>> From the Library of
Congress in Washington D.C.
>> Denise Woltering-Vargas:
Good afternoon.
I'd like to start, I know
we're running a little behind.
My name is Denise
Woltering-Vargas.
I am the Program Manager
at Tulane University Center
for Latin American Studies.
Thank you.
And I've been working with
the Americas Awards since 2011
with Julie Kline, the
founder's supervision guidance
and direction.
She's been very helpful
in helping me
to program our program here
in D.C. I'd like to say thanks
to Pamela Jackson at the Center
for the Book and Georgette Dorn
from the Hispanic Division.
Good afternoon and welcome
to the 2016 Americas Award.
On behalf of the Consortium of
Latin American Studies Programs,
myself at Tulane and Lisa
Finelli at Vanderbilt,
we welcome you to
today's ceremony.
The Americas Award was
founded in 1993 by Julie Kline
at the Center for Latin
America and Caribbean Studies
at the University of
Wisconsin in Milwaukee.
This award is one of the most
important programs of CLASP.
It is where we get the most
impact outreach out of teaching
and engaging about Latin
America within the community
and within classrooms.
Awards are given up to two
books each year and are selected
for their distinctive
literary quality,
cultural contextualization,
exceptional integration of text,
illustration and design and
potential for classroom use.
And that is an important
part to us.
Its ability to be used in
classrooms and teaching.
The goal of the award
is to link the Americas
to reach beyond geographic
borders, focusing, instead,
on cultural heritages
within the hemisphere.
The committee, this year we
had an excellent committee.
Some of the committee
members are here.
The Americas Award review
committee was comprised this
year of teachers, community
activists and librarians
from Tennessee, North
Carolina, Wisconsin, New Mexico
and right here in
Washington D.C. In the fall,
the books are submitted,
and beginning in Mach,
the committee gathers via
Skype and Google Hangout
and other alternative conference
calls in a series of meetings
to make very important
decisions.
These conversations are
enlightening, insightful
and at times very spirited
and show the passion
that the committee members feel
about the diverse
cultures of Latin America.
Lisa and I are extremely
grateful for the hard work
of the committee and
the care that they put
into choosing the
award each year.
We would like to say
a special gracias
to Kyra Phillips Shnore
[phonetic] at the University
of New Mexico for her
extra help this year.
Stepping in to help coordinate
committee conversations.
A unique element of the
Americas Award, as I mentioned,
is the ability to be
used in K12 classrooms.
The award emphasizes the
potential for classroom use.
So as you see the books cycling
behind me, you'll see snippets
of committee members' opinions,
thoughts, ideas and ways
that they see this award being
incorporated into the classroom,
as well as recommended
grade levels.
Educators have developed and
continued to develop pre-K
through 12 curricula to
be used with each book.
If you're interested in
learning about these resources
and participating in other
opportunities that we have,
please visit on our
website claspprograms.org.
It's on the end of
this screen slideshow.
And this year's program features
a special educator workshop
tonight, this evening, across
the street from Busboys
and Poets at Mulebone.
We'll have a teacher workshop
highlighting this year's award
winner, Ashley Hope
Perez and Alma Flor Ada.
So please join us.
I'd like to hand it over to one
of our committee
members, Paula Mason.
>> Paula Mason: Hello everyone.
My name is Paula Mason, and
I'm a review committee member
for the Americas Award
and a public librarian
from the Milwaukee area.
As a librarian, I find that one
of the most valuable aspects
of this award is the annotated
bibliography that we create
of commended and
honor book titles,
along with our two
award winners.
You'll find all these titles
listed in our program book
and showing on the screens.
To highlight just a few of
these suburb commended titles,
I'm going to just discuss just
a few of the themes that we saw.
So, several of them touched on
important and relevant topics,
such as breaking down
barriers in our community
and dispelling stereotypes.
Books such as the young adult's
debut from Marie Marquardt,
Dream Things True and Cynthia
Lord's A Handful of Stars,
do an excellent job of giving
characters, giving us characters
that bridge divisions
in their communities.
Also, Margarita Engle gave us
two fantastic books this year,
The Picture Book,
Dream Drum Girl:
How One Girl's Courage Changed
Music and her child memoir,
Enchanted Air: Two
Cultures, Two Wings.
In Dream Drum Girl,
illustrated by Rafael Lopez,
we witness Cuban musician,
Millo Castro Zaldarriaga desired
to play the bongo drums,
traditionally an instrument
that only boys could play.
We learn that in courageously
breaking this stereotype,
she went on to become a
celebrated world-famous musician
in her own right.
In all of these books,
we see characters confront
seemingly impossible challenges
and find creative solutions.
And in this way, as
readers, we can begin
to soar alongside them too.
