A brush with danger

Here’s the illustration from the book that sparked the questions.

My friend Nicole Dotto and I both volunteer for Sit Stay Read (SSR), a literacy organization that encourages Chicago Public School kids to love to read. SSR uses dogs and volunteers in all sorts of clever ways: children read aloud to specially trained therapy dogs, human volunteers visit as “book buddies” to help individual kids, and people like me come as guest readers – the books we read to the kids always have something to do with, guess what? Dogs!

I haven’t been able to visit the schools lately with Whitney like I usually do, but…Nicole to the rescue! She read Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound out loud to fourth-graders at the schools she was at this month, and sent me a fun homemade card listing the questions the kids asked when they got to the page where Hanni prevents me from falling into a hole. “What a perfect treat!” Nicole wrote. I had to agree, and thought I’d share some of those questions with you blog readers as a treat for you, too:

• What if there is a hole and her dog doesn’t see it?
• But what if she just doesn’t?
• What if Hanni falls into the hole first because she’s looking at a bird?
• After she falls, how does she find her toothbrush?

I bet whoever asked that last question has a great smile. Gotta love a kid who, even in the face of danger, keeps her mind focused on dental hygiene.

Whitney and Beth (and Hanni), Safe and Sound

Beth and Whit have settled into a routine up at the Vermont Studio Center.

Hi all — it’s still Mike here. Beth’s taking this work retreat seriously, staying offline as much as she can — but the short of it is, all is well. That staph infection that put a scare into us has passed, thanks to some attentive and caring folks up in Johnson, Vt. at the Vermont Studio Center, and to the the good people at Copley Hospital.Beth spent two nights at Copley, and so did Whitney — which presented a little bit of a logistical challenge when it came to taking Whitney out for “park time.” Well, the hospital staff rose to the occasion. They took Whitney out and played with her while Beth stayed attached to IV pole. And Beth and her publisher — Francine Poppo-Rich at Blue Marlin Publications — thanked them by shipping copies of “Hanni & Beth, Safe and Sound” to all the caring people who helped Beth and Whitney.

One of them — Penny Hester — took care of Whitney for an hour and a half while Beth was in the MRI tube (they were checking to be sure the infection had not spread to muscle and joint tissue). Penny is a speech/language pathologist. After she received her copy of the book, she wrote Beth a very thoughtful note — turns out Penny has a therapy dog that helps with some of her patients:

Dear Beth,

You have no idea how much it meant to me to receive your book. I used it with a patient the next day who had no idea of what being “blind” meant. With limited words he would close his eyes and point to the book-“no see Beau.” Beau is my pet therapy dog and Hanni looks very much like my Beau, in the beautifully illustrated pictures of  your book. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to open his world to a new concept.

That Hanni. Even in retirement, she’s winning friends. So is Whitney — though she’s doing it a little differently…Penny sums up Whitney’s goofball personality pretty well:

I found your sweet, clowning companion an absolute joy. She was hysterical playing with Beau’s squeaky toys. She would push her nose against the toy until it would squeak and then jump back a bit and yip.  I loved spending time with her and I was honored to be entrusted with her. When you instructed me about not letting her off her leash — it brought chills up my spine to imagine you having to worry about that when others provide her with “park time.”

Well, Beth says that thanks to Penny and all the good folks out there, she didn’t have to worry at all.

Let the Braille Games begin

Quick. How many people do you need for a team at a Braille Game?

Whitney, me and the Braille crew. Photo by Richard Robbins.

Six, of course. One for each dot in a Braille cell.

Whitney and I learned that, among many, many other things, at our very first ever Braille Games competition in Milwaukee last Friday. A story in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel explains:

Teams of students rotated from table to table in a made-up world where Braille is written on money, on pizza boxes and orange juice bottles from the grocery store, on clothes in a department store, on “Go Fish” cards and other games.

Braille Games participants came from schools all over southeast Wisconsin, and all of them had significant visual impairments. As Judy Killian, a Braille teacher from Madison, pointed out in the newspaper article, blindness can be very socially isolating. ”After this, they’ll be really enthused,” she told the reporter. “It gets them pretty excited about learning Braille.”

