Educator __________ Week

Today a Borders in Connecticut kindly hosted me as part of Educator Appreciation Week. I had written it down on my calendar as Educator Awareness Week.

"Hey, you're a teacher! I've heard about you people!" And I was planning to lead my short talk with that joke-like statement, but I ended up cutting it. And the rest of the talk. Because there was no audience.

As many authors will tell you, these things happen. And in retrospect, they make for great entries in books.

I did an Educator Appreciation Week event at Borders in 2005, and attendance then was fairly brisk. But it was also opening day. Plus I think there were cookies. Today, the rain boded well, but apparently this was one of the last days of the event. Also, no cookies. While teachers did show up, not enough at any one time to do my presentation.

Still, I did manage to sell a few copies of the two books I was there to introduce (Vocabulary Cartoon of the Day and Quick Nonfiction Writing Activities that Really Work). Plus I also brought over the store's copies of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman and sold a few of those, too. That wasn't my plan, but the books just so happened to be face out on a shelf in the line of sight behind the table they'd set up for me. You can't expect an author to disregard that.


The highlight, however, did not have to do with my own books. I was talking to 4th grade teacher whose young son rushed up holding Goodnight Goon by Michael Rex. The boy was so excited that I blurted out that I am friends with the author-illustrator and could ask if he'd send a signed bookplate. I assured Mike, and consider this notice for other author friends, that I won't make a habit of that. Probably.

Capes in the classroom

In posts on the Golden Age of Picture Book Biography, the importance of teaching about lesser-known figures, and the one discouraging response I've gotten from a school, I've touched on the role books like Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman (i.e. nonfiction books with a pop culture bent) can play in school.

I'm far from the only one.

I just stumbled across a battalion of lesson plans specifically about superheroes (not all of which are tied to books).

Here's a substantial one.

Here's one that starts off strong yet soon takes an alarming turn. For all the good it does in validating a topic some view as frivolous, it undermines that open-mindedness by scandalizing something of utmost innocence.

How you found me: part 4

Lots of click-throughs to this blog result from straightforward searches including "Boys of Steel" and "picture book biography."

Lots, but luckily, not all.

This is part 4 in an irregular series revealing some of the funconventional search phrases—all verbatim, most strange—that have led people here:

• boys are mesmerized by Superman
• amazing story exposed
• basketball hair bands
• children's writer Jonathan Nobleman
• how to write a children's book writer's bio
• lyrical engaging highly visual picture books
• picture books that use the word folks
• some biographies that people have wrote
• autobiography of a school library book
• shelving books boring
• steal me a tear
• I'm eagerly waiting for involve myself
• Manhattan phone book of 1950
• what age will you be in November 15 1993-2009
• Hey, Sydney University and other interested souls: If you wish to use my information, writings or images for any purpose whatever you need to contact me for permission first. Who knows? I may even grant it.

That last one, obviously, is my favorite so far.

Celebrate Children's Book Day

Today my environment was sunny and rainy at the same time.

The sun part: I was a first-time participant in a vibrant, longstanding book festival at Sunnyside, the historic home and grounds of Washington Irving, in Tarrytown, NY.

The rain part: rain.

At times today, Celebrate Children's Book Day felt well-attended, but I'm told that when the weather is clear, this event is beyond crowded.

Among the personal highlights:

• Unlike some sacrificial souls, I did not have to wear a sweltering Clifford costume.
• I saw some writer friends.
• I made some new writer friends.
• For the first time in my career, someone buying a book (Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman) asked if the copy was a first edition. I was weirdly pleased to check and find that it was a second edition. (The customer was not as pleased, but bought it anyway, and I refrained from assuring her that a first edition will not be worth any more in the future.)
• I had the honor of meeting and sitting next to Jules Feiffer, man of many distinctions including cartoonist and screenwriter, and author of The Great Comic Book Heroes (first edition 1965 and probably worth a ton). We didn't exactly pose but here we are:
  

Bonus: His wonderful daughter and fellow author Kate was there, too.

Note: I did not write most of those books that appear to be in front of me. It's just the angle of the photo.

And a highlight not only of the event but of the entire research portion of my career:

A person I plan to write a book on is Australian and running toward his 80th birthday. He's not well known in America but appears to be in Australia, having risen to the top of two disciplines there (one of which is politics, but that's not the discipline I'm going to write about). To test the level of awareness, I tend to ask Australians I meet if they know of this person.

I happened to chat with an Australian at the event, but for some reason, I did not ask her my "Australia question." A short time later, a charming older Australian couple stopped by. In my experience, it is unusual to meet even one Australian at such an event, and any more than that is especially curious.

So I got back to business and asked this couple (who turned out to be the parents of the first woman) if they knew the name.

They just so happen to be very good friends with him.