We're also honored today
to be in the presence
of Alma Flor Ada, the
award-winning author
of many titles and a prevailing
authority on bilingual
and multicultural education.
In her gem of a book, Island
Treasures: Growing up in Cuba,
the reader can delight in
her many family stories
from her childhood, which
offer beautiful lessons.
Filled with dozens of personal
photos and illustrations,
this book feels like a
special and intimate journey
through precious family
heirlooms and stories,
which is very fitting
considering the generous
and open nature of her family
as described in the book.
We also saw similar themes
of inner generational wisdom
and the importance of passing
along family memories in books
such as My Tata's Remedies,
Los remedios de mi tata
by Roni Capin Rivera-Ashford,
illustrated by Antonio Castro L.
and Monica Brown in her
picture book Maya's Blanket,
illustrated by David Diaz.
These are just a few of
the many wonderful books
that are officially recognized
as our commended titles.
I'm also very pleased to discuss
with you our two
honored books today.
Our first title is
Growing up Pedro:
How the Martinez
Brothers Made it
from the Dominican Republic all
the Way to the Major Leagues
by author and illustrator
Matt Tavares.
While there have been many
Dominican baseball players
in the major leagues, none have
kindled the deep enthusiasm
and allegiance and so many
fans as pitcher Pedro Martinez.
In his nonfiction picture book
geared for elementary students,
Tavares celebrates this
larger-than-life baseball hero
with incredibly realistic
paintings and simple text.
We're transported to the
world of the Martinez brothers
as they made their way
from a poor Dominican
village all the way
to the US Major Leagues.
The relationship between the
two brothers is the centerpiece
of the book, whether throwing
rocks at mangos as young boys
to practice their aim or
pitching against each other
in an historic game in 1996,
Pedro and Ramone maintain
their deep connection
and give each other the
strength they need to continue
through times of difficulties.
Without his older brother,
Ramone, Tavares leads us
to believe there
would be no Pedro
on the same national stage.
From a small boy watching
his big brother play
in their village
as a star pitcher,
oops, sorry, one second.
Play in their village
to the star pitcher
that led the Red Sox to win
the World Series in 2004,
Tavares gives us a
beautiful portrait
of baseball's most prized
and beloved players.
Growing up Pedro is also
available in Spanish,
making it even more
accessible to our readers.
Our second honor title is
another marvelous nonfiction
picture book, Funny
Bones: Posada and His Day
of the Dead Calaveras by author
and Illustrator Duncan Tonatiuh.
His latest work presents
an extraordinary blend
of biography, art and
politics, focusing on the life
of Jose Guadalupe
Posada or Don Lupe,
as he was known at the time.
Born in 1852, Posada
was most famous
for his socially conscious
depictions of calaveras,
the often comical skeletons that
are associated with Mexico's Day
of the Dead celebrations.
With Tonatiuh's engaging
hand-drawn digitally collaged
artwork, we first see
Don Lupe as a child
with a natural talent
for drawing.
And then as an adult,
continuously pursuing his
artistic passion while offering
social commentary on
the world around him.
The full-page spreads inspired
by Don Lupe's work
actively probe the reader
to consider the deeper layers
of meaning behind his artwork,
such as critiques
about social class,
rapidly changing technology
and violence during
the Mexican Revolution.
This stunning work is
easily adapted to a variety
of classroom settings, spanning
subject areas such as art,
history and cultural studies.
Additionally, Tonatiuh includes
a detailed author's note,
glossary of terms
and a bibliography
for readers interested in diving
further into Posada's work.
Funny Bones is geared for
readers between grades three
to six, but older
students, including adults,
are sure to learn
much from it as well.
We hope you enjoy this
title, along with all
of the other wonderful commended
and honor books on our list.
And now, my fellow
committee member,
Laura Kleinmann will
be presenting.
Oh.
[ Inaudible ]
Sure. Yeah.
>> Denise Woltering-Vargas:
We also wanted to, sorry,
I was making sure
that we were on time.
And I wanted to actually
introduce the Director
of the Hispanic Division,
Georgette Dorn.
[ Applause ]
>> Georgette Dorn: On behalf
of the Hispanic Division,
it's a great pleasure to welcome
our wonderful award winners.
And also, Paula Covington
who came especially
from Vanderbilt to
be here with us.
We began to host this
award since 1994,
after I met Julie Kline at
a conference in New Orleans
and she talked about CLASP.
I thought it would be
wonderful to have it here
at the Library of Congress.
So we've been doing
it since then,
and it's a really great
pleasure to have everybody here.
And as you all know, I'm
sure the Hispanic collection
at the Library is the
largest in the world by far.
So, it'd be very nice if all the
young children would eventually
become our users, as well as
the writers and the professors.
It is my privilege to
introduce Pamela Jackson,
the head of the Center
for the Book.
