Gliding towards come-uppance (JE # 4)

I hope nobody is getting bored with this blow-by-blow account of Otis Spofford and Adam's take of and responses to the book. As I discussed, I'd hoped to have another child help us liven it up a bit, but it didn't happen today.

Tonight I wrote about Otis and Stewy's competition, but we'd actually read a bit farther than that up until Otis, experiencing a typical young boy obsession with Indians (as depicted in 1964, when the book was written; I'm not sure if boys still play that game or not), play-acts that he is going to "scalp" Ellen. Stewy condescendingly eggs him on as he holds a pair of scissors close to Ellen's hair and Otis, pride puffed up by this and the way the kids had made fun of his mixed-in-with-a-red-sock pink undershirt, shocks even himself by actually cutting off a thick lock of Ellen's hair.

In this particular part I read it slowly, with a bit more deliberation and tried to make my gesticulations dramatic enough to fit the action. I place my hand on my cheek and widen my eyes as I read hotly, "Otis Spofford, you are going to pay for this!" Then, in a much quieter tone, I read the narrator's words telling of Otis's surprise at Ellen, who had never behaved this way before. And the slow walk to the front of the room when it is realized the returned Mrs. Gitler is standing in the doorway, and I hope my solemn voice reproduces the dread Otis feels as he knows he is in for it.

Several times I had to stop and explain something, some action or a word Adam didn't know the meaning of, or just a way of people, such as the way unsupervised children suddenly bend back over their readers when they hear the teacher coming. This was a good thing, though, because it not only prolonged the drama and suspense, but it also built up in him an awe for what was happening. I also had in my mind a small concern about any ideas he might get--not because Adam is inclined to do such a thing, but because I may have an overactive imagination for the potentials--and so I tossed in a few leading questions that would bring him to ideas about how even children might feel about particular extreme acts. As Otis held Ellen's hair on his upper lip to elicit some laughter, but not getting any, I queried Adam: "Did the kids enjoy that? Maybe they were thinking, 'I'm a guy witha mustache'?" (This is a line from a Spongebob episode in which the main character plays with a piece of paper, at one point holding it as if it were a mustache.)

"Nooooooooooooo," Adam answered, great seriousness in his voice.

"They didn't see that episode maybe."

"No. That is a terrible thing to do. It's not funny what Otis did."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Yeeeeees."

"A little trouble, or big trouble?"

"Big, BIG trouble."

"Would anyone in your class ever do that? Cut off someone's hair?"

"NO!" He raised his voice, and it even became a bit harsh. "I will NEVER do that. I will SIT. AT. MY. TISCH.* AND. MIND. MY. OWN. BUSINESS." Each word was punctuated with a smash of his fist on his Superman blanket, and the whole sentence ended with a pointed finger jabbing at the book.

*table

The chapter ends with Otis on his way to The Office--this has long been a capital-letter worthy noun to Adam--and I tried to wind it down and say a few more words, make a short discussion, about what we'd read and what might happen next. I intimated that not only would Otis get in trouble from his principal, but even the kids might show him they'd had enough. True to his reading style, Adam begged me to read, "just a couple more pages, pleeeeeeeaaaaassse."

Even this turned out well because of where we ended up stopping. It's the next morning--Saturday-- and Otis is trying to hurry his mother with her ironing of his shirt so he can get to the lake for ice skating "before the crowd get there." Here the narrator relates that Otis didn't tell his mother he knew it would be his last chance to go skating as the principal would keep him after school every day next week.

"Did Otis tell his mother what happened?"

"Yeahhhh."

"He did?"

Adam knits his brow.

"He told his mom he wanted to beat the crowd, but he didn't tell her he would be after school every day next week." These days kids typically cannot be kept after school because of bus schedules, so Adam likely doesn't know about this "old-fashioned" form of disipline. "Why do you think he didn't tell her about that?"

"Ohhhh, she doesn't know. Does she?"

