SPRING ISSUE OF THE MISSOURI READER Vol. 44, Issue 2 | Page 14

Special STEM Section

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Special STEM Section

As a little girl, I had an old copy of Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Miline. I can still imagine the dusty blue cloth cover, the faded gold letters of the title and the crease pressed into the spine from propping my chin on the pages as I laid on my pink carpet—reading and sometimes falling asleep. I read each tale and thought how wonderful it would be if my doll, Marie, would come to life and take me on adventures just as Pooh did with Christopher Robin. As I read, I was fascinated by the words I saw on each page. Often I would “pretend” to be a writer, creating my own stories of adventure. The blank pages of filler paper in the front and back of the book were my writing canvas. I found myself attempting to mimic that style of writing. Sometimes, I even found delight in filling empty pages by copying the words from the book. I believe that somewhere in those experiences with literacy at home, I had inherent inclinations towards writing.

On Saturday afternoons as a child, I could most often be found with my Papa Byrd. I reveled in listening to him tell stories about growing up in the deep south of Louisiana  with all of his brothers and sisters. My grandfather was an amazing storyteller. This was a skill he artfully used to drive home the magnificence of God’s love each Sunday in his sermons as a preacher at St. James Baptist Church in Alton, IL. I could sit for hours watching my Papa perched at his little table on the back porch, filling the yellow pages of his legal notebook with carefully selected Bible verses woven together with family stories to share with the congregation.

I offer these accounts of my childhood to demonstrate how the influence of my home and family experiences gave way to me writing and self-publishing my first children’s book Like Sunshine On an Otherwise Miserable Day.When I decided I was ready to write my first book, I drew on my experiences with literacy as a child. That included my ever-growing desire to see characters in books who looked like me. In the school and classroom, library books like this were non-existent.  My Sweet Valley Twins were two pretty, mocha-skinned, little girls that looked just like me.

As Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop describes, (black) children often experience books as windows and glass sliding doors, walking into new and familiar worlds or imagining themselves as a part of the story the author creates and recreates. However, I felt that not often enough did black children get to experience books as mirrors. Those moments where they see themselves, their families, and their communities in books and reading then offers “self-affirmation.” This is an experience I believe all children deserve to have, and a few years ago, I found myself ready to make my contribution.

I had the fortunate opportunity to be mentored by the late Patricia C. McKissack. My father and Mrs. McKissack took piano lessons from the same teacher. My father shared with me that once they performed a piano duet in a recital together. He recalled that they were both very nervous but ended up doing really well. The day I decided to reach out to her, I found myself a bit nervous too. I wondered if she would be open and responsive or if my call would seem burdensome; I mean, she was a world-renowned children’s book author.

I decided to take that leap of faith, and what a blessing it turned out to be. It had been raining the day I called her. In fact, it had poured down rain the entire day before too. I hoped that the dreary weather would not be indicative of the call I was about to make. When Mrs. McKissack answered the phone, her voice and demeanor were warm, inviting, and familiar. Our conversation flowed like one I would have had with my grandmother or a great-aunt. We set plans to meet, and I was beaming with excitement. As we ended our call that day, Mrs. McKissack exclaimed that our conversation felt just “like sunshine on an otherwise miserable day.” Her words that day meant more to me than I would ever be able to express to her. In the subsequent months, I would meet with Mrs. McKissack several times. During our time together, she imparted her love for reading and writing, her love for her family, her love of children and their voices, and her love of sharing black cultural and historical experiences through children’s literature. Having had those moments with her, I considered myself incredibly fortunate.

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