In December, I wrote about kids’ cookbooks, which got me thinking about how I cook.
I love cookbooks, but when dinnertime rolls around, I’m much more likely to open up my laptop than to pull a book off my shelf. The Internet is a great starting point when you’ve got a specific question about how to do something:
- How to peel a butternut squash?
- How to cook brown rice?
- How to tell when your cake is done?
Kids today have grown up taking Google and YouTube for granted as sources of information and entertainment. With this in mind, I set out to discover the cooking resources available online for kids. I was looking for videos and websites directed at kids, not just their parents, and for clear instructions and engaging content. Here is what I found:
This cartoon series, produced by Disney Spain, is the best online cooking show for kids that I found.
Telmo and Tula are a brother-sister pair of young chefs. The siblings make a recipe in each episode – ranging from crêpes to tuna sandwiches.
What makes this show so engaging is its humour and likeable characters. Telmo is the pesky little brother who puts pepper on everything he eats. Tula is the pragmatic older sister who makes up songs about cooking.
The siblings do all of the cooking until a heat source or knife is required. That’s when they call, “Grownup!” and a silent, but comical parent figure shuffles into the kitchen to do their bidding.
Moshi Monsters Magazine sits at complicated intersection of advertising and creative engagement for children
Moshi Monsters are customizable creatures that children can raise and play with at moshimonsters.com.
The Moshi brand includes a very popular video game, a magazine, and a web game(s). The magazine, Moshi Monsters Magazine, includes comics, puzzles, pull-out posters and project how-to’s. The magazine clearly dictates the overlap of the different platforms where Moshi Monsters are available.
The inside front cover, inside back cover, and back cover — which are a magazine’s most expensive advertising spaces — all feature an advertisement of the Moshi Monsters universe. If this would still be considered advertising, these ads alone would net the highest income from advertising.
It draws a complicated question of what point we have to consider for a publication like Moshi Monsters Magazine: At what point does aggressive and immersive advertising dwarf educational development and playtime?
On Christmas morning in 2010, I unwrapped a set of books by an author I’d never heard of: The Hunger Games Trilogy, by Suzanne Collins.
“They’re the next big thing,” my mother assured me, seeing the skeptical look on my face. I wasn’t a huge science fiction fan, so Collins’ stories were foreign territory for me. Still, in spite of my doubts, I gave The Hunger Games a try. Within weeks I’d zoomed through all three books and was raving about them to my friends. Not long after, the rest of the world followed suit.
Now, the wildly successful series has been transformed into an even more successful movie franchise. Katniss Everdeen dolls are flying off the shelves of toy stores everywhere and fans can even buy their own golden Mockingjay pins. Something about a teen hero triumphing in a dystopian world has struck a chord with not only children and teens, but adult readers, too. And other young adult authors have taken note.
Every time I stop by a Chapters or Indigo, it seems another dystopian teen lit series has appeared out of thin air. However, with so many books vying to be “the next big thing”, as my mother put it, only a few are bound to have that It factor that grabs the attention of young readers. Here are my top two picks for the series that will join the ranks of The Hunger Games as the best of the best in young adult fiction.
Divergent by Veronica Roth
With the first instalment of the movie version of this series hitting theatres in March, Divergent is rapidly making the transition from indie fan favourite to mainstream success.
Roth tells the story of Tris, a teenager living in a post-apocalyptic Chicago where society is split into factions based on a highly advanced personality test.
After Tris receives irregular results for her test, her view of the world around her is forever changed. She is forced to question the conservative ideals she grew up with and embrace a new way of life in a different (and much more dangerous) faction.
It would be quite the understatement to say that my fascination with television is a direct result of the cartoons I used to watch as a child. There was nothing quite like waking up at 7am on Saturday mornings, staring in utter awe as I was bombarded by the adventures of costumed titans, unlikely heroes, visitors from other planets, and of course, those riotous talking animals.
But as all truly great fiction does, many of these cartoons transcended the genre, melding with unmistakably real issues and topics that children otherwise may not have been privy too.
Take Batman: The Animated Series, for example. Hailed as one of the greatest animated series of all time, the show’s grim, Art-Deco aesthetic was equally complimented by recurring meditations on the consequences of violence, the perpetuity of crime, and the labels of “good” and “evil”.
I’ll never forget watching “Over the Edge”, in which after watching her fall to her death, Lieutenant Gordon discovers Batgirl’s identity to be that of his own daughter. I won’t spoil the surprise ending, but Gordon consequently incites a vicious police campaign against Batman, whom he blames for dragging her into such a violent lifestyle. Who was in the right? Who was in the wrong? Could such a binary view of things even be adequately applied here? As a child, that was an incredibly profound predicament to witness.
This notion is continued with X-Men: The Animated Series, another fan-favourite that not only retained, but also heavily focused on the source material’s allegory for prejudice and discrimination (unlike the modern TV incarnations of the titular mutants).
Directing children towards literature that represents adulthood in its true nature.
“I am very busy. I am an adult.”
I recently was lucky enough to meet one of my childhood heroes: Daniel Handler. Handler, who goes by his pen name Lemony Snicket, sat down for the afternoon with his young and old fans alike at the Revue Cinema in Roncesvalles. He talked about books, about people, and about the people in his new books.
The subtle comedian that he is, Handler also talked very briefly to a young volunteer about the nature of adulthood. So briefly, in fact, that it really only took one sentence to sum up how children perceive adults: “I know your name isn’t Max. But I am an adult. I don’t have time to learn it.” The statement inspired laughter from the audience, and a sheepish grin from non-Max, but it left me thinking about the adult characters in his books, and in other books I read when I was young.
