Codename Zero by Chris Rylander

Most seventh graders believe they live in the most boring town in the world. Ask one. Or maybe they have already offered that information freely. Chances are their middle school qualifies as the nucleus of their ennui. The flat-lined heartbeat of boredom.

So people like Carson Fender do things like release fainting goats on the school’s front lawn or seal every door in the school with glue. You know, ennui-free sort of activities. Sometimes, however, the break to boredom comes from an outside influence.

That’s what happens to Carson. Just as hundreds of fainting goats are dropping on the front lawn, a panicked man in a black business suit hands Carson a nondescript package. “Take this,” he insists. “Guard it with your life; the fate of the world depends on it. And whatever you do, don’t open it!” He tells Carson to deliver it to Mr. Jensen and Mr. Jensen only. Then he rushes off, chased by two gun-toting guys in painted white faces. They stuff him in a black sedan and take off.

After this incredible chain of events, Carson is brought back to reality and sent to the principal’s office on goat-related offenses.

So now Carson must not only navigate his school punishment, but must also decide what to do with the package. But really, is there any question for a middle-schooler? He opens it and activates the LCD screen inside. It immediately starts a 48 hour countdown to self-destruction since Carson is “an unauthorized non-Agency user” according the device’s voice. Forty-eight pressure-packed hours to locate Mr. Jensen and deliver the package.

Carson suddenly finds himself in a world of secret agents, two of whom are teachers, in a secretive, non-government organization known only as the Agency that works against spies and terrorists. Carson accepts a role with the Agency and is given codename Zero. Agent Zero’s role involves classmates, terrorists, other Agents, and the ultimate challenge of keeping everything quiet, all while remaining an unassuming seventh grader.

After a long set-up, the action really gets rolling in Chris Rylander’s follow up to The Fourth Stall Parts I, II, and III. Chock full of everything you’d expect in a novel full of secret agencies, readers will be quickly hooked and ready for the foreshadowed sequel. (Countdown Zero: The Codename Conspiracy releases on February 3, 2015.)

You Are (Not) Small by Anna Kang and Christopher Weyant

So there’s this fuzzy purple guy and he’s just standing there. And then this taller fuzzy orange guy comes and he’s all like pointing at the purple guy and he says, “You are small.” He even has this pointy-down mean eyebrow look on his face.

Well then the fuzzy purple guy, he denies it. He says, “I am not small.” Then he totally turns it around on that orange guy and says, “You are big.” 

Take that, fuzzy orange guy!

Well then of course the fuzzy orange guy, well, HE denies it with an “I am not big.” Then he gets this smug look on his face like he knows something the purple guy doesn’t know, and he says, “See?” and points behind him. And there’s like four more fuzzy orange guys and they’re just as tall as him!

Hoo boy, that purple guy gets all grumpy but now he’s got like fourteen fuzzy purple guys with him all of a sudden and they’re the same size as he is!

And now I’m totally expecting Dallas Winston to come running in and yell “Don’t you know a rumble ain’t a rumble without me?!?!” and the book to go all The Outsiders on me ‘cause these fuzzy dudes is getting ANGRY! They’re yelling about being big and small and then . . .

Another fuzzy guy shows up. A blue guy, and he’s HUGE. And then there’s more fuzzy guys. Pink guys, and they’re little pipsqueaks. So now the little guys are actually big compared to the pipsqueaks and big guys are mini-fuzzy dudes next to the new blue guy who is so huge you can only see his legs.

Perspective. It sure can change an argument.

Okay, I’m not sure where that review came from, but that is how the book goes. There’s an argument about size, and both sides of the argument are correct until another perspective is presented. Sometimes we are small. Sometimes we are big. It just depends on who you’re standing next to. Isn’t that what makes the world interesting? Variety?

Kids will love the way the argument escalates without ever really becoming threatening to young readers. (These are just fuzzy blue and orange guys, remember.) The text is perfect for partner reading just like the great Elephant and Piggie books or Duck! Rabbit!, and the ending will lead to plenty of discussion.

