I'm thinking specifically of the images that continue to come out of Haiti and the ongoing discussion about the appropriateness of what newspapers like the Washington Post and the New York Times have published. There have been numerous comments shared, with people wanting to avoid having children confront the destruction in Haiti. I'm just not sure it's possible.

What may be possible, however, is to share a sense of hope with children. Life in Haiti — especially for the children — has never been easy. I was reminded of that when I came across a book intended for rather young children.

Selavi — That Is Life: A Haitian Story of Hope, (Kids Can) a picture book by Youme Landowne is based on actual homeless children in Port-au-Prince and how they lived and grew in spite of their country's difficult history. It is a story nonetheless of resilience and hope.

A piece by the Reading Rockets staff suggests additional approaches to developing empathy and understanding. (The books suggested are about Haiti and about natural disasters and seem likely to address various concerns by children.)

Children also need to feel empowered; that they can do something — even a small something — to make a difference, so here are a few suggestions that may start children thinking that simple actions can help:

They can read about a 13-year old who is encouraging other young people to raise money for Haiti.

How one boy in Ghana helped his entire village is shared (on several levels) in One Hen — How One Small Loan Made a Big Difference (Kids Can) by Katie Smith Milway.

The story of one woman's action that started an entire movement in her native Kenya is told in an accessible way in Jeannette Winter's Wangari's Trees of Peace: A True Story from Africa (Harcourt).

Listen to the Wind (Dial) by Susan Roth is the stunningly illustrated picture book telling how Greg Mortenson built a school one stone at a time in a remote Pakistan village, bringing positive change.

Small things mean a lot. We can help children feel less powerless in the face of great difficulty by talking with them, sharing concrete ideas, helping them act. And it just may start by sharing books.

Anyway, because I was one of the 15 Newbery Committee members, this Spring I will have the honor of meeting a very special reader.

Laura is 4th grader from Indiana who has set a goal for herself: to read all of the Newbery Medalists. By my math, there have been 88 winners since the start. Not only is that a lot of books, a lot of them are very long and quite different than books written more recently.

Times change, tastes change, and some say children change (I'm not so sure about that but that's another conversation). It is true, however, that while there is a lot more competing for young people's time and attention, adults remain influential.

Laura is reading all of the Newbery books because her mom read them all when she was in middle school. But, as Laura says, (pardon me Laura's mom!) that was a long time ago and the list is now longer — and back then, middle school started in 7th grade!

I didn't touch some of the Newbery winning books until I was an adult (way past 7th grade!) and still struggled with some, but loved others. Laura's insight (noted on her blog) has inspired me reread and rethink some of the earlier winners.

I hope that Laura will revisit some of these books in a few years to decide if she thinks they hold up, if they're still gripping adventures, and if she'd continue to recommend them — if she thinks that they are indeed "distinguished."

But as a member of the 2010 Newbery Committee, I'm pleased that she likes When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead (Wendy Lamb/Random). That distinguishes the committee's work.

I was one of the 15 people on the 2010 Newbery Medal Award Committee. It's been an intense few days. Literally an entire year of reading, thinking about books, and considering what makes one stand out — frankly, how to decide which one book will receive this award — all culminating with with intense, focused, and amazingly stimulating discussion. Actually, hours of discussion from each of 15 very different (though all articulate) voices.

What emerged was one Newbery Medal (you know them by the gold seals on the cover) and four Honor books which now wear the silver. Most of these books are more appropriate for older readers.

The Medalist When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead (Random) is part mystery, part time travel, and thoroughly intriguing. The Honor books are equally intriguing but way different.

Phillip Hoose's Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice (FSG) (recommended on the www.AdLit.org and won the National Book Award as well as others announced today) is an eye-opening, thoroughly researched, and powerful look at a teen and a time in U.S. history. Jacqueline Kelly's first novel, The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate (Holt), introduces a girl who hopes to evolve into a scientist, not necessarily a typical aspiration in 1899. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin (Little Brown) blends traditional Chinese folktales into Minli's exciting journey during which she changes as do all around her. And finally, The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg by Roderick Philbrick (Scholastic) is a gem of historical fiction in which humor is used to introduce the Civil War and its horrors.

