Hello Fall!

Sep­tem­ber may seem like the month that marks summer’s end­ing, but it is also a month of begin­ning — the tra­di­tion­al start of the school year, the begin­ning of fall. To mark these sig­nif­i­cant begin­nings and the end­ing we have cho­sen a few books about fall and a cou­ple about school.

Goodbye Summer Hello Autumn

Good-bye Sum­mer Hel­lo Autumn writ­ten and illus­trat­ed by Kenard Pak is a con­ver­sa­tion between the nar­ra­tor and the var­i­ous objects (trees, fox­es, blue­jays, walk­ing sticks, but­ter­flies) and weath­er phe­nom­e­non they encounter. It is charm­ing in the friend­ly open­ness of the dialogue.

Hel­lo trees!
Hel­lo! Now that the cool winds have come,
we love how our branch­es sway in the sun.

Hel­lo, walk­ing stick and but­ter­flies.
Hel­lo! We’re sur­prised you saw us. We try our best to
blend in.  And we’ll do the same in warmer places.

The impli­ca­tion is that we are all in this great green world togeth­er and we are friends. The nar­ra­tor meets fur­ry and feath­ered crea­tures and then weath­er — thun­der, chill in the air, as the book pro­gress­es from late sum­mer to autumn. And final­ly the nar­ra­tor says hel­lo to leaves, who reply,

Hel­lo. We are chang­ing our col­ors. Some of us
turn red or brown, while oth­ers turn gold or yel­low.
The dog­wood leaves turn purple.

This love­ly book ends as it began with the nar­ra­tor head­ing out­side in the morn­ing. Instead of “Hel­lo Late Sum­mer Morn­ing,” they say, “Hel­lo autumn!”

Kenard Pak’s illus­tra­tions are just per­fect for this sto­ry. The palette grad­u­al­ly goes from full-on green to mut­ed green to those glo­ri­ous autumn col­ors that we love. And his trees and fox­es make us want to go for a walk in the woods. The streetscapes make us want to step into one of those cozy shops to browse a book or drink a cup of hot chocolate.

This would be a won­der­ful book to use as a mod­el with stu­dents for a fun writ­ing project. They could iden­ti­fy a few fur­ry or feath­ered char­ac­ters in their neigh­bor­hoods, a bit of weath­er. And soon they’d be off writ­ing their own “Hel­los” and “Good-byes.”

Full of FallFull of Fall pho­tographed and illus­trat­ed by one of our favorite authors, April Pul­ley Sayre, is a beau­ti­ful poem prais­ing this spe­cial season.

The book begins: “Sep­tem­ber sun / is low in the sky. So long sum­mer. / Green, good­bye!” As always, Sayre includes beau­ti­ful pho­tographs, this time of fall trees and leaves.

The text is decep­tive­ly sim­ple, but no doubt required much writ­ing and re-writ­ing to get these sat­is­fy­ing lines. “Trees are ready. / Twigs let go. / Leaves slip / and spin. / Wind sweeps. / Leaves blow.”

This book is a gift to those of us who live in an area with decid­u­ous trees. It will help us to appre­ci­ate the glo­ry of fall. And for those who may not see that many decid­u­ous trees it will be a vis­it to a beau­ti­ful world.

The book ends with this sat­is­fy­ing tran­si­tion: “Fall is end­ing. / Good-bye leaf show. / Win­ter is com­ing … / Oh, / hel­lo, snow!”

Yellow TimeWe reviewed Yel­low Time, writ­ten and illus­trat­ed by Lau­ren Stringer, in 2019, but we love this book so much we want to vis­it it again. Stringer wrote the poem that became this book when the ash trees that lined her street all turned glo­ri­ous­ly yel­low and a gust of wind trans­formed the view from her win­dow into “a rain of leaves that cov­ered every­thing and turned the world yel­low.” In few words Stringer cap­tures the chang­ing sea­son, from busy squir­rels to migrat­ing geese to the air which smells like “wet mud and dry grass with a sprin­kle of sugar.”

Into this yel­low world the chil­dren come out of their house to gath­er. “They run in the yel­low air. They let it catch their hair and cov­er their sweaters.  They jump and turn in yel­low time.” The glow­ing­ly yel­low art swirls and dances with them.  When the joy­ous “sym­pho­ny of yel­low” has left branch­es bare, the chil­dren head home, gath­er­ing “bou­quets of yel­low … to press in thick books and remem­ber … what a love­ly yel­low time it was.” And what a love­ly book this is, its own sym­pho­ny to the won­der and mag­ic of fall and of yel­low time.

School's First Day of SchoolIn School’s First Day of School, writ­ten by Adam Rex, the new­ly built Fred­er­ick Dou­glas Ele­men­tary School likes hav­ing Jan­i­tor come to mop and buff the floors and wash the win­dows, get­ting ready for the first day of school. But School is a lit­tle wor­ried when Jan­i­tor talks about the chil­dren that will come soon. And come they do, more than School could ever have imag­ined, open­ing and clos­ing doors, drink­ing from the water foun­tains, play­ing on the jun­gle gym. When a small girl with freck­les who does­n’t want to come to school and has to be car­ried in whis­pers, “I don’t like school,” School thinks I must be awful. And when she whis­pers it again dur­ing kinder­garten cir­cle time, School thinks Maybe it does­n’t like you either.

