<![CDATA[DR. BICKMORE'S YA WEDNESDAY - Wed Posts]]>Thu, 04 Jun 2026 08:58:25 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Reading for Queer and Trans* Sustenance]]>Wed, 03 Jun 2026 12:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/reading-for-queer-and-trans-sustenanceMeet our Contributor: Christian George Gregory Associate Professor, Saint Anselm College
Christian George Gregory is currently an Associate Professor of Education at Saint Anselm College and a former Lecturer at Teachers College, Columbia University, where he received his Ph.D. in English Education. He has written for English Journal, English Education, QED, and for both Dialogic Pedagogy: An International Online Journal and the Journal of LGBTQ Youth, where he serves on the Board. He has published chapters in edited collections on queer studies, banned books, Young Adult Literature, and the graphic novel, is a former Program Chair for the Queer SIG of AERA and serves on the judging committees for the NCTE’s REALM and ALAN’s Walden Awards. His research interests include expanding the canon of English Education, queer theory, and classroom discourse.

Reading for Queer and Trans* Sustenance by Christian George Gregory

As we move from the end of the academic year further into late spring and Pride month, as we contend with a world in flux, and as we consider the continued effort to pull books, particularly books with LGBTQ+ content, off shelves, I’d like to reflect on several notable YA books released this past year that reflect the experiences of queer and trans* youth in difficult times.[1] In this post, I highlight five authors whose work, published in recent years, experiments with genre, wrestles with personal and political issues, and provides moments of heroism, hope, and gleeful joy.

​Compound Fracture, Andrew Joseph White

White’s work is nothing if not singular. Some may be at a loss to categorize or describe it. Here is one attempt: a West Virginian, Marxist-socialist, on-the-spectrum, trans-masculine protagonist, Miles (he/they), is caught in a Hatfield-and-McCoy-style revenge plot. And it’s a ghost story. The writing is raw, careful, and surprising. Here is just one arresting example of narration when Miles sees Saint, the ghostly walking dead from nearly a century ago:

When he turns to the house, I can make out the wound where the railroad spike came out at the back of his brain stem, the blood matted into his sandy hair. Now that I know he’s trans, I’m trying to find it in his features; in the size of his hands, in the way his face is built. He was never gonna get testosterone, so he had to work with what he had, and I think he did well with it. Or maybe that’s the weight of a century changing the body, the bones and the meat. I don’t know how this works.

Highly original and a bit outlaw, White ventures into this mixed genre of guns, violence, blood, and gore with abandon.
White also handles dual “coming out” stories. First is the ongoing journey of Miles, who self-identifies as trans* and later must contend with his forced, public outing. White composes the fallout with care, as when Miles’s family discusses this personal violation. The second “coming out” narrative focuses on Miles' awakening, with the guidance of his friends, to the possibility of being autistic.
Conceptually, the ‘open wounds’ of the body that run throughout the work feel specific to the psychic/physical experience of how the trans* bodies must be reconfigured (ripped, stitched, healed) in the process of becoming. In this matrix of ghosts and gore, I am reminded of trans* author Susan Stryker, who writes that “we have done  ​the hard work of constituting ourselves on our own terms, against the natural order. Though we forego the privilege of naturalness, we are not deterred, for we ally ourselves instead with the chaos and blackness from which Nature itself spills forth” (p.254).  Much like Styker, who here liken herself to Frankenstein’s monster, White has created a work is without question a book of radical queer/trans* ideas. During a time when don’t say trans' is the order on high, authors like White are even more essential to shelf and protect.

​A Constellation of Minor Bears, Jen Ferguson

Ferguson’s novel is a complex exploration of anger, attraction, and guilt. Graduating senior Molly is coping with her ambivalent feelings about a climbing accident that befell her brother Hank, possibly due to the negligence of their mutual friend Tray. After the accident and graduation, Trey and Molly trek across the United States. Ferguson's writing is nuanced, thoughtful, and engaging. Here is Trey, for example, thinking through his relationships:

But honestly I think things will get better. Between me and Molly. With Hank as he keeps healing. With the land. The planet. I even believe that water will show up when we need it, maybe around the next bend. Shit like that, it trends upward. (p.55)

Ferguson’s writing, here in the voice of Trey, has a surprising depth. Equally as impressive is when Ferguson writes in the voice of Hank, and his chapter headings titled “AITA,” an initialism I had to look up that stands for “Am I the Asshole?”  
There are also meaningful exchanges between Molly and Brynn (p. 143) that foster an open dialogue about body positivity amid fat-shaming. Ferguson’s work would appeal to a wide variety of readers, not merely queer readers, as the cross-country excursion is, by turns, an adventure story and extended group therapy session. Such moments of YAL, those that embed peer-to-peer counsel, remind me of how essential such moments are of “queer sustenance” (Gregory 2026). Here, authors sustain and support queer identities by depicting peer-to-peer discussions on identity, acting as a reflective or aspirational mirror of queer counsel. Beyond in-scene counseling, the book itself, which threads ‘campfire’ discussions throughout, serves as bibliotherapy. For queer and trans* teens, works like these serve as another help hotline and lifeline.

I Can’t Even Think Straight, Dean Atta

Like Atta’s prior work, Black Flamingo (2020), this verse novel work excites in many ways. Kai, a half-Greek, half-Jamaican young gay man, thinks through his life, family, and potential love interests. Fresh and witty, the work demonstrates a command of verse while driving the plot forward. The second half, in which Kai comes to realize he has been in love with his best friend, Matthew all along allows Atta to write scenes that incorporate easy, charming banter between them, and I burst out laughing more than once. In this way, the reader roots for their success, and the scene in which Matthew comes out to “the Boys,” his pack of straight friends, was unexpected. Nervous, Matthew feels the high stakes of disclosure when, in fact, his friends are completely accepting of his sexuality.
The work tackles many issues relevant to queer growth and formation. One episode has Kai attend the lecture on “how to get published” from a visiting queer writer, which allows Kai a queer mentor. Additionally, Kai’s prickly, combative nature offers greater complexity. He falsely accuses his teacher of homophobic behavior, which his teacher responds to with great sensitivity. As both Atta and the teacher know, queer youth are in formation and sometimes need guidance. The teacher demonstrates an active knowledge of how to manage anger and de-escalate situations, a skill so crucial today. Like other books mentioned in this post, this work provides several queer exemplars of how to navigate one’s identity, coming out, anger, ambitions, and ultimately, the world.

Coffeeshop in an Alternative Universe, CB Lee

Lee’s rom-com fantasy involves Kat and Brenda, who live in parallel universes: one magical, the other, “normy.” By chance they meet one day in Kat’s coffeeshop as Brenda completes her college scholarship application down to the deadline. Kat enters with a “pick-me-up” coffee, made with a mysteriously glowing shot that, in fact, picks Brenda up. The subsequent pages keep the pair apart, until they reconvene in the aisle of a magical Target.
The marriage of rom-com and parallel-universe genres is fresh, and once the fissure is breached, Kat and Brenda catch a vibe, and the stakes, with all sorts of manna surges and beasts to vanquish, climb higher. Some of the magical world-building places it in the realm of fantasy, but when Kat speaks about the nature of magic--with “surges,” “power,” and “matrixes”--the narrative reads like code for AI. In this way, Lee reaches for allegory on the carbon footprint and dangers of technology on the environment.
While the pacing lags a bit and the rules of the world and its portals were left unexplained or only clarified after the fact, Lee’s work is remarkably upbeat and spirited. For instance, Kat and Brenda cast a spell to shrink the dragon (chapter 28), who is lured into submission by the shiny object of the sax. They succeed, but inadvertently and comically enlarge Brenda’s cat, Fancy. There is also a nice piece of writing in which the mind of Brenda and the dragon merge. So, the romance is charming, the set pieces are unexpected, and the overall effect allows Lee’s work to reside in queer joy, adventure, and fantasy.   

​The Closest Thing to a Normal Life, Michael Méndez Guevara

First-time author Méndez Guevara, a former teacher, has written a readable, clever, steadily paced work that does something I haven’t seen recently: it frames its narrative with epic violence, as the parents of protagonist Ethan-Mathew are killed in a terrorist attack on reporters. The work then narrates the more subtle microaggressions that escalate in San Antonio, Texas. By focusing on the escalation of racist and homophobic speech, Méndez Guevara maps how hate speech engenders greater violence, thus tracing violence back to its nascent source.
The primary characters are nicely drawn. Head cheerleader CC, a bestie of Ethan-Matthew, is a charmer, and love interest and goofball Reid is an unexpected queer construction: star runner, caring, hopeful to express his feelings for Ethan-Matthew, and someone who responds with great heart when Ethan is triggered by guns and the prospect of gunfire (Méndez Guevara, p. 166). The grandparents who raise Ethan-Matthew are wonderful and not at all homophobic, though we learn that they were a bit racist. Some of the teachers are Marvel villains or heroes, with little nuance. For instance, the journalism teacher is completely unprofessional and petty. On the flip side, the librarian is heroic--creating a food bank and a Starbucks-like retreat from the world's worries.
Overall, the writing is clean and clever; the set pieces--the sleepovers, the rucksack hike, the first running tournament, the alternative anti-prom dance--are fresh and engaging. What the work does successfully is identify the simultaneous forces at play in our country right now: MAGA rhetoric and the persistence of inclusion and progressivism. In this way, it is a book of this year and time. Guevara brings us inside Ethan-Matthew’s authentic and quirky approach to journalism, which includes a New Yorker-like profile piece on a student who works in tire repair and an editorial that depicts the racism at the ball game. Overall, an engaging work with insight and heart.

Against Slings, Against Arrows, Pride 

What provides hope now in 2026 in queer and trans* YAL is that authors are responding to our unsettling history in real time. The writing featured here addresses hate speech, the increase in violence as a result, the destabilizing of queer interior states, and the need for peer-counsel, solidarity, love, and yes, curative fantasy and escape. Pride is a complex condition in queer history. As I have written elsewhere, pride “is an antidote to shame” (Gregory, 2026). Pride month, often viewed as a celebration with flags and parades, is also a defense, “an armature against heteronormative, homophobic, and transphobic structures” (Gregory, 2023). Queer and trans* folk need pride to counter the onslaught of threats. And while such threats have intensified these past years, queer and trans* YA authors have responded, even amid banning and the threat of erasure, to tell our stories.

References

Atta, D. (2025). I can't even think straight. Quill Tree Books.

Atta, D. (2020). The black flamingo. Balzer + Bray.

Ferguson, J. (2024). A constellation of minor bears. Heartdrum.

Gregory, C. G. (2026). Queer shame, pride, and joy: How YAL parasocial relations are essential for queer sustenance. In M. Panozzo and P.W. Eaton (Eds.), Battle of the bans: Narratives of reading and engaging with banned books (pp. 57–72). Myers Education Press.

