Exciting, inclusive children's fiction. Championing under-represented creatives. Black owned. Distributed via @InpressBooks. Rarely here now: Bluesky and Insta.
Huge congratulations to @CherylParkinson5, brilliant author of the compelling Last Girl In, her #Windrush debut middle grade story, published with Dinosaur Books in 2023. The @The_UKLA Award for diversity and inclusion is a supremely well deserved recognition of Cheryl’s talent.
Delighted to mark the end of #blackhistorymonth❤️🖤💚 by rounding up some of the finest books the indie press scene has to offer to celebrate Black History Month this year…
https://t.co/fpGhoZHndn
#booktwitter#booktwt#bhm2025
Re English degrees - as a student Katherine Rundell read Donne's most difficult poem. It gave her an idea for a children's book. Yesterday Disney announced a monster deal for that book. So that English degree will soon create and sustain thousands of highly skilled UK jobs.
My rip off degree of Old and Middle English led directly to #HorridHenry and millions of books sold, and kids becoming readers. Oh, and I was on one of those visas Reform vows to revoke
A message from a Kindergarten teacher:
After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:
“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”
No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”
My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.
When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.
But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.
My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.
And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.
They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.
The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”
As if kindness were a weakness.
Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”
Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.
But this last year broke something in me.
The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.
I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.
So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:
“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”
I sat on the floor and cried.
No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.
I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.
I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.
So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.
Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.
An essential report from Dr Francesca Bonafede and colleagues that deserves careful thought and reflection from everyone interested in helping children and young people become the best writers they can be — in the broadest sense! 👇
With interest in reading plummeting, the most important thing right now is to focus squarely on our main aim for children - ensuring they can ALL connect with the books we publish. Clearly, from this report, this goal is far from accomplished. Let's stay focused and together keep pushing for change, championing underrepresented book creators.
“We proudly defend the freedom to read…what has happened in parts of the United States must not be allowed to take root in the UK.”
An open letter from @WalkerBooksUK on the banning of Angie Thomas’ standout T.H.U.G.
#BannedBooksWeekUK@BannedWeekUK
A QUIET WORD?
The government is being blue-pilled by lobbyists, abandoning its manifesto pledge.
Vested interests push regulation, not leaseholder liberation.
We don’t have cash for influence ops in Parliament - and we’re not former civil servants with insider access.
Thank you @JacquiMckenzie6 - the interviews you gave were an invaluable part of the research that underpins this book, and the photo of your father, Izett McKenzie, with his cricket team in 1950s Bermondsey, is a wonderful addition.
I'm repeating my online 'Building a Classroom Reading Culture' session on Monday 11th August at 10:00am. There's no fixed price for tickets as all donations will go directly to Medical Aid for Palestinians (https://t.co/q9eqzU51As). Please share!
https://t.co/8vizTsxhY1
In Year 5 we have been reading “Children of the Benin Kingdom” by Dinah Orji. Using the book and their own research they have then written their own non-chronological report about the Kingdom of Benin. Fantastic work Year 5!
#NSHPrimaryYear5