I'm finally getting to some of my summer reading (before I have to start skimming through my required reading for the fall!)
Right now I'm reading A Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland, Indiana by Haven Kimmel. I love it. Paragraphs like this one make me think of all of you for some reason:
"I have noticed that otherwise sensitive and intelligent people will go to great lengths to decry the love between a person and a chicken, claiming that, of all things, chickens are not smart enough to love. Well, I'm here to tell you: I've seen women passionately devoted to men who couldn't pile bricks, and whole families of slack-jawed nose pickers held together by 'love...'"
On my list of books I had to read against my will, I read most of Kwanzaa and Me: A Teacher's Story. (Since the first 130 pages were sheer repitition, I didn't feel like it was necessary to read the last 20.) Bleh. If this teacher spent as much time teaching as she did writing books about teaching, perhaps her kids would learn something.