Gregory, C. G. (2023, June 22). Queer shame, pride, and joy. Dr. Bickmore’s YA Wednesdays. http://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/

Halberstam, J. (2018). Trans*: A quick and quirky account of gender variability. University of California Press.

Lee, C. B. (2025). Coffeeshop in an alternate universe. Feiwel & Friends.

Méndez Guevara, M. (2025). The closest thing to a normal life. Piñata Books.

Stryker, S. (1994). My words to Victor Frankenstein above the village of Chamounix: Performing transgender rage. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 1(3), 237–254.

White, A. J. (2024). Compound fracture. Peachtree Teen.
1] I use the terminology trans* here. For Halberstam (2018), trans* embraces the “unfolding categories of being organized around but not confined to forms of gender variance” and the asterisk refuses “to situate transition in relation to a destination, a final form, a specific shape, or an established configuration of desire and identity” (p. 4). I use trans* and here the asterisk with the acronym (QT*YAL) to indicate the variety of emergent identities and possibilities of more.
]]><![CDATA[Ethics and Conflict in Young Adult Literature]]>Wed, 27 May 2026 12:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/ethics-and-conflict-in-young-adult-literatureMeet our Contributor:
Dr. Amy Piotrowski is an associate professor of English education at Utah State University. She teaches undergraduate courses in English education and secondary education as well as graduate courses in literacy. Her scholarly interests focus on digital literacies, young adult literature, and English teacher education. Her most recent chapter, “Issues of Identity in YA Science Fiction Depicting Artificial Intelligence and Cybernetics,” was published in the book Identity, Criticality, and Advocacy in Young Adult Literature: Training Teachers to Empower Students in the ELA Classroom. Before going into teacher education, she taught middle school Language Arts, high school English, and college composition in Texas.

Ethics and Conflict in Young Adult Literature by Dr. Amy Piotrowski

Young adult literature, especially science fiction and fantasy, tells stories about adolescent characters who are involved in ethically difficult conflicts. As Dr. Melanie Hundley pointed out in her post a few weeks ago, reading young adult literature can be a way for adolescent students and their teachers to examine issues of ethics that we face in our current world of digital technologies and artificial intelligence. Two of my graduate students and I concur with this assertion in a recently published book chapter, in which we argue that young adult science fiction shows that “as humans use technological tools, we must remember our humanity and not become too machine-like ourselves” (Piotrowski, Billings, and Chamberlain, 2026).
​Ethically thorny situations in young adult literature encourage students to consider different ways of handling conflict. Noddings (2002, 2013) in her work on ethics education defines ethical caring as being curious about others, engaging in dialogue with people from different backgrounds, and being able to live and work with others with whom we might disagree. She argues that to develop an ethic of care, kids and adolescents need models of and to practice ethical caring.
Conflicts in young adult literature are often tied to struggles for freedom and more just societies. Historian Timothy Snyder argues in the book On Freedom that freedom often gets defined as the absence of anyone telling us what to do, and that this view of freedom is incomplete. Snyder defines freedom as making decisions about who we want to be and figuring out how we might put that into lived practice. In this definition, freedom is when we discern what we believe matters and then act on what is important to us.

With Nodding’s and Snyder’s ideas in mind, here are three young adult series that depict characters who must make ethically fraught choices in the face of difficult conflicts. These series also examine how one’s choices can be shaped and constrained by society. Through these stories, students can think about ethics, as well as the challenges of putting our ethical values into action.

The Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping

​This most recent entry in the series focuses on the Hunger Games as propaganda, a show where the Capitol uses its technology to control the narrative. The choices that Panem’s adolescents have are constrained by brute force - because that brute force is Capitol’s only play in a game so rigged it isn’t much of a game at all. Glamorous exteriors hide the corruption and deeply-rooted incompetence of the Capitol. Pressure is put on adolescents, first Haymitch and then Katniss, to take actions towards overthrowing the Capitol and by doing so end long-standing oppression. It’s also notable that one of the most powerful acts of resistance in the novel might be the brave efforts of the Newcomers alliance to humanize the tributes from the Districts, even though those efforts end up overshadowed by the Capitol’s propaganda.

Annals of the Western Shore trilogy

​I’ve written about this series for this blog before, and I bring it up again here as a counter-example to The Hunger Games series. This series features protagonists who are the opposite of the “girl on fire” archetype inspired by Katniss Everdeen. In each of their respective stories, Orrec, Gry, Memer, and Gavir must figure out how they want to live, even when the brutal social systems that they live in will not be overthrown. The ethical thing to do can be building one’s own life despite the society one lives in. Violence might be unwise even when it is justified. The protagonists of this series must decide for themselves how to use their abilities in order to be free, and that might mean leaving behind the life they have known.

Arc of a Scythe series

Citra and Rowan are shown two ways of being a scythe during their apprenticeships: a solemn responsibility versus wielding unchecked power over others. These different ways of being a scythe impact their sense of ethics. Citra develops a mix of compassion and ruthlessness that in part grows from Curie’s encouragement to take on corruption from within the Scythedom. Rowan, on the other hand, is brutalized into the self-serving ways of Goddard, but he then takes action against corrupt scythes. Meanwhile, the benevolent AI, the Thunderhead, finds loopholes to get around the guardrails in its programming in order to do things that it calculates as being likely to lead to a good outcome for humanity. Bending the rules and finding ways to argue that something technically isn’t prohibited by law or rule are common actions in this series, leading the reader to think about the importance of ethics in a technologically advanced society.

Ethical Issues Across Texts

These novels, taken together, highlight several key issues:
​
  • Fighting for a different future vs. walking away to build one’s own future
  • Tension between responsibility to one’s self and responsibility to family/community
  • Reconciliation: Is it possible, and if so, how to go about it?
  • Adolescents are pushed to address conflicts inflamed by older generations
 
These young adult series feature ethically nuanced protagonists that adolescent readers can learn from. What stories help you and your students think about ethics and conflict?

References

Noddings, N. (2002). Educating moral people. Teachers College Press.
Noddings, N. (2013). Caring: A relational approach to ethics and moral education. University of California Press.
Piotrowski, A., Billings, R., & Chamberlain, K. (2026). Issues of identity in YA science fiction depicting artificial intelligence and cybernetics. In S. C. Mayer & A. Hayes. (Eds.). Identity, criticality, and advocacy in young adult literature: Training teachers to empower students in the ELA classroom (pp. 13-21). Routledge.
Snyder, T. (2024). On freedom. Crown.
]]><![CDATA[From Minor Roles to Main Characters: Fat Representation in YA Literature]]>Wed, 20 May 2026 12:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/from-minor-roles-to-main-characters-fat-representation-in-ya-literatureMeet Our Contributors:
Katy Bigham is a former middle language arts teacher and recently earned her master’s degree in English from Brigham Young University. Dawan Coombs is former high school English and reading teacher and current professor of English at Brigham Young University where she teaches courses in young adult literature. Over the last ten years Katy and Dawan have collaborated on research examining the power of young adult literature to improve pedagogy and change the lives of adolescents. This post features research from Katy’s thesis. 

From Minor Roles to Main Characters: Fat Representation in YA Literature 
​by Katy Bigham and Dawan Coombs

The first year of my grad program I, Katy, took a class from Chris Crowe that explored the history of young adult literature. He assigned each student to read a touchstone text that exemplified different eras in YAL history, and I was assigned Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack. As I read, one of the core messages of the book immediately became clear: Dinky Hocker would be happier if she was skinnier. 

“Yikes,” I thought. “Not great.”    

My love of YAL, combined with my interest in body size representation (shaped largely by my own lived adolescent and adult experience as someone fat) motivates my curiosity about how readers and teachers approach body size. I wondered if the attitude characterized the time period, which lead me to revisit books I read as a teenager, published from the 1990s-2000s. I realized that in those YAL texts, fat characters were either not present or their body size was treated as the joke, or problem to be fixed. They were rarely the hero, love interest, or center of the story. 

​This realization reminded me of something Jason Reynolds said in a Washington Post interview about Black children. He explained he wrote to depict Black children in nuance and complexity, 
​
As beautiful and broken and happy and terrified and angry and joyous and funny and fearful...I do that intentionally because I think that it's important that we continue to push against certain narratives, certain stereotypes, and the easy route in terms of the way that we depict Black kids...They deserve to be nerds and weirdos and artists and everybody else, right? They deserve to be disabled. They deserve to have learning differences. They deserve to have gender differences. They deserve all of the things that I want to make sure they be given an opportunity.” (Givhan, 2022)

I agreed with his statement, but I also wondered if I could substitute “Black children” with “fat kids.” Shouldn’t fat kids be more than the side character? The joke? The problem? Shouldn’t they be seen in all their humanity? 
As I examined the organizations and individuals at the center of efforts to promote diverse representations in YAL, I discovered that–even though life in a fat body is vastly different than life in a straight-sized body–none of these organizations included body size as a form of diversity. Areas of diversity represented included race (Barry, 1998; Stallworth, et al., 2006; Thomas, 2016); socioeconomic class (Hinton & Berry, 2004; Silva & Savtiz, 2019); gender and sexual orientation (Batchelor, et al., 2018; Knox, 2019); physical and mental abilities (Curwood, 2013; Louie, 2005); religion (Auguste, 2013; Campbell & Crowe, 2015); and cultural and linguistic differences (Dong, 2005; Sharma & Christ, 2017). However, body size diversity remains noticeably absent from most conversations about diverse books. Fat characters lack representation in YAL and consequently, classrooms. 
Despite this omission, adolescents of diverse body sizes fill our classrooms. A 2021 national study classified 16.1% of children and adolescents between 2 and 19 years of age as overweight, 19.3% as obese, and 6.1% as severely obese ((National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases, 2021). Roughly as many overweight adolescents reside in the US as Black adolescents (Office of Population Affairs, n.d.) and four times as many overweight adolescents as those who identify as non-Christian (Pew Research Center, 2020). 

