Tag: Books

Keeping Minds Sharp: Beating the Summer Reading Slump Together

As the scholastic year draws to a close, children and teenagers eagerly anticipate the long summer holidays filled with play, family time and relaxation. While this break is important for wellbeing, research consistently shows that it can also lead to what is known as the summer reading slump. This phenomenon refers to the decline in literacy skills that many children experience during extended school breaks. Studies have found that children can lose up to a month of learning over summer, particularly in reading and spelling, with the effect most pronounced among children from lower socio-economic backgrounds who may have limited access to books and literacy-rich environments (National Library of New Zealand, n.d.).

Evidence from New Zealand highlights the importance of structured literacy teaching in preventing this decline. A study published in the New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies determined that the impact of explicit phonics, phoneme awareness and decoding strategies can embed foundational skills deeply enough to withstand the summer gap (Vosslamber, Walker, Millar-Swan, Motha, & Gillon, 2025). This reinforces the idea that strong classroom instruction can provide a buffer against learning loss.

Alongside structured teaching, regular reading at level is critical. When children engage with texts that match their ability, they reinforce vocabulary, comprehension and decoding skills while building confidence and motivation. Reading at level prevents cognitive decline associated with long breaks from literacy activities. Research also shows that children who participate in summer reading programs are more likely to maintain or improve their literacy skills. Benefits include increased motivation, improved comprehension and stronger connections between home and school learning (Reading Eggs, n.d.).

Governments and councils are aware of the risks posed by summer learning loss, which is why many have invested in free summer reading programs. These initiatives encourage children to keep reading for pleasure and skill development during the holidays. The Brisbane City Council Summer Reading Program, for example, offers fun challenges, rewards and community engagement to keep children motivated throughout the break (Brisbane City Council, n.d.). Programs like these not only support literacy but also foster a love of reading that lasts well beyond the summer months.

At my school, we have taken this one step further by setting up a summer reading challenge for both staff and students in the form of bookmarks. Students were given bookmarks that encouraged them to read a funny book, a book with a hero, a book by an Australian author and a book with an animal character.

Staff were challenged to read a book that made them laugh, one that made them cry, a book that gave hope and one recommended by a friend. This shared challenge not only promotes literacy but also builds a sense of community, with staff and students alike engaging in conversations about their reading choices and discovering new perspectives together.

The summer holidays should be a time of joy, but they do not have to mean a setback in learning. With structured teaching approaches, regular reading at level, community programs that make books accessible and fun, and school-based initiatives like reading challenges, children and adults alike can return to school inspired and ready to thrive. The evidence is clear: consistent engagement with reading is one of the most effective ways to prevent the summer slump and ensure that literacy skills continue to grow.

Suggestions for Teachers and Parents

  • Encourage children to read daily, even for short periods, with books that match their reading level.
  • Provide access to a variety of texts, including humorous stories, adventure tales, and culturally relevant works.
  • Model reading behaviour by sharing your own reading experiences and discussing books together.
  • Participate in local library programs or community reading initiatives to maintain motivation.
  • Create family reading routines, such as bedtime stories or shared reading times, to embed literacy into everyday life.
  • Celebrate reading achievements with small rewards or recognition to sustain enthusiasm.

References:

Brisbane City Council. (n.d.). Summer reading program. Retrieved December 9, 2025, from https://services.brisbane.qld.gov.au/online-services/libraries-venues-and-facilities/summer-reading-program

National Library of New Zealand. (n.d.). Summer slide and summer reading research. Retrieved December 9, 2025, from https://natlib.govt.nz/schools/reading-engagement/summer-reading/summer-slide-and-summer-reading-research

Reading Eggs. (n.d.). Benefits of summer reading programs. Retrieved December 9, 2025, from https://readingeggs.com.au/articles/benefits-summer-reading-programs

Vosslamber, A., Walker, J., Millar-Swan, A., Motha, J., & Gillon, G. (2025). The impact of Better Start Literacy Approach teaching on the retention of children’s early literacy skills over the summer holidays. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies, 60(3), 435–449. https://doi.org/10.1007/s40841-025-00405-2

A Season of Reading and Reflection: A Year in Review.

