Books about race and skin color:
Skin Again, by bell hooks, illustrated by Chris Raschka (Interest: Pre-K to second)
“The skin I’m in is just a covering, it can’t tell my story.” Simple, almost sparse text, about how our skin is an important part of us, but there is so much more to know! The bright illustrations (by the same artist as The Hello, Goodbye Window) show kids with different skin colors in a way that both reinforces the idea that the world is diverse, and could prompt conversations with little readers about their race. Also, I have such love and admiration for bell hooks, Black scholar and feminist and author of the inspirational Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. (When I say that, I mean that it is inspirational in general, and also that it directly inspired The Liberatory Library. So, I’m a fan.)

Happy In Our Skin, by Fran Manushkin, illustrated by Lauren Tobia (Interest: Pre-K to second)
This charming, affirming book talks about how our skin comes in many different colors and shades, it is all beautiful, and it serves all of our bodies in the same way. It’s nice for the preschool crowd because it talks openly and positively about our differences and similarities. It’s worth noting that the author and illustrator are both white, and I don’t love that it’s a white author talking about other people’s skin color. From my perspective, it’s done in a positive way that doesn’t come across as problematic, but take that with a but-I’m-a-white-person-too grain of salt.

Tan to Tamarind: Poems About the Color Brown, by Malathi Iyengar, illustrated by Jamel Akib (Interest: Pre-K and up)
This book is a collection of poems about the many beautiful shades of brown that people can be. It can be read straight through or in parts, and the poems are accompanied by rich, soft illustrations. In its celebration of brownness, it includes people from a variety of cultures and backgrounds, and it’s an Own Voices text; the author talks a little about her journey to loving her brown skin in the heartfelt note at the end.

Books about racism:
Not My Idea: A Book About Whiteness, by Anastasia Higgenbotham (Interest: Elementary)
This book does something that I think is remarkable. It’s written with a clear purpose; it says so right in the subtitle. And it lives up to the purpose, without for a minute feeling contrived or after-school-special-y (which is a pet peeve of mine). It’s real, and it’s authentic. The book opens when a young white girl catches a glimpse of the news on TV...and her parent’s reaction to it. When she asks them questions, they try to shield her from the story of another young Black man killed by a police officer. She doesn’t give up, and over the course of the book, her eyes are opened to the presence of racism all around her. A lot of parents right now are wondering how to talk to their white kids about race; this is the book they need. It confronts the issues head on, it explains them clearly, and it shows the reader their choice to change the system and “grow justice inside yourself like a bean sprout in a milk carton.” Truly, this is a book that will help white parents and white kids alike to have much-needed conversations, as good art is uniquely equipped to do. (I want to note that in recounting the police shooting, there is an illustration of a hand holding a gun, and a page that reads “Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!” I think it’s more than appropriate in the context, but I also want adults to know that it’s in there before starting to read it with a child.)

A Kids Book About Racism, by Jelani Memory (Interest: Elementary)
This is a pictureless book, with simple, bold text on each page walking the reader through an introduction to race and racism. It’s part of the “Kids Book About” series, which is designed to help parents and kids have honest conversations (as it says on their website). The author addresses the reader directly, introduces himself, and talks about his identity as a biracial person. He talks about racism mostly in the interpersonal way, treating someone negatively because of the color of their skin, with a call to action to name racism when we see it. It doesn’t touch on the bigger picture of systemic racism, or what our job is beyond being kind and appreciating differences, but this is definitely a book that could help start a conversation, especially with younger children.

Intersection Allies: We Make Room For All, by Chelsea Johnson, LaTonya Council, and Carolyn Choi, illustrated by Ashley Seil Smith (Interest: Elementary)
Okay, so this one isn’t specifically about racism. But I came across it when researching this topic, and it’s unique and lovely and very much connected. It illustrates the concept of intersectional identities (coined by Dr. Kimberle Crenshaw, and briefly described by her in this video) by presenting a wide variety of folx who introduce themselves to us and describe their intersecting identities. They discuss ability, gender expression, religion, multiple languages, immigration, and water protectors. One child says that the news is sometimes scary and sad, and the illustration shows a girl in front of police officers in the street, alluding to police brutality. The text reads, “For her, for them, for him, for me/we all deserve to breathe and be free.” The next page shows a big, colorful protest “for safety, equality, and pride.” I love the breadth of this book, and its tone that is both positive and serious. It concludes with this: “Barriers and biases are often to blame/We strive to be equal but not all the same./Life’s ups and downs can take many forms/But standing together, we’ll rewrite the norms.” Equal, but not all the same.

