Learning Empathy from Books: How Different We Are Not
By Ann Jacobus
We humans are different on the surface: varying by gender, color, sexuality, religion, cultural traditions, socio-economic status, and age. Some of us are not as able-bodied as others, and a percentage of us are left handed or introverted. Some of us like to play organized sports, or don’t. Some of us love books, others not so much. And so on.
“Different” of course, is relative. Majorities largely determine societal read more…
Imagine being eight years old and leaving home. Not running away, but leaving in order to learn to read and write.
Zitkala-Sa, little Red Bird, left the Yankton Sioux reservation in South Dakota, climbed aboard a roaring steam-engine train, and headed East to the “Land of Red Apples,” Indiana. She arrived at the boarding school for Native children where she was handed a scrub brush. Her long black hair was chopped off and her soft moccasins were exchanged for hard-soled shoes. This Red Bird did not quit; she learned to scour floors and then she entered a classroom, for the first time, and learned to read.
Imagine performing a violin performance while some of the audience waved a giant white banner with the word: SQUAW. Imagine giving speeches to thousands asking for the rights of your people. Imagine meeting with the president of the United States to discuss treaties. Zitkala-Sa’s story helps us imagine the fear and the choice to continue with courage.
As an adult Zitkala-Sa worked as an activist for Native American rights. She sang, spoke, and wrote to build bridges of tolerance and understanding between cultures.
This picture-book biography is exceptional, as was Zitkala-Sa. Her singing spirit and courage is shown through her own words, songs, and Capaldi’s engaging illustrations. Sitkala-Sa’s story helps us all to imagine how difficult it is to face intolerance and be a stranger in a “white world.”
History books describe only a few of the many Native Americans who were true leaders. It is time to introduce many more.
This picture book is about a family road trip in their new fancy car. What could be more exciting? Eating at cafés and roadside restaurants…sleeping at motels with swimming pools…stopping at a souvenir stand or a drive-in for a root beer float.
But because you are Black, motel doors are slammed shut. Gas stations refuse service. You aren’t allowed to use the restrooms and have to pee in the woods.
Intolerance and discrimination are frustrating and even frightening. This book shows, from a child’s point of view, the fear and humiliation created by discrimination.
FLOYD COOPER is the illustrator of this book and many other award-winning books. His art and his words as an author open windows that show life from the emotional perspective of a child.
When asked about drawing and what advice he would give to students, he answered:
From the time I drew on our house as a three year old child, I have had a proclivity to expressing myself through art. I went to the University of Oklahoma and graduated with a BFA on an art scholarship (partly). I started freelancing as an illustrator while still an undergrad at OU. My advice for young illustrators is based on my own experience: READ and DRAW! Keep your imagination saturated and stimulated through story. Keep drawing.
Hope this helps!
Best, Floyd
Floyd Cooper’s images celebrate being a kid and facing barriers – social, political, or educational – with courage and determination. His art shows intolerance in ways that are meaningful to young readers.
One of Floyd Cooper’s most recent books, BEN AND THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION, written by Pat Sherman, 2009, was awarded this year’s Once Upon a World Children’s Book Award, given by the Simon Wiesenthal Center, Museum of Tolerance.
BE GOOD TO EDDIE LEE, written by Virgina Fleming and illustrated by Cooper tells the story of Eddie Lee, a boy with Down Syndrome, and how hard it sometimes is to be accepted for who you are.
Another recent book illustrated by Cooper, THESE HANDS, by Margaret Mason, shows by means of a grandfather’s funny tales, a very different perspective of discrimination in the industrial Midwest.
No citizen of the United States should forget the 10th anniversary of 9/11 and while it was only fifth graders in K-5 classrooms who were alive when the terrorist attacks occurred in 2001, it’s a part of our country’s history that those of us responsible for these young students – parents, teachers, and librarians – remember well. We all know exactly where we were when heard the news.
The following books are particularly appropriate for initiating discussion:
New York City. 1931. You wouldn’t think that a story that begins some 70 years before the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers would so powerfully convey the spirit of the people of New York City and the way in which the entire country rallied together in a swell of patriotism. But FIREBOAT does just that.
Through the lens of the John J. Harvey, readers will understand that in spite of the tremendous devastation, help, hope, and heroism rose to the forefront, offering invaluable aid to the city of New York in what was, perhaps, it’s hour of greatest need.
