"We
have crammed 72 fifth-graders and six adults into my
small classroom. We sit shoulder to shoulder on the
carpeted floor, knees against the back of the person
in front of us. And yet, the discomforts and confinements
vanish as soon as soft strains of the flute are heard.
The white-haired lady who stands before us plays a few
more notes and quietly begins to speak.
We
feel as if we know her, though most of us have never
laid eyes on her before. We have studied her Website
and read her books. We have drafted questions for her,
and made drawings and mementos for her. Somehow, through
an alchemy of paper and ink, she is our friend before
we meet her.
She
is Mary Peace Finley, author of a “Southwest Trilogy”
that Colorado children cherish because it tells the
story of our state so effectively.
Her
books have been nominated several times for the Blue
Spruce Award for children’s literature, and with the
third book of her series, “Meadow Lark,” she has become
the recipient of the Colorado Book Award. She is an
accomplished author.
She
is here under the auspices of the Weld County Council
of the International Reading Association and our Meeker
School Association parent group, which provided funds.
Mrs.
Finley had visited our school once years before, but
the children who met her then have grown up and moved
to other schools. I am the only one who remembers her
vividly. She was gracious enough to spend extra time
at the end of a long and demanding day with fourth-graders
after school. She likes their questions and their clear
knowledge of her book. She read a chapter from her unpublished
second book, “White Grizzly,” and asked for their feedback.
And she offered professional advice when my students
told her, “Our teacher has written a book!”
The
same gracious spirit was much in evidence during this
visit too, although now she is far more well-known and
has published nine books.
At
first, she seems very shy, but soon we see glimpses
of the child inside---the explorer, the adventurer,
the curious, eager wanderer who absorbs so much of the
world around her and simply can’t resist telling about
it.
She
brings dozens of artifacts symbolic of her books—tea
in blocks, the cheap cologne the mountain men would
buy at the rendezvous, the American half-dime, the cast
of the grizzly paw, the hats. The objects of the story
become real now. There is a low buzz of excitement with
each new object.
She
talks about what it is like to be an author, about the
winding path her life took to this work, about her own
struggles as a child to read and write, about the way
characters insinuate themselves into your mind and refuse
to be ignored, about how she writes and rewrites, plans
and revises, about how all the threads have to join
in the fabric of the book and about going back to pick
up a dropped stitch of plot when you find it. She demystifies
the writer’s life and makes us all long for a wakeful
night under a cottonwood to beckon us to put pen to
paper.
She
is real. She works hard at her craft. She is demanding
of herself. She wonders. She lives surrounded by the
“what” of her writing---taking on the persona of a Mexican
woman at Bent’s Fort just before war breaks out with
Mexico. She has explored the Southwest to be able to
truly describe it. She gives new meaning to the word
“research.” Somehow, copying the words from an encyclopedia
article seems small and unworthy now.
Mrs.
Finley autographs our classroom copies of her trilogy.
The children cradle the books like treasures. They wistfully
request that I purchase her next book for our classroom
library, even thought it has not been published yet,
and they know that they will not be here when it takes
its place on our shelves.
When
she is gone and the room is put back to its usual configuration,
we muse upon our meeting. I tell my students that birders
keep a life list of the species they have observed in
the wild, but that I keep a life list of authors and
illustrators whom I have met in person.
I
tell them, “You have made your first entry on your own
life list. Don’t you wonder what fascinating person
will be your next entry?” There is an audible sigh.
And then I say, “Maybe someday one of you will be an
entry on my life list. I will feel so proud.” Shining
eyes look toward the future---and they smile."
Vicki
Heisler is a fifth-grade teacher at Meeker Elementary
School.
