To demonstrate how she avoids touching hands, she appears eight times on one page-in full aerial split, karate-style airborne kick, curled into a fetal position, tentative headstand, and more-hemmed in almost all the way around by groping, outstretched hands. Miller tells it like it is while giving children of color permission to set boundaries when people reach out to touch their curly, kinky, or nappy hair.Īria, a brown-skinned protagonist, opens this picture book by introducing herself with a double-page, gutter-spanning image of her smiling face and her full head of hair that takes up three-quarters of the spread: “I’m Aria, and this is my hair.” Aria loves her hair, but others do too-so much so that they want to touch it even without permission. Ideal for the newest of new readers, this tender title’s usefulness may be limited to a very narrow developmental window, but it’ll do yeoman work within it A final page with just the words, “I hug” shows the pajama-clad child hugging teddy while gazing at the moon.
On a tree-hugging spread, a pigtailed brown-skinned child peeking around the fence hints at what comes next: “I hug my friend.” Sometime between hugging dad and hugging mom, the child changes into pajamas, then hugs teddy bear and pillow before falling happily asleep. Midway through the book, after the pattern is established, two double-page spreads with more background and details invite new readers to linger and add their own observations. Most of the illustrations feature just the child and the creature, person, or object that’s being hugged floating in framed white space. Winsome and astonishingly patient animals calmly endure the child’s enthusiastic attention. Illustrations showing the targets of the grinning hugger’s affection make each new word absolutely clear. Then just 10 statements, all starting, “I hug my…” tell a complete bedtime story. Frontmatter depicts a chubby, white preschooler toting a turtle around before the story begins.
Pivot grammar-with one word substituted in a repeated sentence-is perfect for the very youngest beginning readers.
#Athlete vs mathlete by m.c. mack series
McPhail’s newest in the I Like to Read series hinges on pivot grammar.
proudly surveys the countryside from atop a gleaming 40-foot pole that is exclusively his, the numberless, communally cared for Killburn children toss and climb on a giant web of rope and vine.) Hamilton is at her best here the soaring but firmly anchored imagery, the slant and music of everyday speech, the rich and engaging characters and warm, tough, wary family relationships, the pervasive awareness of both threat and support connected with the mountain - all mesh beautifully in theme and structure to create a sense of organic belonging. Also arriving with (but not traveling with) the Dude, however, is a lonely but independent girl named Lurhetta, who shakes up M.C.'s confidence, indirectly needles him to rethink his connection with the land and the coming disaster, and shames him into venturing onto the mound of the shunned, "witchy" Killburns, an extended family of red-haired and six-fingered vegetarians. imagines that he will also take Mama away to make records - affording them all a chance to escape the spoil heap despite his Daddy's stubborn refusal to move or to acknowledge the danger. Now M.C., thirteen, worries about the spoil pile left from strip mining that seems destined to come sliding down on their house, and when "the Dude," an outsider with a tape recorder, arrives to "take" Mama's voice, M.C. Virginia Hamilton goes home again to the hill country, where Sarah's mountain has belonged to M.C.'s family ("and them to it") ever since an ancestor fleeing slavery settled there with her infant.
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