Two women, rose growers from South Africa, had come to New York to attend a botanical exposition and flower show, when the 9/11 tragedy hit. They found themselves at the airport, stranded, with no where to go and no place to leave their thousands of roses. Through the kindness of strangers, they were given a place to stay and an empty space on the grass of Union Square. There, they built a memorial to the fallen towers and those who lost their lives. This gentle story reminds readers of the small and large acts of kindness that brought comfort to our country in a time of great heartbreak and darkness.
“To heal a sorrowing heart, give something that is dear to your own.”
Kimeli Naiyomah was studying to be a doctor and living in New York when tragedy struck on September 11th, 2001. His heart ached for the people of the city and those who had welcomed him into their homes. In his own words, Kimeli’s “warrior heart could not sit still…” With the blessing of his Maasai elders, fourteen cows were set aside, never to be slaughtered, as a symbol of comfort and peace from the Maasai to the American people, that their generosity “might take away some of the sadness…”
While not about 9/11 at all, The Man Who Walked Between Two Towers, provides context and makes real the majesty and enormity of the World Trade Center. This story is an incredible way to remember the towers and the more hopeful memory of that morning in August of 1974, when young Philippe Petit walked between the two tallest towers in New York, on a thin cable of steel, a quarter of a mile above the city.
Click HERE to enjoy a video in which author Katherine Hannigan talks about crafting characters that she cares about. Endearing characters rich with complexity, creativity, and heart. She describes them as owning distinctive troublesome traits and unique gifts that ultimately save the day.
For example, Hannigan’s protagonist Delly devises her own language of solidarity – words that describe emotions and events in a clue-like, personal way. Words such as mysturiosity, hideawaysis, and surpresent not only demonstrate an aspect of the character’s creative mind, they also celebrate the author’s ability to create unforgettably dynamic characters.
To access a discussion guide for True: (…Sort Of) click HERE. Use it to come to understand a protagonist who says “…something mad to stop the sad” and the brilliant author who conceived her.
Delly’s been told she’s bad for so long, she believes she’s no good. Brud Kinney can’t tell anyone what’s in his heart because of his stutter. Then Ferris Boyd comes to town and it all changes. Ferris is a girl with a secret so terrible, she doesn’t talk. Yet something in her silent, gentle presence turns life around for Delly and Brud, until they find themselves uniting to help heal a terrible wrong. Three children, isolated by who and what they are, learn how to make contact in spite of their fears. Katherine Hannigan’s newest book is about the power of friendship, overcoming differences, and learning to celebrate the very things that make each of us different and valuable.
Read “What’s Your Story, Katherine Hannigan?” HERE.
For more about Katherine and her books, visit her author page HERE.
I grew up in western New York with two younger brothers and all sorts of pets—cats, dogs, gerbils, a white mouse,
George in the compost pile.
fish, and guinea pigs. There was always at least one animal in our house, sometimes there were two, and every once in a while there was a multitude. My favorites were my gerbil, Nerbil, and our dog, Noire (which, in French, means “black”, and she was). My happiest memories involve spending time with the animals, and horsing around outside.
When I was very young, I was so shy that if my mother tried to introduce me to people I would hide behind her legs, and sometimes I would cry. But when I was ten years old, we moved to a neighborhood with hordes of kids—over thirty of them living on our street or around the corner. Every day after school and all summer long we would play “Cops and Robbers”, “Kick the Can”, “Four-Square”, and “Kill the Guy with the Ball.” After hanging around with those kids for a while, I was not so shy anymore.
In school, I did well in most subjects, except for science. I liked art and math the most. But nobody—not my teachers or my parents or my friends—ever said to me, “You are an amazing writer. I just know you’re going to grow up and write books.” I never thought that myself, either. And now I’ve written three books, so you never know.
What were your favorite things to do when you were young?
I was a daydreamer. I was always making up stories in my head, then drawing pictures to illustrate them. I loved to draw.
And I loved to read. If I was reading a good book I wouldn’t even notice the time going by because I was in the story, seeing and doing and feeling all the things the characters saw and did and felt. That was the best.
Also, I liked playing “Kill the Guy with the Ball.” Lots of running and tackling in that game. Very fun (and a little bit dangerous).
What were you afraid of?
I absolutely refused to touch slimy, slick, or scaly animals. That included worms, snakes, frogs, fish, and the legs of any bird.
