Written by Roxie
When I received my fall schedule, I was excited to see what classes my first full time semester would be composed of; my thought process as I scanned the page went a bit like this:
GE Connections (portfolio building and GE importance? Okay, I get that...); Black Women Writers (...with Dr. Morris? Gods, that’s not intimidating at all!); Intro to American Indian Studies (Awesome!); Gender and Law (Omg, yes! That’s my jam!); Children’s Literature (wait…what? But…why?!).
The first couple of weeks moved by as we all fell into the new routine. Everyone began deciding which classes and subjects they liked or didn’t like, and the results varied, but everyone was always excited on Friday for Dr. Warner’s children’s literature class. That is, everyone except me.
When we entered the classroom, there would always be books set up on all the desks and everyone would grab them, trade them, and reminisce of when they read this or that as a child. Some were ones they had read to their own children. My classmates had a connection with the material before they walked in the door. In contrast, I had a really hard time finding connection or enjoyment, and felt incredibly out of place, with my lack of nostalgia. I have no memory of my parents ever having read to me as a child, and I never got the chance to read to my own child, who was barely a year old when I became incarcerated. So, I had to find some other way to understand and relate to what we were learning. Luckily, Dr. Warner is nothing if not animated and welcoming. Also luckily, I became an avid reader on my own accord as an adolescent, despite my childhood. The problem wasn’t that I dislike books - quite the opposite - but that I didn’t understand their significance to children. When we really began to dive into the whys behind taking this course, it all began to make a lot more sense on a grander scale, and that’s when the magic happened.
Dr. Warner’s class gave me a unique insight that I may never have consciously developed anywhere else; that the creation of ideas, thoughts, perspectives, and principles, which begin shaping our identities as children, are often first discovered by that child, through a book. What a remarkably simple, yet astounding, concept! After my epiphany, and as the weeks went by, I found myself more and more fascinated by how much goes into the making of children’s literature. From the reasons that dictate what makes a good children’s book; to the symbiotic relationship between the creation of children’s books, and the societal and political constructs of the time when the book is published; and in turn, the effect that those books may have on the coming generations.
For our final, Dr. Warner had us create our own children’s book. And while my mother may have never read to me, she did tell me that she wanted to write a children’s book - but she never did because she cannot draw. For roughly 35 years, my mother carried this vision in the recesses of her mind. Thanks to Dr. Warner’s class (and my wonderfully talented partner, who illustrated), the book was finally born. On the day we presented and shared our final projects, the room was full of unique stories that brought new and different perspectives to the world of children’s literature. Along with new understanding, new passions, and a newfound hope for the possibilities of a different future