And possibly (hopefully!) a sequel.

Kid Sheriff and the Terrible Toads by Bob Shea and Lane Smith

The book clarifies this on page two, so I’ll jump right in so everybody understands. Yes, Drywater Gulch had a problem with toads, but not the croaking, hopping kind. No. Drywater Gulch had a different sort of Toad problem. The Toad brothers.

“Why, those Toad brothers would steal your gold, kiss your cattle, and insult your chili. Hootin’, hollarin’, and cussin all the while.”

Now that’s a problem. The mayor was at a loss. Until … until …

Hope rode into town. Slowly. A boy, wearing white, riding a tortoise, and declaring himself the new sheriff. After all, he knows a lot about dinosaurs.

Okay, okay, I hear you. You were interested in the whole wild west thing, bad guys kissin’ cattle and all, and then you read about the tortoise and the dinosaurs and you were like, “Seems a bit sketchy to me. I don’t get it.”

Trust me. Kid Sheriff might not handle a shooting iron, ride a horse, know any rope tricks, or stay up past eight, but he makes a spectacular sheriff. When the bank gets robbed, the mayor suspects the Toad Brothers, and rightfully so. But Kid Sheriff declares it to be the work of T. rex. The stagecoach must be the Toad Brothers, right? Nope. Velociraptors.

Then the Toad Brothers themselves show up in town bragging - or trying to brag - about their antics, but Kid Sheriff has the real explanations. Cattle kissin’? Triceratops. Shoplifting at the mercantile? Allosaurus. And the chili insultin’ varmint was none other than Stegosaurus.

Now the Toad brothers are at a loss. How’s a nasty, gun-slingin’ gang supposed to get credit for their nefarious ways if gold stealin’, cattle kissin’, and chili insultin’ ain’t enough, dadgummit?!?

While you might not see a connection between a tortoise, dinosaurs, and the criminal old west, if you are already familiar with Bob Shea and Lane Smith’s work, you know a collaboration between these two author/illustrators will be something special. Kid Sheriff and the Terrible Toads delivers a goofy story, dastardly villains, a clever hero, and a hilarious and satisfying conclusion in all its absurd glory.

Cowboys. Dinosaurs. Heroes. Villains. What’s not to like?

Not a dad-burned thing. Consarnit.

Leroy Ninker Saddles Up by Kate DiCamillo

Sometimes technology is pretty cool. I was listening to a third grader read Mercy Watson Fights Crime and mentioned that Leroy Ninker, the book’s not-so-hardened criminal, was featured in a new book. “Really?” she asked, putting me on the spot. Hoping my memory was treating me kindly, I pulled out my phone and looked it up. Sure enough, there was Leroy Ninker Saddles Up. We put it in my shopping cart and placed the order.

“We should have it in about a week. I’ll bring it to you first.”

Her eyes lit up, she smiled, and I added another item to the list of why I love teaching.

Then she kept my book! I checked in with her each day to see how the reading was going (fine), was the story good (hilarious), did she finish (yep!), and can I get the book back now (umm…). She wasn’t going to give it back and kept it at home to make sure I couldn’t swipe it!

Do you need any more recommendation than that?

Okay, I think she was just messing with me, but had I said, “Ah, don’t worry about it. You can keep it,” she would NOT have said, “Oh, are you sure Mr. W? It really is your book.” It would have been more like, “Letmethinkaboutitokay.”

Leroy Ninker Saddles Up is Volume One of the new Tales from Deckawoo Drive series. The reading level is stepped up a bit from the original Mercy Watson books making it a great next step for Mercy Watson fans. But far be it from me to recommend a book strictly based on its reading level. Leroy Ninker, now gainfully employed in the concession stand at the local drive-in theater, loves the movies, especially Wednesday nights when the Bijou runs a Western double-feature. He dreams of being a real and true cowboy, but a coworker, Beatrice Leapaleoni, reminds Leroy that being a cowboy is more than a hat, boots, lasso, and tracking ability. What Leroy lacks is a horse.

