Facing It: Wonder by R. J. Palacio

I know I'm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean, sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I have an XBox. I feel ordinary. Inside. But I know ordinary kids don't make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds.

I won't describe what I look like. Whatever you're thinking, it's probably worse.

The Universe has not been kind to Auggie Pullman.

Auggie just wants to be a face in the crowd. One no one notices.

But with his face, the one he was born with, even after 27 surgeries, he stops ordinary people in their tracks, staring, giving him "the look." Even the doctor who delivered Auggie fainted.

August has been home-schooled through fourth grade to shield him from the looks he gets whenever he goes in public. When he was younger, his sister Via's friend Miranda gave him an astronaut helmet, and for two years, he wore it all the time. For obvious reasons, Halloween is the best day of the year for Auggie.

But his mom feels that fifth grade, the beginning of middle school in his town, is the best time to start at a real school. "It's his reality," she explains to his dad, and she persuades a very reluctant Auggie to go along with the plan. Two weeks before school begins, his parent want him to meet the principal. And his name cracks up Auggie and his parents.

"Mr. Tushman?" I said.

"He's the principal," said his mother.

"Mr. Tushman?"

"Can you believe that name, Auggie? I mean, who on earth would admit to a name like Mr. Tushman?" said Dad.

"You should go to that school just so you can hear his name said over the loudspeaker!" Dad said excitedly. "Paging Mr. Tushman!" faking a fake old-lady voice. "Hi, Mr. Tushman. I see you're running a little behind today. Did your car get rear-ended again? What a bum rap!"

"Who's Mr. Tushman?" Via said groggily. She'd just woken up.

"He's the principal of my new school," I answered.

Auggie goes, and it's as bad as he feared. One boy, Jack Will, is decent and shows him around, and a girl named Summer joins him as he sits alone at his table in the cafeteria, but a kid named Julian seems to think it's mega-cool to talk about the way he looks right in front of him. Auggie notices that no one will touch him or anything he has touched, and soon Julian and his friends begin the "Plague War," sticking mean notes in his and Jack's locker and doing everything they can to embarrass him and isolate Jack and Summer. Rat Boy, Freddie Kreuger, E.T., Gross Out, Mutant, the notes read.

Then, in homeroom on Halloween, disguised as The Scream, Auggie quietly sits down close to a mummy and a Darth Sidious, and as they talk, he realizes they must be Jack and Julian, talking about him.

"Why do you hang out with him so much?" asked Darth Sidous.

"I don't know," answered the mummy.  "Tushman asked me to hang out with him and he must've told all the teachers to put us next to each other in all classes or something.  I mean, the thing is, he always follows me around."

"Just ditch him," said Julian.

"I've thought about this a lot," said Jack, "and I really think... if I looked like him, seriously, I think that I'd kill myself."

Auggie slips out of the room, physically sick to his stomach, crying, and tells the nurse he's got a virus and goes home. Getting through the rest of the year, getting through the rest of his life, seem unendurable.

But the Universe has some surprises ahead for August Pullman, in P. J. Palacio's celebrated, best-selling debut novel, Wonder (Random House, 2012). Getting to that happy ending for Auggie is an example of the high art of fiction writing, one blessed with extraordinary, yet believable, character development and believable story construction, one which takes on all the big themes--friendship, self-worth, bullying, and especially abundant courage and the grace of human kindness--as he finishes fifth grade with a courage that transforms his classmates as well. How the author does that in page-turning and heartfelt prose is a revelation relevant to adults as well as to its target readers. With starred reviews all around, best-of-the-year-list honors, and kudos from his fellow writers, Wonder is a wonder, that rare book that does it all.

Auggie's teacher has a "Precept of the Month" and he asks his students to send him a postcard during the summer with their own precept of the year.

Jack Will's Precept: Keep calm and carry on!--some saying from World War II.

Summer Dawson's Precept: If you can get through middle school without hurting anyone's feelings, that's really cool beans.

Julian Alban's Precept: Sometimes it's good to start over.

August Pullman's Precept: Everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their life, because we all overcome the world.

Extra-ordinary! We're All Wonders by R. J. Palacio

I know I'm not an ordinary kid.