Another committee, structured like the Newbery, awarded the Caldecott Medal to the most distinguished picture book. The Caldecott Medal was awarded to a truly remarkable book (which is also one of my personal favorites and perhaps one of the best books ever in my opinion) — The Lion and the Mouse by Jerry Pinkney (Little Brown). Three Caldecott Honor Awards were given as well. Marla Frazee illustrated All the World by Liz Scanlon (Beach Tree) and Pamela Zagarenski illustrated Red Sings from Treetops: A Year in Colors, written by Joyce Sidman (Houghton) were named Caldecott Honors.

Exciting time for the authors, illustrators, and those of us who had the privilege to work with these people. That's it from Boston. I'll be back home tomorrow and write more about the goings on here. But I do wonder if the 14 others I served with and I will ever quite see books in the same way or if we'll ever have the opportunity to focus so clearly on them. Either way, hats off to those people who make it their life's work to bring the best books to children — and each of us strives to be part of that community!

The New York Times reported earlier today that the new ambassador was to be appointed today — at the Library of Congress. I'm not sour grapes, though. One of the reasons this posting is so late is that I got to attend the program at which Ambassador Jon Scieszka became emeritus and Katherine Paterson began her two-year term.

Both spoke. Both are passionate in their commitment to young readers, books, and the link between them. Both have been critically acclaimed. (Katherine Paterson is one of only five writers to have been awarded the prestigious Newbery Medal twice.)

It is also readily apparent that the current (or as Jon Scieszka might say, reigning) ambassador and the immediate past ambassador are polar opposites.

What amazes and delights me is that the very funny, quite irreverent, unpredictable Jon Scieszka and the thoughtful, considered, slyly humorous Katherine Paterson both write books that are widely read by a range of readers.

And notably, both are fine representatives in the field of literature for young people. I think this just goes to show how rich the literature really is and allows the promotion of books and reading beyond the ranks of those already engaged.

During Paterson's talk I chuckled and got weepy, once simultaneously, as she challenged readers of all ages to "read for life." Since Katherine Paterson is by far more eloquent than I could ever be, I ask you to consider the many meanings of this simple yet complex statement.

Finally, it's worth recalling one of Jon Scieszka's wishes for this ambassadorship; that is (and forgives me for paraphrasing!), some day may there be more — or at least as many — ambassadors as there are young readers.

It may happen if all adults and young readers themselves become ambassadors for books and stories — though perhaps without a large inscribed medal! Who knows?

Meantime, kudos to the Library of Congress and the Children's Book Council for backing the idea — and heartfelt thanks to our Ambassadors Paterson and Scieszka for their commitment. They are more than national ambassadors — they are national treasures.

I was reminded of the season of giving when I read a recent picture book by Jan Fearnley entitled Milo Armadillo (Candlewick).

In it, a little girl named Tallulah wants a pink fluffy rabbit for her birthday. Since one cannot be found, Tallulah's grandmother knits one for her. And in spite of her valiant effort, Grandma ends up making a cute, pink, fluffy armadillo that she names Milo. Not unexpectedly, Tallulah's initial disappointment turns to missing Milo when he tries to return to Grandma.

I thought of how hard adults try to please children and the difference between what a child's vision of what they want is and the reality of the gift. I remembered my own son when he was picture book age. He remembered then and still remembers not the gifts he received but the time we shared playing and reading together.

One of our holiday traditions was (and remains) reading favorite stories — including Clement Moores' A Visit from Saint Nicholas, also known as The Night Before Christmas.

There's a newer edition that delights readers of all ages — with delicate paper cutouts by Niroot Puttapipat that pop up to create magic around the familiar poem. While it wouldn't hold up to a young child's rough hands, any illustrated version of this poem as well as many others are wonderful to start a family tradition of reading and sharing on cold, snowy winter nights.

And my guess is that the memories made will last longer than any toy given.

I do suppose that's true. I can't think of many subjects that are off limits for children's books these days.

But one thing I don't think has changed is that readers — young and old alike — hate being beaten over the head with messages. Any book, regardless of whether it's fact or fiction, has to engage readers. Otherwise, it's read once then quickly (or purposely) forgotten.