Until Leroy finds Maybelline. “You are my horse,” says Leroy. “For me, you shine brighter than every star and every planet. You shine brighter than all the universe’s moons and suns. There are not enough yippie-i-ohs to describe you, Maybelline. I love you.” Leroy has a lot to learn about owning a horse, let alone being a cowboy, but his reformed heart is in the right place. Leroy’s affection only grows stronger after a storm separates him from Maybelline, but all is made right after a determined search and a visit to Deckawoo Drive (where toast with a great deal of butter on it and some familiar characters make an appearance).

If subsequent volumes in Kate DiCamillo’s new Tales from Deckawoo Drive series deliver like Leroy Ninker and Maybelline, even more readers will be saying, “Yippee-i-oh!”

President Taft Is Stuck in the Bath by Mac Barnett

President Taft did indeed get stuck in the bath. Maybe. He was a big man - this is undeniable. When one looks into some additional facts (all listed in the back of the book), however, one could understandably draw the conclusion that he did get stuck. President Taft had a tub that was seven feet long and three-and-a-half feet wide installed in the White House. Taft had a giant tub on his private yacht. Another giant tub was installed in his residence after leaving office.

Are these the actions of a man who simply likes to stretch while bathing or those of a man who once found himself stuck in a tub and decided once was enough?

You decide - and have fun with the debate.

If I was an American history or civics teacher, I’d want a book that included people like the president, vice president, secretary of state, secretary of agriculture, secretary of war (why is he not called the secretary of defense?), the secretaries of the navy, treasury, and interior, and the chief justice of the supreme court. That’s a who’s who of the executive and judicial branches of the federal government.

So what if they’re all present to help the president get unstuck from the bath?

But ask yourself (or your civics class): Why is the vice president ready to be sworn in? Why does the secretary of state seek a diplomatic solution? Why does the secretary of agriculture offer a solution involving butter? Why does TNT enter into the secretary of war’s plan? The secretary of the navy wants to send deep-sea divers into the tub, the secretary of the treasure wants to throw money at the problem, the secretary of the interior insists, “The answer is inside you.” Why?

Finally, isn’t it interesting that the successful solution requires all of them to work together? Could the president being wedged into his tub be a microcosm of how government works effectively?

One shudders to think.

Mac Barnett has taken an absurd piece of American history and crafted a story that could be used (at least in the eyes of this teacher) from kindergarten through high school. Chris Van Dusen’s illustrations include preposterous situations, emotional and expressive characters, a fair amount of red, white, and blue and White House decor, and many well-placed splashes and bubbles around President Taft.

Use President Taft Is Stuck in the Bath with students however you wish. Or not. But do let students read it, even if the only lesson they learn is that books can be hysterically fun.

Isn’t that the most important lesson of all?

The bathtub that President Taft insisted was not installed in the White House.
Photo from President Taft Is Stuck in the Bath.

Mr. Tiger Goes Wild by Peter Brown

This conversation happened when I read Mr. Tiger Goes Wild aloud to two kindergartners:

Kindergartner 1: “He’s naked!”

Kindergartner 2: “But he’s a tiger!”

Kindergartners 1 & 2: [contemplative silence]

Yes, a character who normally wears clothing exits a city fountain sans clothing. So, by definition, he is naked. One can’t argue. At the same time, animals generally are naked, and tigers are animals. So is “He’s naked!” a statement of fact or an exclamation of shock?

To better understand this kindergarten conundrum, let’s step back to the beginning of the book. Mr. Tiger is a proper gentleman (top hat, bow tie, overcoat) in a city of proper ladies and gentlemen. But Mr. Tiger was bored with always being so proper. All of this “Good day” and “Lovely weather we are having” and “Indeed.” Boring.