The Hula-Hoopin Queen, by Thelma Lynne Godin, illustrated by Vanessa Brantley-Newton (Interest: Elementary)
Kameeka and Jamara are in a fierce, long-term competition to be the hula-hoopin queen of 139th Street, and Kameeka is sure that today is her day to win the title. A wrench is thrown into her plans when her mom reminds her that today she is also responsible for helping throw a birthday party for a beloved neighbor. Does Kameeka have to choose between Miz Adeline and hula hooping?

I Got the Rhythm (also I Got the School Spirit, and I Got the Christmas Spirit), by Connie Schofield-Morrison, illustrated by Frank Morrison (Interest: Pre-K through 2nd)
These books are so joyful! In I Got the Rhythm, the little girl dances her way through her neighborhood, finding rhythm and music everywhere she goes. Repeating text makes this perfect for emerging readers. When one of my readers hit this level recently, she couldn’t stop reading this one, and returned to it over and over. It built up her confidence and fluency, plus she loves to dance, too, so it was a perfect match. Frank Morrison’s paintings are gorgeous, detailed, and full of life.

Thank You, Omu! By Oge Mora (Interest: Pre-K and up)
This is a beautiful story about community, sharing, and good food! Omu starts her day by making some delicious stew to enjoy for her dinner, but it smells so good that it keeps drawing folks in to knock on her door and ask if she has enough to share. Omu’s generosity ends up creating a joyful communal feast with all of her new friends.

Saturday, by Oge Mora (Interest: Elementary)
Another great offering by the same talented writer and illustrator as Thank You, Omu! Saturdays are special for this mother-daughter family, because the mom is off from work, and always plans special activities for them to do together. On this particular Saturday, something goes wrong at every turn as they try to do their favorite things. Luckily, the daughter remembers that the best thing about Saturdays is getting to spend time together.

Another, by Christian Robinson (Interest: Pre-K and up)
So, Christian Robinson is my favorite illustrator. I love the feelings he creates with his cut-paper artwork, plus the bright colors and clever ideas. Another is his first solo venture, and it’s a story told completely in pictures. This format is captivating, and it has been SO INTERESTING to share it with kids, and watch them read the pictures and tell the story. It’s really magical, and it really is engaging for readers of all ages.

I also recommend everything else that Christian has worked on! Other stories with Black protagonists include Rain, by Linda Ashman (Pre-K/K, a little rain-loving kid encounters a grumpy older gentleman on a stormy day—ask my brother how many times he’s read this book of few words to my nephew!) and Last Stop on Market Street, by Matt de la Pena (elementary, a boy takes a long bus ride with his grandma through the city, and we see how they are part of their community on their way to feed neighbors at a soup kitchen). All of Christian’s books have diverse casts of characters, and they’re all a pleasure to read! Ask me if you’d like more suggestions about his books, or just look him up and try anything you find!

Hair Love, by Matthew A. Cherry, illustrated by Vashti Harrison (Interest: Pre-K and up)
Little Zuri is trying her best to fix her hair in a special way, but it’s not easy to do all by herself when Mom isn’t there! Dad comes to the rescue, even though it’s a learning experience for him, too. This father-daughter story is so, so sweet, brought to life by Vashti Harrison’s vibrant illustrations. It was also made into an Oscar-winning short, which you should definitely go check out as well!

I Am Enough, by Grace Byers, illustrated by Keturah A. Bobo (Interest: Pre-K and up)
This is a lyrical, heart-felt meditation on loving yourself, exactly as you are. It’s that simple, and that beautiful.

Crown: An Ode to the Fresh Cut, by Derrick Barnes, illustrated by Gordon C. James (Interest: Pre-K and up)
This book speaks to the particular magic of the barber shop, and the confidence-booster power of a great new cut. The mixed-media artwork is dynamic and as fresh as the cuts, and the writing is truly a poetic ode. Especially good for young guys preparing to go to the barber shop, but by no means exclusively for boys.