As the school year wrapped up last week, I found myself reflecting on the many moments that shaped our library community in 2025. There have been challenges, yes, but also plenty of reasons to celebrate.

One of the brightest sparks has been our book clubs. What started as a simple idea, a few snacks and a chance to talk about stories, has grown into something much bigger. My secondary Book Club stands out. At the beginning of the year they were a small group, some unsure of what to read, others firmly attached to their favourite genres. Over time, though, their borrowing soared. They began exploring fantasy, contemporary fiction and graphic novels, and while one dedicated manga reader still resists branching out, the group as a whole has broadened its horizons. More importantly, they began to see reading as part of who they are. They recommend titles to each other, debate endings, and even suggest new books for the library. Watching that transformation has been a joy.

Research reminds us that this is exactly what book clubs are meant to do. They make reading social, they build confidence, and they help young people see themselves as readers. The secondary Book Club Boys proved that in the most authentic way, showing how a community of peers can turn reading from a solitary task into something shared and celebrated.

From a whole school review, borrowing levels across the school have also risen, returning to pre COVID rates. Much of this growth has come from our younger readers, whose enthusiasm has been infectious. Their excitement has created a vibrant culture of reading in the primary years, and their participation in activities has been a highlight of the year.

Of course, there are challenges we cannot ignore. Very few of our Year 10 to Year 12 students are reading recreationally, and this is concerning. Intertextuality, the ability to connect ideas across texts, is vital for analysis and for building strong cognitive connections. Without regular reading, those skills are harder to develop. We also continue to see limited engagement from Years 7 to 10 English classes, despite enthusiastic promotion. There seems to be a reluctance to lose curriculum time.

Our team dynamic has shifted too, with members coming and going. Change always brings adjustment, but it has also brought fresh perspectives and energy. We have expanded our digital resources, and while uptake has been slow, steady gains are being made as students and staff grow more comfortable with these platforms.

Perhaps the greatest success of all has been the way the library has become recognised as a social space where everyone is welcome. It is not only a place for books, but a hub for connection, collaboration and belonging. That sense of community is something we can all be proud of.

We closed the year with our Books & Bites Christmas party, a joyful celebration of new releases and Christmas treats. Each student received a reading journal with a challenge to read four books over the summer, along with handmade gifts, ornaments, bookmarks, and pen holders, sewn over the past few weeks. These tokens were a way of honouring the shared love of reading that binds us together.

As we finish the 2025 chapter, I am reminded that reading is not just about borrowing books, it is about building minds, fostering empathy and preparing students for the complexities of the world.

“As we finish this chapter and look ahead to the new year, I am reminded that Christmas is a season not only of rejoicing, but of reflection. May the joy of stories, the warmth of community, and the promise of new beginnings carry us into the year ahead.”

Sundays, Libraries, and the Quiet Crisis in Reading

The 10 year old child’s haul.

On Sundays, our family has a rhythm. We go to church in the morning, then its off to our local library. The kids scatter to their favourite corners, borrowing books and settling in to read whatever strikes their fancy. The only rule is, that for every book that is a re-read, there must be one you have not read before.

This week’s book haul – mine.

Whilst my children scurry to their favourite genres, I grab a coffee and wander the shelves, letting my eyes land on whatever catches my eye. My husband always chuckles at this part. “You work in a library,” he says, amused. He’s right, of course. I do. But I work in a boys’ school library, and let’s just say the collection doesn’t quite float my boat. We then settle down for 30-45min of quiet reading together, but all on individual journeys.

Cook, S. (2025, November 5). It will take more than the new Children’s Booker Prize to arrest the dramatic decline in reading enjoyment. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/it-will-take-more-than-the-new-childrens-booker-prize-to-arrest-the-dramatic-decline-in-reading-enjoyment-268777

There’s something different about being in a space where reading is chosen, not assigned. Where stories are picked for pleasure, not performance. That contrast has been sitting with me lately, especially after reading Loh et al.’s 2025 report on the decline in volitional reading and a recent piece in The Conversation about the new Children’s Booker Prize. Both paint a sobering picture: young people are reading less, and they’re enjoying it even less than that.

Loh, C. E. et al. (2025) The Decline in Volitional
Reading: Evidence-Informed Ways Forward.
National Institute of Education, Nanyang
Technological University, Singapore.