Mr. Tiger wanted to loosen up, have fun, and be wild. So he did one of the wildest things this proper city had seen in some time. He walked on all four legs. This led to running and chasing and climbing and roaring. “And then Mr. Tiger went a little too far.”

He dove in the city fountain and exited au naturale. “Mr. Tiger!” shouted Ms. Elephant. “If you must act wild, kindly do so in the WILDERNESS!”

So he did.

Then this conversation happened with my two kindergartners:

Me: “What do you think is going to happen next?”

Kindergartner 1: “He’s alone.”

Kindergartner 2: “Yeah. He’s lonely.”

Me, turning the page and reading: “But Mr. Tiger was lonely.”

What should Mr. Tiger do? Don his top hat, bow tie, and overcoat and stroll two-legged back into that proper city? Or remain in the wilderness living the wild life? Could there be a middle ground?

After all, shouldn’t Mr. Tiger feel free to be himself? Shouldn’t we all?

I won’t give away Mr. Tiger’s decision or how the story turns out, but I will share that there are lessons to be learned in Peter Brown’s book. Be yourself. Respect others despite the differences. Don’t conform only to please others.

And maybe you should just stay out of the city fountain altogether.

My Teacher is a Monster by Peter Brown

Teachers. Monsters. Not all monsters are teachers, but all teachers have the potential to be monsters … at least in the eyes of their students.

Or in the eyes of specific students like Bobby, the paper airplane-throwing, chair-tipping, slowpoke main character in My Teacher is a Monster. “No recess for children who throw airplanes in class.” There’s only one kind of teacher who would say something like that, and Mrs. Kirby is that kind of teacher.

She’s a monster. Undeniably.

Author and illustrator Peter Brown quickly sets the stage for conflict between everykid Bobby and his teacher, Mrs. Kirby. Then he moves the story from the classroom to a Saturday in the park. What happens when Bobby and his monster end up on the same park bench?

“Bobby wanted to run! He wanted to hide! But he knew that would only make things worse.”

So he raised his hand. “Robert, you don’t need to raise your hand out here.”

It’s not the greatest start to a Saturday in the park sort of conversation, but it is a start. And where that conversation leads them, neither could have predicted.

Readers won’t see it coming either. There’s a lost hat, ducks, some quacking, some rock climbing, and some fantastic airplanery. Over the course of that Saturday in the park, Bobby learns something important about his teacher. Maybe, despite the roaring and the stomping at school, just maybe, Mrs. Kirby isn’t a monster. Maybe monsters are not always what they seem.

Don’t believe me? Compare the front cover to the back cover. Teachers. Monsters. One and the same? Take a look at what happens between the front and back cover and decide for yourself.

Just like Bobby did.

Hansel & Gretel by Neil Gaiman

My fairy tale history is a little fuzzy. Here’s what I remember about Hansel & Gretel: A boy and a girl are lost in the forest. They find a candy house and try to eat it. The witch gets mad and wants to eat them instead. Kids escape. An oven is involved.

But I knew something must be missing from the version I remembered, especially if Neil Gaiman had put pen to paper to record his version. The author of Coraline and The Graveyard Book certainly wouldn’t publish a saccharine story of lost kids and candy houses.

So I read and learned about the woodcutter and his wife and their two children. How their life was good until war came and food, once plentiful, became scarce. How a mother logically concluded that they will all die unless there were fewer mouths to feed. How a mother could convince her husband to abandon their children in the forest. Twice.

In other words, I finally got to know the real story of Hansel & Gretel.

Readers familiar with Toon Books may be expecting a comic version similar to other Toon Books titles, but Hansel & Gretel is told as a short story like the original Grimm story. The text is broken by fourteen two-page illustrations that alternate pages with the text. The illustrations by Lorenzo Mattotti are done in black ink and reveal more and more each time they are viewed.