[ Applause ]
>> Pamela Jackson:
Hi, good afternoon.
>> Good afternoon.
>> Pamela Jackson.
Welcome. Welcome to the
Library of Congress.
I am Pam Jackson, Director
for Center for the Book,
and we are part of the National
and International Outreach
Unit here at the Library,
a rather new one that's
specifically designed
and focused on sharing the
diverse and rich resources
of the Library collections
with people throughout
the world actually.
So it's thrilling to be here
and to enjoy the conversation
that you've got planned today.
One of the things I can
mention here is, you know,
it is the vision of
the Library of Congress
that we be the chief steward
of the record of knowledge
for America and the world.
And in doing so, creating a
springboard to the future.
And I'm looking at some of the
works and just very impressed
by what I see, both in terms
of the kind of compassion
and courage and industry and
excitement that's represented
in some of the titles
and the books
that are flashing
through the screen.
And, you know, one of the things
that we're focused on here
in the Library as well, and
particularly, is our mission,
which is to provide the American
people with a rich, diverse
and enduring source of knowledge
that can be relied upon
to inform, inspire and engage.
And to support intellectual
and creative endeavors.
And I just can't help to
be so moved by the beauty
and creativity that I see
in the books and the slides
that are being shown
here for us.
They do indeed, and
in particular,
today's award winners, represent
a very diverse and rich source
of inspiration for us.
Here at the Center for the Book,
which includes a Young
Reader Center and the Poetry
and Literature Center, we
promote books and libraries,
reading and literacy,
poetry and literature,
it is our mission
and it's our passion.
And we do so because we
believe they're the best tools
against ignorance
and intolerance.
And it's events like
these that gives a chance
to see diverse societies,
sometimes for some
of us it's going to be that
we're seeing ourselves.
In other cases, we're
seeing folks
that are very different
from ourselves.
And it's so important
for us to be seeing both
in the books we read, in
the books we talk about
and the people that are with
us talking about those books,
which makes today's event
all the more special.
So, I'm grateful
here for this event.
Our partnership with the
Hispanic Division and Tulane
and Vanderbilt Universities
as we enjoy this very special
and substantive 24th annual
Americas Awards for Children
and Adult Young Literature.
And I just have a couple
of housekeeping items
that I was tasked with
that I'll share now.
So people should, if you haven't
already, just take a moment,
make sure your devices
are silenced
so that they're not
a distraction.
And also, to make mention that
we are recording today's events.
So if you do have to ask
a question you'll be part
of our webcast.
Our webcasts are
available online,
by the way, so we're
at read.gov.
Feel free to visit us there and
find a variety of author talks
and presentations such
as the one here today.
And then, oops, I knew
that was going to happen.
And then finally, we actually
are also delighted to share
with you that the authors'
books will be available for sale
after the presentation
outside this room.
And with that, I think I'll
turn it back over to Denise
to continue along
with the program.
Thank you so much
all for being here.
[ Applause ]
>> Denise Woltering-Vargas:
Thank you so much.
We are very excited to
do this a second year,
to have a reader's theater
interpretation of an excerpt
of one of this year's winners.
I'd like to introduce Laura
Kleinmann, a committee member
for the Americas Award.
[ Applause ]
>> Laura Kleinmann: When I
started this, hello everyone,
I feel very proud
to have been part
of selecting these amazing books
and Echo immediately became
my seventh-grade son's
favorite book.
And he is not a great reader,
but he loved that book.
And that's why I had the idea
that seventh graders
would be the perfect age
to present a reader's theater
based on Echo by Pam Munoz Ryan
and we have right here
six seventh graders,
seven seventh graders from the
Oyster-Adams Bilingual School.
It's a D.C. public school, the
oldest dual language schools
in the world actually.
Our program started in the 70s.
All of these young
people are bilingual.
And their teacher is
Miss Anna Sebastian.
Don't think she's a student.
She's actually their teacher.
And I also want to acknowledge
my colleague, Steven Burch.
I'm the primary librarian, and
he's our secondary librarian.
So, these children
are actually his.
Mine are littler.
So I'm going to just
slide the mike this way
and get off the stage so
that they can come and share
with you the reader's
theater based on Echo.
>> Reader's Theater, based
on Echo by Pam Munoz Ryan.
Otto was lost in the forest.
He had a book and a harmonica.
He met three sisters in
an enchanted tree circle.
They were doomed to
live in the forest
until they met a
secret messenger
with a musical instrument.
They said, we are forever
joined by the silken [inaudible]
of destiny to you and to all
who will play this
harmonica in the future.
As he left, he heard
these words.
>> Your fate is not yet sealed.
Even in the darkest
night, a star will shine,
a bell will chime, and
path will be revealed.
>> Otto was no longer afraid.
Part one, Germany, 1933.