Out of all the crikillions of people in Australia, they just so happen to go back a long way (seems at least half a century) with my future subject.

Given my subject's high rank in politics, I wasn't fully confident I'd be able to reach him directly when the time comes. Now I have an e-mail scribbled on the back of a promotional postcard that means I probably will. I shudder to think of all the steps I would've taken without this.

150 signatures

People who scribble in books usually fall into one of two categories: authors or toddlers.

This tale is about a lesser-known third category—and it is a cautionary tale. Booksellers beware.

Once upon 2005, I went into a Barnes & Noble in New York to see if they had any of my books. To my surprise, they did, and I asked a bookseller if I could sign them. He asked me for ID.

Authors regularly walk into stores unannounced and ask to sign stock. Most of those authors, including me, are unrecognizable to the general public. Yet that was the first time a bookseller wanted me to prove I was the person I said I was.

Every previous time, I'd wondered why the bookseller didn't.

This time, I asked why he did.

He said he didn't used to. Once, however, the author of a successful mass-market paperback series strolled in and got instant permission to sign all copies of his books that the store carried—all 150 copies. (Other authors—I'll wait a moment while you dream of a store carrying that many copies of your books.)




Welcome back.

Only after that author left did the store determine that he was not, in fact, the author.

His prank had ruined 150 books. His crime was identity theft. His weapon was a Sharpie.

And he's still out there.

Back to school visit

Today was my first school visit of the 2009-2010 academic year, aptly coinciding with the first day of fall.

But first, my GPS had some fun at my expense, which has been happening more and more lately:

Time I was scheduled to start speaking: 9:10 a.m.
Time I started driving: 7:20 a.m.
Time GPS said I'd arrive: 8:29 a.m.
Time I arrived: 9:04 a.m.
Number of wrong turns it sent me on: who knows/too many

Arriving with only six minutes to spare was later than I think I've ever been for a school visit...yet for the record, I was not late.

And in any event all was good when I saw the welcome:

My host had converted the subject matter of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman into a "read power" message for the students.

While signing books after I spoke, a second grader gave me this charming drawing (her first comment refers to two drawings I had done during the presentation):

She also gave me permission to post it here. And she included Superman's distinctive spit curl! Yet she made it even more distinctive since this is how it usually curls (look carefully—it's a letter):

This visit also marked the first time I spoke to kindergartners since my older child became one. That was, not surprisingly, an emotional trampoline. For me. I don't think the kindergartners much cared!

They were more focused on telling me what their dads wear to work.

A first: Early on, one called out "Are you real?" I said yes but he looked unconvinced. So I let him pinch my arm.

He was still unconvinced.

Wikipediagilisticexpialidocious, part 2 of 2

As a writer, I’ve found Wikipedia to be invaluable in research, despite some editorial backlash and if used in a certain way. Reasons 1 through 3 are here, and reasons 4 through 6½ are here:

Contributor motivation

Writers and editors who contribute to Wikipedia don't earn money or widespread recognition. Unmotivated by these corruptible catalysts, their output shoots up the integrity scale. They’re wikifying out of love for whatever subject they’re writing about, and people are often experts on what they love.

Immediate sourcing

Given longstanding industry protocol, not to mention space limitation, print articles almost never cite sources. Wikipedia articles do, or if they don’t, they’re flagged so researchers know to proceed with caution.

If a fact on Wikipedia lacks citation, I don’t use it unless I can back (front?) it up with a reliable source elsewhere. Weaker Wikipedia articles may not help in and of themselves, but they can set you down multiple paths to better info. And that's a strength—Wikipedia has become the essential orientation point on most any topic.

Detail magnet—but especially “modern” details

I couldn’t resist titling this post the way I did (though I did first try “Supercalifragilisticexwikipedia”). However, Wikipedia is actually not “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” According to the film Mary Poppins, that word is all you can say when there’s nothing to say.

Wikipedia is about saying it all. Sort of.

It’s the first major fact repository to incorporate information in real-time. Yet this creates an imbalance, giving a texture to “current” subjects that past subjects don’t have.

Take the Kanye West/Taylor Swift incident during the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards. It was promptly added to both of their Wikipedia entries, plus the entry for the VMAs. Will it end up being a defining moment for either artist? It’s too early to tell, but probably not. A Hollywood “controversy” like it happens several times each week, making many previous ones insignificant.

To contrast, the people who wrote the Wikipedia entry on pre-Wikipedia subject Huey Lewis and the News did not (according to the references cited) go back through period articles from Rolling Stone, People, Musician, Seventeen, and other magazines (whether extant or defunct) that covered the band during their 1980s heyday. Most of those articles are not online, and therefore understandably beyond the reach—or at least the commitment level—of the average Wikipedia researcher.

