Monday, April 06, 2020

To Survive the Coronavirus, Americans Must Learn from Mexicans

“Untitled,” by Salomón Huerta (1990)


By Dr. Álvaro Huerta

During the coronavirus (COVID-19) crisis in the U.S. (and beyond), it behooves Americans to learn from individuals of Mexican origin in el norte about the art of survival in a time of crisis. (For this short essay, I’ll refer to individuals of Mexican origin in the U.S.—citizens, residents, immigrants, etc.—as “Mexicans in el norte.”)

Generally speaking, Mexicans on both sides of la frontera (too preoccupied to translate) have experienced a constant state of crisis caused by the American state and a significant segment of its white citizenry since the early 1800s. More specifically, since the Yankees stole Texas (1836) and current Southwestern states (1848) from Mexico, mi gente have been surviving under tumultuous, precarious and uncertain conditions. Regarding Mexicans in el sur, there’s a famous saying in Mexico which reinforces my claim: “Pobre México. Tan lejos de Dios, tan cerca de los Estados Unidos.”

Being family-oriented (familismo)—with the exception of the coconuts (brown on the outside, white in the inside)—Mexicans in el norte commonly rely (socially, economically, spiritually, etc.) on their family members (immediate and extended) on a regular basis. This includes what anthropologists refer to as fictive family members, like compadres, comadres, padrinos, madrinas, etc. Through these interpersonal ties or strong ties (see Mark Granovetter), we support each other with housing, food, baby-sitting, job referrals, money-lending, rotating credit associations (tandas or cundinas), etc. (This includes toilet paper! I prefer Scott 1000, 1-ply.)

During my youth, when I visited my grandparents in Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico, or cousins in La Puente and El Monte, Alta California, U.S., I always (to the present) felt at home. Apart from being served delicious Mexican food, whether hungry or not, I could always get more tortillas and open the refrigerator without permission. (In Mexican households, there are no labeled items in the refrigerator, like “Brad’s almond milk” or “Tiffany’s kale”!) I could also stay over for extended periods of time, if in need.

In terms of food, I’ve noticed that Americans have been pillaging Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, Costco, etc., like there’s no tomorrow. During the global depression of the 1930s, living in a small rancho (Zajo Grande) in the beautiful Mexican state of Michoacán, my parents and family members survived on basic Mexican staples, like maíz and frijoles. Making/consuming tortillas hechas a mano de maíz was/is common in the rancho. (I’m sure there was much more variety in their daily diet, like queso, chile, avocados, nopales, etc., which I need to investigate further with my older relatives from Zajo.) They didn’t consume meat and poultry regularly until they migrated to el norte. (I think too much red meat contributed to my father’s death of cancer. He was only 67 years old. It didn’t help that the American government sprayed him with DDT during the Bracero Program, as noted below.)

Despite the powerful forces of assimilation and acculturation in this country, if the coronavirus crisis continues beyond the projected months, Mexicans in el norte (1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th generations, etc.) will simply resort to the healthy culinary ways of their/our ancestors.

In terms of employment insecurity, this is all too common for Mexicans in el norte. We have always been expected by the dominant culture/class to play the role of the obedient servant. According to Thorstein Veblen (1899), “The first requisite of a good servant is that he should conspicuously know his place.” This is not to imply that all individuals of Mexican origin in this country engage in low-wage, dead-end jobs. Thanks to the Chicana/o civil rights leaders of the 1960s/1970s, including hardworking Mexican immigrant parents/guardians, etc., countless individuals of Mexican origin have had the opportunity to pursue higher education in order to secure employment opportunities unavailable to their/our Mexican ancestors.

In terms of education, there’s a common saying that Mexican immigrants, like my late parents, share with their Mexican American children/grandchildren to get ahead: “Quireo que estudies para que no trabajes duro como yo.”

Sometimes, however, even holding a Ph.D. from UC Berkeley, like myself, doesn’t protect you/us from the racist gaze of a significant segment of white America! (For the record, I’m not a racist towards white people since my best friends are white.)

Regarding my late parents, they are prime examples of how millions of Mexicans immigrants work hard, sacrifice and suffer without economic security so their children have better opportunities. For example, my father, Salomón, first arrived in this country during the 1950s as a guest worker (or bracero) during the Bracero Program—a bi-national, agriculture guest worker program between the U.S. and Mexico—where millions of Mexicans toiled in America’s agriculture fields. They also helped construct railroads. As a bracero, like his paisanos, my father was sprayed with DDT by the American government and exploited by American agricultural employers. Exposure to DDT has been scientifically linked to cancer. Later, he worked as a day laborer and janitor at a wheel factory, earning $3.25 per hour for over a decade before the capitalist system broke him. (Following the example of corporate America, we relied on welfare for over a decade.)