Friedrich was a boy
who loved music.
Friedrich had a large
birthmark on his birth
and a large imagination.
He often imagined music
in his head and pretended
to conduct with his hands.
Friedrich got bullied often.
His father took him
out of school.
Instead, he worked at the
Hohner Harmonica factory.
>> Uncle, look at
this harmonica I found
in the old abandoned warehouse.
>> This is beautiful.
I have never heard a harmonic
with such a rich sound.
It's like two people
play it at once.
>> Look at the tiny [inaudible]
on the back of my paint.
What is that?
>> [Inaudible] this
look like a [inaudible].
It's not smart to
do such a thing.
>> That night, as
Friedrich walked home,
he didn't worry about
being bullied.
The music from the strange
harmonica hypnotized him
and made him forget
to be afraid.
When he arrived at his
apartment, his sister
and his father got
into an argument.
>> The harmonica, I'm
sorry to say, father,
is not traditionally German
and is therefore offensive.
People use it to play degenerate
music by Jews and Blacks.
>> Degenerate?
Music does not have a
race or disposition.
Every instrument has a
voice that contributes.
Music is a universal language,
a universal religion of sorts.
Certainly, it is my religion.
Music surpasses all
distinctions between people.
>> Some do not agree, father.
And we should follow the
Nazi Party's guidelines.
>> Don't be ridiculous.
>> Friedrich began to worry.
His father played
music with Jews.
His father was a free thinker.
Friedrich was informed
by his birthmark.
People like him and his
father did not belong
in the new Germany.
Soon after, the Nazis
came to arrest his father.
Friedrich was afraid.
He ran to his uncle's apartment.
>> So they have come already.
>> Father said he would
be home in a few hours.
>> No Friedrich.
He will not be back
in a few hours.
They have taken him to the
work camp where men freeze.
>> This is all my fault.
>> Nephew, none of us could
have known this would happen.
This is not your fault.
But right now, we don't
have time to debate.
We must move quickly.
We must get your
father out of there.
We must contact your sister.
>> Friedrich and his
uncle needed money.
They wrote to Elisabeth.
She sent a box of cookies
in the shape of swastikas.
The box had a false bottom.
It was filled with Reichsmarks.
Friedrich would take
them as he bribed
to the commander at Dachau.
It would be risky, but a
boy will be less suspicious
than a man.
Before he left, Friedrich
took out his harmonica
and played the Brahms
Lullaby one more time.
He then packed it up and put
it in a box of harmonicas bound
for the United States
Marine Corps band.
As he rode the train to Dachau,
his heart pounded with fear.
Yet, as he stared out the
window, he heard these words
in the rhythm of the train.
>> Your fate is not yet sealed.
Even in darkest night,
a star will shine.
A bell will chime.
A path will be revealed.
>> Friedrich was
no longer afraid.
>> Part two, Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania, 1935.
Mike and Frankie Flannery
live at the Bishop's Home
for Friendless and
Destitute Children.
Mike was 11, and
Frankie was eight.
Granny left them there because
she was too old to take care
of them and because it was the
only orphanage with a piano.
She didn't know they
would be treated badly.
She didn't know they
might be separated.
She didn't know
that Headmistress Pennyweather
would confiscate the harmonicas.
One night, Frankie climbed the
tree next to Mike's window.
>> I just heard that tomorrow
some people are coming
to get boys.
>> We're getting fostered out?
>> If they like us.
What if Pennyweather tries
to separate us again?
>> I told you before,
we're not supposed
to get separated, remember.
You and me, we stick together.
>> Yeah, you and me,
we stick together.
>> Frankie left, and Mike
began to worry as usual.
So many things could go wrong.
Then he dared to dream.
What if the people
wanted two boys?
What if he and Frankie
could feel loved again?
What if their new
home had a piano?
The next day, everything
changed.
A lawyer named Mr.
Howard came to Bishop's
to find a music child.
He represented Eunice
Dow Sturbridge.
The woman was wealthy and alone
and wanted to adopt a child
who could play the piano.
Pennyweather got the
piano tuned and had Mike
and Frankie play a duet
of America the Beautiful.
Although Mr. Howard had come
for one child, he was so moved
by the music and the
boys and devotion
to each other, he
took them both.
When they arrived at
the big, fancy house,
Frankie was excited, but Mike
couldn't help remembering his
grandmother's words.
>> Granny always aid that
if something seemed too good
to be true, it was
probably a swindle.
Who in the world would adopt two
boys without even meeting them.
>> The introduction
didn't ease his mind.
>> Michael, Franklin, this
is Eunice Dow Sturbridge.
>> Mam, thank you
for adopting us.
>> Are you going to
be our new mother?
You are much prettier
than we expected,
and you smell lots better
than Miss Pennyweather.