The Day You Begin, by Jacqueline Woodson, illustrated by Rafael Lopez (Interest: K and up)
Jacqueline Woodson is an incredibly gifted writer, and one of my all-time favorites, and I’ll never ceased to be impressed (and a little jealous) that she is so good at so many things. Her award-winning brown girl dreaming is a gorgeous memoir in verse, and she writes powerful prose for middle grade, young adult, AND adult readers. And in case you thought she couldn’t do it all, here comes this exceptional picture book (also it’s not her first one). The Day You Begin captures all of those familiar first-day-of-school emotions, including the ones that come up when you walk in the room and realize that you’re different in some way. It’s gentle and hopeful and empowering all at once. Perfect for back-to-school.

The King of Kindergarten, by Derrick Barnes, illustrated by Vanessa Brantley-Newton (Interest: Pre-K and K!)
This one is perfect for back to school, too, obviously especially for our friends starting in K! The little guy in this story is SO ready for his first day of school! It includes lots of family love, excited new pals, and an enthusiastic teacher. As we walk through the day with the King, we get a good idea of what to expect in kindergarten, so it would be an empowering read for someone with some first-day-of-school nerves, too.

M is for Melanin: A Celebration of the Black Child, by Tiffany Rose (Interest: Pre-K through 2nd, but bigger kids will like the positive messages, too)
This is an alphabet book full of joyful, uplifting messages and brightly colored illustrations. The M page reads, “M is for Melanin, shining in every inch of your skin. Every shade, every hue. All beautiful and unique.” These ABCs are speaking right to Black children in a special way.

The Proudest Blue: A Story of Hijab and Family, by Ibtihaj Muhammad & S.K. Ali, illustrated by Hatem Aly (Interest: Elementary)
This is actually another first-day-of-school book, written by Olympic fencer Ibtihaj Muhammad. Faizah watches with admiration as her big sister Asiya dresses for the first day of school in a brilliant and beautiful blue hijab. It both celebrates the hijab and shows it as part of everyday life.

Jabari Jumps, by Gaia Cornwall (Interest: Pre-K through 2nd)
This is a light summer story just right for August! Jabari is determined to jump off the big diving board at the local pool, but finds himself hesitating as he looks for just the right conditions. His dad is encouraging and supportive, letting him know it’s okay to take his time. The picture of Jabari’s bird’s eye view from the top of the diving board is so effective makes me a little nervous! (Note: This is the only book on this list that isn’t Own Voices; it’s written and illustrated by a white author. I chose to include it for its representation of #BlackBoyJoy and Black fatherhood, but consider this a friendly reminder to be cognizant of who is writing the stories we include as we build up our diverse libraries, and to prioritize Own Voices of every kind!)

Happy Reading!

Mailard, K.N. (2019). Fry bread: A Native American family story. Roaring Brook Press. (Illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal)This nonfiction picture book includes simple text about the significance of fry bread in Native American homes and families, both traditional and today. The author, who is Seminole, includes extensive notes in the back with more information. I’ve never before read an author’s note so beautifully written that it gave me chills.

Sorrell, T. (2018). We are grateful: Otsaliheliga. Charlesbridge. (Illustrated by Frane Lessac) This is a picture book that walks readers through the beauty of each season. It includes Cherokee vocabulary (and pronunciation) throughout, and it’s wonderful for elementary students. It could be incorporated during the Thanksgiving season as an alternative view on books about gratitude.

Quigley, D. (2019). Native American heroes (Inspiring Leaders series). Scholastic. This nonfiction book for elementary readers profiles inspiring Native American leaders, some from history, but most more recent. Dawn Quigley is Ojibwe, and the featured leaders are from a variety of nations. My students really enjoyed these short biographies.

Ortiz, S.J. (1977). The people shall continue. Children’s Book Press. (Illustrated by Sharol Graves) This is an older picture book, but a 40th anniversary edition was recently published. It gives a history of Indigenous people in North America from an Indigenous perspective, in the style of traditional oral histories.

Dunbar-Ortiz, R., Mendoza, J., & Reese, D. (2019). An Indigenous people’s history of the United States for young people. Beacon Press. This is a young-adult adaptation of Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz’s adult history book of the same name. It is accessible for middle and high school students to read on their own, and is also a great resource for teachers to broaden their understanding of U.S. history.

Lindstrom, C. (2020). We are water protectors. Roaring Brook Press. (Illustrated by Michaela Goade) This nonfiction picture book by Metis/Ojibwe writer Carole Lindstrom is an account of the Native American activists engaged in protecting the environment from oil drilling and other threats.