As for my mother, Carmen, she toiled as domestic worker (or doméstica) for over 40 years. She started cleaning homes (and caring for kids) of privileged Americans during the 1960s, while living in Tijuana. (My older sisters, Catalina and Soledad, also worked as teens during this period to support our growing family.) My other older sister, Ofelia, would care for the younger siblings, including myself. Hence, I didn’t get to bond with my mother for the first four years of my life. Fortunately, I had my immediate/extended family to rely on, which is the Mexican way.

Speaking of family separation(s), Trump and his racist administration must release all brown babies/kids and adults from American cages with or without the coronavirus crisis!

In terms of how the nation is feeling threatened/endangered over the coronavirus, this is how millions of Mexicans in el norte (especially the male youth) feel in America’s barrios. I should know because I was one of them.

Growing up in East Los Angeles’ notorious Ramona Gardens housing project or Big Hazard Projects, I constantly felt  threatened/endangered in the projects. While it was not something we talked about, violence or the threat of violence was omnipresent for all of the residents. By the time I was in either 5th or 6th grade at Murchison Street Elementary School, I didn’t think that I would reach my 18th birthday, especially given the high levels of death in the projects. Compared to national averages, this also included disproportion levels of incarceration, drug addiction, police abuse, etc.. Ever since a cop pointed his gun at me at 16 years old for making a rolling stop, I automatically get flashbacks when a cop car is behind me while driving, like recently (03.19.20) when one followed me for no apparent reason on my way to the market! And they wonder why those of us who grew up in the barrio don’t cooperate or trust them.

Hence, while I’m concerned about the disastrous economic, emotional and health impacts of the coronavirus on my family, friends and the public, in terms of myself, I’m neither worried nor panicked given all of what I’ve experienced, witnessed and studied over the years. This includes abject poverty, violence and hopelessness. This doesn’t imply that I’m trivializing/minimizing how people are feeling during this horrific health/economic crisis.

That said, while condemning moronic “leaders” with hunches, I am being cautious and following the advice of health experts, such as washing my hands regularly, keeping safe distances from others and staying at home, among other safety measures.

In short, I want Americans to appreciate and learn from the struggles of the Mexican people in el norte—past and present—during this coronavirus crisis. Once we overcome this health/economic crisis—which we will!—let’s unite and create a society without the haves and have-nots.

 

Dr. Álvaro Huerta is a faculty member in Urban & Regional Planning and Ethnic & Women’s Studies at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona. Among his many publications, he’s the author of Defending Latina/o Immigrant Communities: The Xenophobic Era of Trump and Beyond. He holds a Ph.D. in City and Regional Planning from UC Berkeley. He also holds an M.A. in Urban Planning and a B.A. in History from UCLA.

Sunday, April 05, 2020

Jasminne Mendez - Dominicana Poderosa

Photo by Michael Leonard


Her Story

Born from immigrant parents of the Dominican Republic, Jasminne Mendez was blessed to learn both English and Spanish at a very early age. She has used these skills to her advantage throughout her life by performing, reading and writing poetry, short stories and plays in both languages.

She attended the University of Houston from 2002 -2007 where she received her Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature and her M.Ed. in Curriculum and Instruction. While at the University of Houston she played leading roles in various plays including A Raisin in the Sun, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf, and Yerma. She also spent many of those early years writing and performing poetry in local venues around the Houston area.

In 2007 her work was transferred from the stage to the printed page when her creative non-fiction piece, The China Cabinet was published in the anthology, Windows into My World: Latino Youth Write Their Lives by Arte Publico Press. Since then, she has been published by or has forthcoming publications with, Crab Creek Review, The Acentos Review, Label Me Latino/a, Gulf Coast Magazine, The Texas Review, La Galeria Magazine, The Best of CutThroat: A Journal of the Arts, Telling Our Stories Press, University of Chester, Whispering Angel Books, Floricanto Press and others.

As a performance poet, she has performed for the Mexican American Studies department at both the University of Houston central campus and the University of Houston Clearlake Campus. She has performed at other prestigious venues around Houston including Talento Bilingue de Houston, MECA, Houston Community College(HCC), the Holocaust Museum, the Alley Theatre and the Museum of Fine Arts (MFAH).

