One of the very best things about hosting a blog is having guest contributors like Jung Kim. I coul never approximate her life experience nor gain her unique perspective on education. I can, however, constantly learn to be a better ally. I can include her in the various spaces in which I have unique access. I am glad I met Jung several years ago at an AERA Division K planning event. Since then we have had several conversations about shared interests--specifically young adult literature. 

First, even though she doesn't cry, I am glad she did, at least once. I am happy that I am not alone as a crier in public educational spaces. Second, I love that she mentioned The Women Warrior. Including this book in my A. P. Curriculum over 30 years ago was one of the best text selections I ever made.  Thanks Jung.

Jung Kim, Ph.D. is an Associate Professor of Literacy, ultrarunner, school board member, and mom of 2, who loves sugar and caffeine too much and will always stand for #MidwestIsBest. Her most recent book is in teaching with graphic novels, and her current book project with Dr. Betina Hsieh is on the experiences of Asian American teachers. She founded the Asian American Caucus at NCTE, and is a life-long book nerd. She can be reached at kimju@lewisu.edu ​or on Twitter @jungkimphd.

Until next time.

Special Friday or Weekend editions of Dr. Bickmore's YA Wednesday happen about once a month. They generally happen when someone suggests an interesting topic, something timely, or a topic that matches some event on the calendar. Once again Stacy Graber has something interesting to say. Not that this is a surprise, I think she always has something interesting to say. In addition, she has asked some of her Youngstown State students to help out.

As always, you can find more of Stacy's post by looking through the contributors tab. Thanks Stacy.

If you are a true crime enthusiast looking to get into the hospitality industry, then look no further: A thriving B&B/museum (18 thousand visitors documented in 2019 (De Leon 2021)) has come available for the purchase price of $2 million.  I am talking about the infamous family home of Lizzie Borden in Falls River, Massachusetts, the site of a double hatchet murder in 1892.
​
The commercial success of such attractions is an apparent reflection of the popularity of “dark tourism” or travel to locales associated with death and disaster (Madden 2019).  I hadn’t considered this sort of destination travel as a social phenomenon until it was framed as such in the articles that appeared in my feed after I taught Sarah Miller’s (2016) book, The Borden Murders: Lizzie Borden & the Trial of the Century, and once the Borden residence was announced for sale.  Although, I have long known about people’s lurid curiosity for visiting places steeped in tragedy and despair like defunct prisons and asylums, or crime scenes and sites of carnage. 

People used to early acquire background knowledge on the Borden murders through a gruesome jump-rope chant, which Miller (2016) indicates originated with a rhyme neighborhood kids sang within earshot of Borden after she was acquitted.  However, if the story is unfamiliar, Borden was the prime suspect of the double homicide of her father and step-mother and, after imprisonment and a sensationalistic trial, she was found not guilty, but lived the remainder of her days in the shadow of public doubt.
​
Miller’s (2016) text is engaging because it provides young readers with a narrativized dossier of evidence (e.g., crime scene photographs, floor plans, excerpts from court transcripts and journalistic accounts, etc.) for drawing independent conclusions toward solving the crime, which synchs with argument-based standards across content areas.  When I taught the book in a college-level YAL course, I drew upon Cole (2009) to frame discussion on how the mystery genre catalyzes inferential thinking through the practice of cognitive strategies (e.g., posing questions, clarifying, making connections, and revising initial assumptions) (p. 331).  And, I followed that up with identification of patterns of organization enacted by the detective genre in tracking the thought process of a sleuth (e.g., cause and effect, process analysis, chronological and spatial order, comparison, etc.).  Finally, I concluded by reiterating Hillocks’ (2011) classic recommendation to study mysteries (print and visual) to teach the fundamentals of argument with particular emphasis on the generation of warrants (i.e., reasoned links between claim and evidence).