I mean, think about the books that hold up really well but provide, as this blog suggests, values. Milne's Winnie the Pooh (Dutton) is a sweet series of vignettes that provides insight into human (even the four-legged type) nature and gentle wisdom. This is achieved with great humor and downright terrific stories — just right to read aloud to children as young as I'd say 5 years.

(I finally read the authorized, "new" Pooh (by David Benedictus). Feel free to disagree, but I thought that the characters had changed fundamentally albeit subtly. It felt like what someone thought Pooh and the Hundred Acre Wood should be — even the illustrations feel like this to me.)

The list goes on and on. There is Good Night Moon by Margaret Wise Brown (HarperCollins) and Williams Steig's Sylvester and the Magic Pebble (Atheneum) — both comments on home and family and permanence (though admittedly for different ages). And there are contemporary books and characters that are destined to become modern classics like Mo Willems' Knuffle Bunny and the Clementine books by Sara Pennypacker (both Hyperion).

So, let's not let message and "values" and "unconventional" get top billing over story. Those told with humor, verve, and in rich language make memories and teach what we want most for children — that books and stories are enjoyable and can create lifelong learners.

It also signals the end of a year and the start of a new one.

And (drum roll!) on January 5, a newly appointed National Ambassador for Young People's Literature will begin his or her term. The announcement will be made at the Library of Congress. Jon Scieszka will end his highly successful term as the first ever U.S. ambassador.

As far as I'm concerned, every adult should be an ambassador for books for young people — especially at this time of year.

After all, it is the season of giving, so why not give stories? They come in lots of forms, can be factual or fictional, are found in books — and lots of them are available in audio. They can be read, told, or listened to together. Most important, these are the gifts that keep giving long after the holiday has passed.

Holidays are made of memories. Memories are made of stories. So share a story; make a memory. Reading Rockets has some book suggestions to get you started.

And stay tuned to find out who will be our next National Ambassador for Young People's Literature!

It was also a time to catch up with young people who were home from college for the long weekend.

One young woman I've known for most of her life is now a freshman at a Virginia university, pursuing her interest in studio art and art history. She's always been introspective and rather quiet, but she and I have always shared an interest in the arts including literary.

We've shared books and ideas for a long time, probably since she was in 2nd or 3rd grade. It's been a special kind of friendship that started with books. And that continues.

She asked if I'd read Phillip Pullman's Golden Compass (Knopf), that a boy at school had said it was better than the movie, what did I think. I said I personally preferred the book, that it was much richer… which lead to other tangents.

(When she and her mom left our house, this young woman was carrying not only the Golden Compass but its sequels as well as other books that we'll probably talk about during her winter break.)

Books brought us close when she was young and that is still important to our relationship.

I wonder how many adults share bonds with children because of books.

I also wonder how many adults stop reading books for young people once the kids in their lives start read independently — and what they miss if they do.

In any case, I'm eternally grateful to retain a connection to this young woman and many others — young and older alike — over books.

That's something to give thanks for at any time of the year.

As I was re-examining books on my shelf, I came across a stunning book with the same title but an all together different subject. Hook by Ed Young (Neal Porter/Roaring Brook) is about an abandoned egg that hatches into an eagle.

The chickens recognize this ugly little guy is meant for greater things, and so with the help of an Indian boy, is taken up to the top of a pueblo and gains his wings — and his rightful place in the natural order of things.

Stunning illustrations appear to be pastels and echo images of the West and a people that once lived there. But it's the soaring eagle that that stayed with me. The story is a little like an ugly duckling story, Western style.

And that reminded me the November is Native American Heritage Month — a time to celebrate a living people and their rich heritage. There are terrific resources on Reading Rockets and its sister site, Colorín Colorado as well as from the U.S. government.

But I'd like to see more books by Native people written and available — they are severely underrepresented in books for children and young adults — but I'm flummoxed as to how to encourage it.

Any ideas would be most appreciated.

It brings up a much broader question; that is, why is the graphic form so popular with children of all ages?

Maybe because it allows readers to find narrative — of fact and fiction — in a form that uses print and image. (A website from the UK includes picture books as well as novels in building literacy.)

And there are lots of graphic novels created especially for young children. Some are originals, while others are re-dos of traditional novels.