Loh’s recommendations to improve literacy success.

  • agency
  • access to literature
  • time in daily routines
  • reflection and connection
  • social interaction
  • developing a positive reading identity

What struck me most in Loh’s report was what wasn’t there. None of the key principles mention curriculum reform. None suggest that testing is the answer. Instead, the focus is on joy, choice, and connection. Reading for pleasure is framed not as a luxury, but as a necessity. It’s a stronger predictor of reading attainment than socioeconomic status. That’s huge. It means that if we want to close literacy gaps, we need to open up space for enjoyment.

In my school library, I see the tension. Boys who associate reading with assignments, comprehension questions, and accelerated reader points. Not with curiosity or escape. Not with laughter or awe. And I wonder: what would happen if we let go of the scaffolds and trusted them to choose? The Conversation article makes a similar point. Awards like the Children’s Booker are lovely, but they won’t shift the culture on their own. What we need is a reimagining of reading in schools. Less about outcomes, more about experience. Less about control, more about trust.

Furthermore, parents need to remember that they are their children’s first educators. Is reading and literacy your household value? One of the key findings in Loh’s research is that children need access to literature and to see it modelled by the adults around them. Do parents take their kids to the library? Do they read in front of their children? Or do they presume that schools will take care of it? Do they even ask their children how often they visit the school library? These questions matter. Because when reading is visible and valued at home, it becomes part of a child’s identity, not just a school subject.

So here’s my quiet Sunday reflection: maybe the best thing we can do as educators is to make room and provide time. Room for stories that speak to our students. Room for browsing, for borrowing, for reading without a worksheet attached. Room for libraries that float their boats and time to lie back and float away.

Because when reading becomes a choice again, it becomes a joy again. And that’s where the magic lives.

Fiction is a safe place to break the rules

I recently attended the QSLA conference at the beautiful State Library of Queensland. It was a fantastic day for school informational professionals to gather, share emerging news, identify new trends and trade in good old fashioned work chit chat.

Andy Griffiths – author of the famous Treehouse series, was our keynote speaker. I have known of Andy’s work for almost a decade. Whilst I have admired his works, I hadn’t fully appreciated his philosophy until now. His words, much like his books, were playful on the surface but deeply subversive underneath. They invited us to reconsider not just how children read, but why they need stories that break the rules.

Griffiths and his co-creator, illustrator Terry Denton have created the inventive, imaginative chaos that is the Treehouse series. I found it amusing that they named the main characters after themselves. Their fictional versions live in an ever expanding treehouse that defies logic and gravity, expanding with each book to include ludicrous additions like a marshmallow machine, a tank of man-eating sharks, and even a volcano. Their adventures are reckless, absurd, and often dangerous. But that danger is never real. It’s theatrical. It’s safe. It’s fiction.

… and that is the point. It is fiction as Andy pointed out last week to a large group of educators and informational professionals.

Fiction is a safe place to break the rules.

I was mesmerised by this quote. That quote stayed with me. It echoed through the conference halls and followed me home. In an article published by the ABC in 2018, Griffiths argued that fiction as a “last frontier”, a place where children can explore worst-case scenarios without consequence. He said: “Books are the last frontier of freedom and wilderness for kids, for imagining dangerous things, for imagining craziness and worst-case scenarios” (Blau, 2018).

This was so true. In a world increasingly obsessed with safety, structure, and supervision, Griffiths’ books offer a counterbalance. They don’t just entertain their readers… they liberate them! They allow children to imagine running across six lanes of traffic or jumping into a volcano, not because they should, but because they can. In fiction, the consequences are exaggerated, the outcomes are ridiculous, and the lessons are embedded in laughter. Griffiths uses humour to engage the reader and builds into that playful sense that children have. As Griffiths said last week, “Reading is a game between the reader and the author. Authors make black marks on pages. Readers use these marks to make an image in their heads.”

I then thought about all the other books that ‘helped me break rules’. Darryl and Sally hosting midnight feasts at Mallory Towers, Matilda using her brain to solve problems, Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew resolving mysterious events. Each of these characters and books gave me option I may not have thought of previously.