After our reading of The Borden Murders, I invited students (many of whom were teacher candidates) to describe a writing task or project based on Miller’s text, which would include an annotated bibliography comprised of at least 3 thematically related sources in varied formats (print, visual, and digital) toward assembling multimodal text-sets.
​
Therefore, the following material consists of select blueprints for working with Miller’s text, designed by 3 prospective ELA teachers at YSU.  By taking their lead, a new audience can engage with the folkloric Lizzie Borden and ELA teachers can capitalize on students’ love for the genres of true crime and mystery. 

​As a final project for a unit on Miller’s (2016), The Borden Murders, students will be assigned the task of composing a written piece that considers potential suspects of the Borden murders other than Lizzie Borden herself. Students’ suspect choices must be thoroughly explained (i.e., they must do so by referencing possible evidence and motive presented in Miller’s text or look to other scholarly resources on the Borden murders), and they should include a theory as to how the perpetrator executed the murder so that blame fell onto Lizzie. The supplementary resources for this unit are provided to aid students in their consideration of possible suspects, as they encourage students to consider criminal justice and psychological perspectives during writing. The YouTube selection presents a real-time visual of the Borden house, which students may use to build the murderer’s plan of execution and escape. 

Annotated Bibliography
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BuzzFeed Unsolved Network. (2017, May 12). The murders that haunt the Lizzie Borden house. [Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/LuNDAGxYHSs

This resource allows viewers to virtually step inside the Lizzie Borden house, giving students greater perspective on the configuration of the house and the murder scenes. It also addresses theories for suspects aside from or in partnership with Lizzie Borden.

Fincher, D., et al. (Producers). (2017-2019). Mindhunter [TV series]. Netflix. https://www.netflix.com/

This fictional series is based on the true-crime book Mindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit by John E. Douglas and Mark Olshaker.  The series follows FBI agents assigned with the task of interviewing serial killers to get inside their minds. Select episodes from this series would pair well with Miller’s Lizzie Borden text because they provide a true-crime perspective and glimpse at the thought process of murderers.

​After reading Miller’s (2016) The Borden Murders, students will create a case file for the unsolved mystery of who killed Andrew and Abby Borden. This project is inspired by the Unsolved Case Files games. Unsolved Case Files was founded by John Carroll and Lou Wilson, and the idea of these games is for players to act as detectives in order to solve cold crime cases in a way that is interactive and fun while still feeling authentic (Carroll & Wilson, 2020). Using The Borden Murders as an anchor text, the case file that students create will include a crime scene investigation report, a person of interest form for whomever the student believes committed the murders, a drawing of what the crime scene in the Borden home looked like, and a case closed summary detailing the conclusion the student comes to on who committed the murder and how. Students may also include any additional documents or drawings they deem necessary to the case. All documents and drawings included in the case file will be created using details and evidence from the book. This multi-genre project calls for close reading of the text while allowing students to express their creativity in the classroom.

References

Carroll, J., & Wilson, L. (2020). About unsolved case files - The true story. Unsolved Case Files. https://www.unsolvedcasefiles.com/about.html.
 
Annotated Bibliography
 
North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics. (2013, August 9). Types of evidence [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pW4XQM-iQWQ
        
In this video, Amy Garrett, a forensics instructor at the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics, discusses the major categories of forensic evidence and the different types of evidence that fall under those categories. This will assist students with deciding which details to include in the evidence report portion of their case file on the Borden murders.
          
Schimel, B. (2017). Crime scene sketch. Wisconsin Department of Justice State Crime Laboratories. https://wilenet.org/html/crime-lab/index.html 
        
This PDF of chapter four from the Wisconsin State Crime Laboratories’ Physical Evidence Handbook details how to sketch a crime scene. This will assist students with creating their own sketch of the crime scene at the Borden home that will be included in their case file.

Unsolved Case Files. (2020, August 7). Buddy Edmunds – Unsolved case files – Who killed Buddy? Cold Case Crime Board Overview [Video]. YouTube.  https://www.youtube.com-/watch?v=kawJYDBDVv0&feature=emb_title
 
This video, published on the Unsolved Case Files YouTube channel, lays out the case of Buddy Edmunds (a victim in one of the games). Since this project is inspired by Unsolved Case Files, this video will give students an idea of what the documents they will be asked to assemble should look like, as well as insight on how such documents are used to solve cold crime cases.