>> Mrs. Sturbridge's eyes filled
with tears as she looked them
over and made a face as if
she'd just seen a dead animal
in the gutter.
Then she turned and
hurried up the stairs.
The next day, Mr.
Howard took them
to Central Philly
to buy new clothes.
On the way home, they passed
a music store advertising
auditions for a band called
Hoxie's Harmonica Wizards.
Mr. Howard went in and bought
the boys each a harmonica.
Frankie's came from the display
by the register while Mike
picked up one from a box
in the back of the store.
The last box on the
bottom caught his eye.
Mike opened the box,
picked up the harmonica
and noticed a small red
M painted on the back.
When he put it to his
lips, the sound was
so beautiful, he
almost felt happy.
When he played America the
Beautiful for Mrs. Sturbridge
and Mr. Howard, it brought
tears to their eyes.
Mike thought of a plan.
>> Mrs. Sturbridge, I know
you only want one child.
Will you adopt Frankie
if I'm out of the way?
I plan to try out for the famous
traveling harmonica band called
Hoxie's Harmonica Wizards.
If I make it, I will live
will leave [inaudible].
>> Well, you are an
exceptional harmonica player.
Are you sure this
is what you want?
>> Oh yes, it is what I want.
>> Mike make the final audition,
and the family got invitations
to a special concert by
Hoxie's Harmonica Wizards.
That night, Mike realized
that he couldn't trust Mrs.
Sturbridge to keep Frankie.
He woke his brother up, and
they crawled out of the window
to climb down the
tree and run away.
Frankie made the climb, but
Mike lost his footing and fell.
The harmonica slid out of his
pocket, and he heard the strains
of the Brahms Lullaby
through the wind in the trees.
As he lay on the ground,
staring at the sky,
he thought he heard some
strange yet beautiful words.
>> Your fate is not yet sealed.
Even in the darkest
night, a star will shine,
a bell will chime, a
path will be revealed.
>> Mike was not afraid.
>> Part three, Southern
California, 1942.
Ivy Maria had to
say goodbye again.
She was leaving the
next morning.
She had to say goodbye to
her best friend Araceli.
She had to say goodbye
to the other families
in the labor camp.
She had to say goodbye
to her favorite teacher.
And worst of all, she
had to say goodbye
to the playing the
harmonica solo on the radio
with her fifth-grade class.
>> It's not fair.
Can we at least wait one week?
Just until Christmas vacation.
I hate moving, and I
thought we were finally going
to stay somewhere forever.
>> Ivy, this move means
we'll have our own house.
I will be in charge of 60 acres.
And your mother will
have a washing machine.
And you will go to a better
school with better teachers.
Even the weather will be better.
We cannot stay simply
because you want
to play the harmonica
on the radio.
>> I don't want a new school.
I love my teacher.
I love the weather.
>> Ivy Maria knew that if it
were her brother Nando begging
to play one more basketball
game, her parents would say yes.
They went to all of his games
yet called Ivy's
music frivolous.
She also knew that her brother
was at war in the Pacific.
They hadn't heard
from him in a month.
She could not use
him as an excuse
to argue with her parents.
Before he left, Nando had asked
her to be a good little soldier
and help mama and papa
while he was away.
Her heart hurt as she went
outside to play her harmonica.
Its beautiful sound
made her feel better.
She remembered the day
her teacher had given
out the harmonicas to her class.
>> These harmonicas were
donated to our school.
They have been restored
like new.
Each of you will get
one, and I will trust you
to take very good care of them.
I will teach you to play.
If we're good enough,
we'll play Auld Lang Syne
on the radio around
Christmastime.
>> Ivy Maria's harmonica
was different than the rest.
It shined brighter in the sun
and had a small red M
painted on the back.
Ivy traced the M,
wondering what it meant.
She played better and learned
faster than her classmates.
Mrs. Delgado told
her she was gifted
and could probably learn how to
play any instrument she liked.
Ivy beamed with pride.
But now, she had to
leave it all behind.
At least she could
take her harmonica.
>> Look, here we are.
This is our house, and if
you stand on tippy toe,
you can see the owner's house.
>> Do they have any children?
>> Yes, a boy a little
older than Fernando who is
in the Marines and
two smaller girls.
But they're not here right now.
>> I hope they come home
soon, and I hope that they go
to the same school as I do.
Maybe they even like music.
>> Papa looked at
mama over Ivy's head.
The family wouldn't
be coming home soon.
They were Japanese-American
and had been sent
to an internment camp.
Their house was boarded
up, and the plants
in their flowerbeds had
shriveled up and died.
The vegetables were
rotting on the vine.
Ivy Maria's papa told her
that the government had called
them enemies of the state.
Only the oldest boy,
Kenny was not in the camp.
He was in the Marines
fighting for his country.
