Children's literature – Katie L. Carroll

The thing about grief is that each person experiences it differently, and it encompasses many different emotions. It can change over time, but it can also revert back to that fresh grief in unexpected moments. And it never goes away.

Recently, I was driving two of my kiddos to a travel soccer game. They were both in the back of the minivan, my 10-year-old reading and the 13-year-old playing on his phone. I had the radio tuned to the local alternative rock station that plays 90s music on the weekends, my favorite kind of music. The sun was out, the kids weren’t fighting, and I was in a good mood.

My sister Kylene on the left and me on the right standing next to each other. We were both teenagers at the time, her slightly taller than me, even though I was 3 years older than her. — Kylene (left) and Katie (right) around the ages when we were singing “Dumb” in the car together.

Then, the song “Dumb” by Nirvana came on, and I was transported back to another car ride, one that was more than 20 years ago. It was a similarly nice day, and I was on the way to play beach volleyball with some friends. Instead of my kids as companions, I had my sister Kylene. She loved to sing and had a beautiful voice, and she wasn’t afraid to sing loudly in front of others. Not like me, I kept my tone-deaf voice to the confines of the shower and my car.

So when “Dumb” came on the radio, we were both singing along, Kylene considerably louder than I was. The song got to the end where Kurt Cobain, the lead singer, repeats the line “I think I’m dumb” over and over again. Only, that’s not what Kylene sang. She was belting out “African dough” over and over again. I cracked up, tears rolling down my cheeks, because she had no idea that she was singing the wrong lyrics.

Of course, being the amazing older sister that I am (and also a teenager at the time), I not-so-nicely pointed out that she was singing the wrong lyrics and her lyrics made absolutely no sense. When we got to the beach, I told all our friends of her mistake, and it became a running joke every time we heard that song. For the rest of her life…which turned out not to be that much longer because she passed away when she was only 16. (I’ve written about this before in “Still Mourning Kylene 20 years Later.”)

Fast forward to hearing “Dumb” in the minivan with my kids, and I once again had tears rolling down my cheeks. I had my sunglasses on and my kids were paying no attention to me. I didn’t want to upset them or have to answer any questions they might have asked, so I kept them oblivious to my silent tears. We’ve talk about Kylene, and they know it was a very hard thing to go through, but in that moment, I wanted to be alone in my feelings. When it got to the end of the song, I quietly sang “African dough” instead of the correct lyrics, a little smile breaking out on my face.

Hearing that song and having that punch of a memory hit me, it made me miss my sister so much. It brought up fresh grief mixed in with all the old grief. The sadness that my kids will never get to meet their Auntie Kylene; the weird emptiness of her not being here anymore, even when I have no idea what she would be like now or what our relationship would be like; and the loss of all the things that she never got to be and do, whatever those things might have been. There was also the humor and fondness of the memory.

Even now, all these many years later, the grief can be overwhelming and complicated and hard and unique. It’s no wonder themes of grief often pop up in my writing. There’s my upper middle grade book Witch Test where Liza is being bullied by her ex-best friend, which brings up all sorts of feelings about her late mother. And my YA Hamlet retelling Only Dark Edges where Delta is haunted by the ghost of her sister and spirals into a deep depression of grief. And my work-in-progress picture book about a little girl, whose sister named Winnie recently passed away, goes looking for Winnie-the-Pooh in the woods.

I’ve always said one of the reasons I write is to try and make sense of the world. Kylene’s death will never make sense to me. But writing about it helps me sort out my feelings. And when I publish works about grief, my hope is that it will help kids who experience grief realize they are not alone in their feelings.

[UPDATE: Pleased to report that the books were not removed from school libraries. You can read about the decision in this article “Milford superintendent opts to keep ‘Heartstopper’ series on middle school library shelves.”]

Yesterday, I read the article “Milford schools reviewing popular ‘Heartstopper’ books after fielding parents complaints” and learned that parents were challenging the inclusion of these books in middle school libraries. The initial challenge was denied and the books were kept in the libraries, but parents appealed that decision and a more intense review is being conducted by the administration. A final decision has not been made on the fate of these books in middle school libraries.

I wrote a letter to share my views on the book challenge, which I’ve shared with the superintendent, school board members, local media, and across my social media pages. I think it’s important that parents and authors who are against book bans share their voices. Here is my letter:

As a parent of three children, including a middle school student, that attend Milford Public Schools and an award-winning author of children’s book, I do not think that the young adult graphic novel series “Heartstopper” by Alice Oseman should be banned from Milford middle schools.

The bestselling books series is about two boys, ages 14 and 16 in the first book, in England who meet at school and fall in love. The books have also been adapted into an Emmy award-winning Netflix series.

One of the parents challenging the book series said, “We would never ask for a book to be banned.” Yet this parent has requested that the books be pulled from middle school libraries.

According to the American Library Association, a book challenge “is an attempt to remove or restrict materials, based upon the objections of a person or group” and “a banning is the removal of those materials.” A book ban is exactly what this parent is calling for.

The objections to the book include the use of curse words, the use of slurs to bully a gay student, and discussions of mental health, eating disorders, and puberty. I have read these books and they deal with all of these topics in the context of a beautiful story of love and friendship that centers LGBTQ+ characters. I have recommended these books to my middle schooler.

Books are a safe way for children and teens to approach difficult topics, like bullying and mental health. The MPS guidelines say, “Library collections are curated with the goal of stimulating growth in critical thought and enhancing the overall educational program.” Library media specialists work with the district to provide books that “represent diverse points of view…to enable all patrons a safe space with which to view themselves as well as to elevate empathy for others.” This is exactly what the “Heartstopper” books do.

Though the characters in the “Heartstopper” books may be slightly older than middle schoolers, it is common for kids to read about older characters. Middle schoolers read the “The Hunger Games” series by Suzanne Collins where the main character is 16 in the first book. In language arts class this year, my middle schooler read “The Compound” by S. A. Bodeen, which also features a 16-year-old main character. These books also deal with difficult topics like war, nuclear attacks, and surviving in a violent world.

Every parent has a right to take a book out of their own child’s hands. What a parent doesn’t have is the right to take a book out of every child’s hands. It would be a disservice to students to remove the “Heartstopper” books from middle school libraries. I am asking the superintendent not to ban these books and allow my middle schooler to have access to these books at the school library.
Katie L. Carroll