Annotated Bibliography

Buzzfeed. [Buzzfeed Unsolved Network]. (2017, May 12). The murders that haunt the Lizzie
Borden house [Video].  YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuNDAGxYHSs  
 
The popular news blog Buzzfeed, via their YouTube channel Buzzfeed Unsolved (a comedic true crime channel), created a video exploring the house where the Borden murders were committed tandem with real-time commentary. All students would find the format engaging, and students who choose the group assignment could use this video to see inside the actual house which could benefit research for designing the game board.

Heos, B. (2016).  Blood, bullets, and bones: The story of forensic science from Sherlock Holmes
to DNA. HarperCollins.
 
Heos’ text offers the history of how forensic science and CSI came to be. Specific chapters that would be helpful for students completing the individual assignment are chapters 5, 7, and 11 which discuss fingerprint analysis, investigation of blood spatter patterns, and the introduction of DNA evidence respectively.

Linder, D. O. (2021). The trial of Lizzie Borden: Selected maps & diagrams.
https://famous-trials.com/lizzieborden/1445-maps
 
Douglas O. Linder, professor at the University of Missouri-Kansas City School of Law, provides images and descriptions of the exterior and interior of the Borden property. Students can use these images for the group assignment option to build the rooms for their Clue game board based on actual details from the house where the crimes were committed.

Rae, K. [Kendall Rae]. (2020, October 1). Did Lizzie Borden axe murder her parents??!  [Video]. YouTube.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zga8m_T1LAk
 
True crime YouTuber, Kendall Rae, explains the Lizzie Borden case. Students may find this version of the story helpful because a popular YouTuber condenses the account to 30 minutes making it more engaging and easier for students pick out technical details about the case. This video could be shown during reading and/or as support during project development.
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Yancey-Bragg, N. (2019, May 14). DNA is cracking mysteries and cold cases. But is genome
sleuthing the ‘unregulated Wild West?’ USA Today. https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2019/05/14/heres-how-dna-cracking-cold-cases-and-exonerating-innocent/1159571001/
 
This article provides information on how DNA technology and research have been used by law enforcement to finally solve cold cases. Students can use this article to do the individual writing assignment as proof that DNA evidence has expanded the ability of investigators to solve crimes and bring justice to victims.
 
References

Cole, P. (2009).  Young adult literature in the 21st century.  McGraw Hill.

De Leon, C. (2021, January 21).  Lizzie Borden’s notoriety is this home’s selling point.  New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/21/us/lizzie-borden-museum.html

Hillocks, G. (2011).  Teaching argument writing (grades 6-11): Supporting claims with relevant evidence and clear reasoning.  Heinemann.
​
Madden, D. (2019, September 25).  Dark tourism: Are these the world’s most macabre tourist attractions?  Forbes.  https://www.forbes.com/sites/duncanmadden/2019/09/25/dark-tourism-eight-of-the-worlds-most-gruesome-tourist-attractions/

Biographical Statement: Stacy Graber is an Associate Professor of English at Youngstown State University.  Her areas of interest include critical theory, pedagogy, and popular culture.

Until next week.

Robert Frost: The Gift Outright

"The Gift Outright" Poem recited at John F. Kennedy's Inauguration
by Robert Frost

​The land was ours before we were the land’s 
She was our land more than a hundred years 
Before we were her people. She was ours 
In Massachusetts, in Virginia, 
But we were England’s, still colonials, 
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, 
Possessed by what we now no more possessed. 
Something we were withholding made us weak 
Until we found out that it was ourselves 
We were withholding from our land of living, 
And forthwith found salvation in surrender. 
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright 
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war) 
To the land vaguely realizing westward, 
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, 
Such as she was, such as she will become.

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.