Teams of six spent their morning buzzing from table to table to play Braille bingo, spin a Wheel of Fortune, and spend Braille money on groceries marked with Braille labels. My favorite game was Human Braille Cell, and to help you know how it’s played, here’s a beginner’s understanding of what a Braille cell is made of:

• A Braille cell is six dots arranged in two columns of three dots, just like the number six on a pair of dice.
• To make writing and referencing Braille symbols easier, each dot in the Braille cell has a number.
• Down the left hand side, starting from the top, the dots are numbered 1, 2, 3.
• Down the right hand side, again starting from the top, the dots are numbered 4, 5, 6.

The letter “A” in Braille is only one dot, and it’s the one on the very top of the left hand side, dot one. The letter “L” is a straight line down the lefthand side, dots one, two, and three.

To play Human Braille Cell, each team of six sits in two rows of three. You know, just like the Braille cell. When the emcee calls out “A,” the kid representing Dot One jumps up like a jack-in-the-box. If the emcee calls out “L,” the three kids representing dots one, two, and three all jump up at once. The June Taylor Dancers had nothing on these kids.

Whitney and I didn’t compete, but I’d say we won the best prize of all: we got to meet every kid there! Each one came to our table to have me sign (in Braille, of course) their grand prize for participating: a Braille version of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound to read at home.

A big shout-out to my children’s book publisher, Blue Marlin Publications, and to each of you who have purchased copies of the print version of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound in the past. Blue Marlin Publications donates a portion of the proceeds from every print book sold to Seedlings Braille Books for Children to help them produce high-quality Braille books for children who can’t read print.

Pulling together after the storm

The Lindenhurst first-graders loved Whitney .

After Whitney and I visited Daniel Street School in Lindenhurst, NY last may, first-grade teacher Erica Bohrer published a post about us on her blog. What fun it was to see (okay, hear about) one of our school visits from a teacher’s point of view.

That’s Erica with me and Whitney at Daniel Street School in Lindenhurst last May.

Fast forward to October. Lindenhurst was one of the Long Island towns hardest hit by last month’s storm, and an email from Erica this month assured me that she and the sweet students we met there are okay. “I am so lucky that my family, my friends, and my students are safe,” she wrote. “Many lost their homes, but they still have their health. We are all pulling together.” Erica’s email also explained a fundraiser she is sponsoring: she offers lesson plans, teaching resources and other related materials for teachers on TeachersPayTeachers.com (an open marketplace where teachers buy and sell original teaching materials from each other) and she is donating proceeds from a Hurricane Unit she developed to help with Hurricane Sandy victims in Lindenhurst. Whether you’re a teacher or not, I encourage you to check out Erica’s unit on hurricanes — it’s interesting stuff!

And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree: Erica’s mother, Maria, is a reading teacher in the Lindenhurst school district as well. My Seeing Eye dogs and I have enjoyed visits to Maria’s special readers over the years, and we’ve been to her beautiful home a few times, too. Maria is collecting new children’s books to replenish school libraries devastated by flooding, and you may send new (or almost new) books to her at:

Maria Bohrer
Harding Ave. Elementary School
2 Harding Ave.
Lindenhurst, NY 11757

For more information, you may email Erica’s mom Maria at mbohrer@lindenhurstschools.org

Designed by Kayla

Whitney and I had a ball at the Youth Literature Festival in Champaign last week, and the highlight of the entire event was meeting Kayla, a delightful second grader at Westview

Whitney and Kayla took to one another…. (Photo by Chryso Mouzourou.)

Elementary School. I usually don’t let kids pet Whitney when she has her harness on, but this was an exception. Kayla is blind, and she’d never been near a guide dog before. The only way for her to see how Whitney’s harness works was to touch it.

This spunky little sprite slid right down to the floor to feel Whitney’s ears, too. And her tail. And her back. And her belly. At one point they were face-to-face. “She’s staring at me!” Kayla exclaimed in delight. “That means she likes me.”

It was true. And really, who wouldn’t like Kayla? The two of us had just met, and already I was learning a lot from her. “That must be why people stare at us sometimes,” I said with a laugh. “They like us, too!”