Yet if someone were to dig up such articles, they would surely provide the kind of nuances that a Wikipedia contributor documenting a contemporary topic often includes.

In other words, the entry for Kanye West will have lots more anecdotal info than the one for Huey Lewis and the News.

I do long for a Wikipedia that more deeply mines the recent past for “forgotten” facts, but that’s an immense expectation. Hopefully, as more publications digitize their archives, that will enhance Wikipedia's scope. Yet what about the magazines like Musician that don’t exist anymore? Who owns that content? Will it ever be digitized? What irresistible HLATN factoid is there and only there and will be lost to most of us for all time unless some enterprising Wikipedian unearths and shares it?

In the end, this imbalance between current and past topics is not a negative. To criticize Wikipedia for being more thorough about certain contemporary subjects than certain past subjects misses the point. The fact that it’s detailed about any subjects is a good thing.

The half-reason

A year ago, some kind soul gave my book Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman the Wikipedia treatment. You don’t need to investigate the IP addresses to learn that it was not me. The proof is simpler. Just look at my name within the article: not hyperlinked. Though I write about myself here, I, like most writers, know it’s bad form to do so on Wikipedia.

I’ve never written a Wikipedia article about anyone or anything else, either. Several years ago, I did lightly edit a couple. (One was on Bill Finger, the uncredited co-creator of Batman. I don’t remember the other but do remember that my tweak was only grammatical.)

And though I don’t plan to write or edit other Wikipedia articles, this is one writer who is grateful for the people who do.

Wikipediagilisticexpialidocious, part 1 of 2

As a writer, I am on Wikipedia daily. If an article is properly cited, it can be as—if not more—useful than many books. At times, I trust it more than brand name encyclopedias.

One study found Wikipedia as accurate as Britannica.

Yet some editors and writers’ guidelines ask writers to avoid using Wikipedia as a source because it is “user-written.”

But users are people, too. To expand, here are six-and-a-half weasons why Wikipedia is worthwhile.

Amateur doesn’t mean unprofessional

We all know good cooks who don’t work in high-end restaurants. And many of us have been crushed by good tennis players who’ve never appeared in the US Open, or even a town tournament.

Likewise, there are plenty of good writers (and researchers) who don’t do it for a living, yet luckily, plenty of them volunteer their time and minds for Wikipedia.

Books get it wrong, too

Conversely, a published book is not always a polished book. Despite best efforts, books still go to print with mistakes. I’ve read them. And written one or two. (But only one or two.) Writers have to doublecheck all facts, whether from a book or a site or the inside of a Snapple bottle cap.

Multiple brains for the price of none

A typical book has one editor (and a copy editor, but here I’m talking about mistakes in content, not grammar). An article on Wikipedia can have any number of editors. While that may indeed mean more chance for errors, at the same time it suggests a greater chance that more errors will be fixed.

Say a magazine writer turns in a 1,000-word article with 10 mistakes and his editor catches 8. The scale with a Wikipedia article is almost always greater—say 10 writers build a 1,000-word article with a total of 28 (initial) mistakes. Yet it may attract as many—if not more—editors as writers. Through group effort, all mistakes may be weeded out. While the “amateur” article had more than twice as many initial mistakes, it ends up with none; meanwhile, the “professional” article still has two. And once published, print mistakes can’t be changed as quickly as Wikipedia mistakes.

A Wikipedia article is like a piece of bread on the ground. You can always count on not one but many ants to show up fast and go to work on it. Same with a Wikipedia article, subbing in editors for ants. (Not an insult. Ants are hard workers. Not to mention freakishly strong for their size.)

Consider this experiment. Writer A.J. Jacobs tested Wikipedia by posting an article on it with numerous deliberate errors. He felt the article had reached healthy condition two days and 373 edits later. Here’s the link (from Wikipedia itself).

Tomorrow: reasons 4 through 6½, including the scoop on the title of this post.

Most did shave, actually

The New York Public Library children's section, under the sure stewardship of Betsy Bird, hosts a regular program called the Children's Literary Café.

The theme of the one I had the honor to participate in: "Men Who Write Children's Books, Live in the New York City Area, and Shave Irregularly."

Yet all four of us showed up facially groomed (for the most part):

Mike Rex = goatee
Jon Scieszka = little hair patch under lip (name?)
Brian Floca = smooth (though he had a full beard when I pitched this idea to Betsy)
me = two-day stubble

It was standing room only and a discussion that (for me, anyway) ended too soon. The audience was most gracious and mostly non-face-shavers (i.e. women).

We didn't get the chance to take a photo until a while after it ended, by which point Jon had unfortunately already left, but here he is, and here are the rest of us:

Use the key above to match the name to the facial hair. You get one freebie: Betsy is the one in the dress.

9/14/09 addendum: Betsy's post about this.

