Crenshaw by Katherine Applegate

Sometimes you have to look at a book a second time to really see it, to hear it.  The first time that I read Crenshaw by Newbery winner Katherine Applegate, I don’t think I really heard it.  Don’t get me wrong.  I liked it.  In fact, I almost read all of Crenshaw before getting up out of my chair even once.  But, I just did not feel the visceral reaction to it that I was expecting.  It didn’t really speak to me the first time.  Yes, it made me sad.  But, I suppose since “I am not an imaginary friend kind of [girl]” (p. 7), I was too preoccupied with this talking cat.  Or, maybe I was just busy when I read it the first time. 

I don’t know why I did not really feel Crenshaw like I should have the first time.  I mean.  Come on.  It is Katherine Applegate for crying out loud.  She is the kind of writer who makes a person think.  I love the beautiful style with which Applegate writes.  Listen to this, “He liked the way the stars took their time showing up.  He liked the way the grass let go of the sun’s warmth.  He liked the way crickets changed the music” (p. 215).  Beautiful!

Then, I saw some Twitter feeds from Mr. Schu (if you don’t follow him, you should).  He and others were talking about how great the book was.  What had I missed?  Why did I not feel this way too?  It was at that point that I determined that I needed to read Crenshaw again. 

I was not but a few pages into the second read before I was at my computer writing about what I felt.  A flood of thoughts came into my mind.  I realized that it was because of Crenshaw that I now notice people’s cars.

About a week before writing this, I had seen two guys in a car that was clearly on its last leg, a car that had a back seat completely loaded with clothing, folded and laundered clothing, clothing that looked ready to wear rather than ready to donate.  I immediately said to my family.  “I wonder if those guys are living in their car.” 

Before Crenshaw, I probably would have thought, “Hey, those guys are moving or coming from the laundromat,” or worse, “Those guys sure do have a messy car.”  I’m not naïve.  I did know that people were homeless before Crenshaw.  I had heard stories of people living in their cars.  I have had students tell me stories of living on the street or in shelters.  For goodness sake, I took my own students to a preschool for homeless and displaced children so that they could engage in meaningful, service learning experiences.  Because of Crenshaw, though, I saw the car and the two guys differently.  I was sad and scared for them as they pulled away from us.  Crenshaw opened my eyes to see what I already knew to be a possibility. 

The second thing that I started to think about were the stories of my students who have told me about their situations with homelessness.  More importantly, I recalled the semester when a student told me that she was unable to complete the work that I had assigned because she did not have Internet access; in fact, she did not have electricity and was about the lose her house.  That little, red devil of a teacher immediately wanted to say, “Well, you still have to do your work!”  But, I repressed that bad teacher and responded as a human.  I gave her extra time.  I asked what I could do.  I asked her to keep me informed.  I tried to be empathetic.  I was sad.  But, honestly, I was not as understanding as I should have been.  I was wrapped up in closing out semester grades, lesson plans, committee meetings, etc. 

Crenshaw made me see myself truly.  There was a part of me that was not understanding.  I hated it when I saw it.  I wanted to turn back time and do things differently.  I wanted to be better.  Those first 10 pages of my second read made me want that.  If this is not a testimony for allowing books to simmer and then give them another chance, I don’t know what is.  If this does not help us to see the importance of having kids reread books, then nothing will.

Now that I have finished Crenshaw for the second time, I’m still thinking about it and now talking about it with others in the field of education.  Not only can teachers learn to be more human because of the book, but they can learn that books sometimes need to be read more than once and they can also learn that not every student lives as he wants you to think. 

Crenshaw’s main character, Jackson, is smart; he’s a scientist; he knows a lot about the facts.  He lives with his mom, dad, and sister in an apartment.  They have a dog and a car.  His mom works multiple jobs.  He is the type of student who might slip under our radar; it seems as if everything is ok.  We might see him and teach him but never know what he is really going through. 

The reality is that Jackson’s family is struggling to make ends meet.  They have to sell almost everything they own and are on the edge of living in their car…again.  Jackson is struggling emotionally.  He says, “Sometimes I feel like the most grown-up one in the house” (p. 147).  He is scared and feels that his parents are not being honest with him about their situation and then Crenshaw appears…again. 

Crenshaw, Jackson’s very large imaginary friend, who just happens to be in cat form, comes to him to help him tell the truth and to help him navigate the unpredictably scary world in which he lives.  Crenshaw brings an element of humor to a book that is entrenched in very serious issues.  From his frolics with bubble baths, to his obsession with purple jelly beans, to his knack for skateboarding and surfing, Crenshaw is the calm in the storm.  He provides Jackson, and the reader, the support and humor needed to safely navigate Jackson’s life.  While I, in my non-imaginary-friend-state-of-mind, did not like Crenshaw at first, I now see that he is necessary.  He is there to help Jackson, but he is also there to make this book and this topic accessible to young readers.    

Crenshaw is a beautifully heartbreaking story about Jackson’s struggle.  It has the potential to open the eyes of upper elementary students who need to see that other children struggle more than they may in life.  It has the potential to comfort upper elementary students who may be facing the brutal truths that Jackson does.  What I think is its greatest potential is that it definitely taught me that I have to be vigilant as an educator and never assume that any child is “doing just fine.”  Jackson probably appeared to be doing just fine to his teachers.  This book helped me to see that teachers must be more involved in the lives of students.  Our students come to us for content knowledge, but since we spend as much or more time with them during the week than their parents and caregivers do, they need us to love them and support them too.  We cannot do that if we don’t really know them. 

So, I find it quite interesting that I ended up writing much more about Crenshaw than the first four entries to my blog.  Remember, it’s the book that didn’t speak to me the first time.  The fact that I have discovered so many powerful potentials with this book just goes to show the brilliance of Katherine Applegate.  Thanks, Katherine, for yet another powerful piece of literature.   

Crenshaw, 245 pages from Feiwel and Friends Book, Macmillan (September 22, 2015); ISBN: 9781250043238

Ideal for upper elementary and early middle school (and apparently people like me who needed to tell the truth too)