Before we visited Kayla’s school, Whitney and I had been treated to lunch with faculty, students and staff working on Special Friends, and they explained how the six-week program works to help average kids understand and appreciate children with disabilities.

For all six weeks, kindergarten teachers read stories about children with disabilities to their students three times a week. The Special Friends kindergarteners enjoy a 15- minute learning activity about disabilities three times a week, too. And then, the kids take home one of the books they read in class every week to read and discuss with family members. After this six-week concentration on disabilities, the Special Friends people I had lunch with Friday keep track of the kindergartners to determine the short- and long-term effects of this six-week program.

Westview Elementary, where Kayla goes to school, is one of the schools participating in Special Friends. If Kayla’s confidence and self-assurance is any indication, I’d say the six-week program is an unqualified success. When I complimented Kayla’s mom on what a terrific job she is doing raising her daughter, the mom told me Kayla has visited a couple special education students in college classes to give talks. “She comes in, says she’s blind, shows off her white cane, talks about learning Braille and tells them why they oughta like her,” her mom said with a laugh. “And by the end of the session, they do!”

And that’s when I got the idea. I invited Kayla to help us with our presentation during the festival Community Day. And so there we were the next morning, Kayla in one seat, me in the other, Whitney sandwiched between us. When it came time for me to show the SRO crowd how I use the “outside” command to have Whitney guide me to a door, Kayla whipped out her white cane to demonstrate how she finds doors, too. When we returned to our seats, a boy in the audience asked Kayla if she was going to get a dog.

Kayla didn’t answer right away, so I butted in and explained that you have to be at least 16 years old to train with a Seeing Eye dog. The Seeing Eye believes working with a guide dog demands a certain amount of physical, mental, and emotional maturity.

“In order to work with a Seeing Eye dog, you have to be with the dog all the time. You have to be the one who feeds the dog, grooms the dog, takes the dog to the vet when you need to – not your mom or dad, not your brother or sister or your grandparents – you,” I said, explaining how that’s all part of the bonding, how it helps the dog understand how important it is to keep their blind companion safe. “You guys in elementary school and middle school are busy all day learning stuff,” I continued. “You don’t get enough breaks during school to take your dog out to empty or give them the walks they need.”

Kayla is a good listener. She understood, and she had an answer for the boy’s question now. “When I’m 16, I’m getting one,” she declared.

I read from a Braille version of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound to the audience, and then handed it to Kayla as a gift. ”Thank you!” she gushed, and as she busied herself running her fingertips over the pages, I answered questions and explained tricks I use to do things at home: stretching a rubber band over a bottle of conditioner to distinguish it from shampoo, putting safety pins on the tags of anything I wear that’s black (paper clips for white), choosing dresses and skirts made of unique fabrics and interesting textures so I can use my sense of touch to keep track of what I’m wearing.

And then came my favorite question of the morning. A kid in the back row asked, “Kayla, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Kayla’s answer: a fashion designer. “I want to design dresses and skirts,” she told the audience. “I’ll give them to all the girls to make them look pretty.”

Special friends

What a great trip to Denver! In-between a baseball game with a puppy-in-training, a one-on-one tour of the 16th Street Mall with the head security cop there (don’t ask!), a nature walk

Waiting for our ride to the airport in sunny Denver.

with an old friend from my days working at the Kane County Cougars and the discovery of a new favorite beer afterwards (90 Shillings Scottish Ale from Odell’s Brewery in Fort Collins), I somehow managed to find enough quiet time at the hotel to make progress on a new book I’m writing, too.

More on that book later.

For now, all you need to know is that we arrived home in Chicago just in time to unpack and re-pack our bags for this Thursday, when Whitney and I head to the Youth Literature Festival put on by the College of Education at the University of Illinois. This year the Youth Literature Festival is partnering with Special Friends (a federally funded project promoting social acceptance and friendships among kindergarteners with and without disabilities)to sponsor our visit to Mrs. Coash’s kindergarten class at Westview School in Champaign.

