Early one morning back in March, I woke up before the sun, slept through my first and last mug of coffee, and got in the car to drive to Edgewater, New Jersey. I was to be the day’s guest Read-a-thon author at George Washington Elementary.
My friend Sonia, a parent in the Edgewater School district contacted me when Big & Little Meet in the Middle first came out in October to ask if I’d be available to give a talk in March. I optimistically figured sure, if the world isn’t a smoldering ruin months from now, why not? I’ve done a bunch of appearances promoting Big & Little and all of them have been really fun, most of them packed with very good friends from years past in both Brooklyn and Seattle. But I hadn’t yet presented to kids at a school, and I found that on the day of I was nervous.
I usually get along really well with kids. We are mentally on a similar wavelength, which is to say;
• Easily amused
• Easily distracted
• Would very much like to meet, and possibly own, a stegosaurus
But I also have the feeling that little kids are always just on the edge of mutiny and I’ll end up at the bottom of a gigantic pig pile (this isn’t just paranoia, it has happened.)
So I walked into the front doors of George Washington Elementary with some trepidation. I was immediately met by a friendly woman who introduced herself as one of the organizers of my visit, and handed me a bag full of goodies. It included a t-shirt with the school logo on it. A hoodie, similarly branded. A bottle of water, and buttery, flaky croissant from somewhere expensive. I started to relax.
Then I sat for a while in the principal’s office. Those who knew me in High School or Middle School or really any of the schools know that this wasn't the first time I’ve sat in the principal’s office, worrying about what was coming next. It was the first time I’ve done it while covered in croissant crumbs though. Principal Cunningham turned out to be a friendly and welcoming man about my same age, and soon we were laughing and talking about all sorts of non-school related things. I relaxed a bit more.
I had spent some time creating a big digital presentation in Keynote, and was telling my host about it when he suggested I just chill out and simply read the book to the kids. I wondered if he’d ever met the sort of children I’ve met.
Ten minutes later I was standing in an empty auditorium, next to a podium with a digital projector pointed at a screen. Soon the room would be filled with infants, all of them noisily plotting a coup de pig pile. But for now it was eerily quiet. I opened my laptop to find that the battery was dead. I opened my small bag of cables to find that I hadn’t brought the charger. It would be just me, one copy of my book, and 150 children with mischief on their minds.
The kids poured in in several groups. Kindergarten, then first grade, then second grade. The kindergarteners were bubbly and kind, the first and second graders were slightly more raucous but still wonderfully sweet. When each grade came shuffling in they smiled shyly and many, unprompted, waved. I asked some questions to loosen us all up.
What follows is a far from comprehensive summary of our interaction.
Me: “Does anyone have any penguins? Are there any penguins among you here?”
Them: squeals of delight, then, hands raised but not waiting to be called on:
“I don’t have any penguins!”
“I met a penguin once!”
“I have two penguins!”
Me: “Wait, do you really?”
Him, suddenly shy again, “No.”
My warm up bit must have been a success because I hadn’t started reading yet and the little crowd’s hands were already waving like tall grass whipped by wind. I called on a little boy named Emmanuel. He got up and walked up to where I was standing, cupping his mouth to whisper. I leaned down.
“How tall is a Polar bear?” he asked.
“Very tall,” I answered.
“And how tall is a penguin?” He asked, still whispering.
“Very small,” I answered again.
“How would they shake hands?”
“Well you are little, and I am big, why don’t we shake hands to see?”
We shook hands and a big cheesy grin spread from ear to ear. He seemed satisfied and sat down.
Me: “Let me show you all how penguins walk” (I tottered around the gym, stiff legged, arms flapping)
Them: Excited giggling. Some kids popped to their feet to imitate me but were told to sit. I was the only one with a license to be silly at that moment.
More hands, more questions. I still hadn’t started reading from the book yet. Lots of questions along the lines of, “What’s your name?” and “How did you get here?” “Where’s your wife?”
Finally I read Big & Little to a suddenly quiet and polite crowd. All attention on the book, raised high above my head as I recited partly from memory, “Since neither one of them could fly they’d need to use their feet!”
I paused and asked, “Everyone knows penguins can’t fly, right?”
All: “YES!”
Me: “What other birds have wings but can’t fly?”
Flightless bird inspired pandemonium, raising one’s hand is now simply a formality:
“ducks!”
“ostriches!”
“chickens”
“turkeys!”
“owls!”
“My name is Ian too!”
Soon I’d finished reading the book to wild applause.
More questions: “How old are you? Where do you live?”
Answer: “I’m 49. I live in Brooklyn.”
General uproar as teachers just managed to regain control of the room.
All: “My dad is 41.”
”My dad is 39.”
”You look 36!”
(These kids are the best!)
“Have you ever seen an orca?”
“How do penguins lay eggs?”
“Have you ever seen a baby goose?”
“I was in Brooklyn on Friday!”
Me: “Oh? So was I. We must have just missed each other.”
Shrugs. “That’s because I was downtown.”
Another question: “Um, When did you become a great author?”
Answer: “I don’t know that I am a great author!”
Many voices of protest: “Yes you are! You are a great author!’
My heart swells.
“There are buffalos in my country too!” Says a little guy who turns out to be from Bangladesh. We discuss water buffaloes versus bison.
“How many countries have you been to?”
Me: “Many!”
“Have you ever been to South Korea?”
No. But I’d like to go,
“Turkey?”
No.
“Uzbekistan?”
No.
(disquieted grumbling, this guy’s never been ANYWHERE.)
“France?”
(Finally!) Yes!
“India?”
Yes!
“Ukraine?”
“No. But I have been to Poland.”
One small child with large front teeth gasps and asks, “Do you speak Polish?”
“Tak.” I respond. Yes. “czy mówisz po polsku?” Do you speak Polish?
“TAK!!” wild tapping on friend’s shoulder. “He speaks Polish!” (I don’t really speak very much Polish)
“When will you go to South Korea? Next week?”
Me: “Hmm, maybe not that soon.”
“Next Month? I’m going to South Korea to visit my family next month.”
Me: “Oh, can I come with you?”
Boy nods happily.
Each of the three sessions passes in a hail of random and hilarious questions. It was all over too quickly. Soon I was posing for a picture with the classes, signing books, and chatting with the teachers who had thoughts of their own. As I started to pack up to leave, one of the teachers brought Emmanuel, the boy who’d whispered his questions, over to me. She told me he wanted to say something.
I stooped down, expecting him to whisper some new ingenuity.
Instead he gave me a hug.
It seems I had every reason to be worried. The kids did overwhelm me. They pig-piled my heart. I keep thinking back to this marvelous day, and that last little moment of pure emotion. Thinking, this children’s book writing business might be alright. And maybe. Maybe one day, I might become that great author they think I am.
Me and the second grade class:
Me looking a bit windswept after the discussions, with Principal Cunningham:
Thanks again to Sonia Sussman for the invitation and for these great photos.
Great story. Maybe that could be your next book!
Just WOW! I felt the pig pile.... ;)