The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out to us today, you may stand upon me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
It says come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the rock were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sang and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African, the Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

They hear the first and last of every Tree
Speak to humankind today. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache, Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers–desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Arab, the Swede, the German, the Eskimo, the Scot …
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am that Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours–your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, but if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
This day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out and upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
​
No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, and into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.

But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row--
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.

Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become--
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.

All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet--
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.


Miller Williams, “Of History and Hope” from Some Jazz A While: Collected Poems. Copyright © 1999 by Miller Williams. Used with the permission of the poet and the University of Illinois Press.

A Poem for Barack Obama’s Presidential Inauguration


Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what’s on the other side.

I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

Copyright © 2009 by Elizabeth Alexander. All rights reserved. Reprinted with the permission of Graywolf Press, Saint Paul, Minnesota. A chapbook edition of Praise Song for the Day will be published on February 6, 2009.
Source: Praise Song for the Day (Graywolf Press, 2009)

The poem is formatted as it appeared in the Los Angeles Magazine. It there are plans to publish the poem in her first collection. How it appears in that volume will be the official publication. (See details about the poem here.)

When day comes we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry, a sea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast, we’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace and the norms and notions of what just is, isn’t always justice. And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it, somehow we do it, somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one. And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect, we are striving to forge a union with purpose, to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.
So we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another, we seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true: that even as we grieved, we grew, even as we hurt, we hoped, that even as we tired, we tried, that we’ll forever be tied together victorious, not because we will never again know defeat but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one should make them afraid. If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in in all of the bridges we’ve made.
That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb if only we dare it because being American is more than a pride we inherit, it’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it. That would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy, and this effort very nearly succeeded. But while democracy can periodically be delayed, but it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith, we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us, this is the era of just redemption we feared in its inception we did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour but within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves, so while once we asked how can we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us.

We will not march back to what was but move to what shall be, a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free, we will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, our blunders become their burden. But one thing is certain: if we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.
​
So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left, with every breath from my bronze, pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one, we will rise from the golden hills of the West, we will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution, we will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states, we will rise from the sunbaked South, we will rebuild, reconcile, and recover in every known nook of our nation in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful, when the day comes we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid, the new dawn blooms as we free it, for there is always light if only we’re brave enough to see it, if only we’re brave enough to be it.

During my first year in graduate school, I began attending sessions at NCTE that were focusing on young adult literature. In one session, I heard two women begin to show me what scholarship around this body of literature might look like. These two women were Janet Alsup and Angela Beumer Johnson. I introduced myself after the session. During my three years as a graduate student I followed closely the work they were doing and I looked forward to seeing them every year at NCTE. I guess, whether they liked it or not, they became mentors. They have both been wonderful.

Over the years, Angie and I have had several conversations. When I was getting ready to apply for jobs she offered advice. I appreciated her help then and I continue look forward to future conversations. I am excited that she has finally taken the opportunity to write for the blog.  Thanks Angie.

I was in the mailroom of my school when it happened: A colleague was the first of many to rave to me about Lois Lowry’s Newbery-medal-winning The Giver. I recall thinking the book sounded “nice,” but it’s a strange thing that sometimes the more people rave about a book, the less we are impressed. Of course once I actually read the book myself, I, too, was at a loss to quickly convey its power in a mail-room moment. Published in 1993, it’s hard to believe that my beloved Giver is nearly three decades old.
​
I often switch-up the titles on the syllabus for the YA literature class I teach to preservice English teachers. (With a great deal of choices for books, I’ve added nine new titles to the list of 32 this semester.) But for 20+ years, I’ve always started the course with The Giver, and it’s one of only three titles (along with The Book Thief and Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You) that we read as a whole class. Why The Giver all these years, you ask? In short, it’s timeless, poignant, and it moves English majors who may not be sold on this idea of young adult literature. I’ve written about preservice teachers’ multiple identities (e.g., English major, field experience intern, consumer, family member) and how these identities can impact the perception of the field (Johnson 2011). As one who came to YA literature later in my middle and high school teaching (my preservice teacher education being prior to the acknowledgement of YA lit as crucial), I sadly admit that I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about YA lit. The Giver knocked that chip off with gusto--as it continues to do for my students.