Ivy's family was there
to keep the farm running
so the owners wouldn't lose
everything they had worked for.
As soon as Kenny had left, he
would come and visit the farm
and talk to Mr. Lopez
about the future.
Ivy thought about
the two girls having
to leave their nice
house and felt sad.
Soon, Ivy Maria forget
about her sadness
for the [inaudible] girls.
She had too much sadness and
shame to feel for herself
because her last name was Lopez,
and she had brown
skin and black hair.
She was sent not to a good Main
school but to Lincoln Annex,
the Americanization school.
It looked like a barn
surrounded by dirt fields.
She met a sixth grader
named Enacio [phonetic].
>> Why are we here?
>> To become an American and to
learn to speak better English.
>> But I'm already American,
and I already speak English.
>> Enacio shrugged.
Ivy was bored.
Her teacher was nice but
wouldn't let her work ahead.
All morning, Ivy finished her
work before the others and sat
with her hands folded
on the desk,
gazing out into the empty field.
The only good thing was that she
could still join the orchestra
after school at Lincoln Main.
That night, papa was angry.
>> My family has lived in
California for over 100 years.
My great-grandfather
worked on a ranch
when this very land
belonged to Mexico.
It was not yet America.
So it's fine if we join
them for music and sports.
But only after school.
It is fine if we
join them in a war.
My own son is fighting
for a country.
What nonsense is this?
>> At least in orchestra
rehearsal, Ivy felt equal
to Lincoln Main students.
After she had played
the harmonica in front
of the whole group,
the teacher explained.
>> Ivy, thank you.
That was unquestionably
brilliant.
You have promise, and I have
a feeling that you are going
to fall in love with the flute.
>> Before Kenny and
the Yamamotos arrived
to meet the Lopez, Ivy and
her mother entered the house
to make sure the property
wasn't damaged in any way.
They discovered a
secret room filled
with the musical instruments
of many Japanese families
that had lost their homes.
Ivy felt more connected
than ever to the Yamamotos.
When Kenny arrived,
mama treated him
like she would her
own son Nando.
As they walked over to
the Yamamotos' house,
Kenny and Ivy talked.
>> I'm glad I [inaudible]
together, Ivy.
I think we're more
alike than different.
Your father told me you
signed up for orchestra.
Did you know I was
in the orchestra,
and my sisters, they play flute?
I play violin.
Mr. Danos [phonetic]
was our teacher.
Do you like him?
>> He's my favorite teacher.
I love how he talks.
He told us we have
to play majestically.
>> Before Kenny left,
he asked Mr. Lopez
to send his sister's
flute so his family
in the interment camp.
He knew that the music
would comfort them.
Ivy knew Kenny wouldn't
take his violin
with him when he went to war.
She took her beautiful
harmonica out of her pocket
with the red letter M painted
on the back and gave it to him.
>> Are sure?
>> Ivy nodded.
>> I promise I'll bring
it back to you some day.
>> Kenny saluted Ivy.
She saluted back.
>> Part four, New
York City, 1951.
Finally, the silken thread of
destiny that linked all of those
who played Otto's harmonica
brought them together
for one magic night of
Concert of American Composers
at Carnegie Hall
in New York City.
>> Friedrich Schmidt led
his father and his uncle
to their seats in Carnegie Hall.
They were the first ones there
and marveled at the grandeur
of the red velvet
seats and golden walls.
>> I can't believe I'm going
to see my son conduct an
orchestra in Carnegie Hall.
We have waited so many years
and traveled so many miles
for this momentous occasion.
>> Yes, it is a dream come true.
A high honor to conduct
musicians who have come from all
over the country to play
American music by Gershwin
and Rodgers and Hammerstein.
And to have you with me,
I've never been happier.
>> Back stage Mike Flannery said
one last goodbye to his brother,
Frankie, and Mr.
Howard and Aunt Eunie,
who had raised them
as their sons.
>> My other brother playing the
piano solo at Carnegie Hall.
I wish granny could
see you know.
>> She is with me every
time I sit down at a piano.
She was with us the day that
Aunt Eunie decided to adopt us.
If you listen carefully
and you will hear her
in the melodies of
Rhapsody in Blue.
>> Kenny Yamamoto
sat in the first row
as the concert lights came up.
Although Ivy Maria Lopez's
family couldn't make the long
journey from California,
the light in Kenny's eyes
as he gazed at her from the
audience gave her courage.
She sat trembling with
excitement grasping her flute
as the orchestra tuned up in
the fabled Carnegie Hall waiting
for Friedrich Schmidt,
the famous conductor
and the accompanying Mike
Flannery, the famous pianist.
Although they didn't
know it, Kenny carried
in his breast pocket the
strange beautiful harmonica
with the red M painted on the
back that linked them all.