Leaving the conference, I felt a renewed appreciation for the role of literature in childhood. Not just as a tool for literacy, but as a sanctuary for wild thought. Griffiths reminded us that imagination isn’t just fun. It’s vital. It’s how children rehearse life, test boundaries, and build resilience.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s how they learn to be free.

What books set you free?

Books as Companions: Why I Keep Rereading the Same Titles

There are books I return to not because I’ve forgotten the plot, but because I remember how they made me feel. Like Serena Bourke’s thoughtful reflection on why students reread the same book, I too find comfort in the familiar pages of my favourite titles. These books have become more than stories. They are companions. They are constants. They are friends.

When I’m happy, I reach for books that mirror my joy. Stories that sparkle with wit and warmth. They amplify the moment like music that makes you dance even harder. But when sadness creeps in, I turn to different titles. Not necessarily ones that cheer me up but ones that understand. Books that sit quietly with me, offering solace without demanding anything in return. They don’t fix the sadness inside, but they make it feel seen.

And when I feel unsettled, adrift in the chaos of life, I go back to books that anchor me. Their words are familiar. Their rhythms soothing. I know what’s coming next and that predictability is a balm. It’s like rewatching a movie you’ve seen a dozen times. You’re not watching it for the plot. You’re watching it to relive the feeling you had the first time. The laughter, the tears, the quiet awe. But some books have become emotional landmarks. I remember where I was when I first read them. The scent of the room. The season outside. The version of myself that turned each page. Rereading them is like visiting an old friend. You pick up right where you left off. No explanations needed.

There are specific titles I reach for depending on how I feel. I reach for something like Anne of Green Gables when I’m happy. It’s full of whimsy, imagination, and the kind of joy that makes you want to skip down a pathway and play hopscotch. When I’m sad, maybe The Little Prince or The Secret Garden. There’s something quietly profound about their simplicity, gentle wisdom, and a strong reminder that what’s essential is invisible to the eye. I read Jane Eyre when I’m feeling overwhelmed. Brontë’s classic coming-of-age novel inspires me to have faith, to persevere with hope and most of all, to believe in myself. I reread Harry Potter when I feel mischievous or want to relive some childhood nostalgia. It’s like slipping into a world that once felt limitless and magical. And when I’m ready to disappear into bygone days, I turn to The Sunne in Splendour or When Christ and His Saints Slept. These historical epics transport me to another time, another rhythm of life, where the stakes are grand and the stories rich with legacy.

Serena Bourke writes about how students reread books because they offer safety, familiarity and emotional resonance. I think that’s true for all of us. In a world that changes too fast, books stay. They wait patiently on shelves, ready to welcome us back. And each time we return, we bring a new version of ourselves to the story. The book hasn’t changed but we have. And somehow it still fits.

So yes, I reread. Not because I’ve run out of new titles but because some books are more than books. They’re friends. They’re mirrors. They’re memory keepers. And in their pages, I find pieces of myself again and again.

Fracturing stereotypes in literature: Using fairy tales to transfer cultural knowledge and break assumptions.

Fairy tales have long served as cultural touchstones as they passed down through generations to teach values, warn against danger, and reflect the beliefs of the societies that created them. Though often associated with bedtime reading, fairy tales are far more than simple entertainment. They are rich with symbolism, moral lessons, and cultural nuance. Across the world, these tales take many forms and espouse a range of cultural values and traditions. In West Africa, the Anansi stories feature a clever spider who uses wit and trickery to navigate challenges, often blurring the line between hero and villain. In Russia, Baba Yaga, a fearsome witch who lives in a house with chicken legs is a treated as both a threat and a source of wisdom. Japanese tales like Momotaro (Peach Boy) celebrate loyalty and courage, while Indigenous Australian Dreamtime stories embed spiritual and ecological knowledge, linking people to land, ancestry, and community.

Fairy and folk tales are shaped by the values and fears of the cultures that tell them. Take Little Red Riding Hood, for example. In the original French version by Charles Perrault, the story ends with Red being eaten. A stark warning about the dangers of naivety and talking to strangers. Two centuries later, the Grimm brothers added a huntsman who rescues her, softening the tale but still portrays Red as a naive child with no common sense that needs a man to rescue her from her own stupidity. In China’s Lon Po Po, three sisters cleverly defeat a wolf disguised as their grandmother. In West Africa’s Pretty Salma, the story is reimagined with vibrant market scenes and a trickster dog. However, in some modern versions, Red is a sweet girl who outsmarts the wolf and saves her grandmother. Each version reflects different cultural fears, values, and expectations.