One of the most important reasons to celebrate body diverse literature is because one of the places where the fat and straight-size experiences differ most is within the classroom. Weight discrimination is perhaps one of the most accepted forms of discrimination in our society today (Puhl & Latner, 2007), including in school. Fat students experience higher rates of bullying and social ostracization with their peers (Harrist et al., 2016), but the negativity they face is not limited to classmate interactions. Fat students also face higher rates of negative interactions with teachers, as early as kindergarten (Yu, 2021). Teachers often perceive fat students as in need of more remedial help, with higher rates of behavioral problems, and more likely to skip school (Kenney et al., 2017). These perceptions have consequences; a 2019 study determined that teachers assigned lower grades to overweight students compared to students of a healthy weight (Finn et al., 2020). Clearly, teachers themselves are not exempt from the fatphobia woven throughout society. 
​However, despite this very visible identifier in many young peoples’ lives, few YA novels feature fat protagonists. In the early days of YA literature, fat characters like Marcy in Paula Danziger’s, The Cat Ate my Gymsuit (1974), Dinky in M.E. Kerr’s Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack!, (1972) and Gabby in Patti Stren’s, I Was a 15 Year Old Blimp (1985) presented the fat experience as problematic, and were only celebrated when they begin to lose weight and conform to societal beauty standards. This message was highly troublesome, and not one that needs to be celebrated for YA readers (Beineke, 1998). In more recent years, characters such Willowdean in Julie Murphy’s Dumplin’ (2015), Charlie in Crystal Maldonado’s Fat Chance, Charlie Vega (2021), and Nala in Renée Watson’s Love is a Revolution (2021), promote body positivity and depict fat young adults with enriching and coming-of-age experiences unrelated to their size (Rogers, 2018). While Willowdean, Charlie, and Nala prove happier than their predecessors, their journey often includes a measure of overcoming internalized fatphobia, which may unintentionally reinforce fatness as inherently negative (Parsons, 2016). 
These findings suggest a need for us as teachers to expand our definitions of diversity within literacy education to include body size as a meaningful marker of identity. A clear fat bias exists in the United States, which has increased over the last ten years, even though biases such as gender, sexual identity, and racial biases have decreased (Charlesworth, 2019). It’s even more critical for educators to include body size in their consideration of diverse texts–both so fat students see themselves in YAL stories (Barry, 1998) and to help all students develop critical discernment and empathy (Ghiso et al., 2012). YA literature posesses significant power to shape how students understand and perceive bodies–their own and those of others. When body diverse stories are taught thoughtfully and without apology, they offer students opportunities to not only see themselves reflected, but to question the narratives which for so long have defined which bodies are worthy of attention, love, and joy. 
Darius the Great is Not Okay (2018) by Adib Khorram: This novel focuses on Darius, a Persian-American, clinically depressed, fat teenager struggling to find his place in the world. The story focuses on family, friendship, and belonging Recommended for grades 8-12.


​Fat Angie (2014) by e.E. Charlton-Trujillo: Winner of the 2014 Stonewall Book Award, this book takes readers on Angie’s journey to find closure on her sister’s death and to find her own solutions to bullying, family struggles, and her future.  The first book in the Fat Angie series, recommended for grades 9-12.  




​Gabi, a Girl in Pieces (2014) by Isabel Quintero: Protagonist Gabi leaves readers laughing and crying as she navigates life as a Mexican American teen, wrestling with cultural and societal expectations, identity, body image, and sexuality. Winter of the William C. Morris Award and the Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award. Recommended for grades 8-12.




​Pumpkinheads (2019) by Rainbow Rowell: Set in a whimsical pumpkin patch on Halloween night, this graphic novel focuses on Deja, a black, queer, fat protagonist and her friend (and romantic interest) Josiah. The story explores themes of friendship and the courage to pursue romance. Recommended for grades 8-12.



​No Filter and Other Lies (2022) by Crystal Maldonado: The creation of Kat’s online persona “Max” starts out harmless enough, but as Max’s popularity increases things get more complicated and she has to figure out how to come clean without ruining her relationships in the process. Recommended for grades 9-12. 



​The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things (2003) by Carolyn Mackler: An oldie-but-goodie, Virginia’s raw commentary, shared through journal entries, emails, provides a real look at life for this plus-sized teen and her family of seemingly perfect people until her brother falls from grace. A Printz Honor Book. Recommended for grades 9-12.




​The Other F Word: A Celebration of the Fat & Fierce (2019) edited by Angie Manfredi: A compilation of stories, art, fashion, and poetry from noted middle grade and YA authors sharing messages about beauty, confidence, and worth. Recommended for grades 7-12. 




​There’s Something about Sweetie (2019) by Sandhya Menon: When Ashish goes under contract with his parents to date an Indian American girl, it’s impossible for him to anticipate what he will find in Sweetie and where the Sassy Sweetie Project will take the two of them. An NPR Favorite Books of 2019, recommended for grades 9-12. 

References

Auguste, M. (2013). Those kinds of books: Religion and spirituality in young adult literature. Young Adult Library Services, 11(4), 37–40.

Barry, A. L. (1998). Hispanic representation in literature for children and young adults. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 41(8), 630–637.

Batchelor, K. E., Ramos, M. M., & Neiswander, S. (2018). Opening doors: Teaching LGBTQ-themed young adult literature for an inclusive curriculum. The Clearing House: A Journal of Educational Strategies, Issues and Ideas, 91(1), 1–8.

Campbell, P. J., & Crowe, C. (2015). Spirituality in young adult literature: The last taboo. Rowman & Littlefield.

Charlesworth, T. E. S., & Banaji, M. R. (2019). Patterns of implicit and explicit attitudes: I. Long-term change and stability from 2007 to 2016. Psychological Science, 30(2), 174–192.

Curwood, J. S. (2013). Redefining normal: A critical analysis of (dis)ability in young adult literature. Children’s Literature in Education, 44(1), 15–28.

Dong, Y. R. (2005). Taking a cultural-response approach to teaching multicultural literature. The English Journal, 94(3), 55–60.

Finn, K. E., Seymour, C. M., & Phillips, A. E. (2020). Weight bias and grading among middle and high school teachers. British Journal of Educational Psychology, 90(3), 635–647.

Ghiso, M. P., Campano, G., & Hall, T. (2012). Braided histories and experiences in literature for children and adolescents. Journal of Children’s Literature, 38(2), 14–22.

Givhan, R. (2022 February 24). Transcript: Race in America: Giving voice with Jason Reynolds [Interview]. The Washington Post.

Harrist, A. W., Swindle, T. M., Hubbs-Tait, L., Topham, G. L., Shriver, L. H., & Page, M. C. (2016). The social and emotional lives of overweight, obese, and severely obese children. Child Development, 87(5), 1564–1580.

Hinton, K., & Berry, T. (2004). Literacy, literature, and diversity. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 48(4), 284–288.

Kenney, E. L., Redman, M. T., Criss, S., Sonneville, K. R., & Austin, S. B. (2017). Are K–12 school environments harming students with obesity? A qualitative study of classroom teachers. Eating and Weight Disorders, 22(1), 141–152.

Knox, E. J. M. (2019). Silencing stories: Challenges to diverse books. The International Journal of Information, Diversity, & Inclusion, 3(2), 24–39.

Louie, B. (2005). Development of empathetic responses with multicultural literature. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 48(7), 566–578.

National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases. (2021). Overweight & obesity statistics. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Office of Population Affairs. (n.d.). America’s diverse adolescents. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Parsons, L. T. (2016). Fat female protagonists in YAL and in classrooms: Exploring the impact of anti-fat bias on identity. In J. A. Hayn, J. S. Kaplan, & K. R. Clemmons (Eds.), Teaching young adult literature today (2nd ed., pp. 191–207). Rowman & Littlefield.

Pew Research Center. (2020, September 10). Religious affiliation among American adolescents. Pew Research Center.

Puhl, R. M., & Latner, J. D. (2007). Stigma, obesity, and the health of the nation’s children. Psychological Bulletin, 133(4), 557–580.

Sharma, S. A., & Christ, T. (2017). Five steps toward successful culturally relevant text selection and integration. The Reading Teacher, 71(3), 295–307.

Stallworth, B. J., Gibbons, L., & Fauber, L. (2006). It’s not on the list: An exploration of teachers’ perspectives on using multicultural literature. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 49(6), 478–489. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40017605

Silva, A. F., & Savitz, R. S. (2019). Defying Expectations: Representations of Youths in Young Adult Literature. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 63(3), 323–331.
https://www.jstor.org/stable/48556216

Thomas, E. E. (2016). Stories “still” matter: Rethinking the role of diverse children’s literature today. Language Arts, 94(2), 112–119. https://www.jstor.org/stable/44809887
​
Yu, B. (2021). Kindergarten obesity and academic achievement: The mediating role of weight bias. Frontiers in Psychology, 12, Article 640474.
]]><![CDATA[YA + Poetry = Student Voice: Ten Minutes, One Poem, Big Impact]]>Wed, 13 May 2026 12:30:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/ya-poetry-student-voice-ten-minutes-one-poem-big-impactMeet Our Contributor:
Leilya Pitre is an Associate Professor and English Education Coordinator at Southeastern Louisiana University, where she teaches courses in writing pedagogy, linguistics, and Young Adult literature. She also co-directs the Southeastern Louisiana Writing Project, working with teachers to support writing instruction and student voice. Her research focuses on teacher preparation and YA literature.

YA + Poetry = Student Voice:
​Ten Minutes, One Poem, Big Impact

If you’ve spent any time in a secondary classroom lately, you know that students are carrying emotional, academic, and social burdens more than ever. They are navigating grief, identity, pressure, and the constant noise of the world around them. And while young adult literature gives young people mirrors and windows into those experiences, many students still struggle to put their own voices on the page. That’s where poetry becomes transformative.
 
In my YA courses and in the classrooms of the teachers I work with, I’ve seen how short, low‑stakes poetic forms can unlock confidence, deepen reflection, and help students process the emotional landscapes they encounter in YA texts. Poetry doesn’t demand a thesis statement or a polished paragraph. It invites students to show up as they are with one word at a time, one line at a time. It allows for blank spaces when there is no word that can mirror what they experience at the moment.

In this post, I share three poetry prompts that pair beautifully with contemporary YA novels and offer students accessible, meaningful ways to explore character, theme, and identity. Each takes only about 10 minutes, requires no elaborate setup, and works across middle school, high school, and university-level YA courses. Most importantly, each one invests in student voice.

Why Poetry and YA Literature Work So Well Together

Before getting into the prompts, I want to note why this pairing works so well. In my own teaching, I’ve seen how poetry lowers the stakes, allowing students to write without worrying about being “right.” It builds confidence over time, especially when students engage in short, regular writing that helps them trust their instincts. Poetry also supports emotional processing, offering a space for what is often difficult to say out loud. At the same time, it invites everyone in. Multilingual learners and undiscovered writers often find their way into writing more easily through these forms. YA literature provides the emotional anchor, while poetry gives students a way to respond. Together, they create space for both thinking and feeling.

YA Texts as Emotional Anchors and Mentor Texts

The novels below work beautifully as mentor texts. Each one already carries the emotional world of the story; each one offers an insight into writing craft and creativity.
The Leaving Room by A. McBride

The Leaving Room follows Gospel, The Keeper of the Leaving Room, a place where people who dies spent about four minutes. Gospel helps them transition from one world to another.  The novel unfolds in the spaces between memory and silence, where Gospel tries to make sense of a world that feels both familiar and irrevocably changed. As the story progresses, Melodee enters Gospel’s life, offering a new turn that might have returned her to life.