Beezus (the baby of the family)
Since moving to Iowa, though, I have held worms, frogs, toads, all sorts of birds, mice, chipmunks, bunnies, rabbits, and a wild turkey (I wear leather gloves whenever I handle wild animals that have teeth, so they can’t claw or bite me). I’m still not sure I want to touch a snake, however.
Did you have a best friend? Who was it and why were you best friends?
Mackie
In grade school, my best friend was Dorothy. Every day we walked home from school together. Every day, once we got to my house, she’d say, “Well, I guess I should go home.” And every day I’d talk her into staying, at least until dinner time. We played basketball in the alley behind the neighbors’ house, we played running-hiding-tackling games with the neighborhood kids, we sat on the porch and talked. I don’t really know why we were best friends. I just know she was the easiest person, ever, for me to be with.
What advice do you have for aspiring young readers and writers?
Well, I can only say what works for me.
I do think that I learned a lot about good writing—like what makes for an interesting plot, or ways characters might talk so the reader stays interested—simply by reading so many books when I was young. I didn’t realize I was learning those things; I just absorbed them as I read. So I’d say to people who want to write: read.
The patio where I sometimes work.
It takes me a long time to write a story—Ida B took a year and a half, True took even longer. If I’m going to spend that much time creating a world and the characters that live in it, I have to really love and enjoy them. So I’d also say: write about what you love or what you imagine you’d love. Write the story you’d most like to read.
Do you have a special place where you write your books?
I write in lots of places—in the big red chair in my living room, at the dining room table, in bed at night. On a nice day, I’ll write out on the patio that overlooks the meadow. What is always present wherever I write, however, is a cat (right now I have four of them). They keep me company and, most of the time, they let me work. They will not tolerate a late meal, though, even if my writing is going well and I’d like to postpone dinner a bit.
I hope you’re enjoying reading True (…Sort Of) as much as I enjoyed writing about Delly, Brud, Ferris Boyd, and all the other characters who live in River Bluffs.
Parts of my life sneak always their way into my books: my cat Lulu showed up in Ida B (as did my habit of talking to
trees). I live in a place where there are lots of wild animals, so Emmaline and the Bunny was full of them. But in True, I wanted to write about how friendship, and a new place, can transform somebody’s life. Because that’s what happened to me.
I grew up in a city in New York State. This city had a mall, movie theatres, and all kinds of restaurants and stores. Then, about eleven years ago, I moved to a tiny town in Iowa. In this town, there’s no mall, no movie theatres, no streets full of stores. There aren’t even traffic lights. And when I moved here, I didn’t know anybody, so it was pretty scary. But it was also pretty wonderful, because all around the town are hills and fields and woods, and sometimes when I go running bald eagles fly over me. In this town there’s a river, and if I paddle my kayak down it I see giant turtles sunbathing. There’s a meadow behind my house and woods beyond that, so I’ve met all sorts of wild creatures—deer, skunks, raccoons, possum, wild turkeys, groundhogs… The people here are kind, and they became my friends.
Lulu yawning.
I got a whole new life moving to this place, and it changed me. I started doing things I’d never done before. I got a garden going, and grew some of my own food. I learned to kayak and canoe. And I decided I wanted to write some stories. I didn’t know if I’d be any good at writing, but I really wanted to read a story about kids growing up in a place like this. The only way to read that story was to write it for myself.
Writing stories ended up being so much fun. It was hard, too—writing isn’t easy for me. But writing True (and Ida B and Emmaline) were some of the best times I’ve ever had because, while I’m writing, it’s as if I’m hanging around with Delly and Ferris Boyd and Brud. In my imagination, I get to do all the things they’re doing: I’m sitting up in the hideawaysis, playing basketball with Brud, having breakfast on the lake with Delly and her mom, and laughing about those words Delly invents (especially the nocuss ones).
I also wanted to write about kids who feel different, like Delly, Brud, and Ferris Boyd do, because I’ve always felt that way. Maybe everybody does. It was important to me that one of the heroes of True be a kid who’s been in so much trouble that she’s starts to believe she IS trouble, because I’ve known kids like that. And, if I’m honest, there were times when I was young that I thought about not talking anymore, like Ferris Boyd.
There’s a lot of humor in True because I love to laugh and make other people laugh, as well. So I hope you laugh at least a couple of times as you read it. I also wish that if you ever felt different and were sad about that, or if you ever had something so hard happen that you didn’t know how to talk about it, you got some hope, and maybe some help, from True. Maybe you, like Delly, will become a hummin bin, too.