In 2009 she had the privilege of opening for award-winning author Sandra Cisneros at Rice University for over 500 audience members.  In the past, she has also had the privilege of sharing the stage with notable artists and writers, Amalia Ortiz, Taylor Mali, and Dagoberto Gilb. Recently she was awarded Best Houston Performer of the Year by RAW: Houston and her first multi-genre memoir Island of Dreams received first place for Best Young Adult Latino Focused Book by the International Latino Book Awards. In spring 2016, her essay El Corte  was awarded Honorable Mention for the Barry Lopez Creative Non-Fiction Prize through CutThroat: A Journal of The Arts, and in the fall of 2016 her collection of essays Interruptions & Detours was a semi-finalist for the Rose Metal Press Essay Chapbook Prize.
She is a Canto Mundo Fellow, a VONA Alumni, a Macondo Fellow and a current MFA creative writing candidate at the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University. Her second book, Night-Blooming Jasmin(n)e: Personal Essays & Poems was published by Arte Public Press in April 2018.



An interview and discussion of the book 
with Daniel Chacón  - here


Un tintero es la fuente del escritor.


 Jasminne is a major collaborator in this endeavor.

The word tintero is Spanish for inkwell, a old school container once used to house the ink for a pen.  The image was selected as a way to show that this project, this movement is about providing resources for the writer. .

Founded by poet Lupe Méndez, Tintero Projects / Proyectos Tintero aims to promote writing & reading opportunities for emerging Latinx poets and writers in the Houston – Galveston/Gulf Coast Region.  Originally founded as just “Tintero Readings”, Méndez hopes to reestablish a nurturing aspect to the every growing Latino writing community, with Houston as its main hub.

Tintero Projects is the emerging writer’s arm of Nuestra Palabra: Latino Writers Having Their Say, focusing on creating workshop, performance and community opportunities in Spanish, English, Spanglish, Indigenous Languages and Portuguese. Tintero Projects is dedicated to helping create a platform for Latinx writers and Writers of Color.

Work and write with Jasminne


You can  craft creative nonfiction with Jasminne at the helm at this upcoming. workshop - register via this link.









CREATIVE NONFICTION ONLINE 2020-102


Course #2020-102
THURSDAYSStarting April 166:30 pm–8:30 pmrunning 6 weeks
Cost: $240


Saturday, April 04, 2020

Myriam Gurba - Dishing the Dirt


What happens when you refuse to knuckle under to revisionist white telling of our narratives AND you call out your faculty for racist/abusive behavior? If you're Myriam Gurba de Serrano, you get get removed from your school and walked out by security.

Myriam was instrumental in speaking out against American Dirt and its author, who recently discovered spray tan in a can. Rather than expounding on the book or Oprah, or McMillan's white blindspot, take a minute to read her lynchpin piece, which appeared in Tropics of Meta - My Bronca with Fake-Ass Social Justice Literature.


It was this article, along with the leadership of David Bowles and others the debate led to the development of #DignidadLiteraria and a meeting with McMillan, while only a beginning, signals that we will not be quiet.

Gurba in her classroom at Long Beach Poly High School where she teaches in Long Beach, Tuesday, January 28, 2020. Photo by Thomas R. Cordova.
From the Long Beach Post

From her website:

Myriam Gurba is a writer and artist. She is the author of the true-crime memoir Mean, a New York Times editors’ choice. O, the Oprah Magazine, ranked Mean as one of the best LGBTQ books of all time. Publishers’ Weekly describes Gurba as having a voice like no other. Her essays and criticism have appeared in the Paris Review, TIME.com, and 4Columns. She has shown art in galleries, museums, and community centers. She lives in Long Beach, California, with herself.
Myriam Gurba’s Mean is “a scalding memoir that comes with a full accounting of the costs of survival, of being haunted by those you could not save and learning to live with their ghosts.” It also “adds a necessary dimension to the discussion of the interplay of race, class and sexuality in sexual violence.” – NYTimes
“Like most truly great books, Mean made me laugh, cry and think. Myriam Gurba’s’s a scorchingly good writer.” – Cheryl Strayd, NYTimes

Books

  • Publisher: Coffee House Press
  • Available in: Paperback
  • ISBN: 978-1-56689-491-3
  • Published: November 7, 2017

  • Publisher: Manic D Press
  • Available in: Paperback, Kindle
  • ISBN: 978-1933149905
  • Published: May 19, 2015

  • Also reviewed in La Bloga, here.
  • Publisher: Manic D Press
  • Available in: Paperbook, Kindle
  • ISBN: 978-1933149165
  • Published: May 1, 2007
You got kicked out of your school because of your critiques. What's the big picture message you want to send to your students?

