are central to this family's life.

The family has a clear savings plan for this concrete goal of buying a comfortable chair. The little girl always puts half of her earnings into the jar. Mama puts all the change from tips into the jar, presumably because her salary goes to providing necessities. And grandma puts the savings from her shopping trip into the jar as well. Charlie is too young yet to understand the value of money (he likes to use a shiny coin to buy pretend train tickets, but that's about it). For an older kid, this would be a great illustration of not only budgeting and saving, but also setting goals, making plans to achieve them, and  following through.

When the jar is full, nobody can quite believe it. They set out, first for the bank to change the coins into bills, and then out to the stores to shop for a chair. Having saved up for an entire year to buy this chair, they will not settle for anything but the best. They search and search until they find the perfect chair that they all love. The achievement of this goal is something to celebrate, so they take a picture of the three of them sitting together in the chair. Most importantly, they chose a goal that was truly a value to all of them. The last page of the book explains how the chair materially enhances their lives: "Now Grandma sits in it and talks with people going by in the daytime. Mama sits down and watches the news on TV when she comes home from her job. After supper, I sit with her and she can reach right up and turn out the light if I fall asleep in her lap." This is not a whim or a waste of money. This is a real value they have worked hard to add to their lives and will appreciate for a long time.

The portion of the book dealing with the fire and its aftermath is also rich with values. First, the family has its priorities straight: check to make sure that all the people are safe, and then the cat. There's no mourning for the lost physical possessions here, interestingly. Instead, there's a sadness that the rooms of their new apartment are empty. The book doesn't say so explicitly, but it seems to convey the idea that physical things are just things. They're replaceable. We might miss them, but generally we can get new ones. "[W]e're young and can start all over," as the grandmother puts it.

This family is struggling financially, though, and not able to buy everything new all at once. Fortunately, they live in a loving community made up not only of extended family, but also friendly and generous neighbors. When they move in to the new place, their friends and family bring everything from furniture to dishes to toys to curtains to pizza. This outpouring of benevolence is especially touching because it is unforced. The people in the community are reaching out because they care about their neighbors and are able to help.

The illustrations are rich with color, but in my opinion, somewhat simplistic. I was surprised to find that this is a Caldecott Honor Book, because the illustrations didn't really do much for me. I think the rich, complex, value-laden story is the true appeal of this book.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

The Lion & the Mouse

Charlie sometimes gets angry when I try to discuss a book with him, page by page, instead of reading the printed text. "Sing it, Mommy!" he demands.

To get around this problem, I went out and bought a bunch of picture books with no words. As soon as he figured out that there was no printed text to read, he became much more engaged in thinking through the stories himself.

The Lion & the Mouse, by Jerry Pinkney, is our favorite wordless book at the moment. The only words written on the pages are a few animal sounds: "Screech" for an owl and "Roar" for the lion and so forth. The watercolor paintings are so expressive that the well-known story is clearly told. Charlie and I talk about what happened and what will happen next as we turn the pages, and also about how the characters might be feeling. The pictures are also quite rich with detail in the backgrounds and the expressions of the animals. This book won the 2010 Caldecott Medal, and in my opinion, it was well deserved.

The story of the Lion & the Mouse is also a worthy one. It's a tale of unexpected friendship and repaying one good turn with another. These are lessons that I'm happy to teach to my son.