McManis, C.W. & Sorrell, T. (2019). Indian no more. Lee & Low Books. This is a middle grade novel by two Own Voices writers (Umpqua, Cherokee) that was chosen for the 2020 Global Read Aloud. It is historical fiction about the federal Indian Relocation program.

Dupuis, J.K & Kacer, K. (2016). I am not a number. Second Story Press. This is another historical fiction, middle grade novel. Inspired by the story of Jenny Dupuis’ grandmother, it describes the experience of Anishinaabe children taken from their families and sent to an Indian Residential School. There is a dual-language English-Ojibwe edition.

Quigley, D. (2018). Apple in the middle. North Dakota State University Press. This is a contemporary young adult novel about a girl with mixed heritage spending the summer with her Native American relatives on the Turtle Mountain Reservation in North Dakota for the first time. It explores how she learns to navigate two cultures in her adolescence.

Smith, M.G. (2017). You hold me up. Orca Book Publishers. (Illustrated by Danielle Daniel) This is a sweet picture book for young readers that explores the different ways we take care of and support the people we care about.

Nicole Young shared this quote on a recent episode of the podcast Kidlit These Days on the topic of anti-racism, and when I heard it, I knew the next thing I wanted to write: a list some of the middle grade and young adult fiction I love that addresses racism and tells stories of Black lives. The fiction that is speaking to my heart right now.

“Social justice is the work of narrative reconstruction.” With this swell of discussion and interest in the work of anti-racism, there are tons of lists being shared with books to read, especially to help us white folks catch up and educate ourselves. The New York Times best-seller list this week for non-fiction is flooded with titles by Ijeoma Iluo, Michelle Alexander, Ibram X. Kendi, and more. I am a voracious reader of fiction and a slow, cranky reader of nonfiction, so my work right now is to push myself to pick up these titles to deepen my understanding of the issues around racism and white supremacy.

At the same time, stories are my favorite way in to understanding. Last week, I read Nic Stone’s beautiful YA novel Dear Martin. I picked it up months ago at a used book sale, but it sat waiting towards the bottom of my TBR pile. It waited, in part, because I knew that it was about police brutality toward Black teens, I knew it would be hard to read, and I thought I knew how it would make me feel.

But here’s the thing. Until I enter into the story, and get invested in the lives of the characters, and let myself feel all the feelings through the narrative, I don’t really know. Not in my heart. There are studies that show that reading fiction cultivates compassion and empathy (like this one), and this has happened to me countless times. I opened Dear Martin knowing that it was about a Black teen who is a victim of police brutality. And knowing that, I still wasn’t prepared for how I would feel when I turned that page. And then beyond the gut-punch of that moment, reading Justyce’s inner monologues and the conversations he had with his best friend, his mom, his Black teacher, and his white girlfriend all gave me an even deeper understanding, in my heart, about what we’re talking about here. What white supremacy, systemic racism, and police brutality mean in people’s lives. In individuals’ lives, in their lived experiences. I’m not saying that we can’t develop understanding and empathy outside of stories, and from the real-life stories shared in the news, in talks and forums, or in conversations with loved ones. But reading is another way that my white self can find some of this understanding, without a Black person having to repeat their traumas and experiences for my education. Nic Stone did the work once as the author so that all of us can read it, as many people and as many times as we need to.

So. This list is for people, like me, for whom stories are a way in, and for those who might want to put these in the hands of their kids. Some are stories of racism and struggle, and some are stories that are, for a white reader, windows into Black lives. These are also all written by Black authors. (Thank you to Rudine Sims Bishop for the concept that reading provides windows into experiences that differ from our own, mirrors to see our own experiences reflected back, and sliding glass doors that we can look into and then step through as we learn and grow. Read more about it here or watch this video to see Dr. Bishop explain it herself.) I hope you find something that speaks to your heart, too.

Books Centering Black Lives

Ghost, and Patina, by Jason Reynolds
Ghost and Patina are both members of a community track team, and these two books in Jason Reynolds’ Track Series tell their stories. Jason’s characters and their voices always ring true, even when they’re kids you’ve never met. Couldn’t love these more, and I promise you’ll care way more about the outcome of middle school track and field than you’d ever imagine! There are also two more books in the series, once you’re good and captivated by these kids. Upper middle grade, 6th and up.

as brave as you, by Jason Reynolds
I read this book by Jason Reynolds before I knew who Jason Reynolds was, and had realized that I was reading almost no books with boy protagonists. The main character, Genie, is twelve, a city kid spending the summer with his older brother at their grandparents’ house in rural Virginia. This is a summer coming-of-age story that explores questions about bravery, masculinity, honesty, and family. (Heads up, there is a scene where Genie learns how to shoot a gun [at cans in the woods] that may be uncomfortable or upsetting for some readers.) Upper middle grade, 5th-7th grade.

