September First

      There once was a dream,
      Then two, for a team,
Two little misses with bright eyes of blue,
       And fair as June roses,
       With cute turned up noses,
Sweet rounded lips of a ripe cherry hue;
       No love cold be greater,
       Shown by the Creator,
Than to give double, the portions to you.

Mrs. Hortense MacDougall

Poem written by my great grandmother Hortense Smythe MacDougall in the early 1900s, long before my double portions were born on September first, 2004. Happy birthday wonderful girls.

Free To Be Me, In Whatever Color I Choose

Three years ago I was completely befuddled by the gender assigned toy choices offered at McDonald's. Sent to buy food for a classroom celebration I had no idea that beyond choosing nuggets or burgers, I also had to assign to them gender specific, and hopefully correct, toys. I got it all wrong. The Gap makes it so much easier. No confusion at all when I walk in, boys clothing on the right, girls on the left, and please don't cross to the wrong side, simply not tolerated. Even my old workhorse L.L. Bean offers clear direction when shopping; Mary's flannel lined jeans are labeled boys because her flannel is primary colored, the girl's version being lined with a soon to fade pastel plaid. Pass.

McDonald's has recently agreed, at the urging of a determined teenager, that there need not be a distinction of boy toy or girl toy. Wonderful news! Now, while feeding our children processed and unhealthy food we need not force feed them gender stereotypes; who wouldn't see that as a victory? The comments associated with the article say otherwise. Ranging from " I'm gonna puke" to "This is a bunch of crap", the general consensus is that this type of effort to invoke change was unnecessary and a complete waste of time when far more pressing issues, say poverty and lack of freedoms, should be the focus. A curious issue to raise when the matter at hand is offering a child the freedom to choose the toy that they like best, without regard to what McDonald's has deemed acceptable, based on their sex.

For my part I applaud anyone who takes a stand and, beyond complaining (which is what I did when faced with this insanity), actually does something to make change happen. It seems there are those who feel that asking a mega corporation to stop pushing gender stereotypes onto our children is an inconsequential use of time, or that by not qualifying toys based on sex we are somehow creating confusion in our children. Because it is certain, if we don't level with them now, if we are not clear in directing girls to play with Barbies and boys to play with trucks (or the non toy video game level equivalent of which I know absolutely nothing about) then our children will grow up not knowing which way to turn when they walk into the Gap. If we don't tell them, how will they know?

Don't Dress Your Cat in an Apron

Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/marlo-thomas/my-dog-is-a-plumber-lyrics/#J4G2F561lJSqKFMK.99

My dog is a plumber. He must be a boy,
Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/marlo-thomas/my-dog-is-a-plumber-lyrics/#J4G2F561lJSqKFMK.99

My dog is a plumber. He must be a boy,
Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/marlo-thomas/my-dog-is-a-plumber-lyrics/#J4G2F561lJSqKFMK.99

Don't dress your cat in an apron
Just 'cause he's learning to bake.
Don't put your horse in a nightgown
Just 'cause he can't stay awake.
Don't dress your snake in a muu-muu
Just 'cause he's off on a cruise.
Don't dress your whale in galoshes
If she really prefers overshoes.
A person should wear what he wants to
And not just what other folks say.
A person should do what he likes to -
A person's a person that way.

-Dan Greenburg
 

Don't Dress Your Cat in an Apron, from the still wonderful Free to Be You and Me, which I love now as much as I did when it first came out in 1974. Created by Marlo Thomas who was shocked to find that books for children reinforced stereotypes of what boys and girls were supposed to be, she set out to put together a book that taught children they could be whatever they wanted. Sadly those pink and blue lessons still dominate much of what is published for children today, Free to Be You and Me still necessary, and enjoyed, after all these years.

Merry-Go-Round

Merry-Go-Round

Where is the Jim Crow section
On this merry-go-round,
Mister, cause I want to ride?
Down South where I come from
White and colored
Can't sit side by side.
Down South on the train
There's a Jim Crow car.
On the bus we're put in the back—
But there ain't no back
To a merry-go-round!
Where's the horse
For a kid that's black?

Langston Hughes

 

Kate finished a research project Wednesday on Langston Hughes, her favorite poet. With a focus on discrimination in the thirties, as she is reading the wonderful Christopher Paul Curtis novel Bud, Not Buddy, she chose this poem to be central to her report; a fine choice.  

