By Lita Judge
A penguin turns up at flight school with the soul of an eagle and a body that was never going to fly, and the other birds figure out how to get him up there anyway.
Penguin arrives at flight school with a little suitcase, absolutely certain he belongs. Flamingo, the teacher, is doubtful but takes him on. Penguin learns the theory. He flaps. He runs. He tries and tries and cannot get off the ground, because he is a penguin, and eventually he packs his suitcase and goes home. Then the birds work out a way to launch him, and he gets his moment on the wind. Watercolors, very few words, and a lot said in the way the birds stand.
This one isn't about aircraft at all. It's about wanting to fly and not being built for it, which is the other half of what a plane-mad child is actually feeling when they stand in the garden with their arms out. Penguin's determination is funny and a bit heartbreaking, and the solution the birds land on is the good kind of surprise: nobody tells him to want something else.