No, this is not the story I was told or remember or the one I just chose to remember. It’s better - way better - and thankfully so. It’s a story begging to be read aloud, slowly and quietly in a room dimly lit, to be heard by listeners contemplating abandoned children, sinister old ladies, scorching ovens, and finding a way home. Listeners lost in a tale well told.

Revolution by Deborah Wiles

People don’t believe me when I tell them that much of what I have learned about history was from fiction. But let’s be clear - I’m talking about well-researched, factually based, historical fiction. Of course, one must carefully filter the fact from the fiction and do additional research where the separation is difficult, but fiction generally engages this reader more than nonfiction, so I’ll take the lessons where they come.

I could (and should) thank many authors, but here’s a heartfelt thank you specifically for Deborah Wiles for the lessons she’s taught me. First it was the Cuban Missile Crisis in Countdown. Now it’s Mississippi in 1964 - Freedom Summer - in her second of three documentary novels, Revolution.

Revolution takes place in Greenwood, Mississippi. Depending on who you ask, the summer of 1964 was when the invaders came from the north or it was Freedom Summer when volunteers worked diligently to help African-American residents to register to vote.

Sunny is caught in the middle of the disagreement. Her grandmother holds strongly to segregation. Her father runs a grocery store that welcomes and employs numerous African-Americans. Her stepmother sees inequality and injustice. But historical fiction would be, well, nonfiction if it didn’t include some fiction. Sunny also struggles with relationships within her new family. Should she trust and respect her stepmother? What about Gillette, her new stepbrother? How does the extended family accept the new family additions, and what factors in the family’s past affect that acceptance?

Again, like in Countdown, scattered throughout the novel are bits of image-dominated nonfiction. Photographs, pamphlets, song lyrics, newspaper excerpts, and signs are found throughout, usually in 5-10 page chunks every few chapters. Some are meant to specifically support the story such as images of volunteers working with unregistered African-Americans, Freedom Schools, and protesters being arrested. Other nonfiction parts help readers understand more about the time in history like “Whites Only” segregation signs, the Beatles, and soldiers in Vietnam.

There’s much to learn about our country from these three months in Greenwood, Mississippi, but know that the most powerful lessons from Revolution come from Sunny. As she wrestles with the changes happening in her family and her world, so do readers. And both come out changed at the end of Freedom Summer.

The Day the Crayons Quit by Drew Daywalt

Everybody gets tired of something, sometime. Teachers? Maybe it’s checking homework. Students? Maybe it’s completing homework. Kids get tired of cleaning their bedrooms while parents get sick of repeatedly reminding their kids to clean their bedrooms.

But does that mean that you can just quit what you’re doing? Shirk your responsibilities? Sure, you might take an occasional break, maybe delegate some responsibilities. But quit?

Yet that’s exactly what Duncan’s crayons decide to do in The Day the Crayons Quit. They’ve had enough. When Duncan goes to use his crayons, instead of finding them properly in their box he finds a stack of letters addressed to him. Each letter, one from each crayon, gives their individual complaints and reasons for quitting.

Red complains of having to work harder than all the other crayons - all the fire engines and apples for instance - in addition to all the Santas at Christmas and the hearts on Valentine’s Day.

Beige is tired of being mislabeled. It’s Beige. Not “light brown” or “dark tan.”

Gray complains that all he gets to color is big stuff - elephants, hippos, humpback whales.

All black gets to do is outlines. Nobody can even see white. Orange and yellow are in a snit over the correct color of the sun. Peach is embarrassed to be seen without a label, which Duncan tore off.

And who knew purple was such a neat freak? His complaint? Coloring outside the lines.

“Well, poor Duncan just wanted to color . . . and of course he wanted his crayons to be happy. And that gave him an idea.”

What could his idea be? What sort of creation could make all of Duncan’s crayons happy and still receive an A in coloring and an A+ in creativity? Don’t worry, Duncan’s got it covered colored.