Adam may have intended by his statement that, indeed, Otis didn't tell his mother about his trouble, but his follow-up question brings up a good point: about how mothers many times know without saying so--although this likely was not what he meant.

"Maybe she does. What do you think?"

"Noooo," he scorned.

"How do you know?" I challenged. "Mothers always find out about this stuff eventually."

Snort. "How are they gonna find out?"

"By talking to the teacher." Adam's teacher and I are in frequent contact via face-to-face or e-mail converations, and he knows it.

His countenance softened a bit and he conceded, "And the principal." His face was serious again.

"But maybe she doesn't know yet." I drew out the drama a bit because I'd seen a good place to stop. I continued reading: "'Otis,' his mother called. 'I want to have a talk with you.'"

Adam's eyes widened and he gasped, and I knew he understood the implication. (And I was really pleased because he had had to be taught to recognise social cues such as facial expressions and tones of voice; now he seemed to be getting better at reading between the lines, at least with some strong context behind him.)

What was even more fascinating to me regarding children's desire to keep reading and willingness to wait, was his seeming inclination to keep the cliffhanger intact after I explained to him what that is.




Or maybe he was just tired.

Stewy bugs Otis (JE # 3)

"Look at that dragonfly," he said. "That's a beauty." Otis felt a little better. At least Hack Battleson liked his dragonfly.

Over the past few days Adam and I have been reading Otis Spofford as well as a few other books. Sometimes I wonder if Adam needs a break from Otis or if on occasion my timing is just off, because during one reading he seemed rather unenthusiastic. He may have just been tired, I suppose, or not in the mood for this boy, whom Adam doesn't always view as a sympathetic character. "He's mean," he says with surprise.

We don't finish a chapter at each reading (I don't, in fact, make that a goal), and on one night I didn't even get to a suitable transition spot. We just ended up stopping because it simply wasn't working well. Adam was, tired as he was, restless and simply could not sit still unless it was to go to sleep, which he did rather quickly after we decided to close the book. I was OK with stopping, but I felt a bit bad that it didn't seem a good experience for him, and wondered if fatigue was the only problem.

But he seemed to have recovered quickly because soon enough he was carrying the book around the house again and talking about Mutt the rat, whom Otis had smuggled contraband food into the classroom for, thereby upsetting a class experiment on nutrition. Mutt was supposed to be fed soda pop and bread while Pinky, another rat, was fed leftovers from the school's lunch menu. Mrs. Gitler's goal in the end was to show that on pop and bread a rat would not grow well. Otis felt sorry for the rat, however, and his secret was at the cost of his own lunch hour (and lunch) as he was, unknown to his teacher, locked into the classroom--on one occasion while she sat just on the other side of the class from where he secreted himself. In the end it was revealed someone else, that disturbingly clean and neat and obedient girl Ellen Tebbits, was also secretly sustaining Mutt, and the two had a tense battle for who got to take home the rat at project's end.

"Raise your hand, Otis! Wave it!" Adam waved his hand wildly as if instructing Otis how to be seen by Mrs. Gitler, who was ignoring him following Ellen's confession. When he, too, confessed and the rat was awarded to Ellen--"Yes, Ellen, since you told us about feeding Mutt first, you may have him for a pet"--he was sorely disappointed and complained bitterly to himself. But Adam consoled him by advising of Ellen's tidiness and unsuitability for a pet rat. (Apparently he had started to feel a bit of sympathy for the fictional character!) As Otis sat in front of his home Adam predicted that Ellen, who at this point was walking down the street, would give him the animal. "Her mommy won't let her keep a rat!" And sure enough this is exactly how it turned out.

It was really interesting to watch all this unfold from the viewpoint of another, from a child, especially given that Adam has not always been this adept at such skills as predicting. His commentary has become somewhat astute as well, and I'm very eager to read to him with another child in attendance. I am curious to see another child's perspective, if Adam holds back with her present (I'm thinking of a particular friend of his), or if there is any kind of distracting quality in our new dynamic.