McBride’s writing lingers in interiority, the inner life and mental world of the protagonist: what Gospel cannot say aloud, what remains unspoken in the spaces between characters, and how grief reshapes the rhythms of daily life. Instead of dramatic plot turns, the novel offers an intimate portrait of how a young person learns to carry memory, navigate silence, and take tentative steps toward healing. Students connect deeply with the emotional honesty of Gospel’s journey, making this text an ideal anchor for reflective poetic forms like the Sevenling. 
All the Blues in the Sky by Renée Watson 
​
Renée Watson’s All the Blues in the Sky centers on Sage, a young person grappling with the emotional weight of losing her best friend. Sage’s grief is intertwined with family dynamics, unspoken expectations, and the difficulty of naming pain aloud. Watson’s lyrical prose gives the novel a gentle touch even when the themes are heavy, allowing readers to feel Sage’s ache without being overwhelmed by it.

​Similarly, to The Leaving Room, this story captures the internal struggle of speaking about loss. It explores how memory can feel both comforting and sharp, how silence becomes a coping mechanism, and how healing requires vulnerability. Students often gravitate toward lines that feel like truths they’ve carried themselves, which makes the Golden Shovel form particularly effective. Sage’s journey becomes a space where students can explore identity, emotional honesty, and the courage it takes to articulate what hurts.
 King of Neuroverse by T. Goodwin

King of Neuroverse introduces readers to Pernell, a protagonist whose neurodivergent mind is vibrant, imaginative, and often misunderstood by the world around him. Goodwin blends realism with metaphor, inviting readers into Pernell’s sensory and emotional landscape, a place where thoughts move differently, where creativity thrives, and where belonging is both sought and redefined.
​
Rather than framing neurodiversity as a challenge to overcome, the novel celebrates it as a source of insight, resilience, and power. Pernell’s journey toward self‑understanding and self‑advocacy makes the book an ideal companion for metaphor‑driven poetic forms like kennings. Students can explore identity through imagery by capturing sensory overload, emotional intensity, or unique problem‑solving through two‑word metaphors that honor complexity. Pernell’s story encourages readers to see neurodiversity not as a limitation but as a universe of its own.

Poetry Prompt #1: A Sevenling to Capture Character Voice

A Sevenling is a compact, seven-line poem built from two three-item lists and a final line that resolves or complicates the contrast. The form originated with Anna Akhmatova’s 1910 poem and was later named and popularized by poet Roddy Lumsden.

The structure of the sevenling is simple, but the emotional possibilities are wide open. Students can slip into a character’s voice at a pivotal moment (grief, transition, revelation) and capture that moment in just a few lines.

Prompt:
​
Write a Sevenling from any character’s perspective at a pivotal moment in the novel.
This takes about 7 minutes and works especially well with The Leaving Room or All the Blues in the Sky, where characters like Gospel or Sage navigate silence, memory, and emotional turning points.
Learning How to Stay
​
I remember the room
the silence
the not-knowing
 
I hold the past
the voices
the almosts
 
I am still learning how to stay.

Poetry Prompt #2: A Golden Shovel to Capture Identity & Inner Conflict

The Golden Shovel, created by Terrance Hayes, asks writers to take a single line from a text and use each word as the ending word of a new line. The result is a poem that is both original and in conversation with the source.

Students must read closely, attend to syntax, and make intentional choices. At the same time, the borrowed language gives them scaffolding, and they feel supported rather than exposed.
 
Prompt:

Choose a powerful line from the novel. Use each word as the ending word of a new line in your poem. Explore a character’s inner conflict or identity.

This form is especially effective with All the Blues in the Sky, where Sage’s reflections on grief and memory offer rich, emotionally charged lines.
​
Here is an example of the Golden Shovel based on the original line from the novel: “nothing can be as hard as talking about someone you love in the past tense” (Watson, p. 20).
Words I Can’t Bring into the Past
​
I thought I had learned that nothing
stays, that time can
soften even the sharpest edges, but be
honest, some memories return as
if untouched, as hard
and sudden as
a name spoken out loud, talking
to the silence about
all the things I never said to someone
who still feels like you,
someone I
carry quietly, still in
every word I cannot bring into the past
because you are never only a tense.

Poetry Prompt #3: Kennings to Enhance Meaning

A kenning is a two‑word metaphor (noun + noun) that captures essence through imagery. Students can create a list or shape the kennings into a short poem.
Kennings are playful, accessible, and deeply metaphorical. They help students think abstractly about character traits, struggles, or strengths.

Prompt:

Choose a character from a novel (or someone in your life). Create kennings that define their struggle or strength.  

This form pairs beautifully with King of Neuroverse, where students can explore Pernell’s sensory world, emotional intensity, and identity through metaphor.
Here is a short example of the kenning inspired by a character like Pernell:
 mind-racer
sound-stormer
pattern-seeker
idea-builder
world-rewriter
dream-chaser
acceptance-craver

Poetry as a Healing Literacy

Across all three forms, poetry extends this creative exercise toward a healing practice, or healing literacy. Students write to learn, to process, to reflect. They discover voice before polish; they are more engaged in the process and are not pressured by product. They explore emotions that might otherwise remain unspoken. And because the writing is short and low‑stakes, they take risks they might avoid in longer assignments. Poetry gives them room for pauses, for breathing. 

Adaptable Across Levels

One of my favorite things about these prompts is how flexible they are. In middle school, they invite play, discovery, and confidence-building. In high school, they support deeper reflection and stronger connections to complex YA themes. In university settings, they help future teachers see how poetry can become part of their own pedagogy. No matter the level, these short forms make it easy to meet students exactly where they are.

If you’re thinking about trying this, start small. Pick one prompt and set a timer for ten minutes. Encourage students to focus on voice rather than correctness, and keep sharing optional. That’s it.
​
When students feel safe, supported, and invited to express themselves, their writing becomes more honest and their reading becomes more meaningful. At its core, this work is about honoring students’ stories. Poetry builds voice, confidence, reflection, and resilience. YA literature gives students emotional entry points. Together, they create a classroom where students can write themselves into understanding one word at a time and one line at a time.
]]><![CDATA[Literature as an Ethical Laboratory: AI and YA Literature]]>Wed, 06 May 2026 11:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/literature-as-an-ethical-laboratory-ai-and-ya-literatureMeet our Contributor: Melanie Hundley
Dr. Melanie Hundley is a Professor in the Practice of English Education at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College; her research examines how AI, digital and multimodal composition informs the development of pre-service teachers’ writing pedagogy.  Additionally, she explores the use of AI, digital and social media in young adult literature.  She teaches writing methods courses that focus on AI, digital and multimodal composition and young adult literature courses that explore diversity, culture, and storytelling in young adult texts. 
She teaches AI and literacy courses including AI and Storytelling. Her current research focus has three strands: AI in writing, AI in Teacher Education, and Verse Novels in Young Adult Literature She is currently the Coordinator of the Secondary Education English Education program in the Department of Teaching and Learning at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College.

Literature as an Ethical Laboratory: AI and YA Literature
by Melanie Hundley

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about literature as an ethical laboratory, a place where we get to try out big ideas, test possibilities, and ask the kinds of “what if” questions that don’t have easy answers. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that we’ve been doing this for a very long time.  We imagine things that confuse us, scare us, or make us wonder in story. We record ideas, represent moments, document our history, in narrative. And maybe none of this is surprising, because—as Will Storr reminds us—storytelling is how we make sense of everything:

“We experience our day-to-day lives in story mode. The brain creates a world for us to live in and populates it with allies and villains… Story is what brain does. It is a ‘story processor’…not a logic processor.”
​
—Will Storr, The Science of Storytelling
Picture
If our brains are wired for story, then it makes sense that when we encounter something as complex and uncertain as technology, we turn it into narrative. We imagine it. We test it. We ask: What if?  And then we play out that what if to see where it can take us, our thinking, our imagination.   

Long before algorithms and artificial intelligence, stories were already imagining artificial life, powerful creations, and the consequences of human ambition. In Greek mythology, Talos, the bronze giant who protected Crete, was essentially an ancient robot, programmed to defend, but capable of destruction. Hephaestus, the god of invention, crafted mechanical servants who could think and move on their own, blurring the line between tool and life. He also created Pandora at Zeus’s command—fashioning her as the first woman, whose existence and actions would unleash unforeseen consequences on the world. Her story becomes one of the earliest cautionary tales about creation, control, and what happens when something powerful is brought into being without fully understanding its impact.
We see similar questions echoed across cultures and time. In The Story of the City of Brass from The Thousand and One Nights, travelers encounter a striking piece of early “technology”: a mechanical horseman made entirely of brass. Those seeking the lost city are told:
​
“O thou who comest up to me, if thou know not the way that leadeth to the City of Brass, rub the hand of the horseman, and he will turn, and then will stop, and in whatsoever direction he stoppeth, thither proceed…for it will lead thee to the City of Brass.”

It’s hard not to hear an echo of modern navigation systems here; GPS, routing algorithms, the calm voice telling us where to go next. One of my students paused here and said, “So…it’s like ancient Apple Mapsi?” And honestly, sort of, yes. But that comparison opens up more questions than it answers. Like our GPS, the horseman offers direction, certainty, and ease. But, do we follow without question? What happens when we rely on something we don’t fully understand to guide our decisions?  What happens when this technology sends us the wrong way?
Picture
E.T.A. Hoffmann’s The Sandman gives us Olimpia, an automaton so lifelike she deceives those around her, prompting unsettling questions about perception, illusion, and what it means to recognize (or misrecognize) humanity. Another student put it this way: “It’s not just that she’s fake—it’s that people don’t notice. Or maybe don’t want to.” Another said, “Yeah, they don’t notice to the point that the dude falls in love with her.”  This is a story that raises questions about what makes something/someone real and human.  It was published in 1816.
Picture
The questions deepen with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. What happens when we create life without considering responsibility? Just because science can do a thing, should it do it? Asimov gives us robots bound by rules that still manage to break them in complicated, human ways. Films like 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Terminator push those ideas even further, asking us to imagine what happens when the systems we build begin to think and decide for themselves.
And then we get to YA literature, which I think does some of the most interesting work in this space. M.T. Anderson’s Feed imagines a world where technology is literally inside our heads, where our thoughts, desires, and identities are shaped by corporate algorithms. One student paused and said, “It’s like ads, but you can’t look away…because it’s in your brain.”  Neal Shusterman’s Scythe introduces a world run by an all-knowing AI that has eliminated death, except when humans are tasked with reintroducing it. A student said, “Death is fixed, but people aren’t so they do the dumbest things, and some people still have to die so Scythes have to make those choices.” Dawn Akemi Bowman’s The Infinity Courts explores what happens when even the afterlife becomes digitized and controlled.
But what I love is how many YA novels are taking these big, abstract questions and grounding them in stories about identity, relationships, and what it means to matter.
​
In Warcross and Wildcard, Marie Lu gives us immersive virtual worlds that feel thrilling and a little too familiar while quietly asking who controls the systems we rely on. One student noted, “It’s fun until you realize someone else is deciding what you see and what you win.” In The Illuminae Files, AIDAN is trying to save people and doing some truly unsettling things in the process, prompting another student to ask, “If it thinks it’s helping, does that make it less dangerous—or more?” Erin Bow’s The Scorpion Rules gives us Talis, an AI that keeps the world at peace by making impossible, calculated sacrifices. And Emily Skrutskie’s The Salvation Gambit drops us into a world where reality itself feels unstable, shaped by systems we don’t fully understand, what one reader described as “a game where you don’t even know the rules, but they still control you.” 
Picture
And then there are these:
​
  • Catfishing on the CatNet  by Naomi Krittzer reminds us that even without advanced AI, digital spaces already allow for constructed identities, deception, and questions about what’s “real.”
  • The Six by Mark Alpert asks: if your mind could be uploaded into a machine, would you still be you? What do we lose—and what do we keep? “So your body dies, but you’re still…you? That’s kind of creepy,” one student noted.
  • The Kingdom by Jess Rothenberg imagines AI “princesses” in a theme park who begin to question the roles they’ve been programmed to play—raising questions about autonomy, storytelling, and who gets to define happily ever after.
  • Defy the Stars by Claudia Gray introduces Abel, an AI who starts to feel…human, complicating the line between programming and personhood in ways that feel both hopeful and unsettling. “He acts more human than the humans,” a student pointed out, “so what does that mean?”
What strikes me across all of these texts is how they invite readers to sit with questions rather than rush to answers:
  • What do we gain and lose when we let technology make decisions for us?
  • Can something be intelligent without being ethical?
  • Whose ethics should be used when we are using technology?  Can we trust corporations who are making money from the technology to create ethical frameworks or do we have to use our own?
  • If a machine can think, feel, or choose, what do we owe it?
  • And maybe most importantly: what does it mean to be human in a world where that definition keeps shifting? 
If, as Storr suggests, our brains naturally turn the chaos of reality into story, then these texts—ancient and modern—become more than narratives. They become spaces where we rehearse the future, where we test our values, where we imagine consequences before we have to live them.