ComiXology podcast on "Boys of Steel"

ComiXology kindly interviewed me about Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman, and asked some meaty questions.



Here's the original link.

Picture books for older readers are like Bigfoot

Picture books for older readers are like Bigfoot. Although lots of people have caught a glimpse of them, so many still don't believe in them. I wish I could be as sure about upright hominoids, but picture books for older readers do exist. I managed to capture some on film. And more proof came via a heartening e-mail I received from teacher and blogger Keith Schoch, who kindly gave me permission to share it here (in slightly condensed form):

First of all, I'm a big fan of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman. My fourth grade class dug it as well, and what really impressed them was that at first they thought they didn't care about these two guys, but by book's end, they cared a lot! And then when I stumbled upon your site today I thought it was pretty cool to read your About Me and find that this is precisely what you're attempting to do now as a writer. [MTN: This refers to a former version of my About Me in which I explained that I like to write books on people whose achievement is well-known but whose name and back story are not (i.e. everyone knows Superman, few know who created him, when, or why).]

Good, good stuff, Marc. I say that not just as a teacher, but as someone who is constantly poking and prodding other teachers in the upper primary and middle grades to use picture books to enhance their instruction. I conduct workshops on that topic, and also host a blog aimed at teachers of grades 3-8 called Teach with Picture Books. It features summaries, themes, guiding questions, teaching suggestions, cross-curricular extensions, author profiles, and related links.

As a companion site to my workshops, I also put up a static site called Picture Books in Middle Grades, which offers reasons why teachers of the upper primary and middle grades should be using picture books in their instruction. Many teachers use this site to get their colleagues on board and to squeeze some money out of their administrators for purchasing picture books for the classroom. You might want to check out a post [in which] your book is featured prominently.

Love at a luncheon

I made my shortest trip yet to Cleveland—about five hours on Ohio soil—to deliver my first keynote address. It was for a lovely luncheon sponsored by a small business resource organization called the Council of Smaller Enterprises (COSE). I was told they are part of the largest Chamber of Commerce in the country. I was also told to try the cheesecake, but didn’t have a chance. (I prefer chocolate anyway.)

Like any public speaker, I adjust my presentation approach depending on the audience. With Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman, I emphasize the Jewish aspects when speaking at a Jewish museum or school and emphasize the Cleveland connection at Cleveland venues. I even pitched a science museum a talk on the scientific side of Superman. (They said no. Good thing. I have a feeble grasp of science.)

The COSE angle was Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster as small business owners—or perhaps it’s more accurate to say home-based entrepreneurs since they (famously) did not retain full ownership of Superman.

A smaller first for me at this event: After the talk, I did a book signing and a woman asked me to make out a copy for her husband Frank. I usually sign "Best, Marc Tyler Nobleman” but in her book I absent-mindedly signed "Love, Marc Tyler Nobleman." I offered to fix it but she and I decided it would be funnier to see if he even notices. Love ya, Frank.

Check out the sharp artwork they used to promote the event.

last three images courtesy of Kurt Shaffer Photographs

"Nobleman: Writerman, Superman"

Interesting Nonfiction for Kids (I.N.K.) kindly posted a piece on my book Quick Nonfiction Writing Activities That Really Work!

(I am compelled to reiterate from an earlier post that the exclamation point is not my punctuation but part of the title—a part I didn't choose.)

Fellow author Karen Romano Young, who wrote the piece, asked challenging questions. In one way or another, those tend to lead to the most engaging answers, at least in my mind!

(That time, I did choose the exclamation point.)

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: epilogue

This series could've been a lot longer. I could've shared a story from nearly every school I’ve been to (in some cases, after looking at my notes).

I could’ve told how, though school visits, I’ve bumped into an old friend of my sister’s, the former director of my summer camp, and a kid who (erroneously, it turned out) claimed his father was the nephew of Jerry Siegel, co-creator of Superman.

I could've told how, at a Manhattan school, I fumbled through selling my own books (on behalf of an independent bookstore that I said didn’t have to bother sending a staff member). I am not great with math under everyday circumstances so imagine how I was with kids crowding around a table, their hands crammed with crumpled bills and coins, and dismissal imminent.

I could've told how during a delightful lunch with a young writer’s club at a Kansas school, I became convinced that at least one of them would be a published author one day.

I could've told how a Connecticut school set me up in the gym with the screen for my PowerPoint on stage—directly behind the basketball net. I asked if that could be raised out of the way and was first told that the kids wouldn’t mind if it stayed as is!

I could've told how the PowerPoint wasn’t working at a Bronx school and the kind staff endeavored to fix it—spilling twenty minutes into my allotted hour. Ultimately we couldn’t figure it out so I did a shortened talk with no visuals—luckily, the only time that’s happened (so far).