The next time we read was a bit different. He was more subdued, but it didn't seem to be for any negative reason. It was also interesting to see that though insects were involved, he not only didn't mind, he was downright engaged. (In "real" life he is not fond of insects and often checks under his blanket (or sleeps on top) to make sure none are under there.) As with his lack of involvement with dogs, books seem to give him the opportunity to get closer to something, see what it is like or how it works, at no risk to him.

On a boring early evening after school, Otis and Stewy are canvassing the neighborhood looking for something to do when they happen upon Hack Battleson, a high school football player who has star status in the boys' eyes. Otis is unhappy and restless until then, and when he learns Hack needs to collect 30 bugs for a science project, he offers to help. Stewy follows suit and this bugs Otis, who dreams of being the sole saviour of the high school football team: Having collected the bugs, he would have freed Hack to practice his game.

But Stewy, much to Otis's (and Adam's) chagrin, insists on being a part of the action and the race is on! The boys have until 6.30 and the competition is fierce. Adam, who had chanted the "T-T-T-A-Y. L-L-L-O-R. T-A-Y. L-O-R. Ta-a-ay-lor!" cheer along with the boys earlier, now urged Otis to hurry up and get his bugs. At one point when Otis climbs a trellis Adam asked me to look it up on the Internet and show him a picture. I'd done this before as an easy way to give him a visual of something he was unfamiliar with, and like any smart child of our computerized information age, he remembered the lesson well. It kind of made me wonder in a sort of sidebar part of my thoughts at that moment, how he would later feel about Internet books. Would they be ordinary to him, having been born and raised on computers? Or would having had many books with pictures and possibly a special sort of aura about them be a mark against Web books?

Then I read a sentence about a fly and Adam chimed in with, "If you took his wings off would he be called a walk?" He was starting to get into the moment again and I laughed heartily at his memory of a joke we'd shared. When Stewy admonishes Otis for "stealing" a bug (because it came from the sidewalk in front of the rival's house), Adam quickly came to Otis's defense: "It's not your sidewalk," which was along the lines of Otis's own retort.

But Otis doesn't waste time arguing and goes to his own house to follow up on an idea; Bucky, a kindergarten neighbor dressed up as a cowboy, is there and begging for attention as usual. I was wondering how Adam might receive Otis's impatience with the kindergartner and characterizations of little kids, but he didn't seem bothered. The cowboy costume might have saved Bucky in the eyes of our own kindergarten reader.

In the end Otis, who has only 29 bugs and fears Stewy has beaten him, discovers one of Stewy's gems is actually a spider, a critter Hack had prohibited for its non-insect status (too many legs). Just as the discovery is made known to Hack, the dog scratches himself--as he had in the beginning of the story, a neat little way to fit things together--and Otis gets the idea to, "get a flea off the dog!" Adam mightn't have thought of this had we not read about how fleas had played a role in Ribsy and that dog's inability to return to his owner (who had taken the collar off to give the poor pooch some relief). But then again, all predictive ability relies on previous knowledge, and I felt a lot of pleasure that Adam had gained from it for his body of knowledge and brought it to bear here.

Once more Otis settles for a compromise of sorts as Stewy insists the flea belongs to him--it is his dog after all. Running home for dinner, Otis consoles himself with a fantasy of being Five Yard Spofford, running towards a touchdown to save the Zachary P. Taylor High School football team's big game.

This reading was actually a few days ago and as I type this I recall Adam asking on a following afternoon, "What does compromise mean?" I answered his inquiry and we discussed it, but it didn't occur to me until just now that he may have been remembering it from our discussion of the chapter after we stopped reading for the night. I can't really be sure, as he hears and reads all kinds of words big and small, but true to the childlike ability to teach us grownups a thing or two, I was given a reminder of how long those post-reading summaries last in a child's mind. Not just days, but also, as the information becomes part of his being, a lifetime.