Fairy tales offer insight into social norms, gender roles, and moral expectations. However, many students today encounter fairy tales primarily through Western adaptations, for example, Anderson, Perrault, Grimm and more recently, Disney. As we are all aware, the latter often simplifies complex narratives into polished versions where good triumphs, evil is vanquished, and everyone lives happily ever after. However, we all know that life is not a happily ever after scenario. We also know that many of these fairy tales have not aged well and their depictions of women and other minority groups are outdated and sometimes offensive.

Fractured fairy tales offer a powerful way to revisit these traditional stories and challenge the assumptions they carry. By twisting familiar plots, reimagining characters, and shifting perspectives, fractured tales invite students to question stereotypes and explore alternative narratives. These adaptations provide a meaningful way to integrate classic and traditional tales into the curriculum as shared cultural knowledge as these stories are familiar, accessible, and often deeply embedded in popular media and literature. By engaging with them critically, students can recognise the stereotypes they contain, such as passive heroines, villainous outsiders, or heroic princes, and begin to unpack the social messages behind them.

As mentioned previously, traditional tales often portray female characters are passive, villains are irredeemable, and heroes are defined by their ability to rescue others. Fractured versions ask: What if the princess saved herself? What if the villain had a backstory? What if the tale took place in a modern classroom, a refugee camp, or a suburban street?

Fractured fairy tales are re-imaginings of traditional fairy tales and they are more than just creative exercises. They are acts of critical literacy. Fracture tales encourage students to analyse how stories shape our understanding of identity, power, and justice. They also provide space for students to insert their own voices, experiences, and cultural perspectives into the storytelling tradition.

A compelling example is Disney’s Maleficent (2014), which reinterprets Sleeping Beauty through a postmodern lens. Rather than portraying Maleficent as a one-dimensional villain, the film gives her emotional depth and agency. It highlights the impact trauma can have on emotional stability and the ability to make future connections. Maleficent’s loss of her wings to Stefan’s violence triggers a cascade of vengeance. This violent action of Stefan gives the viewer a reason why Maleficent cursed Aurora. It was not a random event, but rather retribution for past actions. Furthermore, Aurora awakens not through a prince’s kiss, but through Maleficent’s maternal love that grew despite the hatred and anger. It assuaged her internal trauma and avoided the trope of romantic salvation. Maleficent uses intertextuality to challenge the “grand narrative” of the original tale, offering a more nuanced and inclusive version of the story.

For educators, fractured fairy tales are a rich tool for both literary analysis and creative writing. They allow students to explore genre conventions, experiment with structure, and reflect on the social messages embedded in familiar texts. By comparing global versions of tales and then reworking them with a modern lens, students learn that storytelling is not fixed. Instead it celebrates how stories continue to be fluid, diverse and deeply personal.

There are numerous fractured fairy tales that can be used effectively for academic and recreational purposes. So… why not use them for your own teaching and learning… And fracture some stereotypes along the way.

Books:

  • The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs by Jon Scieszka m- Told from the wolf’s point of view, this witty retelling flips the narrative on its head.
  • The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales by Jon Scieszka – A collection of absurd and hilarious twists on familiar fairy tales.
  • The Wide-Awake Princess by E.D. Bakerm – Princess Annie is immune to magic and sets out to rescue her enchanted sister, challenging traditional gender roles.
  • Peter and the Starcatchers by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson – A prequel to Peter Pan that adds depth and adventure to the original tale.
  • The Wishing Spell (Land of Stories series) by Chris Colfer – Two siblings fall into a world where fairy tales are real—and not always as expected

Films

  • Maleficent (2014) – Reimagines Sleeping Beauty from the villain’s perspective, exploring themes of agency and maternal love.
  • Shrek (2001) – A satirical mash-up of fairy tale tropes that challenges beauty standards, heroism, and social norms.
  • Into the Woods (2014) – Intertwines multiple fairy tales with darker consequences, highlighting moral ambiguity and personal responsibility.
  • Ella Enchanted (2004) – A feminist twist on Cinderella, where the heroine fights against magical obedience and societal expectations.
  • Enchanted (2007) – A fairy tale princess lands in modern-day New York, confronting real-world complexities and stereotypes.
  • Hoodwinked! (2005) – A comedic retelling of Little Red Riding Hood as a crime investigation, with multiple unreliable narrators.