I’ve known Mary Coash for years – her son Joey had severe and profound disabilities, and he was in self-contained special education classes with our son Gus. Like many other kids Gus introduced us to in his early years, Joey died too young. Joey’s short life inspired his mother to get a degree in education, and the kindergarten class Mary Coash teaches now mixes children with and without disabilities. After Whitney and I visit Mrs. Coash’s kindergartners on Friday, we’ll meet one-on-one with a girl who is blind and graduated from Mrs. Coash’s kindergarten a couple years ago. She’s a big second grader now and enrolled in a class with friends she made in kindergarten.

Whitney and I will be part of the festival’s Community Day on Saturday, October 6, too. Our sessions there are free and open to the public, and the Youth Literature Festival also sent special invitations encouraging parents, caregivers and participants involved in the Special Friends Project to come. I hope they do – I’d love to meet them!

Community Day takes place at the I-Hotel at 1900 S. First Street in Champaign, and our first presentation goes from 10:45 a.m. to 11:15 a.m. Our second session goes from 11:30 a.m. to 12:15 p.m. Both of our sessions meet in the “Excellence Room,” and I gotta admit: that makes me a little nervous. Talk about pressure! If you live anywhere near Champaign, I welcome you to come and see if Whitney and I can live up to our billing…

Hint: It’s not a shade of grey

Cherie Colyer (author of teen novel Embrace) regularly interviews fellow children’s book authors on her blog. This week she interviewed…me!

Cherie asked a lot of good questions, and I especially appreciated having the opportunity to answer one
about who my hero is:

My mother is my hero. I am the youngest of seven, my father had a heart attack and died at home a week after my third birthday. Flo had not graduated from high school and worked to get her GED degree and then held a job as an office clerk until she was 70 in order to raise us on her own. The heroic part is that she never complained to us about her lot in life. She took naps when she could, though, always telling us she was “just resting her eyes.” I follow her lead: naps are good when you can get ‘em!

Flo on her birthday. Those naps did her a world of good: she’s a young 96 years old.

You can link to Cherie’s blog to read the entire interview. Cherie was thorough –she even asked me what my favorite color is, and I know you Safe & Sound blog readers are just itching to find out.

Thanks for all the attention, Cheri– you make me feel like a celebrity!

Same great content, four different reading levels

A picture page from “Lend Me a Paw.” (Photo courtesy National Geographic School Publishing.)

Hey, I have a new book out! National Geographic School Publishing used a true story about my previous Seeing Eye dog Harper in a new supplementary textbook called Lend Me a Paw, and it was just published last month. Lend Me a Paw is part of National Geographic School Publishing’s new Ladder Series, which they describe as a “laddered approach to leveled readers in order to differentiate for a shared experience.”

Huh?

Let me try to explain. Levelers at National Geographic School Publishing took my story “One Smart Dog” and produced it in four different reading levels:

• above level,
• on level,
• 1 grade below level, and
• 2 grades below level.

Each book is laid out exactly the same — the photographs and graphics are identical in each version, but the wording and sentence structure varies to match the reading level of the reader. Above-level readers might read one version, and students in the same classroom who are still working out vocabulary and grammar can tackle a version that is less complicated. Their web site describes it like this: “Same great content, four different reading levels.” In the end, a classroom of kids with different reading skills will all be able to discuss the content together as a class.

Still with me? Maybe an example will help. Here’s the intro to the story I wrote:

I’m blind. Even when my eyes are open, all I see is the color black. So I use my other senses to do things I enjoy, like writing books. My computer is adapted with assistive technology for people who are blind. A robotic voice parrots the letters I type, and I use my sense of hearing to listen to what I write. When I’m finished with a story, I press a button, and…voila! My computer reads what’s on the screen, and I can hear – and fix—my mistakes.

I do most of my writing at home, but I travel to interview people and research stories. That’s where Harper comes in.

And here is that section with the content adjusted for striving readers:

I’m blind, so I use my other senses to write books. My computer has a special program for people who are blind. A voice repeats the letters I type. It also reads what’s on the screen. I write at home, but sometimes I travel, too. That’s where Harper comes in.

