Two things to share

I confess: I'm going to the outlets today with my daughter instead of working. She needs boots for her semester in Ireland, and I need . . . well, I don't need anything, but I'm happy to give her my opinion on heel heights and synthetic linings and roundness of toes. (Shoe shopping is such a perfect social activity to do while talking with a friend. No dressing rooms to interrupt the flow of chatter. Something for everyone, from the practical to the ridiculous to the sublime.)

But before I go, I have two things to share:

The dynamic duo at A Year of Reading are hosting an online writing gallery for the NCTE's National Day on Writing Celebration. What a fabulous idea! Here's what they're looking for, but read their whole post for the full scoop.

A LIFETIME OF READING

Members of the Kidlitosphere are invited to submit stories from their reading lives. Your submission can be an anecdote from childhood, a recent experience around books or reading, a memory from school (good or bad), a vignette about learning to read, the impact of a particular book--anything about your life as a reader.

We are looking for a variety of short pieces (think blog post length) from anyone in the Kidlitosphere, including bloggers, authors, illustrators, readers of blogs, etc.

Yes, I think that means they want to hear from EVERYONE with something to say about being a reader. Get going!

Secondly, if you're an author who lives anywhere near the East Coast, MotherReader makes an eloquent case for why YOU want to come to the Kidlitosphere Conference on October 17th. (Other than to see me, of course. I'll be there, speaking on a panel and helping Pam herd author cats. I'll go shoe shopping with you, too, if you want.)

Off to find the perfect pair!

Higher Learning

We're taking my son to college today, and I'm wondering how his mind and heart will be changed by the next four years. All I know is that I won't be there to direct it, and that's a good thing. At least I think so when I read this poem by Billy Collins---which seems to capture the absurd twists, high pleasure and zig-zaggy fun of finding things out for yourself.

Workshop

by Billy Collins

I might as well begin by saying how much I like the title. 
 
It gets me right away because I’m in a workshop now 
 
so immediately the poem has my attention, 
 
like the Ancient Mariner grabbing me by the sleeve. 
 

 
And I like the first couple of stanzas, 
 
the way they establish this mode of self-pointing 
 
that runs through the whole poem 
 
and tells us that words are food thrown down 
 
on the ground for other words to eat. 
 
I can almost taste the tail of the snake 
 
in its own mouth, 
 
if you know what I mean. 
 

 
But what I’m not sure about is the voice, 
 
which sounds in places very casual, very blue jeans, 
 
but other times seems standoffish, 
 
professorial in the worst sense of the word 
 
like the poem is blowing pipe smoke in my face. 
 
But maybe that’s just what it wants to do. 
 

 
What I did find engaging were the middle stanzas, 
 
especially the fourth one. 
 
I like the image of clouds flying like lozenges 
 
which gives me a very clear picture. 
 
And I really like how this drawbridge operator 
 
just appears out of the blue 
 
with his feet up on the iron railing 
 
and his fishing pole jigging—I like jigging— 
 
a hook in the slow industrial canal below. 
 
I love slow industrial canal below. All those l’s. 
 

 
Maybe it’s just me, 
 
but the next stanza is where I start to have a problem. 

Read the rest or listen to Billy Collins read it here

Poetry Friday is hosted today by The Boy Reader.

There should be laughter

A year ago, I blogged about Jon Scieszka's antics at the National Book Festival. Last Christmas, I stuffed a copy of Jon's book, Knucklehead: Tall Tales and Mostly True Stories of Growing Up Scieszka into my husband's Christmas stocking (which I mailed to him in Afghanistan.) Finally, finally, last week, as we drove up for Emily's funeral, I got to read it for myself.

Oh, my freakin' word. I found myself laughing, hiccup giggling, chortling, goofball grinning, and flat-out ENVIOUS of Scieszka's impeccable comic timing.

Here's a taste of the rhythm of his prose as he writes about birth order politics in a family of six boys:

"Jim and I had to sign up for everything. We were Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, altar boys, and choir boys.

Jim (#1) was driven to be first in everything. He was an Eagle Scout, Head Choir Boy, Chief Altar Boy, and class president.

I (#2) made it to Life Scout, just below Eagle Scout. I was in the choir for a couple of years. And I knew our class president.

Tom (#3) was in Cub Scouts for a few years, wearing Jim's pants that were too short for him. He joined the choir for one year. Was an altar boy for another year. And had heard there was a class president."

And then there is the chapter that opens with

"I learned how to cook because I like to stir oatmeal more than I like to pick up dog poop."

And the chapter with a setup like this:

"It was so cold that we had an electric space heater to use sometimes in the winter. The twisty metal coils on the heater had a great orange glow when they got hot. Just like the fires we would build with Dad out at the lake.

I guess that's what made me and Jim think we could put out the heater the same way we put out the fires at the lake---by peeing on it."

I think my favorite story, though, is when Jon has to write down every swear word he knows for his nun teacher. Without really swearing, of course. (Psst! Page 86, if you're furtively reading this book in a bookstore somewhere.)

I know humor has a low-rent reputation as less worthy than literary fiction---a complaint we could air as often as gorilla armpits and still not get rid of the condescending smell. But----agents are dying to represent humorous books. Editors crave them. Kids love them. I love them. In fact, after raving about Knucklehead to my family, I went so far as to declare with bombastic fervor that "EVERY book for kids should have some humor in it."

Recently, as part of a fun meme, I listed 15 movies that "stuck with me." The hysterical Bill Murray classic, What About Bob? was on that roster, right along with Shakespeare in Love. (Wait a minute! SIL is funny too!)

And if I had to list 15 kids' books that stuck with me, you can bet that hilarious books like Scieszka's Knucklehead would get their due. (Maybe because of his tale of a pecan log barfing kitty in a hot car filled with six boys. Now that's sticky.)