I could've told how, at a century-old school building in Ohio, a tile plummeted from the ceiling—luckily not hitting anyone.

I could've told how, after a presentation in Nevada during which I said the name of their state several times, a student delicately informed me that the “vad” syllable rhymes with “bad,” not “pod.”

But instead I will look forward to hearing about other authors’ cameo appearances in pre-adolescent academia. And I suspect I will update my list after another eighty or so schools.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #1

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“Dork in High School”

year: 2004
state: Connecticut





In the closing Q&A portion of my presentation, a student asked what inspired me to be a cartoonist.

I said that the first character I remember drawing is Scooby-Doo. I was seven and copied a picture of the detective dog from TV Guide. That opened the Doo floodgates. I began to draw Scooby relentlessly, and when kids today ask me what my favorite cartoon is, the first Scooby-Doo season from 1969 still gets my nod (tied with Super Friends).

1980

From the back of the room, an eighth grader raised his hand. “Were you a dork in high school?”

The room, of course, rippled with laughter. You know how crowd sound can have a personality? The pitch of that laughter was between “that’s hilarious” and “that’s humiliating.” I wasn’t wearing my glasses (and the only time I’ve worn contacts was on my wedding day), so I couldn’t discern the expression of the boy who asked. I couldn’t tell if—but did assume—he was making fun of me. All I could make out was that his tie had a colorful design.

Answering specifically could endorse labels, so instead I tried to be funny. I asked “What’s the difference between a dork, a geek, and a nerd?” This got more laughter—and also became an entry in a book I would write the following year, What’s the Difference?

After the presentation, as the kids filed out, some stopped to say hi or ask a quick question. One nervous-seeming boy was lingering behind the others, waiting for his chance. Finally, he was last man standing and he stepped forward.

Without trace of irony, he asked for my autograph. “Your talk inspired me.”

His tie, a blur of color to me before, was now clear—pictures of Scooby-Doo.

When people ask what I like about school visits, I tell this story.

Read countdown epilogue.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #2

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“The First Time Someone Got It Right”

year: 2008
state: Nevada






My first time in a Nevada city besides Las Vegas brought another first.

At a Reno middle school, I combined my standard presentation with another I do called "The Language of Cartoons: What's So Funny?" It’s not a how-to-draw workshop—I don’t do those. Rather it’s a look at the (visual but also verbal) tricks cartoonists use that add up to a language we all learn without being formally taught—and without realizing it. Think of it as the special effects of the printed page—or PGI (pencil-generated imagery).

I show kids that when we read cartoons, we’re being detectives. The mystery, though always the same, is not always obvious: why is this funny? The clues are the words and the art. How do they work together to give meaning, but not quite all the meaning, letting the reader figure out some of it on his own?

In one segment of this presentation, I sketch various types of word bubbles one at a time and ask the kids what each means. They all know the standard oval speech bubble and the cloudlike thought bubble; many also know (or guess) the shout bubble:

Then I draw this:

And it stumps them. Of course they have guesses for that, too, some of which have been so clever I really should remember them. Yet I did remember that of the dozens of times I’d asked what that bubble means, no one (student or educator) had yet answered it correctly.

Until Nevada.

Jason (let's call him) knew that the slight difference from a shout bubble—the more angled points—makes it a static bubble. It is shown coming from devices that transmit sound electronically—a TV, loudspeaker, cell phone. I told Jason that he was the first ever to give me the right answer.

I went on, I finished, the students left. Then a teacher came up to me and said something to the effect of, "You have no idea how cool it was when you told Jason he was the first to know that type of word bubble." She explained: Jason kept to himself. When I praised him in front of his classmates, it was a huge boost for him.

The teacher was so moved by how this positively affected Jason that tears rimmed her eyes and she said she was about to cry.

For that alone, yet another worthy nominee for Teacher of the Year.

Read #1.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #3

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“Underdogs Over Time”

year: 2008
state: Ohio






Superman was created around a sprint.

To be precise, Superman's characteristics were created before a sprint and his appearance was created after.

All though one summer night in 1933, 19-year-old Jerry Siegel was kept up with a torrent of ideas for a new kind of hero, one with powers (and abilities) far beyond those of us mere mortals. The next morning, rather than collapse, Jerry ran 9½ blocks to ask his friend Joe Shuster to draw what he'd imagined.

I spoke at the school situated along those 9½ blocks. When I reached the sprint part of the Siegel and Shuster story, I got chills telling the students that Jerry very likely ran down the same sidewalk many of them walk every day. The sidewalk literally right through the doors of the gym we were in.

Even though we were a short distance from that sidewalk (and a long stretch of years away from what happened on it), I still felt the rush of that starry-eyed boy sprinting from his humble home straight into history.