Newbery honor winner Jennifer Holm and her brother, Matthew Holm, have created a series of graphic novels about Baby Mouse (Random), a sassy young rodent with very human characteristics. Readers (and in my experience boys and girls) as young as 6 enjoy following Baby Mouse's exploits.

Younger children, say ages 3-6, can easily relate to another mouse in Little Mouse Gets Ready (Raw Jr./Toon) as he dresses, in this deceptively simple and thoroughly engaging book.

(The creators of Toon Books have demonstrated that this format can fuse perfectly with what we think of as "easy readers" — books that newly independent readers can actually decode by themselves, enlivening an already lively subset of picture books.)

The Adventures of Polo (Roaring Brook), begins a series of adventures had by a small dog. The books appear to be traditional picture books but with characteristics of a graphic novel. A series of framed panels conveys the action and creates characterization — only without words.

And because the form seems to be increasingly popular, even old books like the Boxcar Children — first published in the 1940s as traditional novels — are popping up as graphic novels (Whitman).

Visit the library or bookstore and take a look at the wealth of graphic novels. Like all books, some are better than others; some are very appropriate for children to read independently or shared with an adult or in small groups.

So if you like the type of books that give you major creeps, then don't bother reading any more. But if you're up for not-too-creepy books to share with the children in your lives, you may find an idea or so here.

The Amelia Bedelia of the poultry world, the little white hen is back for an autumn tale. Here, Minerva Louise interprets the fall celebrations with her own literal spin in Minerva Louise on Halloween (Dutton). Loveable but not very bright Minerva always allows young children to stay one step ahead.

When a big bad Bullybug comes from outer space to terrorize "itty-bitty baby bugs," well, let's just leave it that something larger — maybe child-sized — saves the day (and the smaller bugs). Bye-Bye, Big Bad Bullybug! (Little Brown) cleverly uses page cut-outs to build the Bullybug — then get rid of it.

When the "wind whispers winter" it becomes time to decide what to be on that special night at the end of October. And Then Comes Halloween (Candlewick) culminates the change of season with costume preparation and candy collecting on that night. Poetic language builds excitement as the day grows closer.

Remember the old folksong, "Over in the Meadow?" It's been Halloween-ized in a recent book, Over in the Hollow (Chronicle). In this version, there are skeletons that boogie, ghosts that boo and more — all rhythmically and playfully depicted.

And finally for slightly older readers (those learning to read independently), there's The History of Vampires and Other Real Blood Drinkers (Grosset & Dunlap). Each short chapter is liberally and comically illustrated and attempts to differentiate fact from fiction.

So, there you have it: not-very-scary books especially appropriate for this time of year — but good enough to continue sharing.

But recently I got a batch of thank you letters from a group of 4th graders at the grade school from which my son graduated. I had donated some new books to the school.

The librarians and teachers are always appreciative as their budget frequently doesn't allow them to purchase new materials.

The librarian at this school — a woman whose commitment and passion about books, reading, and children is positively contagious — suggested that a 4th grade class write a thank you note to the mom of a former student who had given the books to the school.

They were all simply wonderful. And it reminded me of the power of books and the statement that school libraries can make providing children with new and often refreshed books.

One boy wrote: "Thanks for all kinds of book entertainment you've given us. I love reading. If it weren't for you, I have to go to the public library which is very rough anyways. Thanks."

Another student, a girl, wrote THANKS in big, bold printing with a picture of a full book shelf — and told me her teacher is fun and that I "rock!" (I am thrilled that a 4th grader says a person rocks because of books!)

Another girl thought I asked me how it felt to be can actor (she must have heard about my son's budding acting career which started at this school); another boy asked for Diary of a Wimpy Kid while someone else requested a Guinness Book of extreme sports (I think he'll have to write it).

Yet another child hoped that I'd enjoy reading all of the thank you letters. (I still do!) Others hoped for a "playground full of books" or to meet me some day — just as I'd love to meet them — and celebrate our mutual love for books and reading.

How? By using the filmmakers' tools: real-life actors, costumes, sound, music, dialogue, and more — the general wizardry of movie making.

The idea of understanding what one sees, however, is critical. So crucial in fact, the American Academy of Pediatrics has suggested guidelines for parents about the use of media with children.

