I have a big basket of children’s books.  Some are fairly new, but most of them belonged to my children when they were kids.  I had enrolled them in something called the Scholastic Children’s Choice Book Club, and a new book magically arrived each month through the mail.  These books are hardcover and sturdy.  Yes, sturdy.  They’re still here and beautifully intact 30+ years later.

Now, my grandchildren love reading these books.  Whether it’s about Ping, the Runaway Bunny, Willie’s Whistle, Madeline, the Frog Prince, Swimmy, Alfred… and so many more, I see another generation of exploration, imagination and adventure in these pages of these books.

I love books.  I always have.  I vividly remember my mom reading to me each night before I went to bed.  Usually one of my two brothers was on her other side.  I never felt more awake than in these moments before bedtime.

I remember my summer books clubs at my local library… both the adventure and the competition!  I grew up sandwiched between two brothers (very closely sandwiched), and I think most things became a competition for me.  I wanted to do what they did.  But better.

So this brings me to a little booklet that I found this morning among some of my research books.  Its title is Dick and Jane as Victims:  Sex Stereotyping in Children’s Readers.  It was published in 1972 as “A Study by Women on Words and Images: A Task Force of the Central New Jersey Chapter of the National Organization for Women”.

Hmmm.  I vaguely remembered buying this booklet way back in college when I was studying to be an English teacher.  Lord knows I didn’t want girls to be stereotyped in my classes or in life.  I would also use it as a reference while studying for my Master’s Degree in Reading while at Boston University (’76).

This morning, I began to thumb through it.  The first page hit me like a rug beater. There’s an illustration of Dick playing outdoors with his dog and a tire swing, and another of Jane indoors with a carpet sweeper.  Underneath were the words, “Dick is innovative and active, while even in early childhood, Jane learns to play with a carpet sweeper in anticipation of her later expected adult role.”

And I laughed out loud.  Oh, how these last few decades have taught me a thing or two.

I was that little girl with the carpet sweeper.  That was one of my chores.  Each morning.  But what the booklet doesn’t explain is that watching my brothers play outside for even those few carpet sweeping moments made me more competent and goal-oriented and adventurous and active.  I even remember asking my mom way back then, “Why do I have to sweep the carpets?” and being told, “Because you’re a girl.”

Hell no, I won’t go.  Well, maybe not that… but that little carpet sweeper didn’t teach me to be docile and non-assertive.  It taught me to be outright multidimensional and multi-tasking.  As in, “OK, I’ll sweep the carpet because Mom wants me to, but look out brothers because when I get outside I’m gonna whip your butts at tire swinging and running and playing with our dog and hitting that baseball over that fence.”  Wait for it.  “Na Na Na-Na-Na.”

I know now that a child’s development is all about genes and environment and role models and experiences… and that intrinsic thing called drive.  I was a girl-girl, but I had some competitive thing in me that my brothers brought out.  My parents didn’t plan that.  I didn’t plan that.  Life planned it.

Even when it came to how many books I’d read on summer vacation, the competition piece was, somewhere in my head, always there.  Healthy competition.

I flipped a bit more through the little Dick and Jane booket and found a detailed addendum listing books/stories/passages in which boys are portrayed as adventurous,  creative, clever, brave… you get the picture… compared to girls portrayed as passive, domestic, incompetent and goal restricted.  I realized that I had read many of those books as a young girl, but I must never have seen the message.  I only saw what I wanted to be.

So back to my big basket of children’s books.  I found myself reading for messages.  Messages.  I found myself looking at the illustrations for messages.  Messages.  But what I found were stories and illustrations of great adventures of growing and learning.  Boys.  Girls.  Animals.  Fish.  Kings.  Queens.  Dinosaurs.  Books bring kids to marvelous places and times.  Books ignite interests and create conversations.  Books make kids feel awake.  Books allow kids to laugh and cry and feel. Books love kids… both boys and girls.

I grew up with Dick and Jane.  I never wanted to be a Dick.  (Ouch!)  I wanted to be a Jane who did things that Dick did.  But better.  In a twist of irony, Dick made me a better Jane.

As a mom of two sons and two daughters, and a grandma to 2 girls and 7 (count ’em) 7 grandsons… my happiness is creating an environment of exploration, imagination and adventure for each of them.  Books will do this.  Competition will do this.  Conversation will do this.  Even chores will do this.

So head to your local library and let your kids pick out books that excite them.

Then head back home, dig out your carpet sweepers and hand them to your daughters and sons.

Let the summer fun begin!