I Have a Little Shadow

Last weekend we collected sticks to build a sun dial, this week they outlined their shadows with chalk and last night Kate spent over an hour charting the various lengths of shadows during the course of a day. Science class, a new addition to their fourth grade curriculum, is casting a big shadow over homework, to the delight of my budding heliologists.

"Kate, you should offer to share the shadow poem with your class."

The head, inches from the table, slowly rose, "Mom, I get that you are a librarian, I appreciate that you are a librarian, but this is science class. We don't have poems in science class", and the head fell right back to the paper.

"Kate, I appreciate that you are nine, I get it, but it's nice to cross from one subject to the next, you know they really all work together".

She looked up, "Mom. There is no hypothesis, there are no conclusions, there is no data in that poem. I know you love the shadow poem but I am not offering to share that with my science class".

My little shadow is growing up but there's still so much learning to do.

My Shadow
by Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

A Book Riddle

Based on one of my very favorite children's book series:

One is short, the other tall

One likes to sleep, the other not at all.

They eat cookies and ice cream,

And swim in a stream,

They have picnics on islands

Where they sit and they dream.

Sledding in winter,

Eager for spring,

Two friends together,

Amphibian and green.

-ally

Frog and Toad, Arnold Lobel

Something About Mary

I am small but strong,
And it doesn't take long
For me to climb a tree
You see.

My best friend's my sister,
And it's clear to me
She is the best part of my
Fam-i-ly!

What's my favorite animal?
Dogs, it's true.
I will love Eleanor forever more.
Even when I am blue.

Mary, Age 8
September 10, 2012

The Swing

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Till I can see so wide,

River and trees and cattle and all

Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,

Down on the roof so brown--

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

-Robert Louis Stevenson

Put Something In

Put Something In

Draw a crazy picture,

Write a nutty poem,

Sing a mumble-grumble song,

Whistle through your comb.

Do a loony-goony dance

'Cross the kitchen floor,

Put something silly in the world,

That ain't been there before.

Shel Silverstein

A Book Riddle

Not Mommy or Daddy or even boo hoo

Her first words were saved for an animal,

That’s who!

She had lost him she thought

A tragic ordeal

She yelled, she went boneless, she let out a squeal.

As always it was

That Mommy knew best

And they all rushed back

Past the school, through the park, a little bird nest.

They looked high, they looked low

And found nothing soft and green

Until Daddy reached back further

To a place he had not before seen.

Trixie laughed, she screamed, they thought it was funny,

And then happily yelled out her first words,

“Knuffle Bunny!”

Knuffle Bunny, by Mo Willems, is one of Mary and Kate's favorite books. I wrote several book riddles as a game, to encourage them to listen and use clues to discover which of their favorite books I was describing.

The Little Boy and The Old Man

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

Shel Silverstein

Saying Goodbye to Very Young Children

They will not be the same next time. The sayings
so cute, just slightly off, will be corrected.
Their eyes will be more skeptical, plugged in
the more securely to the worldly buzz
of television, alphabet, and street talk,
culture polluting their gazes' pure blue.
It makes you see at last the value of
those boring aunts and neighbors (their smells
of summer sweat and cigarettes, their faces
like shapes of sky between shade-giving leaves)
who knew you from the start, when you were zero,
cooing their nothings before you could be bored
or knew a name, not even your own, or how
this world brave with hellos turns all goodbye.


John Updike

Bed In Summer

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

Robert Louis Stevenson

The Goop

The Goops they lick their fingers
And the Goops they lick their knives
They spill their broth on the tablecloth
Oh they lead untidy lives!
The Goops they talk while eating,
And loud and fast they chew;
And that is why I'm glad that I
Am not a Goop, are you?

Gillette Burgess

My Sister is a Worm Collector

"Dad! Look, look at all these worms!", and even I squirmed, worms not usually bothersome but a handful of five or more wriggly creatures, ick. She dropped them into a pile in the front yard, rubbed her filthy muddy hands all over the front of her pink flowered sundress and took off to find more, for her always expanding worm collection. The large pink bow in her hair now a little askew, having been pushed back repeatedly by the small wormy hand.

Her sister, dressed in long khaki shorts, a navy blue t-shirt and a baseball cap, recoiled in terror. The very idea of one worm, much less an overflowing handful, sent her racing to the certain safety of the front porch, away from the dirt and insect infested yard. She remained in that safe spot for the better part of the afternoon, watching her sister run from worm pile to dig site and back again.

My Dog is a Plumber

My dog is a plumber. He must be a boy,
Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?

-Dan Greenburg