Of love and teeth and running out of spit (JE # 2)

With all this icy weather and dangerous driving conditions, staying home has created a little extra time for reading. It also enabled my son and I to talk more about what he's been doing at school, and he explained the toothbrush I found in his backpack by telling me someone had been talking to his class about how to take care of their teeth. This worked out perfectly since he'd recently lost a second tooth and we had picked out a couple of books from the library on the topic. He wanted to read Tooth Decay and Cavities (Dr. Alvin Silverstein, et al.) and we had a pretty interesting discussion about animals, the various teeth types of which the first pages discuss. Like most little boys, my son digs animals, so this was right up his alley.

He has a tendency to try to take over the reading or conversation, so it can sometimes be a challenge not to let that happen while still giving him fair room for comments and testing out his knowledge of the books and issues we are discussing. We didn't get very far into the book, but he did remember several pages away that the teeth you lose are also called milk teeth; commented how cute a baby pictured was; and cried out happily at the sight of a girl who'd lost one tooth,"Ah! She only has one lost and I've already got two out!" And when the book briefly mentions the Tooth Fairy--a figure whose intrusive entry and access to such close personal space as he slept alarmed him enough to want her to deposit the money in his shoe--he reminded me that in at least one other country the kids throw their teeth up over their houses. It was pleasant to hear him reiterate from another book we'd read together, Throw Your Tooth on the Roof, one of the traditions he learned of that occurs in another country.

There also was a book he'd picked up at the library, I Love You Through and Through, that he has been carrying with him all over the house. Owing to a lost library book that we now own, I had long ago established that no borrowed books are allowed to be brought to his room; instead they must stay on the living room shelves and permission must be sought to remove any from the room. This one, however, seems to have struck him in a special way. I'm not sure if it is the cute baby on the cover holding up a teddy bear in the same way a mom holds aloft a tiny baby.


The picture is mainly soft curves with no sharp edges, and the sentiment expressed--even without benefit of being able to read the words--is one of sheer affection and desire to care for another. My son seems to be a sentimental person and also has demonstrated some incredible acts of kindness, and he adores babies. Or the picture (and even the roundness and softness of the book itself) could be triggering him to feel more his own desire (previously expressed) to remain a baby. He seems attached to it in a way some kids are attached to a blankie. Then he announced he wanted to read it to me, and it started to dawn on me: this is the very first book in which I have experienced the phenomenon of him "reading" it to me., as opposed to pointing out words. I do believe some of the words he is capable of deciphering, while others, such as through, toes, nose, hair, eyes, giggles, cries, walking, talking, today and tomorrow, along with previous knowledge of children's outstanding memories, made me wonder if at least part of his reading was memorization.

Especially since the text is quite short, I think it is worth repeating it here:

I love you through and through.
I love your top side.
I love your bottom side.
I love your inside
and outside.
I love your happy side,
your sad side,
your silly side,
your mad side.
I love your fingers
and toes,
your ears
and nose.
I love your hair and eyes,
your giggles
and cries.
I love you running
and walking,
silent
and talking.
I love you through and through...
yesterday, today, and tomorrow, too!

As we read on, though, I noticed he would interrupt his own rhythm to correct himself. For example, he would have a groove going and to continue with "I love you..." would seem to fit in. Well, first of all, I know he can distinguish those particular words, but also he actually stopped to sound out what the words really were. He is getting really good at it, though sometimes gives up. I want to try to get him to do it, but don't want to push too hard--that's a balance I have to find techniques for so I can know better when is too much, and when encouragement won't risk overwhelming a child.

