I live with a three year old. Sometimes he becomes obsessive about a book. He’ll get on a streak and only want the same story read over and over and over — many times a day for many days in a row. The current obsession is David Shannon’s A Bad Case of Stripes. At first I was excited — I love David Shannon’s work. Now that I’ve read A Bad Case of Stripes approximately 72 times in the past five days, I wish he would have chosen something shorter, like No David.
Last night (during the 68th read) he stopped me on the page where the old woman, “who was just as plump and sweet as a strawberry” fed Camilla lima beans (her heart’s desire) thus curing her of the stripes. The picture is of the woman feeding Camilla the beans. Yet in the text, Camilla doesn’t accept the lima beans at first. The story goes:
Camilla wanted a big, heaping plateful of lima beans more than just about anything, but she was still afraid to admit it.
“Yuck!” she said. No one likes lima beans, especially me!”
“Oh, dear,” the old woman said sadly. “I guess I was wrong about you.” She put the beans back in her bag and started toward the door.
As the story continues, Camilla calls her back and the woman pops a handful of beans in her mouth.
So my three year old says, “Why is she giving her beans in the picture when Camilla said no the first time?”
The mom in me thinks, Wow, what an observant boy. The teacher in me thinks, That is confusing for novice readers. The writer in me thinks, How did David Shannon determine what picture to use with this section of text?
We talked a little about how the picture tells part of the story and words tell part of the story, but the reader has to decide what it all means. The three year old sucked his thumb. The seven year old said, “Oh, you mean about how Camilla is learning to be herself?”
This time the mom/teacher/writer stares at the seven year old in awe. So she continues . . .
“Is that what you mean Mom? When I think about the words that Camilla said outloud about lima beans because she didn’t want people to make fun of her, but then in the last picture (she flips the pages) she’s eating a big plate full and there’s a striped bow in her hair. I’ve been wondering about the striped bow. So if I think about the words and pictures and put them together, I guess that means Camilla should eat the lima beans and stop pretending to be something she’s not. And she wears the striped bow to remind her of it.”
Still more thumbsucking from the three year old. Sill more silence from the mom/teacher/writer, trying not to act stunned about having a conversation about theme with my second grader.
“Is that right, Mom? Maybe it means we should all be happy being ourselves?” Her big eyes look up at me expectantly.
Somehow I find the words, “That makes a lot of sense. In fact, sometimes when I think about trying to hide a part of who I am from other people, I’m reminded of Camilla’s bow. That’s what readers do. They think about stories — the words and pictures, and they figure out what those stories mean to their lives.
As if the entire conversation had not been enough of a gift to me, my seven year old has one more thing to say:
That’s why I’ve been writing stories this summer, Mom. I want use words and pictures to remember the important stuff, like playing in the sandbox and learning to swim.
This is why we reread stories. Especially the stories we want to use to help us teach the young readers and writers in our classrooms. I believe that these conversations would not have happened if A Bad Case of Stripes hadn’t been read numerous times over the course of several days. For our students to internalize big truths about reading and writing, they need to know a text inside and out.
For us to realize the rich possibilities of minilessons in a text, we should read it numerous times. I made a list of over one hundred items I could teach from A Bad Case of Stripes . . . but that would be another post. When thinking of a text to use as a touchstone in your classroom, consider the ones you wouldn’t mind reading obsessively, like a three year old.