This morning I sat with a fourth grade class and talked about Newbery books. Most were Newbery Honor books and older Newbery Medal winners. All were ones I have read or had read to me.
When I was in fourth grade, my devoted teacher read aloud Misty of Chincoteague (and years later shared his adventure of going to Pony Penning Day), From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, The Headless Cupid, and King of the Wind. He encouraged me to read Strawberry Girl by Lois Lenski (which led to me reading her other books), The Twenty-One Balloons, and The Summer of the Swans. If I were to write my reading autobiography, I would devote a chapter to him.
Talking about these (and many more titles) today, I was transported back to Lincoln Elementary School. The students in front of me listened as I remember listening. They nodded as I must have nodded in agreement about good books and great scenes. They chimed in with comments like "I read that one."
When I finished sharing bits about 40+ books, eager hands reached for titles and moved to comfy chairs to enter new worlds.