Banned Books Week: Censorship, Selection, and the Role of the Teacher Librarian.

Each year, Banned Books Week invites us to reflect on the importance of intellectual freedom and the dangers of censorship. Around the world, books are challenged or removed from shelves due to content deemed offensive or ideologically inappropriate by local authorities. These decisions often reflect broader societal tensions around race, gender, sexuality, and political beliefs.

In Australia, the free flow of information is protected by legislation such as the Freedom of Information Act, and championed by organisations like the Australian Library and Information Association (ALIA). ALIA upholds core values of open access to knowledge and ideas, ensuring that libraries remain spaces where diverse perspectives can be explored without fear or restriction. Public libraries, in particular, play a vital role in this mission by offering equitable access to information and digital resources for all citizens. Platforms like Trove, hosted by the National Library of Australia, further support this by providing access to a vast and growing collection of digitised newspapers, books, images, and more.

However, the conversation around banned books takes on a different tone in school libraries. Here, the issue is not so much about banning books, but about what to include. School libraries operate within a framework of collection development and management policies, which guide decisions about which resources best support the needs of the school community. The point of a school library is to support student success by providing access to resources that meets the curriculum whilst also fostering skills in reading, research and informational literacy. Therefore, any policies regarding the breadth and depth of a collection will factor in curriculum relevance, age appropriateness, and the diversity of student experiences.

So when I look at the list of most commonly banned books worldwide… I realise we have most of them on the shelves.

Most Commonly Banned Books Worldwide (All-Time)
  1. The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
    Banned for profanity, sexual content, and themes of rebellion.
    • We have this title as it is considered a classic as is in our senior collection aimed for sophisticated readers in Grade 10 and above.
  2. To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
    Challenged for racial themes and language
    • We have this title as it is considered a classic. It currently sits in our Classics collection and is available for students to borrow. It is also a class text and is frequently used as part of novel studies.
  3. 1984 – George Orwell
    Banned for political themes and criticism of totalitarianism
    • We have this title as it is considered a classic. It currently sits in our Classics collection and is available for students to borrow. It is also a class text and is frequently used as part of novel studies.
  4. Harry Potter series – J.K. Rowling
    Challenged for promoting witchcraft and occultism
    • We have numerous copies of this!
  5. The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushdie
    Banned in several countries for blasphemy
    • We don’t have this text as it does address the curriculum.
  6. The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
    Banned for sexual content and perceived anti-religious themes
    • We have this title as it is considered a classic. We do have this novel in our senior collection aimed for sophisticated readers in Grade 10 and above. It is also a class text and has been used as part of novel studies.
  7. Beloved – Toni Morrison
    Challenged for graphic depictions of slavery and violence.
    • We don’t have this text as part of our collection. We do have 12 years a slave, The Colour Purple and Uncle Tom’s Cabin.
  8. Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
    Banned for being “obscene” in several countries
    • We do not have this novel because it does not meet any curriculum requirements.
  9. Fifty Shades of Grey – E.L. James
    Banned for erotic content and BDSM themes
    • We do not have this novel because it does not meet any curriculum requirements.
  10. The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
    Banned for political reasons and profanity.
    • We do have this novel in our senior collection aimed for sophisticated readers in Grade 10 and above.

I will point out that one of the challenges of being in a school with students from Grade 5-12 is that what may be appropriate for a senior student to read may not me developmentally appropriate for a younger boy. To manage this, we have further classified the fiction texts into general (all years), middle fiction (Grades 7-9) and senior fiction (Grades 10-12). Students are able to freely access resources within their ‘age range’. However, they require parental permission to access more sophisticated readers. This ‘limiting’ of access is our way of supporting the free movement of information whilst acknowledging that some novel themes could cause distress to an immature brain.