Finally we moved on to Otis Spofford again. As mentioned elsewhere, I'd read this book as a child and loved the chapter in which "Otis Takes Aim"--he gets into trouble for shooting spitballs. The teacher cleverly warns him that if he shoots another she will make sure he wishes he had never even thought of shooting spitballs. It was a perfect moment to engage a young reader in developing his predictive abilities. He had done pretty good articulating (and in a fairly pithy manner) the links from one development to the next. For example, after the teacher gives Otis the warning he drives himself to distraction wondering what Mrs. Gitler could possibly do to make him sorry he shot spitballs. As he absentmindedly rolls a piece of paper into a ball, Stewy urges him, "Go on. Make a spitball." We had great fun reproducing this Stewy moment, and Adam declared, with a sly smile on his face, "He just wants Otis to do it to get in trouble. Otis hit Stewy before with a spitball." There was also the perfect amount of tension as Otis is made wild with wondering just before the bell is to ring for lunch. If Otis, who really is a good student when he wants to be, but gets bored easily, if he can just make it to the bell he could go to lunch and recess and perhaps lose his obsessive interest in the teacher's threat. But the minute passes slowly and he just has to know and I read the words with urgency, Adam getting right into the mix. "Oh no!" he cried out, agitated and fidgeting, of course with the smile and bearing of someone who seems to be sure of his position as observer, not having to actually endure such suspense. However, not actually knowing what Mrs. Gitler will do, he, too, is somewhat caught up in the drama, and I saw the delight in his face as he jumped up on the bed, pretending to shoot spitballs (following my description and pretend example), "Whhffffttt! Whhffffttt!" He jumped on the bed, banging his fists together and complained, "Oh man! What will she do? She is gonna kick him!"

As it turns out Otis shoot his last spitball just as the bell rings, Mrs. Gitler ignores him and after recess assigns him to shoot spitballs into the bin as the class, distracted by a much more fun and interesting music session (clever lady!), ignores him and gets on with their day. More tension is added not only as his mouth gets drier and drier (with typical childlike hyperbole he wonders if his tongue is blackened and swollen), but also when a fire drill occurs and his failed attempt to sneak a drink from the water fountain engenders the lovely flow of smooth, clear, ice-cold water and the sensation of it within one's mouth (including Adam who, lucky me, loves water)--and then the sharp blow of having it taken away at the last second. "Oh!" Adam wailed, slapping his forehead. "Oh man I don't believe this!" he cried out happily, completely immersed in the events.

In the end Otis is forced to admit to Mrs. Gitler he has had enough of spitballs and she allows him to go get a drink. Unfortunately a terrible taste remains in his mouth even after his thirst is quenched, and he ends up biting a piece of garlic he'd snagged from his house that morning. As he exhales, the children near him are disgusted by the smell and he discovers that by blowing his breath at them, he has once more captured their attention.

I'm not sure this book would be suitable for a kindergarten (too many children and too much explaining to do in a short period of time, possibly), but I sure would love to read it to an older class. Just reading it alone presents me with so many ways to engage a child by way of asking questions, predicting, relating, talking about how events influence each other, why certain choice are good (not just Otis's actions but the choice on the part of the teacher re: activity to engage the class in to help them ignore Otis), discussing cause and effect, interpersonal communication, and so on. It was as thrilling to me as I think it was for Adam--and not just for the lesson plan possibilities.

Otis gets bullish (JE # 1)

Otis Spofford always wants to "stir a little something up," and his
class's Mexican folk dance for the PTA is his opportunity! His teacher, Mrs. Gitler, assigns him to be one half of the bull, along with Stewy, who has the misfortune to be the rear half. But Otis
has in mind a trick he'll play on George, the matador whom the restless bull perceives to be a bit too satisfied with his role. Instead of allowing himself to be defeated by George, as he is meant to do, adventure-seeking Otis decides to charge and get the matador from behind! He is even more pleased with himself when the PTA audience laughs uproariously, even though Mrs. Gitler has promised she will "deal with" him later. But Otis doesn't count on George's retribution, which includes a few paddles with his sword on Stewy's bottom! By fiesta's end, both George and Stewy are upset with Otis, who finds himself chased home after school.