As readers progress through the book, each page presents another letter, handwritten in the matching color, with illustrations that show each crayon’s complaints. The book could easily be used with students. What other things might cause a crayon to quit? Could we write our own letters? Would markers be different than crayons? What if everyone in your art box - scissors, glue sticks, rulers - quit? What would their reasons be, and what would their letters look like?

Even if you don’t use The Day the Crayons Quit by Drew Daywalt as the basis for some creative writing, the book works wonderfully as a read aloud and kids will never want to quit reading and rereading it.

! by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld

Technically, I guess, the title of this book is !. That’s all there is on the cover, anyway. A picture of a smiling exclamation mark. (To be fair the spine of the book does say exclamation mark, but I like the idea of a book having just punctuation as a title.)

What do you do if you stand out? What if, in a lineup of periods, you stand taller than the rest? That’s the question facing our main character, an exclamation mark. At first his response is to conform. Can he smoosh that tall thing above him? Flatten it into, I don’t know, some sort of squiggly hat or home-perm-looking-hairdo? Can one change who they really are?

The answer should be clear to us all. No. We are who we are, and we should be happy with that. Unfortunately many of us - adults and children - aren’t satisfied with our uniqueness, let alone amazed and thrilled by it, choosing rather to fit in with those around us.

And sometimes it takes a question mark to help us see why our uniqueness should be celebrated, not hidden.

After being bombarded by questions from this new questions mark acquaintance, he finally has enough. “STOP!” he screams, providing the final punctuation himself. His exclamation is surprising. He tries a “Hi!” and a “Howdy!” followed by a “Wow!” This new-found skill - or newly appreciated uniqueness - was amazing.

“It was like he broke free from a life sentence.”

And off he goes, to share what he can do with the world, including his old friends, the periods.

Even if the title of the book isn’t clear (Is it words? Punctuation?), we are sure of the author and illustrator. It’s the dynamic picture book team of Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld. They’re the team behind books like The OK Book, Duck! Rabbit!, and It’s Not Fair!, and ! (or exclamation mark) is an equal addition to their impressive list of titles.

That Is Not a Good Idea! by Mo Willems

If you are one of those people who wait patiently for the next Mo Willems book release, wondering if it will be a welcome addition to children's libraries, stop it. Okay, keep up the waiting patiently part, but the whole wondering-if-it-will-be-good part? Stop that. His track record is pretty good, so until he releases a dud or two, just trust the man. He knows how to create books kids will love.

That Is Not a Good Idea! certainly continues the streak, and it's nice to be introduced to new characters (not that I wouldn't love more Pigeon or Elephant and Piggie).

Meet the players:

1. A slippery-smooth and hungry fox who politely uses phrases like "Excuse me..." and "Would you care to...?" He offers daisies to innocent victims pedestrians. He smirks a lot. He wears a suit, vest, and top hat. A top hat, people.

2. A kind and trusting plump goose who strolls innocently through the city, wide-eyed, carrying her basket. She wears a kerchief on her head. Kerchiefs are the distinct opposite of top hats. You've been warned.

3. A cautious bunch of baby geese who play the role of peanut gallery, sort of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 meets silent films in a children's book. Their main role is to point out the obvious. "That is NOT a good idea!"

When the fox invites the goose to go on a stroll, an invitation accepted by the goose, the baby geese point out how that's not a good idea. When he suggests the walk continue into a deep, dark woods - a suggestion once again accepted by the goose - they see how a bad idea is getting worse. "That is REALLY NOT a good idea!" they inform readers. What follows involves a kitchen, a pot of boiling water, and a close look at the soup in the pot, all of which is met by an emphatic, "That is REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY NOT a good idea!"

The ending is exactly what you'd expect. Except it's not. And I'm not telling. But it's awesome.

That Is Not a Good Idea! very much imitates a silent film. There are full-page pictures of the fox and goose followed by solid black pages with white text showing the characters' conversation. Interspersed throughout are the baby geese sharing their opinion, as if the reader turns from the screen to see what others in the theater are thinking. It's a perfect opportunity for readers - or for the grown-ups reading with youngsters - to stop and wonder together with the baby geese. Is that a good idea? Why? Why not?