This distinction of inclusion versus exclusion of texts is crucial. While public libraries are bound by principles of universal access, school libraries must balance educational goals with community values. This is where the role of a teacher librarian is imperative because school libraries need staff that are fully trained and qualified. They need someone who is an informational professional and an educator to be able to craft a collection development policy that helps ensure that resource selection is transparent, consistent, and inclusive, rather than reactive or restrictive. It is this combined capacity that empowers teacher librarians to advocate for collections that reflect the richness of student identities and the complexity of the world they inhabit. Unfortunately, here in Queensland, many schools lack a qualified informational professional in their school library, that is if they have a library at all! This an absolute travesty for the children and their wider communities.

Ultimately, Banned Books Week reminds us all why intellectual freedom matters. This week serves as a poignant reminder of the fragile nature of intellectual freedom as it honours the fundamental right to read, to explore ideas from all perspectives, and to seek truth without interference. Each year, the spotlight falls on books that have been challenged or removed because they represent discomfort or dissent for a select few individuals. However, in doing so, we need to think about the deeper cost of censorship: the narrowing of thought, the silencing of voices, and the erosion of a society built on open inquiry and democratic exchange. Whether in public or school libraries, our responsibility is to foster environments where curiosity is encouraged, critical thinking is nurtured, and all voices have the opportunity to be heard.

Spring cleaning your shelves.

Last chance reads & Literary weeds.

If you’ve ever heard the term “weeding” in the context of school libraries and pictured yourself in gumboots pulling dandelions from the fiction section—don’t worry, you’re not alone. But while it might sound like a gardening chore, weeding in libraries is a vital part of collection development. Think of it as removing the junk so the flowers can stand out—because every great library deserves to blossom.

Weeding, or deselection, is the process of removing outdated, damaged, irrelevant, or unused resources from the collection. It’s not about discarding books for the sake of it; it’s about curating a vibrant, purposeful collection that supports student learning, teacher needs, and curriculum goals. A well-weeded collection is easier to navigate, more appealing to browse, and more likely to be used. It’s the difference between a cluttered storeroom and a well-organised learning hub.

Here in our library, we’re about to begin a weeding process ahead of our fiction stocktake. From a logistical perspective, it gives us a chance to winnow what is not being effectively utilised and what is not supporting the ethos of our library. It also gives us the perfect opportunity to refresh the shelves and make space for stories that truly resonate with our readers. We’ll be using our Collection Development and Management Policy to guide our decisions, focusing on books that are outdated, physically unattractive (yes, those yellowed pages and cracked spines count!), or simply no longer meeting the needs of our school community. If it hasn’t been borrowed in years, doesn’t reflect current values, or makes students wrinkle their noses, it’s probably time to say goodbye.

However, I will add that I have an inner Book Dragon and that one is loathe to get rid of books. Therefore, just to make sure, we are going to give these books one last hurrah, we’re setting up a “Last Chance Borrow” display. This is a fun and engaging way to spotlight forgotten titles that might still have a spark of interest left in them. Students and staff will have the chance to browse and borrow these books before they’re officially retired. Who knows—maybe a hidden gem will find a new fan! It’s also a great opportunity to start conversations about what makes a book worth keeping and how our reading tastes evolve over time.

Our process of weeding is made easier by having a very clear policy and process. Our LMS, Oliver, provides us with a list of titles that have not been borrowed in recent times. This list, combined with our policy, helps us set clear parameters and ensures that our choices are thoughtful and consistent. We’re not just tossing out books—we’re making room for new voices, fresh ideas, and engaging reads that support literacy and learning. Weeding also helps us maintain a collection that’s inclusive, relevant, and aligned with our school’s educational goals.

Of course, weeding can be emotional. Saying goodbye to old favourites isn’t easy. But remember: a library isn’t a museum. It’s a living, breathing space for discovery and growth. And just like a garden, it needs regular tending. So grab your metaphorical secateurs, consult your policy, and let those literary flowers bloom. Your students—and your shelves—will thank you.