Another example. Here’s what I wrote for above-level readers, from later on in the story:

Harper and I were heading down a city sidewalk once when he stopped for no reason. Well, no reason that I could come up with. I felt ahead with my foot. Nothing there. I waved my arm in front of me. No barricade. “Harper, forward!” I urged. I had an appointment, and I didn’t want to be late. “Hup, hup!” Harper stood motionless. “Right, right!” I tried, hoping Harper might scurry me around whatever he saw in the way. No luck.

Just then I heard a truck door slam. Heavy footsteps hurried toward us. “Watch out, ma’am! Stay put!” The truck driver offered his arm.

And now, here’s that same part for readers who are one grade below level:

Harper and I were walking along a city sidewalk. All of a sudden he stopped. I felt ahead with my foot. Nothing there. I waved my arm in front of me. Nothing there, either. “Harper, forward!” I urged. Harper did not move. “Right, right!” I tried. No luck. Just then I heard a truck door slam. Someone hurried toward us. “Watch out, ma’am!” The truck driver offered his arm.

What harm did Harper see in front of us? What danger had he saved us from? Guess you’ll have to order the book to find out!

Textbooks in this new Ladders program cover some of the Common Core Standards (a set of education standards adopted by 40+ states) for English Language Arts. Elementary school teachers who have some students in class who are learning English have told me this laddered approach could come in handy for them, too. I’m guessing it could be used in adult literacy classes as well.

Lend Me a Paw isn’t available commercially, but you can purchase copies on line for around $6 a copy. . Here’s a hint: when I ordered mine, I had better luck phoning my order in at 1-888-915-3276. Ask for isbn number 978-07362-95116.

P.S. If I look unusually tall in the photos, don’t blame the National Geographic photographer. I wrote the story last summer after I broke my foot, and when it came time for the photo shoot, I was sporting orthopedic shoes with three-inch soles. My podiatrist insisted I wear those clodhoppers for weeks after my cast came off!

Art over adversity

I was extremely flattered when author and illustrator Sheila Welch asked me to participate in a book festival she was putting together in Freeport, Ill, and oh so disappointed to have to say no: Freeport is far away from Chicago and had no public transportation options. As you are about to find out from this guest post, Sheila Welch is one determined and resourceful woman, reluctant to take no for an answer. If my Seeing Eye dog Hanni and I took a commuter train as far west as it goes, she said she and her husband Eric could pick us up and drive us the rest of the way.

That car ride back in 2008 gave us a lot of time to talk, and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. I recently asked Sheila to write a guest post on what it’s been like to continue her career as an artist after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. No surprise here: she rose to the challenge.

The positively best therapy available for me

by Sheila K. Welch

The puzzling symptoms began a decade ago. In the fall of 2004, I had trouble autographing books. Strange. My mother could write her name with a flourish in her late 80s. I noticed, while drawing illustrations, certain movements were awkward and difficult. A few months later, I developed a slight tremor in my right hand.

“Waiting to Forget” is available at namelos press

My family doctor seemed confident that it was nothing serious, and I wanted to believe her. By the spring of 2007, however, waving, clapping, brushing my teeth, quick sketching, handwriting, and typing had all become either impossible or laborious tasks. I could sign my name, but only if I did it slowly and deliberately. And only if no one was watching.

Something was obviously wrong. I suspected Parkinson’s. My husband and I had a dear friend who’d had early onset Parkinson’s Disease (PD), so I was acquainted with this progressively debilitating condition. I went to a neurologist and he told me that I definitely had PD.

Living with Parkinson’s is a balancing act. Medications and exercises have been developed to control many of the symptoms. However, the medications alter brain chemistry and can result in nasty side effects such as extreme drowsiness, and, with prolonged usage, involuntary movements and psychosis.

My future looked bleak. Feeling myself losing abilities that had come naturally and easily for so long, I went into creative overdrive: I revised one novel manuscript. Wrote several stories. Finished revisions on a chapter book. Made illustrated dummy books.

Next I completed a novel that was close to my heart. Several of our children were adopted at school age, and they were the inspiration for WAITING TO FORGET, published by namelos in 2011. Kirkus Book Reviews describes it as “a poignant, realistic tale of child-survivors.” Bank Street College and Pennsylvania School Library Association have included it on their best-books-of-the-year lists.