It seems to me that imbedded in the use of media is the broad notion of "visual literacy" — the ability to see, understand and interpret ideas and/or information conveyed through images. There are a great many sources available both off- and online.

But I'm not at all sure that adults pay much attention to what they see — I know I'm often oblivious. So how can we help children see and understand what they see in movies, on television, and the other images we're bombarded with everywhere?

One essential element is watching movies and TV together, adult and child/ren. Co-viewing is not a new idea at all, but it's one that should be taken to heart. It means not only respecting but investing time in what may interest a child.

I'm convinced that just as young children can effectively compare different versions of stories in books (I've done it with them), they can be guided to see visuals for what they are.

The depth of that comparison, of course, will depend on the age and sophistication of the individual child. But parents and teachers know the children with whom they live and work best. And why not use film adaptations — on television and in the movies — to start it all.

The payoff is that the movies they see and the books they read leads the way to their own storytelling and the ability to see beyond the most obvious.

And now, the Milne trust has entrusted Pooh to another writer.

Before I launch into a diatribe, I have to admit that I have not yet read or even seen the book. I have listened to a small part of the introduction in the audio book that the publisher is releasing. It's read by Jim Dale — known not only for his acting but for the extraordinary reading of all of the Harry Potter books. (I have to admit, too, that I could listen to this man read a telephone book.)

That said, I am not at all sure what to think about it.

What will happen to the characters and their characterization? I wonder if another author will subtly change what have become my characters — dour Eeyore, bouncy Tigger, and of course, Pooh (the so-called "classic" bear of little brain). How will another writer create a story with those characters without changing them for the time in which he works? Is it possible to revisit a classic and retain what made it so 80 years ago?

Sequels — particularly those written after the original creator is gone — well, in my opinion tend to be disappointing.

I may just read this book "with my ears" — Jim Dale is always worth the time.

It's not as bad as it sounds. This Corpse is actually based on an old game in which a story is written or picture drawn by multiple creators — each without having any control over the previous entry. It's similar to the old campfire game where people tell a story together one line at a time.

Anyway, Jon Scieszka and a host of well known authors and illustrators in a presentation moderated by NCBLA President, Mary Brigid Barrett, launched the first-ever (at least to my knowledge!) national Exquisite Corpse.

The Exquisite Corpse will involve a wide range of amazing authors and illustrators. You're bound to know many of the contributors!

Jon Scieszka read the first chapter from which other writers will develop their chapter. You can now read it online and see how it was illustrated at a special website hosted by the Library of Congress, www.read.gov.

Every two weeks a new chapter will be posted. And the first one is a hoot — with plenty for those who follow to chomp into.

And now kids from kindergarten to grade 12 can be inspired by the Equisite Corpse authors and illustrators to do their own writing — in a writing challenge called the Exquisite Prompt, hosted by Reading Rockets and Adlit.org.

This should be a lot of fun for readers and writers of all ages. So stayed tuned — and be sure to check out the ever evolving Exquisite Corpse Adventure at the Library of Congress website!

Films, too, have been inspired by children's books: the Wizard of Oz, Old Yeller, and more recently Shrek and Polar Express.

Books translated into film or television shows are a different medium. Pictures move, voice and music are added and often action is added to adapt the material to its new format.

The appeal of films or television from books is much like the appeal of series books. Known characters are brought to life again in a different way. And translations are good. I think.

One of my all-time favorite books, a practically perfect picture book, Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak (HarperCollilns) is being released as a live action (enhanced by computer generated animation, I think) next month.

Okay, it's a different medium. But how can this perfectly paced tale told through a flawless yet brief blend of words and illustration be adapted to a live action movie that will have to be at least 90 minutes long?

What will be added? And what will be lost? Will the audience be new or will it be for folks like me — those for whom Sendak's classic holds a special place?

I don't know. So I'll have to wait until next month to find out, I suppose. I don't worry about the film ruining the book for me — I know it by heart (and in my heart, too, I think).

I wonder about those children who haven't met Max personally yet. I wonder if the screen Max will diminish the Max of the imagination, the one who lives every time a child and an adult read Where the Wild Things Are.