Book Review: The King’s Mother

Annie Garthwaite’s The King’s Mother is her second book about an incredible woman, and this sequel is a masterful and emotionally resonant portrait of Cecily Neville, a woman whose strength, ambition, and heartbreak shaped the course of English history. Set against the backdrop of the Wars of the Roses, this novel brings to life a matriarch who was far more than the mother of kings; she was a strategist, a survivor, and a power in her own right.

I was first introduced to Cecily in Sharon Penman’s The Sunne in Splendour, where she stood as a dignified and commanding presence amid the chaos of civil war. Garthwaite’s novel deepens that impression, giving Cecily center stage and allowing her voice to ring out with clarity, courage and conviction. As a daughter of the royal House of Neville, cousin to the Kingmaker and wife to highest ranking Lord of York, Cecily was indeed a lady of influence—but she earned her place in history through grit, determination and sacrifice.

Garthwaite’s storytelling is rich and immersive, capturing the political intrigue and emotional toll of a woman who saw her husband, cousin, and sons die in pursuit of their house’s claim to the throne. Cecily’s love for her children is both her greatest strength and her most painful vulnerability. Her devotion to George, Duke of Clarence, is especially poignant, as his betrayal and eventual death (drowning in a butt of malmsey wine, no less) is rendered with tragic inevitability. Garthwaite doesn’t flinch from the irony or the heartbreak, and neither does Cecily.

What sets The King’s Mother apart is its portrayal of female agency in a world dominated by men. Cecily is no passive observer; she is a political operator, a negotiator, and a woman who understands power and how to wield it. Garthwaite’s prose is elegant and sharp, balancing historical detail with emotional depth. The novel doesn’t just recount events—it explores the cost of ambition, the weight of legacy, and the quiet resilience of a woman who endured more than most.

Cecily Neville emerges as a complex and unforgettable figure, proud, calculating, loyal, and deeply human. Garthwaite gives her the voice she deserves, and in doing so, reclaims a vital piece of history too often overshadowed by the men around her.

Book Review: Cecily

Cecily is a bold and brilliant reimagining of one of the most overlooked power players of the Wars of the Roses, Cecily Neville, Duchess of York. In this incredible novel, Garthwaite resurrects a woman who was relegated to the margins of history and gave her a voice as commanding and complex as the times she lived through.

Kindle edition

History tells us that Cecily must have been a woman of great character. As the wife of a high ranking noble in the English court and a daughter of the house of Neville, Cecily is not merely a noblewoman, she is a strategist, a political operator, and a survivor. In a time where women were relegated to the distaff and the cradle, Cecily held her own among the peers of England and France. I love how Garthwaite has portrayed Cecily. Her use of language and semantics is unapologetically fierce. Cecily is driven, calculating, and deeply loyal to her family’s cause. She is also flawed. Her love for her sons, her only weakness and ultimately will cost her dearly.

The novel spans decades of turmoil, from the fall of her husband Richard, Duke of York, to the rise and reign of her sons Edward IV and Richard III. Through it all, Cecily remains at the heart of the action, not as a passive observer, but as a woman who shapes events from behind the scenes. Garthwaite’s prose is taut and evocative, capturing both the grandeur of court politics and the intimate griefs of a mother watching her family unravel.

What sets Cecily apart is its refusal to romanticise the brutality and heartbreak of medieval motherhood. The heartstrings are definitely pulled when youthink about the number of pregnancy losses, stillbirths and infant losses she experienced. In a time where the childbed was a path paved to the graveyard; Cecily used it to wield power. This is not a tale of damsels and chivalry—it’s a story of power, survival, and the brutal cost of ambition. Garthwaite’s Cecily is a woman of her time, but also ahead of it: she understands the game, and she plays it better than most men around her.

For readers who first met Cecily in Sharon Penman’s The Sunne in Splendour, Garthwaite’s novel offers a deeper, more personal exploration. It’s a fantastic story about a strong woman who lived through unimaginable loss—husband, cousin, sons—all sacrificed for the Yorkist cause. And while her greatest weakness may have been her love for her children, it’s also what makes her so achingly human.

Cecily is historical fiction at its finest: vivid, uncompromising, and utterly absorbing. Garthwaite doesn’t just resurrect a forgotten duchess—she reclaims her legacy.

No surprises that after I read this one, I had to read the sequel.