I admit that I didn’t like Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! It wasn’t a novel, for one thing.
Still, when I read about the criticism the Newbery’s are getting, I have to hope that the judges don’t bow to the pressure to give the award to popular books. Popular books are already being bought and read. Why should we give them an award to tell us what we already know? Who cares if kids like to read funny chapter books, for pity’s sake? The Newbery’s have always aimed at calling attention to quality literature.
And, yes, that does mean the books have to deal with some serious aspect of life, I think. They can be humorous. Holes is pretty funny, I think. But good literature doesn’t say nothing. It says something. It makes us think about things in new ways, it stretches us, it calls us to participate with the work.
One of the kids in the article I’ve linked to above–an eighth-grader–says: “If you force someone to read a book, the less likely you are to like it.”
Now there’s a kid who needs to be forced to read a few more books. And he needs to be forced to read good books. He’s not read enough, obviously, or he wouldn’t have such a poor grasp of the English language.
And guess what? His reasoning is faulty. I hear people use the same reasoning about making kids go to church. I can’t see it. For centuries people have been made to do things they don’t like to do. We don’t like to wear clothes. That doesn’t come naturally. Kids often pull their clothes off. We make them wear clothes for health and moral reasons. And by the time they are fifteen you couldn’t pay them to go to school naked. So I guess somewhere along the way, they learned to like clothes.
Children are forced to do math and to read not because those things are enjoyable, but because they are necessary. Once they gain mastery of those things, they often find that they are enjoyable. The learning is hard work. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t attempt it.
Another kid quoted in the article says, “I love funny chapter books, when I get to pick.”
I think it’s wonderful to let kids pick some of the time. But if we never forced them to learn to read at all, then how could they love funny chapter books? And if we force them to read harder books, we may open up a whole wide world to them.
Interesting. But I doubt librarians will “bow to the pressure.” They are tough $itches (I can say that since I am one ;). Seriously, this is a group of empowered women we’re talking about. They are going to choose whatever books they want.
I’m not saying that’s a great thing. They DO have a special responsibility because the award is so prestigious.
But any annual award will encounter duds. I agree with the article that recent selections have gravitated toward death, absence of parents, etc. I am NOT a fan of these issue books, unlike most librarians, who will tell you that kids are dealing with issues, and need books to help them through.
Calkins wants books that are “deep and beautiful and irresistible to kids.” Me too. But there is one Newbery winner each year. Schools use many novels in class each year. The argument that “if the Newbery committee aimed to spotlight” deep books, “thousands, even millions, more children would grow up reading” — it’s just not a good argument.
How about, “I can’t help but believe that thousands, even millions, more children would grow up reading if THEIR PARENTS aimed to spotlight books that are deep and beautiful and irresistible to kids.”
Now there’s a line I can get behind.
Noel, your point is excellent.
I’m editing a book right now addressing teachers on the subject of how to instruct struggling readers. One critical point this author makes is that kids’ vocabulary expands by adults (teachers or parents) reading to them and taking the time to explain the new words. A lot of reading, according to this author’s research, is built upon prior knowledge, so the more books a child is exposed to, the greater the body of prior knowledge.
I can’t help but wonder if the same trend might not be creeping into the Newbery Awards that affected the Pulitzers. It starts with the mournful issue books, I think, as if “deep” equals “depressing.”
Becky