by Roseana Auten
If you’re a parent of an elementary school child, then you can probably already
spot books that you’d want your kid to read – ones that don’t reinforce
negative sex roles and stereotypes, or ones that promote good values without
preaching. I’m happy to report that a few of those recently landed my way. Seven books for girls, grades 4-6, are produced by a husband-and-wife team,
David Katz (publisher and illustrator) and Judith Love Cohen (author or
co-author). The You Can Be a Woman… series (Cascade Pass, Inc.,
[California], $6 each, paper) is specifically intended to get girls interested
in exploring careers in the sciences.
While working part-time in Los Angeles public schools, Katz noticed that girls
were still not being drawn into their science work. Surmising that this was
partly because girls are rarely exposed to the work of women scientists, he
convinced Cohen, an electrical engineer formerly with the space program
(including the Apollo 12 lunar mission), to write You Can Be a Woman
Engineer. Six other titles – …Architect, …Marine Biologist,
…Zoologist, …Egyptologist, …Paleontologist, and
…Oceanographer – have been added, written with the help of women
working in those fields. Three suggested classroom activities follow each
story; the books are also available in Spanish.
Every time I even slightly touch on gender inequity in education, I get at
least one rambling message on my voice mail, or a heated missive from (sorry to
say) some male, reminding me how wrong-headed I am for believing that girls get
short shrift in school. Sorry, guys, the numbers tell a different story.
According to Cohen, women still represent only 6% percent of all scientists and
engineers in the United States, and it’s not a matter of women’s aptitude for
those disciplines. It’s a matter of learning to break out of sex roles. But
would-be critics of the You Can Be a Woman… series will be pleased to
know that the texts focus on the what the women do in their work and why they like it – not on their struggle to overcome sex discrimination. And if you
think having the word “woman” in a book title makes no impact on the young
female imagination, why not hand one of these to a nine-year-old girl and find
out?
But adults are not the only ones who can inspire children to
explore new things. At some point, children should learn to encourage each
other in their dreams. That’s why I’m so impressed with the annual
“Publish-A-Book” contest, sponsored by Austin-based educational publishers
Steck-Vaughn. Students in grades 2-6 throughout the U.S. write 500-900 words on
a selected theme; the top five books are published by Steck-Vaughn and come
with a $500 grand prize. I’m not foolish enough to imagine that kids don’t
think about the money while they’re scribbling away (some 10,000 children wrote
on the theme of “Wishes” for 1994-95), but the work of these children, I think,
is the true inspiration.
And ultimately, when the author’s voice is authentic, the prose really soars.
Out of the five books published in 1995, my favorite is My Heart Is Full of
Wishes, by 11-year-old Joshua Grishaw of Pleasantview, Virginia, and
illustrated by Lane Yerkes ($13.98 paper). Grishaw has cystic fibrosis, a
chronic, debilitating respiratory disease. But I like his book in spite of his
illness, not because of it. His language is unflinchingly honest, a quality I’m
afraid that some of the other winning books lack. He harbors fantasies of
saving princesses from dragons, hitting the winning home run in Little League,
and meeting girls. He’s afraid of monsters lurking in his closet at night; he
wants his parents by him forever. These are things children don’t usually admit
out loud, and I don’t believe a mere $500 induces this kind of honesty and
creativity.
My second favorite book is Joey’s Birthday Wish, by 12-year-old Matthew
Lambert of Iuka, Mississippi, who also won a grand prize in 1993-94
(illustrations by Victoria Vebell Bruck). The fictional tale (based on one of
Matthew’s personal experiences) deals with a young boy’s guilt about being
selfish, after he sees a homeless family. Matthew is sophisticated enough to
leave the conclusion open, inviting much-needed discussion. Third place belongs
to The Magic Bat, by 11-year-old Geoffrey Griffin of Fort Worth, Texas,
illustrated by Don Weller. Like Grishaw, Griffin tells his story in the first
person – how he overcame an inability to hit a baseball. I liked the positive
message about gaining self-confidence, but I’m depressed to be reminded that a
lack of athletic ability can ruin a child’s life.
The last two books I liked a little less. Both Harvey’s Wish, by
eight-year-old Matthew Fitzgerald of Rockaway, N.J. (illustrations by Jean
Pidgeon) and Abby’s Wish by sixth-grader Liza St. John of Morrison,
Tennessee (illustrations by Austinite Michael Krone), are didactic,
“remember-to-be-nice-and-help-people” kinds of stories. That’s okay, but I have
the distinct impression the children crafted these tales specifically to please
some adult. That’s always a dead end, kids. And Abby’s Wish is drafted
in quatrains of iambic pentameter so clumsy (at times) that I’d like to have a
few words with the teacher who first smiled upon them.
Maybe that’s the key to a really good children’s book – that it pleases and
inspires a kid, in spite of adult approval. n
This article appears in September 22 • 1995 and September 22 • 1995 (Cover).