Just as the same harmonica had
given Friedrich the bravery
to save his brother
from the cow,
just as the same harmonica
had carved a path from Mike
to Aunt Eunie's heart, just
as the same harmonica had led
Ivy Maria to Mr. Daniels' life
as a musician, this very same
harmonica had stopped a bullet
from entering Kenny's chest
on the battlefield in Europe.
And each of them in their
own way in their own time,
as the enchanted
evening unfolded,
would hear the distant
echo of the prophetic words
that had predicted
their destiny.
>> Your fate is not yet sealed,
even in the darkest night,
a star will shine,
a bell will chime
and a path will be revealed.
[ Applause ]
>> Denise Croker:
Good afternoon.
I'm Denise Croker.
I teach English at the
Harpeth Hall School,
and all-girls independent
school in Nashville, Tennessee.
And I'm pleased to
present the Americas Award
to this year's recipients,
Ashley Hope Perez
and Pam Munoz Ryan.
At Harpeth Hall, one
of the courses I teach
is world literature.
One of my central goals is
to have my students travel
to other worlds vicariously,
to walk in another's shoes
and to develop empathy
with those who come
from different backgrounds.
I want them to look out a window
as librarian Laurie Wilfong
[phonetic] describes it,
to view another culture
and to learn from it.
Nigerian author Chinua Achebe
says, we lack imagination
when we cannot put ourselves
in the place of others.
Literature has the
power to combat this.
We can step into an imaginary
literary world and experience
so much beyond our own borders.
Students, on the other hand,
or at least my students,
many of my students,
generally like to read books
that are more akin to
mirrors than windows.
They want to look into a book
and see a character
very much like them.
It's validating of
their experience.
But truly, even when they
read about another teenager
who has the same
personality quirks, interests
or conflicts they have,
they also can take
a vicarious journey
of a person not unlike them,
but who's undergoing very
different life experiences.
The beauty of the two books
that have won our 2016
Americas Award is that they both
so definitely combine both.
They are windows and mirrors.
They each present a real
lived-in world of the past
but inhabit it with
fictional characters
who present deeply felt
emotions as they respond
to the racial tensions and
discrimination on one hand
and the strong bonds
of friendship
and family on the other hand.
Through these books, we can
learn about another country,
another culture,
another set of people.
All eventually inhabiting
the Americas
and representing
the multifaceted
American experience.
We ultimately return
to the great truth
that no matter the
place or the age,
human beings are
very much alike.
It is for us to determine
and embrace what links us more
closely, not what separates us.
And in the words of a
Gloria Estefan song,
[foreign language spoken].
We see the same moon.
We live on the same Earth.
So let me tell you a
little bit about each
of the authors and books.
Pam Munoz Ryan depicts
these links
in an ingenious way
in her book Echo.
And as we just heard so
beautifully from the students,
it is an incredible work that
blends these three stories.
Really an imaginative
tour de force.
Echo begins with a legend,
a fable, that tells us
of how a boy meets three spirits
whose purpose is to save a soul
at the moment of death.
This idea, along with
a special harmonica,
connects the three
stories in the book.
The three young protagonists
experience the 20th century's
conflicts, in particular,
the wind up to the Holocaust
in Germany, the loss
of parents and a hope
to escape an orphan
home in Pennsylvania,
and the dual experience
of racism against Mexicans
and Japanese in California.
Despite these apparent
differences in the stories
and hardships in each situation,
friendship, loyalty, kinship
and the power of music overcomes
suspicion and intolerance.
A powerful final concert
unites the three characters
from these different worlds in
the poignant and uplifting end
to Munoz Ryan's novel.
Because of the enduring
resonance of Echo,
we present the Americas
Award to Pam Munoz Ryan.
[ Applause ]
>> Pam Munoz Ryan:
Oh, so lovely.
First, I want to say thank
you to my publisher Scholastic
for making it possible for me
to be here and for all of you
for coming out to
celebrate with me.
And I'm very grateful
to the consortium
of Latin American Studies
Program for this lovely honor
and to be in the company of
Ashley Hope Perez and also to be
with Alma Flor Ada who
is speaking tonight
at the teacher's workshop.
And also to see some
friends here, Lulu and Meg.
So lovely to see you and so
special to celebrate with you.
And to the committee members,
Denise Croker, Maria Sheldon,
Laura Kleinmann, Paul
Mason and Emily Chavez.
I'm thrilled that you
chose Echo, mil gracias.
Sometimes the book I set
out to write isn't the book
that I ultimately write.
After I wrote The Dreamer,
I was researching what I
thought would be next book
about the nation's first
successful desegregation case,
Roberto Alvarez versus
the Trustees
of the Lemon Grove School
District when I happened
on information that was
too tantalizing to ignore.
