Mark Kistler’s Draw Squad
She also came across a copy of Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes
Category Archives: Books
Speaking of Math…Jane’s Brown Paper Books Romance
Math for Smarty Pants
Oh how my Jane adores this book, and others in the Brown Paper School Books series! Other favorites are:
The Book of Think : Or How to Solve a Problem Twice Your Size
I find her curled up in bed with these books at night. On long car trips, it’s a sure bet that at least one of them makes the cut for her travel bag. Once we loaned Math for Smarty Pants to a friend, and I thought Jane was going to explode with impatience during the week or so this precious book was out of her possession. She is constantly regaling me with Fascinating Tidbits About Math and Other Stuff she has picked up from one of the Brown Paper School books. The cartoony, chatty style is what first roped her in, but it’s the wealth of puzzles, tricks, and “really cool facts” that keeps drawing her back.
The Firelings, by Carol Kendall
I’m reading the girls a book I discovered at age ten or eleven and read with immense relish several times over the next few years. I’m enjoying it just as much this time around. And it’s one of those “oh please, just ONE more chapter” books for the kids.
The Firelings
Now Belcher’s belly has once more begun to emit ominous rumblings, and his fiery tongue has been seen darting out of his mouth as if to suggest he is craving another Morsel…and in the whispers around the village, a certain name pops up with an alarming frequency. What will this mean for young Tacky-obbie and his friends Life, Trueline, Milk, and Mole Star? My kids are desperate to find out. I know, but I’m not telling.
Books People in My House Are Reading Today
Scott:
•Little Children by Tom Perrotta (Scott says I should read this next)
•The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference, by Malcolm Gladwell (he has been reading bits and pieces to me—fascinating)
Me:
•The Bird in the Tree by Elizabeth Goudge
•Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis (for the umpteenth time)
•1984 by George Orwell (for the first time, surprisingly)
Jane:
•Mara, Daughter of the Nile by Eloise Jarvis McGraw
•Math for Smarty Pants by Marilyn Burns (tattered, dogeared, one of her favorite books)
Rose:
•the Samantha & Josefina books (and apparently she can’t decide which one to be today…she showed me a slip of paper on which she had written “Samfina” and “Josemantha,” her attempt, evidently, to satisify both role-playing impulses at once)
Scott to the girls:
•Journey to the River Sea by Eva Ibbotsen
Me to Rose at quiet time:
•The Borrowers by Mary Norton
Me to Beanie at naptime:
•Brave Georgie Goat by Denis Roche
Me to all three girls:
•The Wheel on the School by Meindert de Jong (still)
•A Life of Our Lord for Children by Marigold Hunt
And on audio:
•(Jane) Number the Stars by Lois Lowry
•(all girls) Irish Folk Tales by Sharon Kennedy
The Earth, Galloping
Early this morning, too early, while The Baby Who Scoffed at Sleep played on the bed beside me, I finished reading Willa Cather’s splendid novel My Antonia. The book was due back at the library yesterday, but I want to copy a few passages into my commonplace book first. This is one of them.
I can remember exactly how the country looked to me as I walked beside my grandmother along the faint wagon-tracks on that early September morning. Perhaps the glide of long railway travel was still with me, for more than anything else I felt motion in the landscape; in the fresh, easy-blowing morning wind, and in the earth itself, as if the shaggy grass were a sort of loose hide, and underneath it herds of wild buffalo were galloping, galloping…
May as Well Thoreau This in Just for Fun
In light of our Henry Hikes to Fitchburg discussion, I thought I’d share this happy find from another forum: The Blog of Henry David Thoreau. Hee!
From today’s entry (Thoreau’s Journal: 21-Mar-1856)—
I left home at ten and got back before twelve with two and three quarters pints of sap, in addition to the one and three quarters I found collected.
I put in saleratus and a little milk while boiling, the former to neutralize the acid, and the latter to collect the impurities in a skum. After boiling it till I burned it a little, and my small quantity would not flow when cool, but was as hard as half-done candy, I put it on again, and in a minute it was softened and turned to sugar.
While collecting sap, the little of yesterday’s lodging snow that was left, dropping from the high pines in Trillium Wood and striking the brittle twigs in its descent, makes me think that the squirrels are running there.
I noticed that my fingers were purpled, evidently from the sap on my auger.
Had a dispute with Father about the use of my making this sugar when I knew it could be done and might have bought sugar cheaper at Holden’s. He said it took me from my studies. I said I made it my study; I felt as if I had been to a university.
Jane’s addendum to my “Henry Hikes” post
She was reading Henry Hikes to Fitchburg and pointed out several connections:
• Thoreau is mentioned in the novel The Fledgling, by Jane Langton, which I have not read but Jane loved.
• As I noted in my review last week, among the neighbors for whom Henry’s friend does odd jobs are Mr. Hawthorne, Mrs. Alcott, and Mr. Emerson. I knew Jane would recognize the name “Alcott”— Little Women and Little Men are two of her favorite books—but after reading the author’s note in the back of Henry Hikes, which briefly mentions Bronson Alcott (Lousia May’s father) and his unique ideas about education, Jane said, “Well, that explains Eight Cousins, doesn’t it?” Indeed, the heroine of this Louisa May Alcott novel comes to live with an uncle who has unorthodox (for his time) notions about how young girls should be raised and educated. “Simple clothes, plenty of fresh air and exercise, few parties, no fripperies, and lots of oatmeal,” Jane summarized. (“What are fwippawies?” Beanie wanted to know.)