The Giver has certainly earned the moniker of “classic,” standing the test of time and connecting to the human dealings of the day. In 2001, the book “hit different,” as my kids would say. Fall quarter classes had not yet begun on September 11. Two days later, our YA lit class met for the first time, all of us zombie-like trudging through the surreal and sickening events that our country endured. Here’s how that class went down: “We aren’t yet ready to get back to ‘normal,’ so here’s the syllabus. Read The Giver and write a response. See you next week.”

Of course the opening of the novel with a boy fearful of an airplane overhead felt like an imagined déja vu, catapulting us to a much more horrific scenario than Jonas experienced on page one. The grief, the contemplation of freedom vs. risk, and the appreciation of the things we tend to take for granted each day--choices, memories, color, and more--oozed from the students’ responses. Readers contemplated the what-ifs, including the war that had not yet begun. Two students, Jeffrey Kleismit and Antje Williams, joined me in document analysis of the class’s responses, and the impact of The Giver forever tied to our experiences of 9/11 was published in The ALAN Review in 2002. 

A decade or so passes, and I still see students moved by the characters and power of The Giver starting the YA lit class. I haven’t put a finger on how these phenomena occur, but it seems suddenly I start noticing a pattern, once again, in students’ responses to The Giver. This time, I notice how many of these college students are writing about the book as a completely different experience from reading it in their middle school, high school, and sometimes even elementary school years. Once again, two students, Laurel Haynes and Jessie Nastasi, join me in coding the class’s responses, seeking emergent patterns. The power of reading as a process is clear: The Giver is a much more nuanced text for readers with more experience--in life and with texts. The three themes that surfaced: In their younger years many readers didn’t like the book, they didn’t understand the book, or they didn’t remember the book--ironic for a book about memories!

With the Common Core State Standards expressing the need for complex text (and with some writing off YA lit as not fitting the bill) the students’ responses to The Giver spoke to the power of a young adult novel on adults--on its lasting impact, and on the complexity that even future English teachers did not fully comprehend in their younger years. When adapting The Giver for the screen, the choice was made to age Jonas from twelve to sixteen. In a personal communication, Lowry mentioned that she did not have a particular age of reader in mind when writing the book; however, based on teachers’ experiences, she thought eighth grade and up would be a good suggestion (Johnson, Haynes, and Nastasi, 2013). We agreed, and still advocate for re-reading at older ages. The book, for many, exists on a whole new level of complexity when read even as an adult. (See also Slate’s Eliza Berman’s analysis of her own reading of The Giver as an adult.)

A few years later, I experienced one of my fondest stretches in this relationship with The Giver. I spent lovely autumn days at an alternative school in a large district doing read-alouds with David French’s high school students (many of whom were in transition from detention facilities, or who were not thriving in their traditional schools). We relished seeing The Giver from the fresh eyes of the students as we led them through the textual and human complexities of the book. The read-aloud was crucial for guiding comprehension as well as thinking through ethical and moral implications of the book. I recall a particularly powerful conversation about Sameness and race, as the text references a past when diversity of skin color existed. In these days of white nationalist hatred and bigotry on this rise, The Giver again brings attention to whose lives are valued. (See Johnson and Urquhart.)

So here I am, with another decade on the horizon in this long-term relationship with The Giver, a book that has a hold on my mind and my heart. As I write, another class of preservice teachers is digging into The Giver this weekend during a pandemic that has currently claimed 400,000 U.S. lives (which The New York Times suggests is likely too low a number due to delayed counts). We read as we mourn the violence inflicted upon our elected officials at the Capitol Building a little over a week ago. Lowry’s book, as during my reading enveloped by the September 11th attacks, now sets my mind thinking about my—and our country’s, our society’s--values. Once again with Jonas, I become concerned about the authoritarian nature of those in power, about the steps taken to keep us safe, or those steps not taken to keep us safe. I wait for what those holders of the future, the future teachers, will teach me after reading The Giver in this particular moment in time. I can’t help but wonder: if the fatigue of all the losses from the pandemic, if the vicious words spat across digital spaces, if the politically-based divisions, if the seemingly endless racial injustice and needless violence and deaths would tempt us to want to simply run away--not to care, as Jonas proposes to The Giver.

