Grandad's Island: Benji Davies

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Up until this point, the sessions had been brilliant. The children had drawn colourful pictures to predict what might be on the island, written immersive descriptions of the jungle, developed their vocabulary (not many knew what an ‘attic’ was and enjoyed discussing what ‘an ocean of rooftops’ might look like). They had nudged each other and giggled over all the things they spotted in Grandad’s dusty attic and gasped at the beauty of the island – I had displayed the book on the interactive whiteboard for maximum effect. Where will the big metal door lead to?

A few months ago, I was completing a series of lessons with my Year 2 class on Benji Davies’ wonderfully moving picture book Grandad’s Island. How to assess and analyse ways in which pupils respond to stories, poems and plays’ by Michael Rosen My mum looked at me, with tears in her eyes, then nodded with determination and, thankfully, seamlessly carried on reading to the children, while I turned away and dried my eyes.

I was completely stumped. Why was I crying? I felt embarrassed, flustered, hot and like I had lost control.

Benji’s books can been read in over forty languages and have sold many millions of copies around the world. I managed to compose myself and, on reaching the end of the story, when Syd receives a mysterious envelope, asked the children what they thought might be in the envelope. “A letter from Grandad!” they chorused. It had to be! They soon set about writing their own letters in the role of Grandad and it was at this point that I had to leave the classroom. Once again, I had started crying. I sat in the toilets for a while sobbing, feeling very foolish.Until then, like Syd, I shall continue to try and steer my ship safely home, weathering the storms, and filling my own attic of memories with laughter, music, art, books, love and maybe even a giant tortoise teapot. The book certainly developed what Michael Rosen calls ‘intratextual skills’ or ‘harvesting’ – the ability to relate one part of the text to another and find clues along the way. One boy was beside himself to discover that he had already seen the animals helping to build the shelter…in Grandad’s attic! What the book allowed me to do is open up my own attic of memories, prompting me to remember both my Grandads. They were very special to me and were the embodiment of safety, love and family. Grandad Eagleton taught me to laugh, collected conkers for us and told us not to worry about anything (“If worrying did me any good, I’d do it all the time!”). I have a clear memory of him helping with the washing up after Grandad Allen’s funeral and making jokes with an aunt. His easy ways, laughter and warmth were just what was needed on a difficult day. We used to enjoy playing hairdressers with Grandad Allen (who was pretty much bald!), whilst he watched the horse racing. He used to make my Nan laugh a lot. I remember him introducing me to his ‘Footballer’s Dinner’ – mash potatoes with a fried egg on top. I felt very grown up and loved when I got to sit next to him at the dinner table and have my own ‘Footballer’s Dinner”. I know they were both very proud of us, loved my family dearly and left a terrible hole in the fabric of our family life when they died.