• I was surprised the kids recognized Nathaniel Hawthorne’s name, but I forgot that Jim Weiss retells Hawthorne’s short story, “Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment,” on his Spooky Classics for Children collection.
• And finally—one might say: last and most certainly least—Jane tells me that she knows about Emerson “because Nancy Drew’s boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, went to Emerson College.” All righty, then. Certainly wouldn’t want to omit that important piece of information.
Hot Chocolate Would Work, Too
A quick post while the kids are practicing piano…this is the time of day when I try to sit down with a cup of tea for a quick email check. (Current favorite: “Mandarin Green” from Adagio Tea, steeped in their nifty IngenuiTEA teapot.) I usually wind up on the floor next to the computer with Beanie, rescuing her train tracks from Wonderboy while my tea grows cold in the cup. Scott teases me about the cups of lukewarm tea I leave all over the house. I know I’m not alone in this; my pal Alice jokes that she doesn’t drink coffee, she just brews it.
Which is one of the reasons the beautiful first chapter of Danielle Bean’s new book, My Cup of Tea, struck such a chord in me. I can’t wait to read the rest. You can enjoy a sneak preview of Chapter 1 at Danielle’s website—perhaps over a cup of tea (even the lukewarm kind).
Oh, and speaking of Adagio Tea, I have some $5 coupons for their website—email me if you’d like one.
The Temper of the Shrew
In the car today, Beanie launches into a story about “Bonny Kate.” She says it fast, one word: “Bonnykate.” It takes me a minute to figure out what she’s talking about; until she mentions Bianca, I am flummoxed.
“Bianca is the most beautiful,” she tells me. “Bonnykate gets mad. That’s why it’s called ‘The Temper of the Shrew.’ “
Aha. Suddenly I understand. My four-year-old is narrating Shakespeare. Okay, she’s a little off on the title, but as her tale continues it is clear that she has a firm grasp of the plot. Thank you, Jim Weiss. His CD of stories from Shakespeare has been a favorite of the girls since before Beanie was born. This got me thinking about how many threads Jim’s fabulous storytelling CDs have woven into the tapestry of our life.
We discovered him in the Chinaberry catalog when Jane was a toddler, and many years (and many hours of enchanted listening) later, Scott and I had the great pleasure of meeting Jim and his wife Randy in person at a homeschooling conference. When we introduced the children to Jim, they were dazzled: he is a big star in their universe. It was Jim’s fluid voice that introduced them to Paul Bunyan, Scheherazade, Rip van Winkle, Theseus, Puck, and Percival. Much as I would like to take credit for the many literary allusions peppering my children’s talk, I have to admit that the plum goes to Jim and Randy Weiss.
I can always tell when the girls are listening to Jim’s retelling of the Archimedes story: it’s when a burst of laughter explodes into the post-bedtime hush of their room. Beanie will narrate that tale with gusto to anyone who’ll listen—after all, what small child can’t relate to a person so excited about an idea that he runs naked through the streets to share it?
Jim’s Sherlock Holmes stories inspired Jane, at age eight, to tackle the Arthur Conan Doyle originals. Rose requests The Jungle Book over and over again. All of them, at one time or another, have chattered away to me about the doings of Titania and Oberon and their crowd of fairy attendants…I recall a time when I was under orders to address Rose as “Peaseblossom,” thank you very much.
I’m pulling into the driveway, and Beanie is still going on about “Bonnykate-whose-weal-name-is-Katewina” and her hot temper. “When I’m a mommy I will name my daughter Bianca,” says Bean thoughtfully. “But I like Katewina best because she gets mad. That’s why it’s called the Temper of the Shrew. Oh, wait. Mommy, what does ‘taming’ mean?”
And another great discussion is launched. Thanks, Jim and Randy.
Life on the Trail
It’s been a rough morning. Our wagon tipped over while fording a river, and we lost fifty pounds of salt pork and our only shotgun. Then Rose took sick—cholera, we think—and died before we could do anything about it.
My girls are undaunted by this stunning double tragedy. They push on across the prairie, estimating the number of miles to the next fort. Maybe we can trade our mule for a new gun.
“At least we still have the fishing pole,” says Rose. She seems to have accepted her own death gracefully.
“I don’t like wattlesnakes,” announces Beanie.
Jane cracks up. “Who does? Remember when I got bit, back before we crossed the Platte?”
We found ourselves on the Oregon Trail by way of a great read-aloud, one that vaulted unexpectedly to the top of our Family Favorites list: By the Great Horn Spoon
Our westward journey has occurred at a fairly brisk speed. After the Horn Spoon deposited us in the thick of the California Gold Rush, there was much conversation about the many reasons and ways in which people migrated west. Our trail led to other books: Moccasin Trail
I don’t know what lies around the next bend in the trail. I’ve stopped trying to pave the road ahead of time. The best adventures, it seems, are to be found in the bumps and detours. We’re well outfitted for the journey with books and maps and eyes and ears and that burning appetite for knowledge that can make a hearty meal out of buffalo grass and brambles.
—Excerpted from an article appearing in the Virginia Homeschoolers newsletter.