Hurricane Child, by Kacen Callender
This is a beautiful, compelling read. Twelve year old Caroline lives on tiny Water Island, a boat ride away from St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands. Her mother has disappeared, and Caroline is determined to find out the truth of what happened. At the same time, a new girl starts at Caroline’s school, where she is something of an outcast, and they develop an intimate friendship that becomes something more. Upper middle grade, 6th and up.

Brown girl dreaming, by Jacqueline Woodson
Brown girl dreaming is really a memoir written in verse, though since it begins with the author’s birth, it’s in part pieced together from family stories and bits of her own imagination, so it doesn’t feel wrong to include it in this fiction list. It’s so gorgeous, and tells of her childhood in the south and her family’s move north, and also her journey from struggling reader to finding her heart as a writer. Middle grade with broad appeal, 6th grade and up.

Another Brooklyn, by Jacqueline Woodson
This story is framed as August, the main character, remembering back to her teenage years in Brooklyn in the 1970s, with her three best friends. Their lives were just opening up before them, but (and I’m going to borrow from the jacket notes here), “beneath the hopeful promise there was another Brooklyn, a dangerous place where grown men reached for innocent girls in dark hallways, where mothers disappeared, where fathers found religion, nad where madness was a mere sunset away.” So, this is a heavy story, told with love and care. YA, high school and up.

Harbor Me, by Jacqueline Woodson
When my friend described this book to me, I knew I would like it, but I didn’t know how deeply it would get into my heart. Haley is twelve, and she is looking back on her 6th grade year, particularly the time spent sharing in a circle with five other kids, kids who went from being classmates to being family. They are together in class because they struggle in school, and given time apart to share because their teacher knows they need it. This book is gorgeous. Upper middle grade, 5th-6th.

Ninth Ward, by Jewell Parker Rhodes
This book takes place in the week leading up to Hurricane Katrina, in New Orleans, and ends the morning after the storm is over. The narrator is Lanesha, who lives with her grandmotherly guardian in the city’s Ninth Ward. Both have a connection to the world of spirits, creating a layer of magical realism to the story. We see the community preparing for the approaching storm, many neighbors leaving, while Lanesha and Mama Ya-Ya stay in their home. The chapters describing the storm itself are like nothing I’ve ever read. Powerful storytelling. Upper middle grade, 5th-7th.

Stars Beneath our Feet, by David Barclay Moore
Twelve year old Lolly is building a city of Legos, and it is taking over his Harlem apartment and driving his mother crazy. He eventually gets permission to move it to an unused room in the community center where he goes to an after-school program, where he can’t quite hide it from the curious eyes of friends and foes alike. Building his Lego city is a therapeutic outlet for Lolly, who has recently lost his teenage brother, and also helps his forge an unexpected friendship with Rose (another neurodiverse secondary character well-portrayed). Upper middle grade, 6th-8th grade.

Miami Jackson series, by Patricia McKissack, and the Nikki & Deja series, by Karen English
I’m putting these together because they are not quite middle grade, but accessible series for readers who have graduated from early readers. (Magic Tree House is a popular series at a similar level.) Nikki and Deja are best friends who go on little adventures, navigate friendships, and learn lessons; in the first book in the series, they start a neighborhood newsletter. Miami Jackson is similar, a real-life kid dealing with real-life problems, like getting the strictest teacher ever, trying to make the all-star baseball team. Great for readers in 2nd-4th grade.

I went to a few other sessions. One was about diverse books, getting into the weeds of how to really be intentional about how we curate our classroom libraries. Another was with Lucy Calkins herself, fearless leader of the TCRWP. While I’d done my Masters at TC, I was in a very specific special ed program, and never crossed paths with Lucy or her program, beyond waiting while the elevator doors opened on the gorgeous TCRWP mural on their floor of the building. Her workshop that morning was about finding new energy in writers workshop in the spring, and it was a really inspiring hour in which she talked about really listening to our kids to hear what’s most important to them, and celebrating BIG when we publish pieces. My big take-away, in terms of classroom practice, was Flash Drafts, where students draft their whole piece in one shot. The idea is to spend a lot of time in thoughtful preparation, then write, write, write with joyful intensity, and then have energy and motivation left over to revise and edit once the words are on the page. This is so the opposite of how drafting usually goes in my classroom, and I couldn’t wait to try it.