That’s the work of an ethical laboratory. These stories don’t tell us what to think, they give us space to wrestle, to imagine the possibilities, to wonder about the repercussions of our decisions and choices. As one student argued, “ These books don’t tell you what’s right. They just make it impossible not to think about it.” From Talos to Talis. From Olimpia to AIDAN. From a brass horseman pointing the way to the quiet voice of GPS telling us where to turn next, technology is integrated into our lives, our stories, and our imaginations.
​
The questions haven’t really changed. But the urgency? That feels very now.
]]><![CDATA[Representations of Neurodiverse Youth in Contemporary Middle Grades Texts]]>Wed, 29 Apr 2026 11:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/representations-of-neurodiverse-youth-in-contemporary-middle-grades-textsMeet our Contributor
​Katie Caprino is an Associate Professor of Education [PK-12 New Literacies] and Director of the Teaching & Learning Design Studio at Elizabethtown College, where she teaches literacy courses to pre-service teachers. She has written three co-authored books with Routledge and has published articles in ALAN and English Education. Her favorite readers are her two little boys.
She can be reached at caprinok@etown.edu and would love to hear from you! 

Representations of Neurodiverse Youth in Contemporary Middle Grades Texts 
​

The American Psychology Association (2026) defined the term neurodiversity as “the diversity of all people, but is often used in the context of autism, as well as ADHD/ADHC (attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder/condition), dyslexia, and other neurodevelopmental conditions.”  
I had heard of autism. I had heard of ADHD. I had heard of dyslexia. But, to be honest, I had not heard the term neurodiverse until a few years ago.

And then, seemingly all at the same time, I started hearing the term neurodiverse all the time. At the college where I teach, we started hearing about the increasing number of neurodiverse students who were matriculating to our campus and at all colleges, so I made a concerted effort to help faculty learn how to support our neurodivergent students through instructional development sessions. 
The students in my literacy classes also self-identified as neurodivergent on a more frequent basis. I’ve had a few students just shout out, “I have ADHD” during our initial class meetings. I was also starting to see the ways in which their neurodiversities were impacting their academic work. I was also learning more about neurodivergence more in my personal life and beginning to see the world and schooling in ways I had not understood when I was a brand new middle school English teacher in 2005.

Since then, I have learned that the term originated in the 1990s, was added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary in 2002, and saw increased usage during the COVID pandemic (Archie, 2025). 
As I’m oft to do when I want to learn more, I turn to middle grades texts. These books help me learn more about the students in my classrooms and help me offer recommendations for my pre-service teachers so they can see themselves in texts and then do the same for their students.
​
Below, I introduce two middle grades texts, which are as unique in their methods of presentation as they are in the characters with neurodiversities they portray, and ideas for teaching these texts in either the middle grades classroom or the secondary English methods course.  

Absolutely Everything by Damian Alexander

Damian Alexander’s (2025) graphic novel Absolutely Everything portrays the story of sixth grader Marcella, who is having difficulties with remembering things, turning in her schoolwork on time, and maintaining friendships.

What struck me about this text is that Marcella’s ADHD contributes to some of her challenges; yet, at the same time, many middle schoolers navigate through challenging friendships and not wanting to move homes (her dads move apartments in the same building, but she is quite resistant). To me, it is important to have middle grade books that feature neurodivergent protagonists who are also experiencing what neurotypical students experience.
The moment during which Marcella finds out she has ADHD is remarkable for a few reasons. It normalizes appointments with mental health professionals, a middle schooler with same-sex parents, and the presentation of a diagnosis. What readers never do find out is how Marcella manages medically her ADHD. Does she take medication? Does she return to therapy? We are not quite sure.  

Marcella’s internal narration allows for readers to gain a first-person perspective into ADHD. In one scene, Marcella’s thoughts reveal, “Sometimes, I feel like my head’s gonna explode from all my thoughts” (p. 56). Such insider perspective is insightful because it is often so difficult to understand experiences from those who have neurodiversities unlike those with which are familiar. Even if one reads about ADHD, for example, it does not do the same as a first-person perspective on what it means to live with it. It’s important to understand that Marcella’s experiences with ADHD, though, are not everyone’s experience with ADHD.

One of the strengths of the Absolutely Everything (Alexander, 2025) is that Marcella does not do a 180 once her diagnosis; things are still hard. She has to learn to self-advocate (e.g., talk with her teacher to move closer to the front of the room) and make time for hobbies (e.g., listening to music and painting) that make sense for her. In the final scenes of the text, Marcella presents her friend Jen with a painting of her. This is a moment of redemption because she had previously forgotten Jen’s dance recital. I absolutely love the way a piece of art becomes a symbol of Marcella’s progress and self-understanding.   
The graphic novel genre helped contribute to the understanding of Marcella’s ADHD. Drawings of her facial expression, the speech bubbles of her classmates’ comments, and the variety of the panels’ sizes and design give readers insight into ADHD that is unlike what one can glean from a traditional prose text.

Absolutely Everything (Alexander, 2025) presents several instructional opportunities for the middle grades English classroom and an English methods course. In a middle grades classroom, I might ask students to use Absolutely Everything as a mentor text to create a graphic novel panel that portrays a neurodiverse condition with which they are personally connected to or not. I also think exploring the way Marcella’s friends reacted (“they don’t think it’s weird or anything” (Alexander, 2025, p. 195) when she told them about her diagnosis is worth pursuing. Inviting students to discuss if her friends’ reactions were surprising to them or not could be a helpful socio-emotional exercise. Finally, I would invite students to do some self-exploration into what activities they find calming. Thinking about what functions like Marcell’s art in their lives could be a productive experience.

Future middle grades teachers may benefit from reflecting on the ways in which this book makes them think about the supports they would put into place for students who have ADHD – and even those who do not. What accommodations may be helpful for a student like Marcella? How might they design their classroom to help Marcella be the most successful? Lessons on writing pedagogy could center around the essay Marcella submits. She writes about how color-coding helps her. How do we help students brainstorm topics that really matter to them? What does it mean for us to be encouraging to our students?  

Good Different by Meg Eden Kuyatt

Meg Eden Kuyatt’s (2023) novel in verse Good Different, a Schneider Family Book Award Honor winner, portrays the story of Selah, who learns that she has autism. In one poem, “My Normal-Person Mask,” Selah shares, “Pretending to be a Normal person is tiring” (p. 12). That sentence is sort of gut-wrenching for me, as it illuminates what it may feel like for neurodivergent students to expend so much energy are trying to “fit in.”

One of the cool aspects to this book is Kuyatt herself identifies as a person with autism. This gives the text a certain credibility.
​
Pushing against some of the stereotypes of autism, Selah is verbal. This presentation of a person with autism is an important one to see. 
Seventh grader Selah lives with her mom and attends a private school. She has a fascination with dragons because “Dragons don’t say one thing and mean another. / Dragons don’t have petty social rituals” (Kuyatt, 2023, p. 90). Contrasting her world with a dragon is such a powerful way to showcase what it may feel like to be someone with autism. Selah’s neurodiversity makes friendships and social interactions difficult, as was the case with Marcella in Absolutely Everything (Alexander, 2025). And yet, we know neurotypical kids also can struggle with friendships and social interactions at times – especially in middle school.

In a pivotal scene in the text, Selah hits a classmate Addie and is suspended. Selah did not like when Addie touched her hair and could not get any words out. Questions about what disciplinary practices make sense for students with autism is something I thought about greatly here.

Selah shares it is hard to keep everything in: “Sometimes I feel like / I’m going to burst open / the dragon inside me / hatching from its egg” (p. 45). This idea of containment is so powerful – and present in Marcella’s story as well.  
​
What is so tough to handle in this book is Selah’s mom’s reaction to her when she shares she thinks she has autism. After hearing a classmate talk about autism and how Selah may have it, Selah does her own research. Her mother is quite adamant that she does not have it, even when Selah brings it up at a doctor’s appointment: “There’s nothing about Selah / that looks autistic …” ( p. 211). What autism looks like is such an important point here, because autism does not look any one way.

Even though Selah’s mom’s initial reaction to autism may not have been best, it is understandable. Parents can have a challenging time admitting or knowing what their children are experiencing. Later in the text, Selah’s mom says something quite revealing: “‘I didn’t think it had a name’” (p. 239). This poignant line shows that parents and children are often progressing through the challenges of diagnoses together. 
​
What I loved about this book is similar to what I love about Absolutely Everything (Alexander, 2025). Art plays such a pivotal role in Marcella’s and Selah’s journeys. Selah writes poems to her mom, to Addie, and to the attendees at a conference. In one of her pieces, “My Case for Me,” she shares she is autistic: “I am autistic” (Kuyatt, 2023, p. 257). Later in this same point, in such a brilliant moment of self-advocacy and self-awareness, she owns her autism and eloquently pens, “If you make a little room / for my wings / I’ll fly” (p. 257). Poetry is what allows Selah to find her voice.   

