We are not always appreciated for what we are - and neither are our
kids. Sometimes we wish that slow kid would hurry up, the loud one
would pipe down (oh god, please?), the shy one would hold his chin
high, forgetting that those traits are part of what make that child who
they are, and that there is a flip side to every negative, a silver
lining to every cloud.
Cockeyed optimism? Perhaps. But these tales remind us to appreciate those things and remember that there really is a time and place for everything - sometimes you just have to find it. Much like some of us have felt like we've found "our people" in the blogosphere (or for me, library school), the characters in these tales just have to find their niche to be truly appreciated, or a moment when their foibles become just what is needed to make them a hero.
Loud Emily, by Alexis O'Neill, ill. Nancy Carpenter
Emily was loud. Really loud. Like all caps and a bigger font loud. At best, this was, er, somewhat socially awkward until she saw a sign advertising for loud help, and found her volume was highly prized on a ship, where she was so loud, they didn't even need a foghorn anymore. A great story about finding your perfect place in the world.(And hey, maybe I could rent my newly-earplitting Pumpkinpie out as a ship's horn? Or a PA system? Anyone?)
Effie, by Beverley Allinson, ill. Barbara Reid
Like Emily, Effie's voice was booming. Unlike Emily, Effie was an ant. An ant who literally blew away other insects when she tried to talk to them, and was becoming very sad about having no one to talk to, when she was able to save the day by raising her already-high volume to 11. As a result, she not only saves her ant hill, but bursts out of the grass-high confines of her insect world to befriend a much larger creature who thought her volume was just right, and the two chatted for hours. This story is fantastic, and I haven't met a kid who doesn't love it as a read-aloud, but its marriage with Barbara Reid's fabulous plastiscine art makes it one everyone should know.
Hooway for Wodney Wat, by Helen Lester, ill. Lynn Munsinger
Rodney was a rat. A rodent. A rodent who couldn't say his Rs. Could there be a sadder situation? It's made him shy, but his friends are mostly pretty cool about it. Then a new student came and threw their happy classroom upside down. She bossed and bullied in all directions, making everyone miserable. Finally, when Wodney is asked to lead a game of Simon Says, his speech difference makes the new girl look foolish, and he uses it to fix her wagon for good. He's a hero! And all without changing, but using the thing that had set him apart in the first place. I love this message, and of course, Munsinger's illustrations always add a little something, making nearly anything funny.
Frederic, by Leo Lionni
I've been on a huge Lionni kick lately, and this story of a mouse with a different is one of his classics. As the mice prepare for winter, Frederic seems to be daydreaming rather than working with the others. They ask him what he is doing, and he answers about gathering colours and sunshine. They are a touch disgruntled until they discover once the food supply runs low in the dead of the cold, grey winter, that Frederic's dawdling and dreaming ways really do bring something precious to them in their darkest hour. A lovely story about feeding your soul as well as your belly. And so cute, the mice. So cute!
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