NOTE: What follows is a companion story to the above. It is also a tweaked version of a post from September 2008. My first rerun! (But the last line is all-new.)

Two days after Election Day 2008, something happened in a small room at the Cleveland Public Library, Glenville branch, that made me more excited about politics than I think I'd ever been. Except it wasn't really about politics at all.

Glenville is the neighborhood where Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster lived when they created Superman in 1934. At the time, it was predominantly Jewish. Today it is predominantly black and poor.

Earlier that day I had spoken at the main branch, downtown. The audience was mostly young black people. I was expecting the same in Glenville. Instead I was ushered into a room where about 35 or 40 members of the adult community leadership organization were finishing up a meeting. They, too, were almost all black. Some of them were holding Obama signs—two days after the election. The purpose of the signs had switched from tool of persuasion to badge of honor.

I gave my presentation, hoping they would feel pride for the seminal event that had occurred in their neighborhood. They did seem moved by the story, which some had not known before.

Then my friend Tracey Kirksey, head of the Glenville Development Corp. and almost certainly one of the ten kindest people in the world, asked if she could say something. I said of course.

She proceeded to emphasize how Jerry and Joe were underdogs who had a vision and worked hard to see it come to pass. In succeeding, they bucked the odds and made history. Then she unexpectedly compared them to Barack Obama in spontaneous words so eloquent that I wish I had recorded them. The essence was that she felt she could tell her children that they could be president one day—only now, she finally fully believed it to be true. The others, of course, reacted with jubilation.

Of all the Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman experiences I'd had since the book came out, that was by far the most profound. I felt so lucky to be in Ohio, in Glenville, for that moment.

It is interesting to note that the two colors in competition on Election Day are also the two most dominant colors of the American flag, the flag of Ohio, and Superman's costume.

Read #2.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #4

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“Texas Board’em”

year: 2009
state: Texas






During school visits, authors are often treated to works of art created by students who were inspired by one of their books. For me, that had been either letters or drawings…until the Lone Star State.

A highlight of my five-school trip to Texas was seeing (but unfortunately not playing) four different board games based not on Superman but on Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the real-life stars of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman. I wish they could have seen this:

One of the most important aspects of a writer’s job is to know when not to use words. In this case, I think the photo alone tells the rest of the story gloriously.

Read #3.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #5

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“My First Alma Mater”

years: 2005, 2007
state: Connecticut






I was invited to speak at Norton Elementary in Cheshire, Connecticut—my elementary school. That’s the kind of thing that sure makes you question pride being one of the seven deadly sins.

(In this series, Norton will be the only school I’ll identify by name. My intention with this series is not to rank in the competitive sense but rather to reflect in a fresh way on a range of unexpected experiences I have had on the school visit circuit. I’m hoping to convey a sense of universality among authors and specifying schools could distract from that, plus it could make it seem like I’m slighting some schools when singling out others. However, in the recap posts I often write immediately after school visits, I do name names.)

Actually, Norton wasn’t my first alma matter; it was my third. But in most respects, it was my formative one, and the one I graduated from.

My 2005 presentation at Norton was the first time either my mom or my sister had seen my author presentation. Of lesser significance, my 2007 presentation marked the first time I used PowerPoint instead of a slide projector. (Yes, I know. But hey, I’ve had a web site since 1999. Does that make up for it?)

One student came up to me afterward and told me that I had been the answer to a question (rather the question to an answer) in the school’s customized version of the game show Jeopardy! (Please note that the exclamation point comes with the title; it is not punctuation I chose.) The topic: who created the school’s first mascot?

1983

Another student, age 10, asked me if I knew a Lori Adams (name has been changed to protect the alumni). I said sure, I’d gone from Norton through high school with her. The girl burst into smile and said, "She’s my mommy!" That blew me away because Lori and I were the same age and my oldest child was only one at the time.

After my second Norton visit, the principal said the school was celebrating its 50th anniversary and was inviting back alumni to speak. She asked if I knew anyone (from any field) who might be interested. I e-mailed everyone from grade school I’m still in contact with. I was so hoping some of them would seize the opportunity.

After all, it’s not just authors who should be sharing their careers with elementary students.

Read #4.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #6

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“More Than Principal and Nun”

year: 2005
state: Connecticut






Once upon four years ago, schools would send back my signed contract in the postal mail. (Now most scan and e-mail.)

One Catholic school principal also sent back something extra—a two-page letter to confirm that the school understood my terms and to provide my schedule for the day.

But it wasn’t all business.

First there was a curious line embedded on the schedule between two of my presentations:

"11:30 a.m. Enjoy lunch with the Sisters in the convent"

I loved how she didn’t ask me. She told me—I would not only be eating, but also enjoying, lunch with the sisters.