The timing was helpful, because we were in the early stages of a narrative writing project, and would be ready to draft before too long. One step that I think really helped was making storyboards as the last part of the planning process. I found a simple template, and we spent a period or two filling them out with the major plot points of their narratives. I made it clear that each box would get stretched into a page or paragraph of writing. It helped my writers organize their ideas, and also to expand them with more details while drafting. But more on that in a minute. Another idea I took from the workshop session was to take time to be reflective on the purpose of our writing. It serves the practical purpose of zeroing in on an approach to telling the story, and the larger purpose of helping writers find the heart of their story.

I started talking up Writing Day as we came to the end of our planning, making a big deal out of the fact that all of this preparation was to help us write like crazy on this one special day. The day before, we had a meeting to plan some of the details. Writing Day would be a Friday, and I had decided to dedicate most of the day to it. I knew that one period wouldn’t be nearly enough, given the pace at which my kiddos usually work, and that there would have to be a certain amount of support and excitement in order to sustain us for so long. So I said I thought we would need brain food, and asked what kind of things they would like, and what else might help them. I must have filled half a dozen sticky notes with their ideas and requests. Check out the pictures to see how the room was set up when they came in, and the list of choices on the marker board.

I started by going over the Flashdraft Tips, which was also helpful for the other adults helping us so that we were all on the same page. (In addition to my two incredible classroom paras, I’d invited our literacy coach to join us. I asked her to pop in to offer a little cheerleading, which she did gladly...and then she pulled up a chair and started helping the nearest writer, because that’s the kind of person she is. It takes a village, and I’m so grateful for mine!)

After a brief introduction, we got writing! The kids had their storyboards, so they all knew where to start, which was crucial because when I said ready, set, go, there weren’t people looking at me and saying they didn’t know what to write. They got started, and I circulated, making sure people had the tools they needed and handing out snacks. (I called the healthy snacks brain food, and one friend in particular deeply embraced the idea that the brain food was helping him, and ate so much of everything I offered. It was awesome. And for the record, we started with the healthy stuff, and saved the M&Ms for a pick-me-up in the afternoon. Not that anyone was worried.)

Overall, I felt like the day was a huge success. The kids were excited about writing, showed incredible stamina and enthusiasm, and were able to stretch their stories to include a ton more detail than they have in the past. The planning work we did was well worth it, and I think the fun stuff marked the day as special and add some good energy to something that could have been really tough for them. We did not finish any drafts in one day. I think it’s okay, but it did kind of drag out over the next week. Looking forward, I want to try making the Writing Day earlier in the week, and making space to expand it into a second day if we need to, keeping the fun and intensity. Even over a few days, it felt so much better than the long drawn out weeks it feels like we drafted for in the past.

While I was planning and executing this day, I tried to keep choice and freedom in the center of my mind. Writing Day was my idea, and I presented it as something we were going to try, explaining that I’d learned about it from another writing teacher and why I thought it would be good for us. From there, though, I wanted the kids to have as much choice and agency as possible, and I tried to say yes as often as I could. They chose the snacks, and music if they wanted it. They chose where in the room to work, and when they needed a break. They chose to work on laptops, or paper, and what kind of paper. The friend in the photo above with his plates of brain food really wanted to cut apart his storyboard and glue the sketch to each page of his draft: yes. This is your project. The answer is yes.

Luckily, the journey takes us where we're going, right? So when taking classes started becoming feasible for me, I'd been moving deeper and deeper into this literacy life, and my next step emerged: becoming a reading specialist. It felt just right. Any courses towards it would very likely help me in the work I'm currently doing in the classroom, and when I'm finished, I'll have a wide range of options, and a lot of the possibilities appeal to me. I like having a lot of possibilities in front of me.