It’s tempting, but then I remember Jonas’s thought: “Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything” (Lowry, 1993, p. 157).
​
Thank you, Jonas. Thank you, Lois. Here’s to several more decades of this relationship.

References:
Johnson, A. B., Kleismit, J. W., & Williams, A. J.  (2002).  Grief, thought, and appreciation:  Re-examining our beliefs amid terrorism through The Giver.  The ALAN Review 29(3), 15-19. 
            
Johnson, A. B. (2011).  Multiple selves and multiple sites of influence: Perceptions of young adult literature in the classroom.  TIP:  Theory into Practice, 50, 215-222. 

Johnson, K., & Urquhart, J. (2020, September 4). White nationalism upsurge in U.S. echoes historical pattern, say scholars. Reuters. Retrieved January 14, 2021 from https://www.reuters.com/article/us-global-race-usa-extremism-analysis/white-nationalism-upsurge-in-u-s-echoes-historical-pattern-say-scholars-idUSKBN25V2QH
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Katz, J., Lu, D., & Sanger-Katz, M. (2021, January 14). 400,000 more U.S. deaths than normal since COVID-19 struck. Retrieved January 14, 2021 from https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/01/14/us/covid-19-death-toll.html

Until next week.

The first guest post of 2021 is a beautiful tribute to those of us who love reading and who love buying books for others. Melanie Shoffner is one of my colleagues I consider to be a born leader. In this post, she is again and providing us a model for sharing books with others. Her fourth paragraph below is stunning example of allusions and memories. I found myself mentally creating a list of allusions that would also serve as references to many of the books that shaped my own reading history. I also found secrets in old clocks and explored Welsh mountains. Thanks Melanie for a wonderful start to a new year.

For the last 30 years, my nieces and nephews (and now great niece!) have been enrolled in Aunt Melanie’s Book Club. I’m the aunt who gives books – for birthdays, for Christmas, sometimes just because. I’m also the aunt who gives a red Radio Flyer scooter when you turn two and black steampunk leggings when you turn 22 but there’s always a book or three tucked into the box, to0.

You’d expect nothing less from a former English teacher and current ELA educator. After all, I’ve chosen a profession grounded in engaging with text; I’ve spent the greater part of my life considering what and how and why secondary students and preservice teachers read. I teach that books offer doors to different worlds, windows to diverse experiences, and mirrors of readers’ identities (Bishop, 1990); that reading challenges understandings, beliefs, and perspectives (e.g., Bruce et al, 2008; Thein et al, 2007); that diverse texts disrupt “the historic violence and the erasure of marginalized communities” (Ebarvia et al, 2020, p. 100); that reading can develop empathy and critical thinking (e.g., Alsup, 2015; Vogt et al, 2016). I don’t need to convince this audience that young adult literature can expand and challenge and connect and disrupt, even if we spend a fair amount of time trying to convince others.

But I must confess, these aren’t the reasons determining my text selections. They are often the outcome and they are sometimes the provocation but they aren’t the founding principle of this book club. My goal is less sophisticated, perhaps, but just as important to me: I want my nieces and nephews to love reading.

Reading has always been my escape: my window, my skylight, my rope ladder, my invisibility cloak. Growing up, I found secrets in old clocks and befriended black horses on deserted islands. I explored tesseracts and wardrobes, Welsh mountains and New York art museums. I confronted racism in Mississippi, fear on a mountain, despair from a rope swing. Those adolescent novels offered doors and difference and difficult thinking but I didn’t recognize that at the time: I just knew that I loved reading them, and I wanted to read even more.