(And I did. I only wish I’d taken a photo or, better yet, a video. Me and twelve nuns spaced evenly around a rectangular table, eating home-cooked food and talking about my Jewish upbringing.)

Then near the end of the letter, she wrote, “Besides being a principal and nun, I also am an author and cartoonist, as well as a professional magician and an honorary assistant football coach of an NFL team.”

Checklist:

principal - check
nun - check
author - check
cartoonist - check
professional magician - check
honorary assistant NFL coach - check
Olympic bobsledder - oo, so close...

I'm kidding, of course. I was already impressed with principal and nun.

And she wasn’t kidding. After my presentations, she told me how she became each of those things, with visual aids.

The fun of this school didn’t end when I left. Several days later, I received (again in the postal mail) the following photo (8x10):

Even the protective interior envelope the photo was in was addressed with heavenly care:

Read #5.

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10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #7

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“Why He Won”

year: 2008
(swing) state: Ohio






I need to set up this small moment with a big moment that happened the night before—Election Night 2008.

For the first time, I was in a swing state on Election Day. And it made me feel as giddy as if I was on the playground kind of swing.

I’d arrived in Cleveland the Sunday before. A fleet of supersized white vans dominated the motel parking lot. Each of them was marked with exuberant red and blue slogans supporting Barack Obama. I soon learned that students from Morehouse College in Atlanta had driven the vans up to try to swing Ohio their way.

On Election Night, a bunch of the students had gathered in the motel lobby to watch the returns. I happened to be there when it was announced that Obama had won Ohio.

The students, of course, erupted with joy—the next closest swing state could’ve heard them. I felt like I was witnessing history on a deeper level than I would’ve if I had been home.

It wasn’t just because I was the only white person in the room. It was also because I was the only non-campaigner in the room, the only outside observer to their profound sense of accomplishment, which was nonetheless dwarfed by their profound sense of optimism.

I gestured to the TV and said (inadequately) to the student nearest to me, “That’s because of you.” We’ll never know exactly how many votes they influenced, but I like to believe that it was this particular group that pushed Ohio to blue. It reminds me of that Margaret Mead quotation that is some variation on this: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Now to the school visit moment. The next morning, I was standing in the gym of an elementary school. As kids were coming in and filling up the floor, row by row from front to back, two third grade boys sitting two paces from me got my attention.

“Did you know that Barack Obama was elected and he’s our first black president?” the white boy said to me.

I smiled and nodded, but before I could speak, the black boy did. And his response was far wiser than whatever mine was going to be. “Yes,” he said, “but that’s not why he won.”

Read #6.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #8

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

“Eleven in Two Days”

years: 2008, 2009
state: Connecticut






No, not eleven schools—but eleven presentations.

After a January 2008 school visit that a newspaper covered, I got a call from a librarian who asked if I could do a cartooning workshop at her public library. (I spend most of my work hours writing, but I do also continue to draw single panel cartoons for magazines, something I was devoting much more time to in the early 2000s.)

Though I wish money and distance were never factors, the reality was that this library was too far to drive for a single appearance. However, I did ask her for a preferred date and said I’d come if I could book a school or two around it.

I ended up booking four.

Now this is rare, at least in my experience. It’s rare because it’s tough to do. Between testing, vacations, field trips, other assemblies, and so on, a school typically has a limited number of possible dates for an author presentation. So it's a long shot when an author contacts a school and says “I will be in town only on May 7. Are you interested and available?”

I scheduled two schools for a Wednesday and the other two schools plus the library for the next day. The night between, I'd stay at an old bed and breakfast.

First school was a 9 a.m. start—and was nearly two hours away. I like to arrive at least 20 minutes in advance to allow time to both set up and fix any possible problems. So this meant leaving by 6:30 a.m. That’s early for the average writer, normal for people with salaried jobs—or small children. Luckily, I have one of the two.

Day 1, school 1: presentations at 9, 9:45, and 11 a.m.
Day 1, school 2: 12:45, 1:20, and 2:10 p.m.
Day 1, after school: matinee of Iron Man

I was the only guest at the bed and breakfast, it was not haunted, and I was in bed by 9 p.m.

Day 2, choice of shampoos: kiwi, green apple, or carrot root
Day 2, school 1: 9, 9:50, 10:25 a.m.
Day 2, school 2: 12:45 p.m.
Day 2, library 1: 4 p.m.
Day 2, after library: interviewed by newspaper

Each school was gracious for their flexibility in working out this schedule. And, as always, I didn’t feel tired while presenting—but on the ride home, I do often pull into a rest stop or parking lot for a 20-minute nap.

Eleven months later to the very day, elsewhere in Connecticut, I had another five-in-forty-eight-hours. This time, all five were schools and I presented only a single time at each. It was as fun as the previous two-day stamina-tester, yet slightly less exhausting…and mercifully, the schedule was arranged entirely by someone else (an arts center).