And of course, there's that ending that will have you wondering even more.

Patrick Eats His Peas and Other Stories by Geoffrey Hayes

It’s good to know that literature imitates life. Or life imitates literature. Or is that art? Isn’t there a phrase something like that?

Whatever. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that on the day I got Patrick Eats His Peas and Other Stories - that very same day - THIS was cooking on the stove before dinner:

No kidding. “Little green balls of MUSHY POISON” as Patrick sings. My family heard everything around our own dinner table that Patrick tried at his. “I don’t like them,” and “I’m not hungry,” and “I’ll be sick.” There were attempts at bargains: “Could I eat just a few?” Peas were even hidden in napkins, just like Patrick.

There was one difference between our two families, however. While Patrick’s solution involved ketchup, jelly, and a good amount of stirring, the solution in our family was one Patrick simply could not use. “I’m the father, and if I don’t want to eat my peas, then that’s the way it is!”

Geisel Award winning author Geoffrey Hayes is back with a new book of short stories about Patrick, a follow up to Patrick in A Teddy Bear’s Picnic and Other Stories. In this latest installment, Patrick again shows what it’s like to be a kid. Try as he might to be a help to Dad, he just can’t seem to stay out of the way. Patrick’s bath time, which Mom won’t allow him to skip, of course, includes toys, splashing, “too hot,” more water, burbles, bubbles, and puddles. And bedtime includes all the reasons why it should NOT actually be bedtime according to Patrick. Just like kids everywhere.

Art imitates life. (I googled it.) And Patrick is an excellent mirror into the lives of the kids we know, kids who will love reading this new release from Toon Books.

Bomb: The Race to Build - and Steal - the World's Most Dangerous Weapon by Steve Sheinkin

Dear Mr. W,

I just finished Bomb by Steve Sheinkin. It is about the development of the atomic bomb during World War II. There are four parts to the story. Part 1: Three-Way Race, Part 2: Chain Reactions, Part 3: How to Build an Atomic Bomb, and Part 4: Final Assembly.

The Three-Way Race introduced in Part 1 is about who would be able to build the first atomic bomb. The United States, working with the British, were fighting against the Nazis from Germany. The USSR was fighting against the Germans too, but even though the Soviets and the Americans were both fighting the Germans, the two countries weren't friends. That’s who was involved in the three-way race: the United States (with the British), the Germans, and the Soviets.

The United States hired the best scientists in the country to develop the bomb. The Germans were doing the same thing with their country’s best scientists. The Soviets wanted to develop a bomb, but most of their resources were spent fighting the Germans. Instead of trying to create their own bomb, the Soviets tried to steal information from the Americans.

While the Americans were working to develop their own bomb, the British were helping by trying to stop the Germans. The British had spies in countries that Germany occupied. They discovered that a major factory working on materials for the bomb was in Norway. Working with Norwegian underground fighters, they successfully destroyed the factory by sneaking in at night. They pulled off the mission, and none of the Norwegians were ever caught. The factory was soon put back into operation. Later, many of the same people successfully sank a boat transporting materials for the Germans. Even though the first attack was temporary, in the end the British and Norwegians basically stopped the Germans from creating their own bomb.

The Soviets were the Americans’ allies in the war, but they also were spying on the Americans. Soviet scientists were eventually able to build a bomb of their own but only by using information stolen by spies in the United States. They had spies who talked to American scientists and sometimes convinced them to help the Soviets. The Soviets were communists, which is another form of government, and they convinced some Americans that even if they were able to develop their own bomb, it would be important for another country, the USSR, to have the bomb too, to keep the Americans from becoming too powerful. Even loyal Americans sometimes agreed with the Soviets’ ideas about communism, which encouraged them to share American secrets.

Sincerely,
Brian Sixth Grader