Older children and adults can grasp — to some degree at least — what caused these changes. But young children don't have the reservoir of experience to make sense of it.

When 9/11 first happened, my son returned to books in which the weak were able to gain power over stronger forces. To him, books provided a sense of control.

Books can also pay subtle homage to an event without confronting it head-on and may even help young children develop — or deepen — their emotional reservoir.

I still like Mary Pope Osborne's New York's Bravest (Knopf). Though he lived in the 19th century, Mose Humphreys is a larger-than-character whose courage lives on — just as the contemporary fire fighters to whom the book is dedicated. Not only do readers glimpse a real life hero through an old-time hero but presents another time.

Philip Petit was a daredevil who broke the law to walk between the Twin Towers back in the 1970s. His very real activities inspired Mordecai Gerstein to create The Man Who Walked Between the Towers (Roaring Brook). The stunning views will take your breath away and won this book the Caldecott Medal.

A less place-specific book about coping with an unexpected crisis is presented for young children by Jean Gralley. The Moon Came Down on Milk Street (Holt) tells the story of how a community comes together to return the moon to the sky in a simple rhyming text. People everywhere make a difference.

Like an earlier date, 9/11 is one that will live in infamy. For more books about 9/11 and children, visit Kay Vandergrift's (Rutgers University) site.

He packed up his backpack neatly and with great care, filled with clean notebooks, capped pens, and uncluttered with superfluous papers.

That'll soon change — and has ever since my well-organized, basically neatnik son got his first backpack in 2nd grade.

I was reminded of the infamous backpack when I read Kevin O'Malley's book called Backpack Stories (Albert Whitman). There are four tales in this funny, offbeat picture book — all with O'Malley's characteristic (and slightly madcap) humor.

Not only do the stories remind readers — adults included — of what happens with backpacks, there is potential to introduce satire in a straightforward comic book style, maybe start to explore the relationship between word and image (or even text as image), and even explore "what if."

This funny look at backpacks may just lighten kids' loads as they head off to school. And it sure served as a reminder to me to make sure to check the contents regularly!

Whatever kind of school children attend, no matter what grade they're in, the first day is the first day — always a source of nervousness and excitement.

I remember posing for photographs my mother insisted on taking every first day of school. My sister and I are in the same dorky pose — hand up in a wave, walking toward the sidewalk in fresh school clothes.

Obviously we changed as we grew up over the years (our mother continued this tradition through high school!) but one thing remained constant. That was the look of controlled terror, hope, thrill, or anticipation in varying degrees over time.

No matter, children have concerns. Maybe they're like Wemberly in Wemberly Worried (Greenwillow), afraid of everything.

Or children could get ready in as many different ways as those in Miss Bindergarten's kindergarten class (Puffin).

A day might be just like Vera's First Day of School (Owlet) — excitement followed by minor disaster but with a fine ending with lots of support. Or it could be just the opposite; starting out unhappily but winding up better than expected like Little Cliff's First Day of School (Puffin).

No matter what the response or how you look at it, it's here: the start of a new school year. And kids everywhere are figuring out how to deal with the jitters.

These and other books to remind readers of common concerns, sometimes make readers feel better about their own, and sometimes even ally fears. But these are also good stories worth sharing particularly at this time of year.

As a teacher, Miss Breakbone makes Viola Swamp from Miss Nelson Is Missing fame (Houghton) look positively sensitive. She so revels in her meanness that she gives herself a gold star every time she makes a student cry. Plus Miss Breakbone is the master of confiscating kids' possessions.

Sounds awful, huh? But this is a very funny tall tale just in time for the start of school.

I can imagine a teacher (or even a parent) reading this book aloud to a child who has some familiarity with school — and even with older kids. Not only should it relieve jitters (no real teacher could be this bad!) but the book suggests that unusual skills have a place.

Each student who Miss Breakbone has dubbed a group of altogether "…mind-wandering, doodling, dozing, don't-knowing dunderheads" has a special talent. Used cooperatively, these talents foil the dastardly teacher for a happy and very satisfying ending.

I haven't had a chance to share this book with kids yet, but can't wait to. The illustrations are contemporary and just as wacky as the story.

If anyone does get a child's response, please let me know what it is. It might be an interesting way to start the school year!