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Milton Elementary School

Yesterday I did a school visit at Milton Elementary School in New Hampshire--where I went to school.  I spoke to all the K-5th graders about my books and about being an author.

With the littlest ones, I started by saying, "Raise your hand if you go to Milton Elementary School!"

What is so sweet about K and 1 is that they all raised their hands with such huge wide-eyed enthusiasm, "Me!" "I DO!" 

After I had them put their hands down, I said, "You know what?  ME, TOO!  I went to Milton Elementary School." 

  It was fun to be back.  I haven't really changed all that much, though.  As I drove there early yesterday morning, I was eating a banana in the car. I can't eat dairy and sugar before I speak, so bananas make a good, easy breakfast. 

BUT. . . .

The banana broke as I was eating it, and it landed on my black pants.  Of course, I was driving so I just wiped at it.  Ever tried to get banana smoosh out of your clothes?  I just spread it around. 

So the school introduced me as "Milton Elementary's Famous Author!"  And all I could think was how I had banana smoosh on my pants! 

It was a lovely day, though.  One of my classmates works at the school, and Betty gave me a tour.  Some things are very different, but others were so recognizable:  the staircases with curving banisters, the old, creaky wooden windows, the painted bricks down to the girl's basement, the nurse's office.

  This was both my third grade and my sixth grade classroom. Randy Pomeroy showed me how to make a spitball one day in third grade, and we practiced launching them out these windows--for which we were caught and made to go clean up.  That story is a good reminder that even good kids make bad choices sometimes. 

  I felt like I should get on the bus and let it take me home :-) 

My daughter said once about my readers, "Mom, you write books for smart rural kids."

I thought about that comment yesterday with the eight young writers who had lunch with me. Every one of them a smart, rural kid--just like I was all those years ago.

One of the students asked me who had been my favorite teacher, and I told them I had many great teachers, but I remember my third grade teacher very fondly, because she read to us every afternoon.  I discovered lots of great books that year. One day she was reading HURRY HOME, CANDY.  It's a story about a dog who gets separated from his owners and has to find his way home. 

I have a vivid memory that I was doodling as Mrs. Keitt read, and suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence.  I looked up to see why.  She was crying.  It was a profound moment for me to see what a book could do. 

Today when teachers write to me and say they cried reading RULES or TOUCH BLUE to their classes, I think of that moment in third grade, and I remember how powerful and important it was for me. 

Growing up, I don't remember ever meeting an author, so it was great to say to the kids yesterday--

"Authors come from here."