The shadows and darkness capture Trisha’s fear and shame. Falker is classic Polacco, it’s missing some of the whimsy. The illustrations are bright and whimsical. Polacco’s art strikes me as the answer to the question, what would you get if you crossed a Mary Engelbreit collection with a Rie Muñoz gallery. With the love and joy there is fear and shame and confusion and pain.Īnd because Polacco allows her young self to feel all of the feelings, the feelings are powerful and real. The love of family is there, with the love of books and the joy of stories. Then she compresses them until they are as hard and clear and unyielding as a diamond. Falker, Polacco takes the feelings that she had as a child, and transforms them into the feelings of every child who struggles in school. Felker), who really did make sure she learned how to read.
She was tormented by her classmates.Īnd there was a real Mr. She couldn’t learn how to read the same way other children did. Falker, you learn that Trisha is really Patricia Polacco herself. The story behind the storyĪt the end of Thank You, Mr. Falker made sure Trisha learned how to read. Until her family moved to California, and Trisha met Mr. They tormented her, and she tormented herself. That’s not what the teachers intended to teach her. Instead, she learned that she was stupid. But she didn’t learn to read in kindergarten, or in first grade, or even in second grade. And the family says in unison, “Yes, and so is knowledge, but knowledge is like the bee that made that sweet honey, you have to chase it through the pages of a book!” He puts honey on the cover of a book, and tells her to taste it.
It’s one that has been handed down in the family. When Trisha is five years old, and about to start kindergarten, her grandfather holds a ceremony for her. Falker tells the story of a girl named Trisha as she struggles to learn to read. You don’t expect them to grab your heart and wring tears out of your eyes.īut that’s exactly what Thank You, Mr. I try to avoid it.īut I thought Thank You, Mr. And it’s awkward, sitting on the train with a book on my lap and tears running down my face. I’m a sappy and sentimental reader, and all kinds of stories make me cry. I should have known not to read Thank You, Mr.
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