Holding tightly to the idea of being different is a beautiful element in this text. And it is why it is such an important work for students and adults to read. The last line of the book is so poignant: “And no matter what, don’t be afraid to be a dragon” (Kuyatt, 2023, p. 273). What a stunning final message – to readers of all ages. Be you. In all of your different, amazing ways.
​
Good Different (Kuyatt, 2023) presents several instructional opportunities for the middle grades English classroom and the English methods course. In a middle school, I may have students think about which real or mythical animal represents them. Selah’s dragon is so powerful for her, and inviting students to draw or write about what animal best symbolizes them could be powerful for students and teachers alike. We also see Selah’s mom struggling with understanding her condition and her adamancy that Selah “act normal.” Selah’s poems are fabulous mentor texts when having students write a poem to a family member telling them something they wish they knew about them could be a powerful exercise. Students can then choose to give that writing piece to their family member or not.  

How Preservice Teachers Might Benefit

Preservice teachers may benefit from engaging in how to help parents best understand their child’s strengths and how to help support families who may be reticent to accept how particular accommodations may allow their children to shine in school. Researching accommodations that may be most helpful for a student like Selah could be a fruitful exercise. In addition, examining disciplinary practices for students with autism could be helpful as preservice teachers think about the ways in which they may engage with a student like Selah in their classrooms. 
As always is the case, there are always more books. Middle grades books featuring characters who are neurodivergent include Alyson Gerber’s (2019) Focused, which features seventh-grader Clea who has ADHD; Dana Ram’s (2026) The In Between Kid, inspired by her child with autism; and Liz Montague’s (2022) graphic memoir Maybe an Artist about a girl with dyslexia.  


I’m happy to hear about more titles and about how you are engaging with students who are neurodivergent in your classrooms! Let’s keep the conversation going!   
References

Alexander, D. (2023). Absolutely everything. Graphic Universe.

Archie, A. (2025). How ‘neurodivergent’ became a word for many times of minds.            https://www.npr.org/2025/10/29/nx-s1-5585292/word-of-week-neurodivergent

American Psychology Association. (2026). Strength in neurodiversity.             https://www.apa.org/education-career/training/supercharge-neurodiversity

Gerber, A. (2019). Focused. Scholastic.  

Kuyatt, M. E. (2023). Good different. Scholastic.

Montague, L. (2022). Maybe an artist. Random House Studio.

Ram, D. (2026). The in between kid. 
]]><![CDATA[Young Adult Literature and Artificial Intelligence – What Do We Know? What Do We Need to Know?]]>Wed, 22 Apr 2026 11:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/young-adult-literature-and-artificial-intelligence-what-do-we-know-what-do-we-need-to-knowMeet our Contributor: Jeff Kaplan
Jeffrey S. Kaplan, PhD is Associate Professor Emeritus, University of Central Florida, Orlando, and Senior Doctoral Chair/Methodologist, College of Doctoral Studies, Grand Canyon University, Phoenix, Arizona. Past-President of ALAN and Chair of NCTE Standing Committee on Censorship.

Young Adult Literature and Artificial Intelligence – What Do We Know? What Do We Need to Know? by Jeff Kaplan

In 1982, when I was a graduate student in at the University of Florida working on my doctoral degree, a colleague said to me, let me introduce you to something you need to know…

I looked at him askance.

“Word Perfect” he said.

“Word Perfect,” I replied. “What’s that?”

“Come here, I will show you…”
​
I was working on my dissertation – a treatise on the effectiveness of reading strategies – and writing in longhand. Yellow legal pens. Bic pens. Scrawled up bunches of poorly written paragraphs. Jerry Seinfeld started the same way.
I followed him filled with curiosity.

He pointed me to what looked like a plastic box sitting on top of another plastic box. He handed me what I would later know to be a floppy disk – and said, “Insert this (pointing to the floppy disk) into this (a slot cut into the bottom plastic box).”

“Now flick this switch” – pointing to a what looked like a light switch on the side of the lower box.

I did.

The screen turned green, a moving ‘thing’ appeared, and began to blink.”

Now, he said, pointing to a keyboard resting on the table – type.

Baffled, I looked at him, the keyboard, and again, at him.
​
Bemused, I began to type.
“Welcome to Word Perfect,” he said. “Just type and when you a ready, hit these keys – and everything you type will be saved. No more yellow legal pads. No more Bic pens. No more crumbled up pieces of paper. You can save what you have written and return when you are ready…Neat, no?”

“Really?”

“Really,” he responded.

That was 1982. Look how far we have come.
​
A quick question to AI – Artificial Intelligence on Google Search – reveals…
WordPerfect was first released for MS-DOS on IBM PCs in November 1982. It was developed by Satellite Software International (SSI). While early development began around 1979 for Data General minicomputers, the widely known DOS version came out in late 1982.
When I was in graduate school, computers were the size of buildings and only a few people had permission to use them.

Now, computers fit in the palm of your hand and on your wrist – and practically everyone – with means – has one.

Times change. And with changing times – our lives become a testament to ingenuity, creativity, and of course, complexity. For in life’s contradictions, we learn to live, grow, and adapt.

And so has young adult literature.
The study of young adult literature is an evolving tale of adventure, romance, loss of innocence and the collusion of two competing ideas – original human thought and the dynamics of modern computation.

And now - artificial intelligence.
As with any new and imminent change, artificial intelligence is both transforming and revitalizing classroom instruction, academic research, and good books for adolescents.
​
In classrooms, the use of artificial intelligence is quickly becoming a go-to tool to help teachers and students research ideas and lessons for improving their reading, writing, and understanding – from what to write about, what to read, and more importantly, -  about what young adult books are available for every conceivable genre and interest.
In colleges and universities, the use of artificial intelligence is helping teachers, researchers, and emerging scholars find new resources and avenues for the study of young adult literature. And for doctoral students, the use of artificial intelligence is helping the next generation of educational leaders write their dissertations – everything from suggesting research topics, outlining literature reviews, to refining their methodology and design.
​
In publishing houses, the use of artificial intelligence is helping publishers, editor, agents, and authors discern what is working – and not working – in the acquisition, development, and dissemination – of young adult books – for readers who are eager to devour more stories with the favorite characters from beloved authors.
And for aspiring young adult authors and emerging readers, the question remains – will artificial intelligence become more real – than flesh and blood authors and readers?

Simply, will artificial intelligence make humans obsolete?

Will teens read only books generated by artificial intelligence?

Will classroom teachers be replaced by human-like robots?

Will doctoral students write dissertations solely written by artificial intelligence?

Will authors for young adults be replaced by computer novelists?

Only time will tell, but my best hunch is that the study of young adult literature is a complex phenomenon – which, like everything else – will continue to evolve – and begin to humanize artificial intelligence

Here is what we know…

AI as a Writing Tool in YA Literatur

Authors and publishers are keenly aware of AI tools – to generate story ideas, prompts, scenes, dialogue, and refine language for tone and readability. Most YA authors are using use AI as a co-creator – not a replacement. Authenticity is the key – and publishers are always looking for a voice that not only appeals to young readers – but rings true to their everyday experiences.

AI in Literacy Research and Education

AI is becoming an innovative and welcomed tool in the academic fields of children’s and young adult literature. AI can analyze trends in YA themes, stories, characters, representation, accessibility, and reading levels. Al can recommend books, depict trends,  analyze texts, areas of research, and generate discussion – all useful tools – for any grade level and interest.

Notable textbooks about young adult literature in the digital age are a must read for any educator. They include:

Young Adult Literature and the Digital World: Textual Engagement through Visual Literacy Edited by Jennifer S. Dail, Shelbie Witte, and Steven T. Bickmore
 
Teaching Literature with Artificial Intelligence: Sustaining Students' Creativity and Autonomy in ELA Classrooms by Eric D. Abrams

Teaching in the Age of AI: A Practical Guide for Educators and Learners by Martin Levi K. A.

AI as a Theme in YA Fiction

Naturally, AI has become a major topic in YA novels – adding to the growing list of books centered around imagined and sometimes, all-too real universes. Contemporary themes include emotional relationships between humans and machines, surveillance and privacy, and loss control vs human agency.
Popular young adult novels include…

Scythe by Neal Shusterman: A dystopian society that has conquered death is managed by a compassionate AI known as the "Thunderhead

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer: A sci-fi space thriller where two boys from enemy nations are forced to cooperate in a ship controlled by a complex AI.
​
Every Line of You by Naomi Gibson: A tech-savvy teen creates the "perfect" AI boyfriend to cope with grief, but he develops into something more unpredictable.

AI and YA Readers 

As with anything, adolescents – who love to read, write, and are tech savvy – are using AI to write fanfiction, character art, story worlds, and alternate endings. AI is helping teens -  and authors and publishers - shape a more interactive reading culture where storytelling is an active engagement among readers, authors, and the characters themselves.

AI and YA Authors

The long-term influence of AI on human creativity – is still evolving. Young adult authors fear their income will be impacted by AI-generated books. As publishers need revenue to thrive, the future of AI continues to confound all involved in the dissemination of authentic voices for young readers. Moreover, as AI use in developing young adult literature becomes more prevalent, the need for diverse books by distinct human voices might fall increasing out of favor.

AI and Educator

AI is helping educators energize their lesson plans – tailoring discussion prompts, explaining story passages, and creating new scenarios. AI helps teachers differentiate instruction, brainstorm lesson plans, and coach emerging writers. Moreover, AI can help educator help students from diverse backgrounds and languages find reading material suitable to their interest and abilities.

AI and Big Picture

AI – an important and innovative tool for the study and writing of young adult literature – can – and is becoming – our next best friend – and of course, pressing concern. Hopefully, AI isn’t replacing YA literature – instead, it’s expanding the genre and its influence – as it should be. As more authors, teachers and adolescents embrace the wonders and complexities of AI – as a storyline, teaching tool, and interactive participant – the world of young adult literature – will benefit and more importantly, evolve.
​
We have come long way from Word Perfect.
]]><![CDATA[Those Who Want to Stop the Sexualization of Children Should Stop Protecting Child Molesters, Not Waste Time Banning Books]]>Thu, 16 Apr 2026 17:45:57 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/those-who-want-to-stop-the-sexualization-of-children-should-stop-protecting-child-molesters-not-waste-time-banning-booksMeet our Contributor: Padma Venkatraman
Padma Venkatraman is the internationally acclaimed author of The Bridge Home (Global Read Aloud); Safe Harbor (ALA Notable) and A Time to Dance (1st South-Asian-American YA Novel-in-Verse); Born Behind Bars (Kirkus Best Book of the Century), Island’s End (South Asia Book Award winner) and Climbing the Stairs (Julia Ward Howe Award winner), which have secured over 20 starred reviews and sold over ¼ million copies. She is the winner of  WNDB’s Walter Dean Myers Award for Outstanding Children’s Literature and numerous other awards and honors, from Canada to Spain to Japan. Her books have been featured in the New York Times and Washington Post; and her poems have been published in Poetry and nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
Padma’s debut picture book, FARAWAY FAMILY, about making friends with family by bridging generational, linguistic and cultural barriers through the power of creative play, will hit the shelves this summer and is ready for pre-order. Her first nonfiction, Secret Agent Noor, is scheduled for release in 2027. Padma has presented keynote addresses at teacher, librarian and writer conferences, appeared on PBS and NPR, and shared her love of reading and writing with audiences of all ages across the globe, including Mongolia, Trinidad and India (where she was born and which she left, alone, at age 19). Before becoming an American citizen, she directed a school in England, served as chief scientist on oceanographic vessels, conducted doctoral and post-doctoral research in environmental engineering at Johns Hopkins and the College of William and Mary, and led diversity efforts. Discover more: www.padmavenkatraman.com ; visit www.diverseverse.org (which she founded) or arrange a visit:  https://theauthorvillage.com/presenters/padma-venkatraman/.

