Circle time with Madeline: Looking back at staffer’s three favorite childhood books and their deeper meanings today

Criss-cross applesauced on the rainbow carpet in the corner of the Briarwood Elementary School library, I hurried to finish the last page of “The Magic Tree House” before being called to join the single-file line back to our first grade classroom.

The magic of my childhood revolved solely around reading books — they fed the fire of my imagination. Whether the stories taught me how to be a good friend or slay dragons, the familiar covers and iconic characters are still imprinted in my brain as if I was still the same innocent little kid. I decided to re-read three of my favorite childhood books to see if the magic still exists.

From my storage room, I dusted off a few of 7-year-old Madeline’s staples — “Junie B. Jones,” “Fancy Nancy” and the “Giving Tree.” I was eager to re-read each from an older, more mature point of view. 

JUNIE B JONES 

Excited to re-read one of my favorites from the series — “Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business,” I picked up the once-intimidating read only to be underwhelmed. My hands are used to carrying 450-page novels for AP Lit, so the 80-page book felt thin and almost weightless in comparison. I was immediately concerned with how this pamphlet of a book could sustain a compelling plotline. 

Beginning the first chapter, “Surprise,” I was transported back to my fluffy pink chair where I’d curl up and slurp juice boxes while attempting to read all the books on my shelf. 

Each seven-page chapter consisted of one or two simple scenes, such as Junie B. complaining to her parents about not wanting a sibling or her parents painting the baby boy’s room light blue. The book emphasized themes of respect, dignity, perseverance, honesty and kindness — details I didn’t pay much attention to 12 years ago.

Five minutes went by, and then 20. I found myself giggling at the naive humor and sassy remarks from Junie B. But after finishing the book, I was almost unsatisfied with the experience. I expected to be a little more entertained by Junie B’s adventures considering this series is what I raved about all through my childhood.

Throughout the book, Junie B. uses improper language, making the choppy grammar hard to read — showing kids the importance of grammar. This book demonstrated the stark difference in diction and grammar between what my five-year-old self read and the books I now write essays on. I didn’t get to relive my childhood the way I hoped.

FANCY NANCY

The large 8-by-12 inch Fancy Nancy books always had a designated spot on my hanging book shelf growing up. No matter how old I was — whether my mom was reading them to me at age three, or I was struggling to understand the larger words at age seven — I was fascinated by Nancy’s life.

My inner child was giddy to be pulling out those sparkly, colorful books again and I was immediately in my feels.  A certain excitement rushed over me as I flipped through “Fancy Nancy and the Posh Puppy.” Scanning each page up and down, I admired every detailed illustration that once kept me genuinely entertained for hours. The chaos of Fancy Nancy’s room with her pink canopy bed and eccentric carpet and toys had me envious of her glamorous life. 

She was a spunky 6-year-old girl with bouncy red hair and was always dressed in an extravagant outfit. From her purple ruffle dress and blue boa all the way down to her ruby red, laced-up slippers, I aspired to be her. 

The hot pink, bright yellow and lavender books covered my carpet floor as I reminisced over the thrilling feeling of reading through each page as a little girl. The strong-willed little girl taught me how to speak up for myself and always stand by my own opinion, which was a helpful reminder, even as a 17-year-old. I now understand how children’s books pack in more than just the fun pictures and sparkly colors, revealing themes such as friendships and being true to one’s self.

THE GIVING TREE

My elementary school librarian was about to finish reading the last page of the iconic green book to my first grade class. Instead of paying attention, I was probably daydreaming about the class guinea pig or counting down the minutes until recess — definitely too distracted to pick up the deeper meaning and lessons “The Giving Tree” offers.

I decided to give this book a second chance. As I flipped through each page, I looked beyond the little boy and dainty tree, seeing metaphors that young Madeline couldn’t comprehend.

The tree is referred to as “she,” symbolizing a motherly figure to the boy. From the perspective of a high schooler, I’m finally able to understand and appreciate the true meaning of the book — the unconditional love and sacrifices a mother has to give, as well as the consequences that come with being selfish. 

As I followed the boy through his own childhood, I saw how the tree provides for the boy constantly. The tree never gets anything in return, but stays content seeing the boy happy. By the end, the tree has nothing left to give and dwindles down to just a stump. If my younger self would’ve been a little more attentive while this book was being read, I might’ve learned earlier to appreciate what my parents give me. I felt satisfied with finally understanding the rave and attention this book gets.