Raising Readers: When a Book Finds You at Just the Right Time

I love it when a book falls into my lap at just the right time, and my life seems to converge with the characters in the story in an almost uncanny way. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, I pay attention.

One of the most notable times this has happened in our family was last fall when I was reading All-of-a-Kind Family to my kids (one of our favorite readalouds of the year!)

The very first chapter is about Sarah, the middle of five daughters. One Friday afternoon, the girls are getting ready to make their weekly trip to the library, an activity that is eagerly anticipated by all of them. Except this Friday, Sarah is found in a crying heap instead of getting ready with her sisters. When questioned, she chokes out the awful truth: She can't find her library book.

The whole family is enlisted to help search, but it doesn't turn up, which doesn't surprise Sarah because she actually loaned the book to her friend, Tillie, who said she returned it to Sarah's desk at school but Sarah never saw it. Although sympathetic to Sarah's plight, Mother tells her she won't be allowed to check out anything else from the library unless she pays for the book.

It's a hard lesson, particularly because, most likely, it was Tillie who lost it, not Sarah, but, as Mother says, "You borrowed the book, and that makes you responsible. The library lets you borrow the book, and you're not supposed to lend it to anybody else." Things get even harder when Sarah asks her mother is she'll come with her to the library, and Mother says, "No, Sarah, that's something you must do yourself. If you explain just how it happened, I'm sure the library lady will understand that you didn't mean to be careless. Find out what you have to do, and we'll talk about it when you get back."

It's a long walk to the library, and when it's finally Sarah's turn to talk to the librarian, she can barely get out the words. She's so embarrassed and ashamed. Luckily, the librarian is incredibly kind and understanding, and even though Sarah ends up having to pay for the book (it costs a dollar, which takes Sarah several months to pay off), she is allowed to check out another book, and it's the beginning of a sweet and lovely friendship with the librarian.

I know that was a rather long recounting, but it will be worth it, I promise.

Not two days after we read that chapter, Maxwell came home from school with a slip of paper. It was an overdue notice from the school library, which said that one of his books was ninety days past due, so he would need to pay for it. He seemed fine when he handed me the paper, but as soon as I started questioning him about it, he burst into tears.

I was completely unaware that he'd even lost a library book, much less that it had been gone for ninety days, but from the way he was crying, it was apparent that he'd known it was missing all those weeks but just didn't know what to do about it. All of the pressure and stress and worry unleashed itself in a great flood of inconsolable sobs.

Maxwell has always been very concerned with his image. At school, he is a model student. He does careful work, pays attention, and follows directions to the letter. But a model student does not lose his library book, and the thought of having to own up to it and fix it was almost too much for him to handle. He was not at all unlike Sarah, who was also absolutely mortified at the impression the pretty, new librarian would have of her if she admitted to losing a library book.

I'll admit that my heart almost burst seeing Maxwell's anguish. I was ready to swoop in and take care of it all for him when I remembered the words of Sarah's mother: "This is something you must do yourself." And so instead I said, "Max, do you remember what happened when Sarah lost her library book? She had to talk to the librarian and take care of it herself. I know you can take care of this, too."

We came up with a plan: We were sure he'd lost the book at school because it hadn't ever come home with him. The next day was Thursday. He would talk to his teacher first and explain the situation to her (during first recess because he was adamant that none of his friends know about his mistake). He would ask her if he could look through the bookshelves in the classroom and see if it had somehow been shelved there by mistake. ("Maybe she'll even help you look for it," we said. "She's been teaching for a long time. You aren't the first of her students to lose a library book.") If the book was nowhere to be found, he would go to the library on Friday and pay for it so that it would all be taken care of before the weekend.

The next morning, we said a prayer before he left for school. We prayed that he would be brave and that, if possible, he'd be able to find his book. Then, armed with the memory of how it had all worked out for Sarah, he walked into school. And I let him go.

His story has a happy ending, even happier than Sarah's. He followed our plan and talked to his teacher during first recess and, just as I'd suspected, she helped him look for the book, and they found it on one of the classroom shelves. He returned it to the school library and cleared his record. When he came out of school, his eyes were bright and happy and he was literally beaming.

I know Max's experience would have probably turned out very much the same whether we'd read that chapter or not. But it was so nice to feel like there was someone, albeit fictional, in our corner. It gave both of us a little boost of confidence to do the right thing.

Have you had any experiences like this, where your life bears an uncanny resemblance to that of a fictional character? How have stories helped you through tough learning moments? 

All-of-a-Kind Family by Sydney Taylor

If I was trying to review books in the order I finished them, this one would be far down the list (I'm very behind with my reviews). But Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and this book just complements the holiday too perfectly not to share it right now.

