You cannot read a wordless book aloud. That is the first thing a teacher notices, and it is why these books sit untouched on so many shelves. So here is what you do with thirty children instead: you hold it up, you turn the pages, and they tell you what is happening. All of them, at once, over the top of each other. You stop being the person who knows the story and become the person working the pages, which is uncomfortable for about four minutes and then produces the best talk your class has had all term. And here is why the four minutes are worth it. The child who arrived from another country in October, the child who cannot yet sound out a single word, and the child reading three years ahead can all do this task at the same time, in the same room, and nobody watching can tell which is which. Almost nothing else on your shelf does that. Pick whichever of the seven suits the room this week.
One rule holds the shelf together: the whole story has to be in the pictures, with no words doing any of the work. That turns the room inside out. You cannot perform a wordless book, so the children narrate and you turn pages, and the talk that comes out belongs to them rather than to you. Some teachers dislike this the first time, because it means standing at the front without the answer, and there is no answer to have; the book does not say. That is the trade. What each book asks for is different, though, so choose on purpose rather than at random. Tuesday wants a class to reconstruct a night from a running clock and a completely straight face. The Lion & the Mouse is the only one here with a story the children already know, so they retell instead of invent, which is the easiest way in. Journey is a quest drawn with a red crayon, and it is the first of three books, so it is the one that leads somewhere. Float asks the hardest feeling question with the smallest event, a lost paper boat. Chalk is the loud one, a chase with a dinosaur in it. The Red Book is a puzzle that refuses to end and starts an argument. And Flotsam asks the most of a class: a photograph inside a photograph inside a photograph, and a real idea about time underneath it.