Grad­u­al­ly School begins to adjust to his role, to under­stand that a joke is fun­ny, and to learn about rec­tan­gles. The lit­tle freck­led girl, too, is adjust­ing. When she makes a pic­ture of School the teacher asks to hang it up and whis­pers that she thinks it’s the best pic­ture.
School thinks so, too. When the chil­dren leave at the end of the day School shares his adven­ture-filled day with Jan­i­tor, who comes to clean.

Do you think we can invite every­one back tomor­row?” School asks. “Espe­cial­ly that lit­tle freck­led girl.” Jan­i­tor promis­es to see what he can do.

Both School and the lit­tle freck­led girl learn that while going to school (and being a School) might seem intim­i­dat­ing at first they can actu­al­ly enjoy new expe­ri­ences. Chris­t­ian Robin­son’s bright­ly cheery illus­tra­tions add to the fun of this unique point of view on start­ing school.

Light in the Darkness

Light in the Dark­ness by Lesa Cline-Ran­some, illus­trat­ed by James E. Ran­some, is a sto­ry about a dif­fer­ent sort of school, a secret school that takes place at night in a branch-cov­ered pit in the woods where Mor­ris, an enslaved per­son whose mis­tress taught him to read when he was young, covert­ly teach­es oth­er enslaved peo­ple to learn to read. It’s a per­ilous under­tak­ing — an enslaved girl who learned let­ters was dis­cov­ered and whipped, one lash for every let­ter she had learned while the oth­er enslaved peo­ple were forced to watch.

Still, a moth­er and her daugh­ter, Rosa, risk slip­ping off on nights when it’s safe to go to the secret school because, as Mama says, when they are free they will need to know how to read. “Y’all have to learn fast,” Mor­ris tells them. “Sun’ll be on us before you know it.” And they do learn, using sticks to shape let­ters and scratch­ing let­ters in the dirt, “tak­ing in learn­ing like it’s their last breath.”

Rosa and her Mama go every night that they can, being care­ful to avoid the patrollers who ride through the night look­ing for escapees or enslaved peo­ple away from the plan­ta­tion. One night they hear hoof­beats. When the patrollers come close to the secret school pit, every­one is “qui­et as cot­ton” until the patrollers ride on. Lat­er, they learn that two men had been caught and whipped so bad one “near bled to death.” For many nights after, Rosa’s moth­er says it is too dan­ger­ous to go to school again, until final­ly Rosa insists they must go. When they arrive, Mor­ris is the only one there, but soon oth­ers come, and Rosa helps one of the new girls begin to learn her let­ters. Ran­some ends this sto­ry with courage and with hope — the courage of these folks com­ing back to the school in the ground at the risk of bru­tal beat­ings and the hope woven into the learn­ing expand­ing in an ever-widen­ing cir­cle as Rosa shares what she knows.

Lumi­nous illus­tra­tions cap­ture the most­ly night­time scenes, and an author’s note explains how Cline-Ran­some, while research­ing anoth­er book, came across a pas­sage about pit schools and was pro­found­ly moved by the risks enslaved peo­ple took to learn to read. The note ends with a quote from Fred­er­ick Dou­glas: “Once you learn to read, you will be for­ev­er free.”

The Day You Begin

The Day You Begin by Jacque­line Wood­son is not about school so much as it is about that feel­ing that we’ve all had at some time, for var­i­ous rea­sons, that we do not fit: “There will be times you walk into a room/and no one there is quite like you.” … “There will be times when no one under­stands the way/words curl from your mouth, the beau­ti­ful lan­guage of the coun­try you left behind.” Sev­er­al spreads detail the ways we do not fit in — dif­fer­ent hair, dif­fer­ent food, dif­fer­ent expe­ri­ences [many kids trav­el to excit­ing places over sum­mer break. Angeli­na stays home and reads sto­ries with her lit­tle sister].

But Jacque­line Wood­son knows the strength of kids, she tells read­ers that there will be times when “all that stands beside you is/ your own brave self — steady as steel and ready / even though you don’t yet know what you are ready for.” “Steady as steel and ready” is a phrase for all of us to car­ry in our pockets.

Then Angeli­na decides to tell the class about her sum­mer. “There will be times when you walk into a room/and no one there is quite like you until the day you begin/to share your sto­ries.” Angeli­na says, “My name is Angeli­na and/I spent my whole sum­mer with my lit­tle sis­ter, / read­ing books and telling sto­ries / and even though we were right on our block it was like/we got to go EVERYWHERE.”

She learns and read­ers learn that we begin to belong when we share our sto­ries. That is when we learn that “Every new friend has some­thing a lit­tle like you — and some­thing else so fab­u­lous­ly not quite like you at all.”

This is a book for all sea­sons — and all ages. Let us be “steady as steel and ready” to share the sto­ries we’ve lived, the sto­ries we love.

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