​I still love to lose myself in young adult literature. When I sit down with the latest from Angie Thomas or Randy Ribay, I’ve escaped, even if I’m also reading to choose course texts or develop assignments. Out the window, through the gate: I’m far away from the chaos (and the last year has provided entirely too much of that). The end of 2020 found me racing across quads and running through tunnels with Maureen Johnson’s Truly Devious series, enclosed by barbed wire under a Texas sky in Monica Hesse’s The War Outside, and surviving the Siberian wilderness through Kathy Parks’s Notes from My Captivity. Each of these books gave me plenty to think about – who we are, how we survive, why we connect – but they also gave me a chance to leave behind the emails and assignments, the dishes and laundry, the pandemic and politics.

That’s what I want for my nieces and nephews: to lose themselves in a book. Of course, I want them to learn and grow from what they read – as the liberal academic auntie in the family, that’s kind of my thing – but I want them to love reading first. I can’t help it; that’s kind of my thing, too. Perspectives can shift with a compelling character and questions can arise with a complex plot, but I want that to happen through a love of reading, not a dread of preaching.

So, when I gave my then-4th grade niece Drama, it wasn’t because Raina Telgemeier’s book included LGBTQ+ characters. She was struggling with reading – “The words are getting harder and I don’t understand them” – but she liked graphic novels and had just read Smile. When I gave my then-12-year-old nephew March, it wasn’t because of its exploration of the Civil Rights Movement. I had just spoken with Andrew Ayden and Nate Powell at the ELATE luncheon, and I was excited to share this book I’d learned about with my history-loving nephew. And for the record, when I gave Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to another niece years ago, it wasn’t because I thought she should run away to wizarding school (although I would have been very supportive if she had).

Seeing LGBTQ+ kids as normal middle schoolers, understanding the struggle for racial equality, even figuring out how to deal with the unexpected: These are vitally important things to learn, and I want these kids I love to understand those vitally important things. But I also want my nieces and nephews to look forward to the escape, to open the cover of a book and disappear into the story. And I think the latter can drive the former.
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If you’re wondering about Aunt Melanie’s Book Club choices this year: Lauren Wolk’s Echo Mountain for my now-12-year-old niece and Ruta Sepetys’s The Fountains of Silence for my now-16-year-old nephew. Why? Because these authors weave compelling, complex stories. Because Wolk’s writing is beautiful Wolf Hollow’s “The year I turned twelve, I learned how to lie” may be one of the best opening lines I’ve ever read]. Because Sepetys’s history is fascinating [having spent a semester in Spain recently, I was enthralled with her exploration of the Civil War]. Because the life on Ellie’s mountain and the view through Daniel’s camera cause us to question truth and loyalty and love. But most importantly, I chose them because I love them – both these stories and these kids.

References
Alsup, J. (2015). A case for teaching literature in the secondary school: Why reading fiction matters in an
age of scientific objectivity and standardization. Routledge.
Bishop, R. S. (1990). Mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors. Perspectives: Choosing and Using
Books for the Classroom, 6(3), ix–xi.
Bruce, H. E., Brown, S., McCracken, N. M., &Mel Bell-Nolan, M. (2008). Feminist pedagogy is for
everybody: Troubling gender in reading and writing. English Journal, 97(3), 82–89.
Ebarvia, T., Germán, L., Parker, K. N., & Torres, J. (2020). #DisruptTexts. English Journal, 110(1), 100–
102.
Thein, A. H., Beach, R., & Parks, D. (2007). Perspective-taking as transformative practice in teaching
multicultural literature to white students. English Journal, 97(2), 54–60.
Vogt, M. T., Chow, Y. P., Fernandez, J., Grubman, C., & Stacey, D. (2016). Designing a reading
curriculum to teach the concept of empathy to middle level learners. Voices from the Middle, 23(4), 38–45.

Until next week.

Multicultural Education  is a complicated issue. I believe that much of the unrest and contention that we have felt during the last year of COVID, elections, police brutality, social protest and social unrest is a manifestation that we still don't understand each other or the lives we experience. How do the categories of Exceptionality, Age, Class, Ethnicity and Race, Religion, Gender, or Language? Can we even agree of definitions of these concepts?

Until next time.