The Literature of True Life: On the Banks of Plum Creek Discussion

In my literature group, we’re currently reading Laura Ingalls Wilders’ On the Banks of Plum Creek. In addition to some basic pioneer and Midwestern history, On the Banks is the core of our unit on main idea and memoir.

A quick primer: in On the Banks of Plum Creek, Laura and her family (Pa, Ma, older sister Mary, and baby Carrie) move into a dugout house on a creek in Minnesota. Laura, the energetic, tom-boy continues to develop her sassy persona and alternately helps Pa around the farm and gets into mischief—an ongoing discussion among my students has been Wilder’s portrayal of Mary as a stick-in-the-mud contrasted by Laura as the fun-loving one. They’re convinced that Wilder overemphasized the “timid, boring” Mary and “fun, rowdy” Laura in the story, just as they, if given the chance, would recreate themselves as more fun than their siblings in their own memoirs.

Anyway, I’ve been impressed at how well my students have understood the fundamentals of this book and have enjoyed working with them on two key activities: portraying main idea through Twitter and dissecting memoir. 

Main Idea Tweets

At the start of the book, each of my students chose a character to portray through a Twitter account. I set up Twitter accounts for them and a few times each week they Tweet the main idea of the chapters as we read them. I connected them with some friends and followers, from my sister and mother to children’s libraries to a bona fide Laura Ingalls Wilder expert, Sarah Uthoff (author of Trundle Bed Tales who gave us a shout out).

Twitter helps my students understand the importance of writing a concise, clear main idea, even as they focus on point of view. One student chose Jack, the family dog, and each chapter he has to write the main idea from the dog’s point of view, even when his character isn’t included or mentioned. One recent Tweet from Jack’s perspective: “I can’t believe Mary lied to Pa like that about playing in the haystack. Pa must be really mad. That is so out of character for Mary.”

As a teaching tool, Twitter has required a lot of supervision, including technology permission slips, setting up accounts under my name and email address, and monitoring their use of the site. They love using Twitter, though, and so far haven’t missed a Tweet.

Memoir and the Reliable Narrator

In the discussions of On Plum Creek, we’ve discussed difference between biography, autobiography, and memoir, which was a new concept for them. We’ve also discussed just how reliable memoirists are, or aren’t.

In a recent discussion, we talked about just how much information Wilder may have changed or omitted when she wrote her story. Along the way, one student brought up the idea that Laura may not be as reliable a narrator as we initially assumed and we’ve discussed how that affects our reaction to her work—how do we understand this account of life on the prairie if we can’t completely trust the memory of the person who wrote it? And, where does autobiography end and fiction begin?

So far we’ve focused on the important events that Wilder includes (a sunrise that was as exciting to her as Saturday morning cartoons are to today’s nine-year-olds) and how clear those memories would be to her as she wrote decades later, as well as the idea that authors can write their stories for a variety of purposes, including entertainment. It’s Wilder’s story to tell, after all.

Here are memoir and Laura Ingalls Wilder Resources that I’ve found helpful:

The Little House Books web site and an eThemes Resource Page for On the Banks of Plum Creek. Also, check out Trundle Bed Tales' Blog Talk Radio.

This Scholastic article about encouraging kids to write their own memoir includes a good blend of reading and writing instruction. 

Who Do Authors Write For?

I recently had a discussion with one of my students about the difference between an author writing for kids and for adults. While reading The Littles by John Peterson, all three of my students (fourth and fifth graders) doubled over with laughter when a character shot an arrow at the mouse (the Littles’ foe) and the arrow landed in the mouse’s butt.

Later, when a student was working on his final summary of the book, I asked him what Peterson had included in the story that had affected him. He returned a blank stare.

“What about the part where the mouse gets shot?” I asked, and he started smiling again. “We read the same part,” I said, “but I didn’t laugh. Why?” Another blank stare.

Peterson, I pointed out, wrote that part for kids, not for adults. I hadn’t cracked a smile when we read that scene, even as the lesson stopped as my students laughed and laughed.

This concept—that authors write scenes, jokes, characters, and books for specific audiences—is a new one for my students who tend to think of writing as something by adults, for adults to impose on children (textbooks, books their teachers choose for them, and so on). Or at least, my student hadn’t thought about what Peterson was thinking when he wrote the scene and decided where the mouse would be shot (to be sure, shooting a mouse in the leg or neck isn’t quite as funny) and the idea that Peterson was imagining him reading the book and not me, came as a surprise.

Reflecting on this, it’s also interesting to me the different things that readers pick out. I read The Littles when I was young and loved the book, but I don’t remember the “mouse shot in butt” scene at all. What I remembered were the Littles living in the walls of the Bigg’s house, the tiny rooms set up in the walls, and the way the Littles solved problems and had adventures all out of sight of humans. When I planned lessons for The Littles, I’d taken everything I remembered into account, but hadn’t at all considered the potential humor in the book. The new insights my students bring to our book groups are perhaps one of my favorite things about teaching novels—I didn’t plan to spend time on that scene at all, but I’m glad it made such an impression.

Book Review: The Whipping Boy by Sid Fleischman

I first read The Whipping Boy (1987) when I was in elementary school and I loved it. I remember reading and rereading it, identifying (as an oldest child) with Jemmy, the orphan boy who is pulled off the streets to take Prince Brat’s beatings. As an adult and teacher, rereading this book, I still love the irreverence of Jemmy, but found more than the obvious connection-to-personal-experience to focus on when I read this with my students.

First, the language in this book is advanced, intelligent, and even a puzzle to figure out. The voices of the characters are distinct, and the narrator is flippant and derisive with his words, creating a dark tone that's fantastic. It’s a great example of how authors create worlds, images, and tone that are unique and memorable.

The message of the importance of reading, literacy, and education escaped me when I was younger and more focused on the concept of the underdog, Jemmy, getting one over on Prince Brat. But, as a teacher, the idea that learning happens even in the most awful of situations (waiting to be beaten for Prince Brat’s refusal to do his work) and that you never know when you’ll use what you learn are two ideas running through this book that my students can relate to.

Finally, the theme of friendship and role reversal comes out clearly in the plot. Jemmy and Prince Brat switch roles from start to finish and, while Jemmy’s character stays much the same throughout the book, we watch Prince Brat change dramatically. On one hand, this is vindication for kids who have a sibling or enemy they at once want vengence on and comradeship with. And, it’s an example of how authors use characters and plot to drive home a point about friendship and life in general—you never know how challenges can change a person.

When I read this with my students I’ll use this Missouri EdThemes page for author info and ideas.