The school district sent me a letter stating that my *forced* leave was not retaliatory. Lol. Do I believe them? NO. I want my students to know that racism and other forms of oppression have no place in education and that some adults are truly committed to fighting against those phenomena. I want them to know freedom. I want them to live freely. I want them to understand what Assata Shakur meant when she said, "No one is going to give you the education you need to overthrow them." And a lot of motherfuckers need to be overthrown.

What do you think the COVID 19  pandemic will produce in terms of writing, art making, resistance?

I've been thinking about something a friend recently wrote. That this is a shit time so why make any art to commemorate it because we won't want to remember it when its done? Once its done, let's pretend the pandemic never happened. I oscillate between wanting to learn all I can about the virus and its current and future impact and wanting to do the ostrich thing. I'm watching it degrade trust in public institutions, especially state institutions, and I'd like to participate in organizing various "overthrows" but how the fuck can we do that when we can't be together? That's the rub. Shall we storm Versailles wearing masks and gloves? I don't know. Most writers and artists I know are panicking and grieving since they've lost income, some of them have lost ALL OF THEIR INCOME, EVERYTHING, because art gets cut first, and yet, what does the world want in order to survive the horror? Art. Lots of it. People want to be entertained or inspired. But the world doesn't want to pay us for our services. They think being broke is our muse. Money is my muse. (Not really). I need it to live.

June Jordan wrote: “If you are free, you are not predictable and you are not controllable.” Talk about predictability and control and the its gifts and its costs.

I love freedom. It cost me a lot to become as free as I am this moment. It cost me my position as a classroom teacher. It cost me friends. In some ways, it has cost me my "reputation." And I don't give a fuck. Yes, I'm pissed about what I believe was wrongly taken from me but I also appreciate waking up and walking through each day "unchained:" it is the best.

What's something you think would surprise people to know about you?

I'm not into cats.




Friday, April 03, 2020

The Future Caught Up To the Present Thanks to Covid-19 or We Zoom Now

Melinda Palacio

Life feels as if we have boarded a space ship at warp speed and time traveled into an apocalyptic future where humans no longer interact face to face, let alone touch each other. There’s a shortage of toilet paper, paper towels, tissues (any kind of soft paper that can be used to wipe the nether parts). Hand sanitizer and all kitchen, toilet, and bath cleaning products are also scarce, not because these items are difficult to make, but because some humans have panicked and decided to hoard these products either for their own shelters or for a potential profit, pandemic price gauging. There’s also a virus infecting every human, rich or poor, young or old and there is a shortage of kits to test whether or not someone has the virus. To make matters worse, a person can feel fine but be a silent carrier of the virus, possibly infecting their friends, coworkers, and family. Shutting down society and social distancing is the only cure. All non-essential work and schooling has ceased and the people must stay home to save the world and end the pandemic. 

If someone were to describe the current situation to me six months ago, I would have thought it a horror or apocalyptic story of the worst kind, B-movie material at best. Yet, this is where we’re at with all social activities including work and worship canceled, entire communities on lockdown. Some people seem to be going stir crazy with boredom. Through apps such as Zoom, some have found solutions to keep working, studying, and overall keep a loose grasp on ties to friends and loved ones. As someone who has more musical hobbies than I can keep up with, guitar, ukulele, and singing, I welcomed the time when little demand was placed on me and social distancing meant keeping to yourself. As Covid19 continues to peak and more people realize what a long haul this pandemic is forcing upon us, I find I have to pull back from all the virtual social activities tugging for my attention, whether it’s a zoom hangout or a live stream concert on facebook. Part of me wants to interact virtually with all of my virtual friends, but part of me knows I need to guard my time and energy for my creativity and writing. Anytime I can do an activity that doesn’t involve mindlessly staring at my phone is a win for me, a win for humanity. 

After all, everyone from Toddlers to Elders are connecting through zoom. I’ll always push for less screen time, but it seems as if we have lost that war. To combat this, I suggest everyone participate in National Poetry Month, place a poem in your pocket, memorize it, recite it to a friend or colleague next time you have a zoom meeting. Enjoy your solitude, read more. Don't panic. To the person hoarding toilet paper and wheat flour, please stop. 

Stay home, stay safe, and wash your hands.    

Don't have a poem to memorize? Try this one. 