Read #7.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #9

Every school I've had the privilege of speaking at has given me a great experience. Some have given me a great story, too.

"Theme Song"

year: 2009
state: Kansas






Because Clark Kent grew up in Kansas, I made my first trip there to promote Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman. The media dubbed it the "Superman's First Home on Earth Tour." ("Media" is misleading. I mean me. No dia. Though two papers did cover it: here and here.)

The final school of my four days in Kansas did something no school I'd spoken at had done before (or has done since).

My presentation was set up in the gym. The 250 or so middle school students filed in and sat on the bleachers. I was the lone man on the floor before them, with the expanse of the empty gym behind me, except for some kind of sound system in the back. When my kind hosts (the principal and media specialist) were ready to introduce me, they surprised me in two ways.

First, someone scurried to the back of the gym and pushed a button on that sound system. The theme from Superman: The Movie filled the room. That music transports me in the cocoon of my iPod, so to hear it blasted in that space for that purpose was, simply, super cool. I had no opening move grand enough to match it.

Then the music stopped. The media specialist, with whom I’d arranged the visit, stepped up to introduce me. In my experience, most school visit intros, regardless of length, are built on the basic facts—where he’s from and what he’s written.

But this one was different.

The media specialist told the story of our “evolution”—how I e-mailed her the previous spring, how she politely but not definitively deflected me, how I tried again, how she had given me a closer look but no commitment, and how I contacted her a third time…at which point, she realized she had some fondness for my efforts…but still thought I was a little too dedicated.

However, she went on to say, something did compel her to take a chance on me. And she came to see that what I was doing was consistent with what I do in all aspects of my career, and what I was about to talk about with the students—the importance of persistence. Only she said it so much nicer.

I was moved that she thought about the process in that way. My presentation added another level to the topic: I mention (as does the book) that Superman was rejected for more than three years before a publisher said yes.

To wrap, back to the music: I find it funny (in a good way) that they played the Superman theme not for a guy who played Superman or even a guy who wrote Superman stories but for a guy who wrote about the two guys who created Superman. Is that six degrees of super-ation?

Read #8.

Read the whole countdown.

10 Most Memorable School Visit Moments: #10

One of the greatest privileges in writing for young people is interacting with young people. I began speaking at schools in 2001 through a New York City volunteer program called Authors Read Aloud and launched my own school visit program in 2004.

It did not get off to an auspicious start, as you are about to see.

Since then, I have visited around 80 schools across 13 states and, like any author, have had experiences from sublime to strange (but mostly sublime).

In honor of those kids heading back to school this week, hot as that is to believe, so begins my first TEN-part series: Most Memorable School Visit Moments.

For the first year or so, I didn’t take photos, but I did take notes. Of course, I have loved something about every school visit. And in a year, this list may be completely different. But for now…

Most Memorable School Visit Moment #10

"Snow Days, Long Drive"

year: 2004
state: Connecticut






To introduce myself to schools, I made my own mailing list. In October 2003, using a school directory web site, I went town by town in my county, calling every public elementary school and asking for the name of the person to whom I should address such a mailing.

In case you missed that word, it was every.

My list ended up including close to 400 schools. Took me the full day every day for a work week to compile.

Then I spent two more days stuffing envelopes and sticking on not one or two but four adhesives—school address, return address, a “teaser” label, and the stamp. The teaser was about a writer and cartoonist wanting to visit their school…so, not such a tease (and therefore, not such a good use of time).

I mailed off those 400…and got one call.

That school, praise be, booked me for January 27, 2004.

Which ended up being the first snowstorm of the season.

We rescheduled for February 6, which—no joke—became the second storm of the season. Look it up.

So we rescheduled for February 25 at 9:30 a.m.

Then one of my best friends had his first child, a son, and scheduled the brit milah (commonly known as the bris) for February 24.

At 5 p.m.

In Washington, D.C.

So my wife and I drove down to D.C., stayed for several hours, then drove the four hours home, arriving in the middle of the night.

The next morning, when I actually could’ve used a snow day, was perfectly clear. So I lugged the slide projector I’d bought on eBay (for $60! Who knew they’d be so expensive?) and did my first official school visit in a state of exhaustion so strong that I came home after and napped for almost as long as the drive from D.C.

A first is always memorable, and that one even more so.

Read #9.

Read the whole countdown.

An urban (and suburban) legend exposed as real

Picture books for older readers do exist:

Well, some in publishing aren't questioning that picture books for older readers exist—rather that a market for them exists. But would there be this many books if there was no market?

Perrot Library, Old Greenwich, Connecticut; 

you know photo is not manipulated because 

my book is not face out

Not pictured: the rest of the section. For more on the subject, see here.