I was accepted into a program at the Rutgers Graduate School of Education, and started in January. I'm so happy to be at Rutgers, for a lot of reasons. It's objectively a great school. And, as a public school teacher and advocate who did a BA and an MA in private schools, I'm really proud to be at our state university. Plus, it's deep in my family history. Two of my great-uncles went to Rutgers in the 40s, became a doctor and a lawyer, and were role models for all of us for higher education. (One of them, my Uncle Joe, took me out for a special lunch the summer before my freshman year of high school. I thought it was just a special treat to hang out with me, and I was not thrilled to find out that his agenda was to talk about my college plans. I was fourteen, and I had exactly no college plans. My future plans that summer mostly involved if I was going to join marching band, and what I was going to wear on the first day of school. But it planted important seeds, including how to look ahead to goals like college, and the idea that "you go to school to get an education, not to get a job," which was echoed at the Jesuit liberal arts university where I ended up four years later. I was really lucky to have Uncle Joe in my life.) In addition to Uncle Joe and Uncle John, my parents were Rutgers alums, too, my dad from Rutgers, and my mom from Douglass, the women's college. They met there in 1971, and got married shortly after my mom graduated. My mom has passed away, but my dad still attends Rutgers football games with their best college friend, and I think he's pretty happy that his kid is studying and following her dreams on the banks of the old Raritan. (The phrase “on the banks of the old Raritan” is part of the Alma Mater, if you're curious.)

From my first afternoon in my first class, I knew this was the right choice for me. It was so clear that this was going to be a rigorous program, that the people in charge cared about it, and that the students were invested in it. I for sure had some back-to-school nerves (I felt so out of practice at being a student: Cite sources? I don't remember how to cite sources!!), but it also felt really right.

One highlight that's relevant to my work here at The Liberatory Library, and something that's changed since my first round of grad school more than a decade ago, is that culturally relevant teaching in part of the discussion in all areas of education. I'm so glad that this is included and embedded in teacher preparation and graduate work, and that I was able to explore the academic side of it more deeply, particularly the work of Gloria Ladson-Billings, who has been a leading voice in culturally relevant pedagogy since the 1990s.

In addition to finding this as a theory in the readings, I also had the chance to dive into the practice almost immediately. One of the big projects in my first course was to prepare and give a professional development presentation to the class with a partner. We signed up for topics in the second class, and one of the first choices on the list was "social justice in literacy education." What?? That's something I can do?? I had no idea this was going to be part of the conversation! I'm used to feeling like this (all of this, diverse books, education as a liberatory practice, antiracist work, etc.) is something of a marginal or radical view. And while it may well be, it was also right there in the syllabus. Amazing. I almost didn't choose it, though, because it was so early in the semester, and my back-to-school nerves were telling me to wait, watch a few of them, get my feet we in the class before diving in to presenting myself. Fortunately, I couldn't actually bring myself to not choose the things I was most passionate about, so my heart prevailed over my nerves. I worked with a great partner, and we put together a presentation we were really proud of. For me, it felt like really good practice in talked to a mostly white audience (as so many groups of teachers are) about race, culture, and diversity, and how all of that applies to the literacy classroom. I also got to extend the work from the presentation into another project, a year-long, school-wide plan for professional development. It was supposed to be the ideal of what you'd plan for your own district, if you were given free reign and money wasn't an issue. Really the stuff of dreams. So I included self-selected study groups, where you chose a topic rather than a grade level or subject area, an inspirational author visit from Jacqueline Woodson, and an end of the year workshop with Karen Gaffney at Divided No Longer and her book and program, Dismantling the Racism Machine. Right now it remains a hypothetical project, but there are a lot of good, and realistic, resources and ideas in there.

The third big project was a research synthesis on a topic connected to our classroom work, so I studied reading comprehension for students with communication impairments. The project, and its implications for my classroom, were fascinating. So much so that they warrant their own separate post later.

So that was my first dive into this new graduate school world! This summer, I took two online classes, one on teaching writing, and one on supervision of instruction, and a took a lot away from both. Now I've enjoyed some total downtime in the last days of summer before the new semester starts and before going back to teaching. The only downside to grad school, really, has been that the time it occupies has pretty much replaced the time I was spending in this Liberatory Library world: reading kidlit, reading pedagogy stuff I chose, posting photos and writing about my reading and teaching. I feel like I missed capturing a lot of what happened in the second half of the school year, and I just miss being here. I'm trying to embrace new things, though, and not be hard on myself for not being able to do everything. And I'm trying to soak up as much as I can before diving back into school again.