Mango Juice
by Pat Mora

Eating mangoes 
on a stick
is laughing
as gold juice 
slides down 
your chin
melting manners,
as mangoes slip
through your lips sweet but biting

is hitting pints
blindfolded and spinning
away from the blues
and grays

is tossing 
fragile cascarones
on your love’s hair,

confetti teasing him
to remove his tie
cant and shoes
his mouth open
and laughing
as you glide 
more mango in,
cool rich flesh 
of Mejico

music teasing
you to strew 
streamers on trees 
and cactus
teasing the wind 
to stream through 
your hair blooming
with confetti and butterflies

your toes warm 
in the sand.

Thursday, April 02, 2020

Dirty Blankets

   Note: I had planned on continuing the next chapters of my novel, but as I shopped for hard-to-find items at Northgate Market and looked at the people around me, this story came to me. It is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to people alive or dead is a coincidence.                                                                            
                                                                                   
 
    Med Men’s prices were steep, and the Mayan MJ Mfrs. had closed down during the crisis, something about unauthorized licensing, and I needed a good night’s sleep, what with all the bad news in the media.
     A friend told me to try Satiro’s Sin Semilla on Slauson, just off Braddock, west side, 1313, near the Projects, straddling the L.A.--Culver City border, always a geographic puzzle for the local gang, having to choose between the two municipalities, causing shifting loyalties, so the guys called themselves La Chiva.
     This was years before anybody ever heard of Guadalajara’s soccer team, a sport unknown to most Westside kids in those days when Pop Warner football reigned supreme. To add to the confusion, many Mexican families settling in Culver City were transplants from Sotel [considered a quasi barrio, due to its close proximity to Westwood and UCLA] having to move when the freeway tore through the heart of the neighborhood.
     I hadn’t been down to the Projects in years, but, as I said, I was desperate for sleep, hence, my authorization for a medical marijuana card.
                                                                                     
     Satiro’s is located in a granny pad on top of a garage behind Siriaco Ortega’s two-bedroom home. My friend told me I couldn’t miss it, to just look for the house with the biggest nopal out front, and to not use the word “cannibus.” Satiro hated it, no fancy names for his product, just plain old “weed”, nickel and dime bags, like the old days, except a “nickel” meant fifty bucks and a “dime” meant a-hundred.
                                                                                   
     When I asked my friend if Satiro had anything for sleep, aches and pains, anxiety, stomach problems, muscle relaxants, my friend looked at me funny. “No, man. It just gets you loaded.”
     When I arrived, I lined up in the driveway behind two other guys. That’s when I heard the upstairs window open. A man wearing an n-95 facemask and a shaved head popped his head out. “Hey! Give me some social-distancing down there. Six-feet, and don’t make me have to say it again.”
     Like kids following orders, the three of us put some space between us.
     The first guy in line said he came here because there’s less chance catching “the bug,” and he kept calling it "the bug." He was one of those guys who talked even if no one was listening. He said, “I used to go to a place up on Wilshire, Med Max and another place in Santa Monica, Medi-Wana, places folks with money go cuz those places get the best stuff. But it's those people that's carrying the bug and passing it on.”
     “What about the people down here?” the other guy asked, backing up a foot to keep the six-foot distance..
     “Naw. People here don’t travel, bro’, so it’s safer. That’s why I’m here. I got it all figured out.”
     He kept on like we were old friends. “The paper says highest corona outbreaks are Brentwood, Beverly Hills, Westwood, the Palisades, and West Hollywood, rich people, the ones who take ocean cruises and fly everywhere for work, New York, China, like that. Now, they're even passing it on to their nannies and gardeners. Still, dude, until this blows-over, I’m hanging down here in the ghetto. Since the feds talked about the Wall, people down here been quarantining longer than anybody else.”
                                                                                     
     The guy in front of me said, “Yeah, but this ain’t the ghetto, anymore, not with those new condos across the street. Betcha Siriaco could get a mil for his pad, easy, maybe a mil-two. This neighborhood is changing--fast, gentrifiers.”
     Just then a young woman wearing a Villanova sweatshirt and tight shorts jogged by, her perky blonde ponytail swinging under a black Pirates’ baseball cap. She was pushing two kids in a high-tech, double-seat stroller, followed by a red Irish setter on a leash. The guy talking said, “See what I mean.”
     The first guy starts again. “I used to shop at Whole Foods for their 365 Value Brand, and Trader Joe’s, good fresh fruits, vegetables, and quality Trail Mix, but no more. Heard some poor grocery clerk caught the bug at Pavilion's, get my point? I'm telling you, the people who shop there are carrying the bug—rich people, mask or no mask. They travel, bring it back here, and pass it on to the rest of us. I loved the meats at Gelson's. No more.”
     The other guy said, “Yeah, like the cavalry giving dirty blankets to the Indians. Hmm, makes sense.”
                                                                                 