While working with namelos to get WAITING TO FORGET published, I wrote a picture book manuscript and began sketching illustrations. On New Year’s Day last year, I resolved to work
on a memoir for my family. One hundred words a day added up to 36,500 by December 31.

This spring, I’m doing rough sketches for one of my manuscripts and working on a major revision of a novel. I also created two drawings for an exhibition appropriately called “Art over Adversity.”

While all of these projects take far longer than they would have before my Parkinson’s diagnosis, I’ve discovered that the creative process improves my mood, and that helps me feel better

Sheila’s painting “Dream Beach” was displayed at
the “Art over Adversity” exhibition for Parkinson’s awareness month.

physically. Stress exacerbates all the symptoms of Parkinson’s, but when I’m involved in illustrating a book or I’m writing a short story, the stress level drops.

Equally important: I’ve learned to modify and adapt. I still do presentations at schools and conferences, but I don’t do live demonstrations of my illustrations — I display a sketch I’ve brought from home. To avoid the stress of travel, I use Skype to interact with kids. When the local library hosted the launch of my novel, I offered pre-autographed books for sale.

I’m incredibly fortunate to have my husband Eric. He drives me everywhere, solves my computer issues, and does the household chores. With his help, I have the time and energy to be creative. Our seven children have all been super supportive. The youngest, whose early life was similar to that of my characters in WAITING TO FORGET, now lives in Texas. He has read the novel and tells me that it’s a “real, true” story, which is my most treasured review.

A few weeks ago, I began treatment with a more powerful medication for Parkinson’s disease, and now I can use my right hand to touch type. There’s talk in the PD world of a new medication that might be neuro-protective, but in the meantime, I will happily stick with the positively best therapy available for me — drawing and writing.

Keep your hopes high

When the packet of thank you notes from the fifth graders at St. Mary of the Lake School arrived in the mail, a light bulb went on over my head: take them along to my presentation at Northern Illinois University!

That's us with 4th, 5th, and 6th graders at St. Mary of the Lake

The undergraduates in the class Whitney and I visited last week at NIU are studying to become elementary school teachers, and their children’s literature class is three hours long. After talking to them for the first hour, I bribed them with the letters: I’d give them a ten-minute break if each of them agreed to select a random letter from the pile and read it out loud when they returned. They jumped out of their seats at the opportunity.

The exercise of reading the letters out loud was educational for all of us. I, for one, learned to bring apples with me to future elementary school visits. Let me explain. During the Q&A at St. Mary’s, one of the fifth graders asked how I can use a knife in the kitchen without cutting myself. I knew the kids understood fractions, so I described holding on to the very edge of an apple with one hand while I cut it in half, then holding on to the very edge of the half to cut that into quarters, then eighths. “When I’m done, the pieces aren’t all the same size, but they still taste good!” I laughed, spreading my thumb and forefinger to show that some pieces might be more like thirds, others like teeny-tiny-tenths. “But at least I can say I sliced that apple all by myself.”

Almost every thank-you letter the undergrads read aloud to me mentioned cutting an apple. The future teachers learned how much elementary school children learn when they are exposed to different sorts of people and different ways of doing things. Each college kid seemed to take a sweet sort of pride in the fifth grader whose letter they read aloud, but none could compete with this one, written by a girl named Cindy (the letter is spelled out for screen readers below, also):

The note from Cindy.

To my blind blog readers, the note scanned above reads: Dear Miss Finke, I really enjoyed having you come to our school. It was amazing how you said you would cut the apple. I was also amazed when you said you would go grocery shopping with your husband. Also how you could figure out what things were missing. I was shocked at how you type really fast without making a mistake. This may not be about you, but Whitney is well-trained Seeing Eye dog. You are also a well-coordinated woman. The doctors might have said that there isn’t any cure, but keep on hoping. I tell you this because I passed through surgery, and I’m hoping to get better sooner. Keep your hopes high.

PS: You can check out the guest blog I wrote for The Bark in April to read about the first and second grade classes Whit and I visited at St. Mary’s, too.