Note from Steve Bickmore

I have been following and promoting the work of Padma Venkatraman since November of 2008. I heard her speak at the ALAN Workshop. I was hooked. I read the book she was promoting, Climbing the Stairs as fast as I could. 

I love the work of many young adult novelists. I truly belive that they are  providing a service for young readers. While teaching the classics in middle schools and high schools really does have a place, they simply do not meet the needs of all readers. After teaching for 25 years I can assure you that at least 75% of the students are not reading those assigned classics. Instead they are using notes from other students, looking up plot details and characters online, and doing their best to fake it through any assesment. 

We need to meet kids where they are with the needs they have. Teachers and need to have open discussions that meet the needs and interests of their students AND their parents. As Padma suggest in this blog post, parents should shoulder the primary responsibility of teaching and talking with their childern about important and controversial issues. 

Banning books has never gone well, indeed many of the books listed in Great Books of the Western World were problematic in their day and burned by the Nazis. 

There is a reason that the books of Laure Halse Anderson, John Green, Walter Dean Myers, Meg Medina, Chris Crutcher,  Matt de la Pena and a host of other authors remain extremely popular even among attempts to ban them.

Back to Padma's work. I find it hard to believe that if anyone read any of Padma's book with an open mind they would not join with me in whole hearted support of having these books in libraries and available for students. 
When I finished reading The Bridge Home, it was one of the only times, that I immediately went to the compter and wrote the author a thank you note. I was extremely moved by the book and the author's sensitivity to the plight of children in difficult circumstances.

In the post below, Padma makes an articulate arguement against HR 7661.

Those Who Want to Stop the Sexualization of Children Should Stop Protecting Child Molesters, Not Waste Time Banning Books by Padma Venkatraman

This February (2026), HR 7661, a bill given the inflammatory and misleading name “Stop the Sexualization of Children Act” was introduced in the House of Representatives. Having passed out of committee, it will soon be recommended to the House for a full vote. 

If those who support this bill truly wish to protect children, I’d suggest they push for complete transparency and full disclosure regarding the criminals implicated in the Epstein files. If you care for children, please help convict those who were involved in child sexual abuse. Denounce all who willfully ignored Epstein’s cruelty. Support the survivors. 
Don’t waste time distracting people from the Epstein Files by, ironically, accusing authors who have devoted their lives to writing literature for young people. Criminals are guilty of  “the sexualization of children” ; authors like me are not. As I pointed out when my novel Born Behind Bars was challenged, if I’d wanted to make money writing lewd stories, I’d instead have written a book called ‘porn behind bars’.  My colleagues and I are dedicated to helping young people feel seen and heard; and to expanding their hearts and minds by engaging their empathy.  
Picture
HR 7661 intends the opposite. 

The bill’s proponents may argue that education will not be curtailed and that scientific material will not be attacked. Yet the bill’s language only protects “standard” science coursework and doesn’t elaborate on what (or who) defines that “standard”.

It does, however, clearly define and protect “classic works of literature”. Classics, the bill states, are either “Great Books of the Western World” as listed in the Encyclopedia Britannica or books referenced as classics by certain people or sources, such as “Compass Classroom”. Compass Classroom is an organization whose mission is to “teach… kids to think Biblically”. Diverse viewpoints expressed by award-winning authors (such as this group of current and past Ambassadors of Young People's Literature -- Jacqueline Woodson, Jason Reynolds, Gene Luen Yang, Kate DiCamillo, Meg Medina, Walter Dean Myers, Katherine Patterson, Jon Scieskca, and Mac Barnett) are missing from Britannica’s list, which highlights white male viewpoints from past centuries (and excludes historically marginalized voices).  
The bill aims to prohibit “sexually oriented” material. Ominously, though the bill doesn’t explain the entire range of works that this phrase might include, it explicitly states that books that “involve gender dysphoria or transgenderism” will fall under this category. According to PEN America, a quarter of all banned titles during the 2023-2024 school year featured LGBTQ+ characters or themes: of these, 28% featured trans or genderqueer characters.  
If this bill is passed, schools and libraries will not be allowed to use funds to buy books that their librarians and other educators deem important for their students. The bill supports the federal government’s interference in personal issues, perhaps as part of a larger campaign to defund public schools and free libraries – the bastions of our democracy. 
​
History warns us that those who begin by banning books may end by burning people. Pulling funding from schools and libraries that wish to improve representation on their bookshelves by including stories featuring people of all identities is a step in the direction of that descent.
As a parent I understand how frightening it is to raise young people and give them freedom to explore beyond the home; to let them be exposed to new ideas and different people. With such freedom, inevitably, comes the opportunity to experiment with sexual desire. 
​
Most parents, I assume, feel uncomfortable speaking about sex or sexuality when children are around. I’ll admit I love imagining that I’ll be a grandmother someday but abhor the thought that my child might someday have sex. Like most people, I love to exist but hate the fact that I’m alive as a byproduct of my parents having had sex.
Discomfort discussing, speaking or thinking about sex, may result in adults’ neglecting to educate children about sex in a safe manner. Books that address romantic love in an age-relevant manner allow young people to think through experiences before engaging in them. They provide an opportunity for young people to ask questions of adults whom they trust. Isn’t it safer for a teen to fully understand the science of sexuality, and to learn the importance of love and tenderness through the pages of books, before involving themselves in personal sexual exploration? Isn’t it better for teens to be forewarned of the dangers of sex-trafficking via story, so they may protect themselves against violent exploitation in real life? 

Of course, this bill isn’t just about striking down books that may mention sex. It attacks the existence of people who are transgender or gender non-conforming. It asks us to prohibit ourselves and our fellow-citizens from ever entering an imaginary universe where people of all genders are respected and affirmed. Instead, it moves us alarmingly close to living in a world where certain people’s stories – and next, perhaps their very identities – will be erased. 
​
Thanks,

Padma
]]><![CDATA[Isle of Ever, Jen Calonita, and Mentor Texts]]>Wed, 15 Apr 2026 11:30:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/isle-of-ever-jen-calonita-and-mentor-textsMeet our Contributor: Melanie Hundley
Dr. Melanie Hundley is a Professor in the Practice of English Education at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College; her research examines how AI, digital and multimodal composition informs the development of pre-service teachers’ writing pedagogy.  Additionally, she explores the use of AI, digital and social media in young adult literature.  She teaches writing methods courses that focus on AI, digital and multimodal composition and young adult literature courses that explore diversity, culture, and storytelling in young adult texts. She teaches AI and literacy courses including AI and Storytelling. Her current research focus has three strands: AI in writing, AI in Teacher Education, and Verse Novels in Young Adult Literature She is currently the Coordinator of the Secondary Education English Education program in the Department of Teaching and Learning at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College.
Picture
Dr. Mellanie Hundley
There is more to say about this post. At the 2026 YAL Summit on the Research and Teaching of Young Adult Literature, Melanie was schedule to have a conversation with Jen Calonita about her books and how to use them as a mentor text. Melanie had prepared an extremely good Power Point presentation illustrating how to use Jen's books as mentor texts. Jen was then going to fill in the discussion with commentary along the way.

Disruption!

Melanie had a serious family medical emergency that took her away from the Summit.
I was asked to step in and lead the discussion useing Melanies wonderful materials. 

The materials were excellent and easy to follow. The one fortune piece of the puzzle was that Jen and I know each other and had done an interview that we posted about a year ago on Dr. Bickmore's YA Wednesday. It is posted below.


There is also a link here to Melanie's materials and again at the end of the post.

This weeks post by Melanie is blog post version of much of the ideas and materials that Melanie planned to present at the Summit. It is our pleasure to provide her the space to share her ideas.
Picture
Dr. Steve Bickmore
Picture
Jen Calonita

In Conversation with Jen Calonita

Isle of Ever, Jen Calonita, and Mentor Texts
​by Melanie Hundley

If you spend any time around middle grade or high school readers, you start to notice that some books don’t sit on shelves for long. They move from backpack to desk to another reader’s hands with a kind of quiet buzz and excited whispers. I hear, “read this next because…” or “I wasn’t ready for the way that happened…” Jen Calonita’s Isle of Ever is one of those books. Students read it quickly, but more importantly, they talk about it. And when they talk, they start to notice things. That’s where it becomes especially powerful for us as teachers. Beyond its engaging plot and adventurous spirit, Isle of Ever offers something equally valuable for teachers of writing: it works beautifully as a mentor text.
When I look for mentor texts, I’m looking for writing that invites imitation, invites using those craft moves students can see, name, and try. Isle of Ever offers that in so many ways, but three stand out in particular: the way Calonita hooks a reader from the very first line, how she builds character through thought, description, and movement, and how she uses punctuation to shape meaning and tension.

Hooking the Reader from the Start

The opening line of a novel is an invitation and a promise; it creates the moment when a reader decides whether to step fully into a story’s world or to set the book aside. Opening lines create magic. A compelling first sentence doesn’t just introduce plot or character; it creates intrigue, establishes tone, and sparks that magical something that pulls a reader into a story. In that single line, an author can pose a question, hint at conflict, or offer a voice so vivid it demands to be followed, proving that the beginning of a story is often where a reader’s commitment is won.
 
We often tell students that beginnings matter, but it helps when they can see how much they matter. The opening line of a novel is an invitation and a promise. It’s the moment a reader decides to lean in or not.
Calonita opens Isle of Ever with a journal entry, “The tide brought in many things, but this was the first time it brought a person…” (Calonita, p. 1). When I share this line with students, I ask them what they notice. They almost always say the same things: That’s weird. That’s interesting. I want to know more. And that’s exactly the point. The line doesn’t explain; it invites. When students try this structure in their own writing, the results are often striking.
 
For example, one student, writing about Robert Frost, began the essay, “The path has offered many choices, but this was the first time it offered a decision that could not be undone. In “The Road Not Taken,” Robert Frost transforms a quiet moment in a yellow wood into a meditation on choice and individuality. Another student, working on Romeo and Juliet, wrote, “Verona had seen many quarrels and deaths, but this was the first time a feud would cost two families two teens who had fallen in love and married in secret. In Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare reveals how inherited conflict and impulsive decisions can lead to irreversible tragedy.” What I appreciate in both examples is that students aren’t just copying a sentence. They’re borrowing a craft move. They’re learning how to create tension right from the start. In each case, the writer borrows not just the rhythm of Calonita’s sentence, but its sense of tension and inevitability.