     “Damn right it does. I’m hanging out down here. I used to shop at Gonzalez’s, over on Centinela, ‘til they changed the name to Northgate."
     I knew he meant Inglewood, but I didn't want to mess up his flow.
     "Now you got people from the Marina all up and down the aisles, like they own the place. I found everything I need at Anacleto’s Abarrotes over on Inglewood and Wagner, down the street from El Abajeno, even had toilet paper, last rolls. You want some killer Chimichangas try Chiriaco Chiflotes' over on Centinela and Short Avenue, near where the sporting goods used to be, you know, where Mago's was.”
     He kept on, like we were taking notes, “Panfilo Miraflores' Birria, in Inglewood, Tomasino’s Tacomasos in Hawthorne, Caramelo’s Carnisima Carnitas on Crenshaw and 119th.”
     Upstairs, the window opened again. The bald-headed, masked-man looked out, his voice a little muffled. “All right,” he said, “just checking.” He closed the window.
     I asked, “How about burritos?”
     He didn't even flinch, “No place like Bobby Malacara's Burrisotas on Victoria, east of Redondo Blvd, in Gardena., except, you know, now they're all to-go only. Best to call your order in advance.”
     “You still live in the neighborhood?” It was the second guy in line asking.
     “Naw, man, moved out in the nineties, after I got my degree at Dominguez Hills, houses a lot cheaper in Torrance, bought a ranch-style house with a pool.”
     “Why don’t you shop out there?”
     “Too much ethnic-blending, bro’, even in Hawthorne and Lawndale, too many people with expendable income and names like Brandi Aguilar or Ferguson Machado. I'm suspicious of everything, so I make it back here whenever I can. My wife and kids think I'm a nut.”
     “What if you bring the bug here?”
     He looked perplexed.
     “You mean like I’m passing out dirty blankets?”
     The second guy raised his eyebrows. "It's possible."
     "I'm into software, man, been working from home before all this started."
     That’s when two girls and a guy carrying little brown bags and wearing cheap facemasks came down the stairs, and Satiro called, “Three more. But nobody comes in without a facemask. I'm giving 'em away with each lid you buy.”
     Behind us, a gaggle of people came up the driveway. Satiro shouted, pulling down his mask, “Only three at a time, man! Back up. Six-feet apart, no joke,” and replaced his mask, quickly.
     One of the new guys said, “Hey, Sati, you still open ‘til midnight?”
     Satiro answered like the guy had said something dumb. “Why do you think I tacked that sign up on the garage door. Limited hours, only--until four, no exceptions. I'm not taking any chances.”
     I checked my watch. It was 3:35.

Wednesday, April 01, 2020

Third Week: Activities to do at home with our children




Epic! was born out of a single question: How do we make books more accessible to kids? As parents, it always seemed strange to us that our kids could so easily play games and watch videos on their iPhones and iPads, but the same couldn’t be said for books. So in 2013, we decided to build the first “epic” reading experience, designed just for kids. Today, Epic! has grown into an award-winning subscription service, which gives millions of families and classrooms instant, unlimited access to thousands of books, videos and quizzes from leading publishers to help kids everywhere read, learn and grow.

For more information visit, 



#yomequedoencasa 
#maybesomethingbeautiful

Author and illustrator, Rafael Lopez is posting black and white drawings from his books that didn't make to the final cut.

He says, “This way young readers will discover drawings never seen before and an opportunity to color them in their own way. If you like to share your drawing post it on social media with a hashtag like #yomequedoencasa, or #maybesomethingbeautiful.”


Other illustrators are joining to this great idea!


Joe Cepeda


Steve Musgrave




If you are an illustrator, you can post your art on social media and add   #yomequedoencasa  or #maybesomethingbeautiful






Kindergarten worksheets are a wonderful learning tool for educators and students to use. This is why we have and will continue to create hundreds of free kindergarten worksheets that are designed to fit into a standard kindergarten curriculum. The main focus of our kindergarten website is to provide free educational resources. In these difficult economic times, we believe kindergarten teachers and parents can benefit greatly from our printable kindergarten worksheets.