Ironically enough, towards the end of October, I was desperately trying to find a good readaloud for November. But in spite of scouring my to-read shelf plus looking to trusted sources, I just couldn't find anything that seemed like the right fit. A couple of weeks later, someone mentioned All-of-a-Kind Family (not in the context of November or Thanksgiving--just mentioned it), which is a book I remember loving as a child. It had been on my radar as a potential readaloud for awhile, and when I remembered that we actually owned a copy of it so I wouldn't have to wait for it at the library, I thought, Why not?

Very soon into the book, I realized with a start, Oh my goodness, I just stumbled on the perfect book for November, and I didn't even mean to! It's not that the Thanksgiving holiday itself plays any sort of part in it, but it's rich in food descriptions, traditions, family togetherness, and gratitude, creating just the right mood for this time of year.

Let me tell you more about it, and you'll see what I mean:

Ella, Henny, Sarah, Charlotte, and Gertie live with their mama and papa on the lower east side of New York City in 1907. They give themselves the nickname "all-of-a-kind family" because they only have sisters and no brothers, so they're all the same kind. Their papa owns a junk shop where he collects scrap metal and rags and paper. As you can imagine, this kind of living does not bring in the big bucks and money is always a little tight. However, the family is always well-fed and comfortable, and they never seem to mind that their home is small and their pocket change measly.

At first glance, this might not look like the most interesting or accessible story to a family of all boys (turns out, we're also an all-of-a-kind family, but the opposite variety). However, my kids loved every single thing about this book. They didn't care one bit that there weren't any brothers and found a surprising number of ways to relate to the girls (we all teased Max a little bit during the chapter when Sarah wouldn't eat her soup because she acted exactly the same way he does when he doesn't want to eat something, and he seemed quite pleased, rather than offended, by the comparison).

But they also loved it because of all the differences between the girls' life and their own. For one thing, the family is Jewish and much of the book centers around Jewish rituals and holidays (the Sabbath, Purim Day, Seder, etc.). (Incidentally, even though there's no traditional Thanksgiving in this book, the Jewish holiday Succos, which is a "thanksgiving for the harvest," was celebrated and felt very timely.) My kids were fascinated and asked dozens of questions about how Judaism differs from our own religious beliefs and in what ways they're the same. All of the religious references were a natural part of the story, and as such, it didn't feel like we were having a lesson on Jewish culture, but the questions were springing up naturally because of their intense interest in the story.

As I mentioned above, food is a major component of this story and is integrated into almost every chapter, whether Charlotte and Gertie are sneaking candy and crackers into their bed or Mama is making dozens of Haman taschen (a triangular shaped cake filled with poppy seeds or prunes) or they're at the market and Mama puts on an apron before she plucks the chicken she intends to buy (taking the concept of "self-service" to a whole new level). The descriptions were both foreign and familiar, making our mouths water and tempting us to try new recipes. Food is such a part of our own holiday traditions, and there was something so captivating about seeing how all these unfamiliar dishes (to us) had the same comforting, joyous effect on these little girls.

And it wasn't just my kids who found things to admire and relate to. I felt a certain kinship with Mama who, although her life was much more exhausting than mine, expressed similar sentiments. When four of the girls come down with scarlet fever, I understood how overwhelmed she must feel as she tried to take care of all of them while still preparing for the Seder holiday. When she decides to take all of the girls to the beach in order to escape the August heat, I felt both anxious (so many little girls to keep track of in so many crowds!) and proud (she did it for purely selfless reasons because she knew they needed it). When she invented a game so that the girls would dust the front room more thoroughly, I caught a spark of hope--maybe I can teach the same kind of pride in their work to my own kids.

Even with all that praise, I realize this story might not be for everyone. It is old-fashioned and slow-paced and might not hold the interest of today's children who are accustomed to more action and drama. However, I guess I'm raising old-fashioned kids because I heard nothing but love for this book while we were reading it.

Reading a book about an all-girl family made me feel very possessive of my own all-boy family. We'll be finding out in a couple of weeks if we'll be adding another boy to our family or braving a whole new world with a girl. The end of the book was good for me because a baby brother joins the family, and Ella realizes, "We aren't an all-of-a-kind family anymore," but Mama replies, "In a way we are. I think that means more than our having five daughters. It means we're all close and loving and loyal--and our family will always be that." In spite of the changes coming to our family next year, whether they be big or small, I hope we'll also be exactly that. 

What are your thoughts about reading old-fashioned stories to your kids? Do you have any other old-fashioned books to recommend to us?