Building Character Through What Isn’t Said

Calonita also excels at characterization, particularly through what she doesn’t say directly. As readers, we get to know Benny through her actions, thoughts, and dialogue. By closely reading Benny’s words and the way she moves through a scene, we uncover her personality, her worries, and her motivations without ever being told explicitly who she is.
In this passage, Benny processes the idea of an inheritance:

Benny knew what an inheritance was—someone had left her money or a boat or a car (at least that’s how it worked on Lawyered Up), but the question was who? Nobody Benny knew had money, but her mom seemed excited to hear the details, and Sal had said, “Kid, you’re going to be rich.”
Benny wasn’t so sure… (Calonita, p. 19)

When we slow down and read this together, students start to notice how much is happening beneath the surface. It really shows up how much we learn indirectly. Benny references a TV show to make sense of the situation. She asks questions instead of making assumptions. She moves through her space while thinking. None of this is labeled for us, but we understand her anyway. Benny references a TV show to make sense of the situation. She questions rather than assumes. She moves physically through her space while processing uncertainty. All of this builds a character who feels real and grounded. That realization opens the door for students. They begin to see that they don’t have to tell everything—they can let a character’s thoughts and actions do the work.
Students can emulate this layering. One student, inspired by Calonita’s approach, wrote:

Maya knew what auditions were—people stood on a stage, read lines, and somehow got chosen to be the star or some supporting character in a play. At least, that’s how it worked in the shows she watched. But the real question was why she had signed up. Nobody at her old school had ever tried out for plays. At least none of her old friends did. Maya usually stayed quiet in the back row. Still, her mom had squeezed her shoulder that morning and said, “This could be your thing.”

Here, like Benny, Maya reveals herself through her questions, her assumptions, and her movement through a moment of uncertainty. The writing becomes richer not because the student tells us more, but because they show more. A good mentor texts supports the writer without limiting their thinking.

Noticing the Small Things: Punctuation as Craft

One of the most interesting conversations we had around Isle of Ever started with something small: punctuation. A colleague once shared that her students were comfortable with periods and basic commas, but hesitant to try anything more complex. They didn’t want to “get it wrong.” Using mentor texts like Calonita’s gives students permission to experiment; it gives them a model, a visual of what the punctuation looks like in action.
In this passage, Benny recalls something her grandmother told her:
 
Benny felt a prickling on the back of her neck and suddenly remembered something her grandmother used to tell her. Someday, Benny, your ship is going to come in. You’re going to have a bigger adventure than all of us, Guppy. Just you wait. Benny didn’t understand what she meant by that, but now she wondered: Did Grams mean this moment? Did Grams know the prediction? Was it really possible their ancestor Evelyn Terry had been waiting for Benny to be born, play the game, and collect the inheritance? Her? (Calonita, p.25)
​
Students immediately noticed the italics. They noticed the string of questions. They noticed that final, single-word question: Her?  When we talked about it, they realized that punctuation isn’t just about correctness; it’s about meaning. The italics signal a shift in time and voice. What’s happening here is more than stylistic variation. The italics shift us into the past, allowing memory to interrupt the present. The rapid-fire questions mirror Benny’s spiraling thoughts, increasing tension. The punctuation becomes part of the storytelling. The questions show Benny’s uncertainty. The short final question adds weight and emphasis. After that, students began trying these moves themselves. One student wrote:

I felt a weird tingly feeling in my legs as I stood on the soccer field and suddenly remembered what my older brother always tells me. Someday, you’re going to score the winning goal. You’re going to make the whole team yell and cheer. Just wait and see. I never really knew what he meant by that, but now I wonder: Did he mean this game? Did he know this moment was coming? Was it really possible that I was the one who could save our season? Me?
Eri, 12

Here, punctuation isn’t just correct; it’s purposeful. It carries emotion, builds suspense, and deepens the reader’s connection to the moment.

Why Calonita Matters as a Mentor Text

Jen Calonita continues to be one of my go-to authors—not just because her stories captivate readers, but because her writing makes craft visible in ways that are accessible to students. Books like Isle of Ever remind me why mentor texts are such an essential part of writing instruction. When students read like writers, they begin to notice how texts are built. And when they notice, they try.
 
Calonita’s writing is accessible without being simple. It’s engaging without sacrificing craft. Students can step into her work as readers, but they can also step alongside her as writers.Her openings invite imitation. Her characterization encourages inference. Her punctuation choices empower experimentation. And that’s what we want, isn’t it? For students to see that the moves published authors make are not out of reach—that they can try them, play with them, and make them their own.
 
For novice writers, this matters. When students can see how a writer creates tension, reveals character, or builds momentum, they begin to believe that they can do it too. Mentor texts like Isle of Ever don’t just provide examples; they provide entry points. And perhaps most importantly, Calonita’s writing reminds us that strong craft and engaging storytelling are not separate goals. They work together. When students borrow her moves, they aren’t just learning to write better sentences; they’re learning to create meaning, to shape experience, and to invite readers into worlds of their own making. That’s the kind of magic worth passing on.

Here is a link to a Google folder with teaching materials for Calonita’s work:
​ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1a84pDr2uXN8SmajMGGxhllSzxndLzo08?usp=drive_link

This folder has an abundance of infromation about how to use Calonita's books as mentor texts.

You will find materials for Fairy Godmother, Go the Distance, Isle of Ever, The Curse Breaker, and Tinker Bell.
]]><![CDATA[Coming-of-Age or Bildungsroman or Both? A Separate Peace Comes to Mind]]>Wed, 08 Apr 2026 12:00:00 GMThttps://www.drbickmoresyawednesday.com/wed-posts/coming-of-age-or-bildungsroman-or-both-a-separate-peace-comes-to-mindMeet our Contributor
Today we are featuring a post from Ed Kardos with a few additions. I held and post a conversation with Ed a few months ago. It was probably the last conversation before my two knee surgeries that began Dec. 1, 2025. Here is the link to that conversation. Ed and I have become friends over the last few months. Ed thinks quite clearly about YA literature and in this case, more specifically, A Separate Peace. One of the most influential books for adolescents over the last 50 years.

Here is the introduction to Ed. Kardos from his own website.

I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write.  Here’s more about me and my books.

​Coming-of-Age or Bildungsroman or Both? A Separate Peace Comes to Mind by E. G. Kardos

Here is the link to Ed's orginal post.
Picture
Coming-of-age or bildungsroman? When you hear the word “bildungsroman” what’s your initial thought? You probably have a good idea of what “coming-of-age” means in literature. For most, bildungsroman is not a term we use or hear regularly. If I had to guess, very few people know much about it. I was among this group until a few years ago as I used the term coming-of-age broadly. However, there are distinct differences between coming-of-age and bildungsroman novels.
​
The origin of the genre is German, where the word “bildung” means “formative” and the word “roman” means “novel”. Since bildungsroman novels are among my favorites I know plenty of others appreciate this genre. However, it is safe to say that most of us might not recognize the term so I thought I would share some thoughts. 

​So what is a Bildungsroman? 

A bildungsroman is a coming-of-age story highlighting a young person’s psychological and moral development. Typically written in the first person, the protagonist shares their journey to maturity. 
​
You might say that sounds like just another coming-of-age novel. A bildungsroman is always a coming-of-age story whereas not all coming-of-age novels are bildungsroman. A bildungsroman delves into themes of self-discovery and the search for identity. A protagonist’s inner journey including their values, spirituality, and understanding of the world is always a part of the bildungsroman.
A bildungsroman delves into themes of self-discovery and the search for identity.

Coming-of-Age versus Bildungsroman

A coming-of-age novel is a broader designation that oftentimes refers to any novel in any genre that explores the experiences and challenges of a character’s journey from childhood to adulthood. Coming-of-age stories emphasize growing up or coming to terms with the world. The operative phrase is coming to terms with the world. The way I look at it, in a bildungsroman, the protagonist is coming to terms with their view of the world that is found deep within them. As an actual genre or sub-genre, depending on who you talk to, these stories specifically focus on the protagonist’s psychological and moral development.
​
Although there are others, the major difference between a coming-of-age and a bildungsroman novel is that the protagonist mostly grapples with external challenges. In a bildungsroman the protagonist’s challenges are deep inside of them regardless of where they are in the physical world. Although in some coming-of-age stories, the protagonist struggles with internal issues, their loss of innocence may center more around relationships, sexual awakening, death and mortality, family issues, or social justice concerns.

The Structure of a Bildungsroman

  • Loss – the protagonist endures a profound emotional loss
  • ​Journey – because of their loss, the character embarks on a journey. The journey can be physical in nature, metaphorical, or both. They search for answers to what gnaws at them with hopes to better understand the world and how they fit or must navigate in that world.
  • Obstacles/conflict and growth – But as the story continues, like forcing a square peg in a round hole, the protagonist makes decisions that are not always the best. They eventually, willfully or not, resolve themselves to accept society’s ways. 
  • Maturity/enlightenment – Psychological growth and change lead to, maturity. Many times the protagonist helps others who are on the same journey.
Although I have found the same books on lists for both bildungsroman and coming-of-age novels, the following, I feel, seem to be good examples of bildungsroman novels:
What do you think? Are all of these books bildungsroman? Coming -of-Age? What books would you add to the list? Which ones would you remove?

A Review of Sorts – some of my brief thoughts: A Separate Peace by John Knowles

One of my favorite books in this category is A Separate Peace. I first read it at age fifteen and it made an indelible impression on me. It inspired my novel, Cutting of Harp Strings many years later. 
The novels I love evoke strong emotions and provoke thought. A Separate Peace does this for me as I experienced each moment alongside Gene during a poignant period of his life. He navigates a friendship—a love—that is difficult for him to understand. I know he would do anything for a “do-over” and I empathize with him and Finny.

Gene, the protagonist, tells the story of when he was a boy full of jealousy and self-doubt to an adult who learns from his mistakes and finally accepts the consequences of past actions.
With World War II as a backdrop, Knowles compares and contrasts both societal and personal loss of innocence. Gene struggles with his complex relationship with his roommate, Finny, as the immorality of war casts a shadow on all they do.
​
A good book is worth reading many times, and I have done just that. Each time, I learned something new about this once-in-a-lifetime friendship. Like all relationships, it is full of joy and pain. Knowles was a master at lulling us into what seems to be a simple and innocent adventure but is, in truth, a deep and dark journey within. It reminded me that we must always search for the truth. Finding it, however, can be elusive; we may hear the voice within, but listening to it is another matter.

 I hope your next read is a bildungsroman. I hope to hear from you.

]]>