Sunday, August 11, 2013

reaching for sun

reaching for sun

Juvenile fiction
On the first page of Tracie Vaughn Zimmer's reaching for sun
protagonist Josie describes hiding in the girl's bathroom at school
until after the late bell. Why? She doesn't want to be seen going
into the special ed classroom. She's tired of being ostracized and
picked on by her peers. She's also tired of the endless occupational
and speech therapy. She has cerebral palsy but resents being defined
by it. Rather being seen as a wilting petunia she wants to be an
amazing wildflower.
Home where Josie lives with her mother and grandmother (Her
father took off quite early on, leaving her with no memories and the
unanswered question: did her disability scare him away.) is not always
a refuge. Her mom, a junior college double major with a job) is
rarely ever home. When she is she's always nagging Josie about
schoolwork and therapy. The kitchen table is her favorite place to
pounce. The land surrounding her home that used to belong to her
family has been sold off and parceled into house lots. Some of her
favorite spots are routinely destroyed by bulldozers.
Ironically one of the McMansions has something special to offer
Josie. A boy her age moves in. Unlike her school peers, Jordan sees
beyond the disability to the strengths and traits that make her a
unique individual. Could this be what it's like to have a friend?
Josie's story is told beautifully in free form poetry rich in
the imagery of gardening and growing things. This is a literary
journey very well worth taking.
On a personal note, I went to Kahbang yesterday. It's an annual event
on the Bangor waterfront: a festival of music, art, and films. Most
of it is free. It's so much like the happenings of my young hippie
years right down to the colorful sun dresses. It's truly worthy of
celebration.
A great big shout out goes out to Sharon Brady, special ed director
extraordinaire, her second-in-command, my chum Christine, and her crew
for what a huge difference they make.
Julia Emily Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

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