Perhaps many small boys have a bit of Otis in them. As I read this book to my son, he performed some of the same tricks Otis himself did: pawing the ground, snorting like a bull and charging the air ahead of him. Although we often read at bedtime, like tonight, it wasn't in this instance the most opportune time because we both had been cooped up all day between the school cancellation and roads being dangerous and some even closed. Still, Adam did pretty good for the circumstance, and redirection was still not so hard. He likes to look at the words as I read, because he is always on the lookout for words he knows, such as like, the, love, go, fun, to, too, mommy, boy and toy.

Otis liked to tease George by singing out, "Toreador!" and Adam wanted to join in. He sung out the word and picked it out from the page, spelling it as he pointed. And as Otis, walking onto the playground and discovering his enormous audience, starts to cheer to himself, Adam informed me that now the boy would have many more people to give him attention, although the teacher wasn't going to like it. Interestingly enough, we had just a few minutes before been discussing negative attention, thanks to a boy in his kindergarten class who engages in it frequently (and used to draw Adam into his antics).

As we finished up the chapter, Otis was raring to escape the school--not wanting to stick around for the punch and cookies, nor the outcome of George and Stewy's warnings to "just wait"--and Adam was rather ancy as well. It had been too sedentary a day and although he asks questions and engages himself, he doesn't seem to take to this book quite as much as he did with Ribsy, by the same author. There may be a "danger" factor (Adam is afraid of dogs) that excites him, given that he can experience the thrill of a dog without having to actually be near one, or perhaps Otis is just not that exciting a boy. (I had been hoping he would find funny the chapter I remember, when Otis gets caught shooting spitballs and is made to sit on a chair, bin positioned a meter or so away, and do nothing else but shoot them for an hour or so.) Whatever the case, I'll give it another go at a better time, although I am inclined to leave it off if he doesn't seem interested--or even ask him outright what he thinks of the book and take my cue from that.

Welcome to my blog!

Ribsy in Grant Park near Klickitat St., Portland, Oregon
Originally uploaded by marymactavish

Thank you for stopping to visit my blog! I'm writing here as part of an early education class in which we study children's literature. As I also have a child of my own, my reading of children's literature has gotten a pretty good start. I'm looking forward to recommendations of other books and to learn more about this genre.

My son, who will be six in March, adores books and I've read to him since he was born. When he was very small I read aloud the books or magazines I was reading, later picking up kiddie books and showing them to him. Recently he and I read Beverly Cleary's Ribsy, and it was pretty thrilling to watch his excitement grow as the story progressed (especially as he, though seeming to like the idea of dogs, is less than thrilled with them in real life). I chose it because I had read all the related books as a child and loved them; I was also motivated to expose him to a series of "boy" books. And this first one did not disappoint. He still squeals with delight, hugs the book and cries out, in a longing fashion, "Ribsy! Ribsy!" when he sees a picture or some reference to the book elsewhere.

For myself, I have always loved to read, and as a child was a big fan of Lewis Carroll. Along with the Looking Glass books and the author's nonsense poetry, I was enamored with Sylvie and Bruno, though I also liked a lot of other books.


Nowadays I enjoy a variety of books as well, from memoir to fiction and non-fiction, as well as children's literature. My son says some of his favorite books are the Ribsy ones, Harold and the Purple Crayon, the Arthur and Berenstain Bears series and "all kid books." He's probably right about that; when we go to the library he is not shy about picking books from all over the spectrum.


Whenever I mention a book here in the blog, I will try to include it on Adam's shelf--a link to which is at the top right of the page. At that site you can see the different books he has read, what he is currently reading and what he wants to read. (I haven't yet gotten around to adding in all the books he owns, although I can assure you we are rapidly running out of space.) Or, if you prefer, you can have a look without leaving this page, at bottom right. Just look for the virtual shelf!