Take a minute to consider some of the adults in well-known children’s literature. Visions of Count Olaf and his horrendous theatre troupe in A Series of Unfortunate Events, unsupportive and dim-witted parents who don’t realize their daughter’s potential in Roald Dahl’s Matilda, and the caricature-esque Vernon and Petunia Dursley in JK Rowling’s Harry Potter all come to mind. What do they all have in common? They are cruel, unreliable, and self-involved. They are very busy. They are adults. But for all of these less-than-ideal depictions of adults, co-exist the Uncle Montys, the Miss Honeys, and the Hagrids.
Hockey is an inseparable part of our Canadian heritage. The spirit of the game was implanted in me at a young age. Growing up, my parents had Hockey Night In Canada playing on the television every Saturday night. Even as a young child, I recognized the rivalry between the Montreal Canadiens and the Toronto Maple Leafs solely from the tension on ice and the energy of the fans in attendance. Boys in my suburban neighbourhood would gather in the street to play road hockey, or simply have target practice against their parents’ garage doors, leaving marks of success and dents of determination.
Sadly, those days seem long gone. As I drive around my neighbourhood, now, I can’t help wonder… where are the pile-ons, where are the nets and where are the kids? They’ve all retreated to their homes, where I can only assume they’re playing video games, messing around on the computer, or sending text messages! A new era is upon us – one that is significantly different than the one I grew up in. I mean, geez, do they even make hockey cards anymore?
I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that hockey (both street and ice) has taken a hit in popularity with so many things competing for kids’ time. Bauer Hockey Inc. – the same folks who’ve helped generations of kids’ lace up – recently released a study that confirms a decline in interest. Their study found “approximately 90 percent of Canadian families and their children choose not to play hockey”. The study was broken down into “perceived barriers”, including perceived affordability, perceived safety, perceived time commitment, and perceived fun. (Non-hockey families apparently don’t perceive hockey as a ‘fun’ sport while every other sport in the research, i.e. soccer and baseball, was described as fun.) Bauer has developed the pilot program, Grow The Game with the intention of being informative, affordable, and fun. Mark Messier, a famous former NHL player, supports this initiative and has been a vocal advocate for increased participation.
When I used to work teaching little kids how to cook, we had to put a limit on how many times each child was allowed to stir the bowl of ingredients. This sounds like a strange restriction, but it was often necessary to avoid tough cookie dough, and to allow everyone to get a turn helping out. Even so, there was always at least one person who cheated – that is, someone who stirred eight (or twenty) times instead of the requisite six.
The truth is, getting kids excited about cooking is easy. They love to stir, chop, measure, smell ingredients and toss salad. I recently looked at three cookbooks for kids that work on this premise.
Jon Milton, author of Do Try This At Home: Cook It!, is one of three “Punk Scientists” who work at the Science Museum in London. In this vein, the book is a collection of cooking experiments that happen to yield delicious results. Recipes range from Leek and Potato Soup to Baked Alaska, each with a “Science Bit” sidebar with an explanation about the science of cooking. From a parent’s point of view, the recipes are accessible and educational, with symbols to indicate time, difficulty level, and whether adult supervision is a good idea. From a kid’s point of view, the book succeeds for the same reason How Stuff Work and Popular Mechanics for Kids succeed: because science is cool.
Annabel Karmel’s Cook it Together focuses on spending time together in the kitchen, and on an awareness of where key ingredients come from. The book has a lot of kid appeal with colour photos illustrating every step of the recipes and special pages about ten featured ingredients including tomatoes, rice, apples and chocolate, among others. These features explain a little bit about how each ingredient is grown, harvested or manufactured. As the title suggests, these recipes are for parents to make with their children, meaning that cooking instructions are sometimes sparse, assuming a basic adult knowledge of how to do things like cook rice and use the broiler.
While many are still cautious about the presence of apps in the classroom, they’ve certainly presented us with a way of reconciling the gaps between various learning disabilities and disorders in special education. Inexpensive, interactive, and easily transportable and storable, mobile apps perfectly capture the idea of adaptation on an individual, child-to-child basis.
This is a medium that was founded for engaging users in new and unique ways through intimate, personalized experiences that cater towards specific needs. And that right there is the essence of special education; adapting the learning element itself to children with special needs instead of the other way around.
Here are some of the ways in which apps are helping special education to evolve.
AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication)
AAC apps are those that give children who are non-verbal or have speech impairments another way of communicating. For example,
is a popular AAC app with a simple interface in which children tap on images corresponding to basic needs such as “bathroom”, “hungry”, “drink”, or “play”.
The great thing about AAC apps is the fact that they commonly use features like customizable commands and user-driven picture libraries to ensure children can communicate through symbols and images that actually have meaning to them.
Finding content is the challenge that all media outlets grapple with on a daily basis.
Whether it be a major television network or a small, local newspaper, the need for content is equally crucial to survive and stay relevant.
For TSN and Rogers Sportsnet, the task is made somewhat easier by their ability to cast a wide net over the realm of professional sports. Publications such as the Toronto Sun and the Toronto Star are also afforded a similar luxury.
I was nine, it was winter, Norton Juster was speaking to me, and I found myself conducting the sky. My first post – no, plea – is an attempt to remind parents, teachers, siblings, whomever, to stop taking their children’s level of understanding for granted, and put a book like Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth in their hands.
A novel often deemed “too complex” for the mouldable minds that make up its major readers (children ages 8-10), Juster’s story of Milo and his tollbooth-to-conscientiousness continually accomplishes one of the greatest feats a children’s book can: instead of erring on the side of simplistic, it challenges its readers to learn beyond the pages.