Augie Pullman has never been ordinary. Born with a cranial malformation, even as a preschooler he couldn't help noticing the looks of fear, aversion, and even horror he got from strangers.

So when Augie learns about astronauts, he asks for a space helmet that hides most of his face and wears it everywhere he goes. At least it gives him a chance to play outside--even if he plays alone, except for his loyal dog Daisy.

Sure, I do ordinary things. I ride a bike. I eat ice cream.

I just don't look ordinary.

It hurts to be so different that others either turn away or stare at him with revulsion. Augie's parents try to explain and try to help him understand that inside he is good and smart and talented. And Daisy loves him unconditionally.

My mom says I'm a wonder.

The story of Augie Pullman, told so movingly in R. J. Palaccio's best-selling children's novel, Wonder (see review here) as well as in the recent hit movie, "Wonder," is available with a picture book format for young readers here in We're All Wonders! (Alfred A. Knopf, 2017) With the theme, "Choose Kind," this one has a message for all of us.

I can't change the way I look.

But maybe... people can change the way they see.

Look with kindness and you'll always find wonder.

Who Says? Fish In A Tree by Lynda Mullaly Hunt

Getting an award for not being smart enough to deserve it is the worst feeling. Like getting this certificate is going to make me pat myself on the back and transform into a different person. I swear I'll never accept an award that I don't deserve.

Keisha calls my name as I run from the classroom. I run into the bathroom and hide in a stall.

The door opens. "You okay?" Keisha asks.

"No. I'm not."

"Who runs from an award?" Keisha asks.

"I didn't win it for real. Mr. Daniels is just trying to be nice. You don't understand. Go away."

"You're right, Ally. I don't understand."

"Look," I say. "Imagine if every time you got on your bike, you had to worry if the wheels would come off. And they do. But you still have to ride."

"Why in the world are you talking about bikes and wheels coming off?"

"My brain," I say, leaning my head against the cold wall. "My brain will never do what I want it to do."

Ally has a great memory for anything she hears. Math is easy for her, and she's a talented artist. Everyone says so. But letters and words seem to wiggle across the page when she tries to read them. To hide her difference from everyone else, Ally has a whole bagful of tricks to distract attention from her inability to read, which means she spends a lot of time hiding in the bathroom or sitting in the Principal's office. Her teacher Mrs. Hall and her hard-working mother just tell her she needs to try harder.

But Ally knows that trying harder to read the wiggly letters only makes her brain freeze like a broken Etch-A-Sketch. She's in constant fear of being discovered and risking the scorn of the whole class, led by Shay, who might as well have CLASS MEAN GIRL on a sign around her neck. But when Mrs. Hall takes a leave of absence, things get better when Mr. Daniels comes to take her place. Mr. Daniels seems to value what she can do well, and without a word to the class, he changes her assignments to make them possible to complete. Slowly, Ally begins to understand herself and see that she's not the only one who doesn't always fit in. As her friend Keisha tells her...

"Look.  You don't fit in. I don't fit in. Albert doesn't fit in. Who says who fits in anyway? Who wants to fit in with people like Shay?"

You can't judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree is the theme of Lynda Mullaly Hunt's latest, Fish in a Tree (Penguin Group, 2015).  Recognizing individual differences mean that accepting our own and others' abilities and deficiencies goes deeper than just giving the nod to "diversity." Writing for middle graders, Hunt's singling out archetypes such as Shay, the mean queen bee, Albert the class brain, Keisha the street-smart black girl, and Jessica, the needy wannabe who apes the "popular" kid, may appear a bit obvious, and it seems a bit strange that a veteran teacher and principal can't recognize a case of dyslexia right under their noses, but Hunt is not writing for adults; she is writing for youngsters for whom these are brand new problems. And with her new understanding that her reading problem is just one among those her classmates share, Ally comes to see that in a way, her mom and Mrs. Hall were right--she does have a lot of hard work ahead. What is different is that she knows she's not the only one and she's not afraid to ask for help any longer.

Hunt's latest book is a worthy companion to the recent notable classroom-centered novels that help preteen students understand and deal with differences, their own and those of others in the school setting. Notable among these are Rob Buyea's Because of Mr. Terupt, Jennifer L. Holms' The Fourteenth Goldfish, Ann M. Martin's Rain Reign, and R. J. Palacio's Wonder.