Children's Literature

"Here is James Henry Trotter when he was about four years old."

We began reading James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl yesterday at the park with the kids from the shelter I am working at. I had prepared well for our readings from this book. I prepared songs to accompany the story's exciting moments and to engage the children in the character development. I circled difficult words that I could emphasize to facilitate vocabulary enrichment. I even wrote in the margins a series of penetrating questions that would help the children relate to Jame's experience. But as I read to these kids, I saw the limit to my endeavors in preparation, and I witnessed a child engage with the story in a deeper way than I expected - to a level that maybe I wasn't prepared to go.

It should be clear that this story is brutal. In the first page the cute 4-year-old's parents are eaten by a rhinoceros. So James is entrusted to the care of two wicked Aunts who beat him frequently, give him little to eat, and say things to him like, "you miserable creature" and "get out of my sight, you disgusting little worm." Obviously underlying this plot is the heaviness of abandonment, loneliness, and fear, which Roald Dahl vividly describes. While I may incorporate this book into the curriculum of one of my future classrooms..say third grade, I don't think I'll read the first two chapters again to a group that includes three- and four-year-olds.

But as we concluded our reading, the question of a nine-year-old girl, one of our kids, gave me pause. She asked, "Is this a true story?" Quickly, I muttered that it was fiction but that James experience was sadly true for many children. She nodded in truthful agreement. And then we quickly transitioned to a rousing game of "red light/green light."

I've been thinking a lot this girl's sensitivity, her quickness to note the reality of James' situation. What prepared her to empathize so keenly with children who face what James is going through at the beginning of the book? This is what troubles me. Has this girl experienced anything similar to James' childhood? I know that she and her brother just got reunited with their parents two weeks ago. We were there the day of their joyful reunion. It pains me to consider the possibility that she has suffered separation from parents, maybe even like James, prior to this summer. It concerns me that what I ignorantly thought to be a silly, imaginative book could have serious, real connections to the lives of the kids.

Yet somehow, I am scared to ask her about it. I want to maintain professional distance. I don't want to delve into her potentially broken childhood history. I don't want to get too close...too attached. I just want to play with the kids, and design literacy experiences, give them love, even share the gospel with them. But I recognize that I can't do any of these things if I am unwilling to truly love the kids: to listen to them, to hear them, to know them, to learn from them, to appreciate them for who they are.

I prayed a lot about this last night and today God gave me the courage to ask some deeper questions while we were all walking to the pool. She openly told me about she and her brother's history of foster care - what each of the three homes were like and how good it was to be back with her mom and dad.

There's always more to ask and more to learn (I'm especially sensing the need to talk with the little brother), but I hope this will be the start of more open, trusting, and healing conversations, for me and for the kids.

I think we'll have to keep reading the book too.

A quote from Robert Lupton: "I know I must continue touching and being touched...somewhere concealed in these painful interactions are the keys to my own freedom."