Lemon Grove is a
community east of San Diego.
And in 1931, the Chamber of
Commerce was actively trying
to recruit businesses and
families from the Midwest
to move to the community.
They even had made beautiful,
large colored posters
that they were sending to
businesses in the Midwest
that proclaimed Lemon Grove,
the Pasadena of San Diego.
In their fervor, the Chamber of
Commerce met in secret meetings
with the school board
members and decided
that when prospective companies
and residents came to visit,
it would be much more
desirable for the school
to look less integrated.
So they conspired to segregate
the elementary school.
The day after the
two-week December break,
after the children had gone
home for the Christmas holidays,
the day they came back the
principal stood on the steps
of Lemon Grove Elementary
School,
and as the children entered,
he separated the Mexican
and Mexican-looking children to
the side and had them escorted
to a makeshift school
down the road.
The Mexican parents and children
were confused and appalled
by the pitiful conditions
of the alternative school.
They referred to
it as the barnyard.
All but three Mexican
families refused
to send their children
to the school.
They organized, and they went
to the District Attorney
in San Diego.
They took the school
district to court and they won
in the lowest court in the land.
So precedent was never set.
A few months later, everyone
went back to school together.
It was a victory, however
small, and forgotten.
Even so, the practice
of segregating Mexican-Americans
continued in California
and in districts in
California until the mid-40s.
Those issues became
integrated and integral
to Ivy Maria's story in
Echo and ultimately woven
into the much larger social
justice themes in the novel.
So there I was, researching
this court case
of the Lemon Grove
Historical Society,
a tiny little victorian
house and looking
through the 1931 school
yearbooks when I came
across a photograph
of an integrated group
of children sitting on the steps
of Lemon Grove Elementary
School,
each of them holding
a harmonica.
And when I asked the docent
about the photograph she
said, I said, what is this?
And she said, oh, you know,
that was before the whole
segregation issue happened.
That was our elementary
school harmonica band.
In the 20s and 30s almost every
school had one during, you know,
during the big harmonica band
movement in the United States.
Really? There was a
harmonica band movement
in the United States?
For me to discover
a little-known part
of American history.
That was rare and intriguing
and romantically linked
to the nostalgic harmonica
was like finding gold.
I prayed it was true.
I went home and I
began to research
and I discovered
that indeed it was.
At one time, there were
over 2,000 elementary
school harmonica bands
in the United States, including
the then famous Alfred Hoxie's
Philadelphia Harmonica
Band of Wizards.
The 60-member band
of boys who played
in Charles Lindbergh's
parade for three presidents,
including FDR's inauguration.
How could I resist
taking this further?
I began to look in
Hoxie's band and discovered
that they use primarily one
harmonica, the same model
of harmonica in the picture
of the children on the steps
of the elementary school,
the Hohner Marine Band.
My mind leaped.
Two characters and their
stories began to take shape.
Ivy Maria, a girl in a country
school harmonica band and Mike,
an orphan boy in
Philadelphia who wanted to be
in Hoxie's Band, which, by
the way, was full of orphans.
How can a writer
resist such drama?
I began to wonder if by
some odd fate my characters
at different points in
time might have played the
same harmonica.
And if it was the
same harmonica,
where had it originated, and
who had owned it before them?
I began a correspondence with
the Hohner Harmonica Company
in Trossingen, Germany and then
went there to tour the campus
and museum of one of the oldest
and the largest harmonica
factory in the world.
And during my tour I learned
about the six-pointed star
on the pre-World
War II harmonicas
and how Hitler insisted
it be removed
when he became Chancellor
of Germany.
And I discovered that
young boy apprentices used
to work in the factory.
Friedrich's story began to
unfold, and it was there
in the factory museum
looking into the glass cases
of commemorative well-loved
and long-carried harmonicas
that I discovered the
evidence of a real-life miracle
that I could use in the
[inaudible] of my book.
Now I had the premise
for three main stories.
And since the stories would
span 1933 through 1951,
I realized that my characters
would live during some
of the most dark and
challenging times in history.
Friedrich in Hitler's Germany,
Mike and his little brother
Frankie during the Great
Depression, and Ivy Maria
during the years of segregation.
How would my characters
carry on?
I wanted and needed to give my
characters a sliver of beauty
and light to which
they could cling.
And given the harmonica,
that something,
that sliver, was music.
But what powers did
the harmonica have,
and more importantly, how
had that power come about?
Those questions led me
to imagine the harmonica's
backstory.
I love the idea that the
harmonica might have a magical
history and maybe gave each
character confidence, strength
and a euphoric sense
of wellbeing.
So that is how my character's
stories became framed
in an original fairy tale
entwined in a witch's curse
and a midwife's prophecy.
I hoe the reader will come
to understand the prophecy
and how it's woven
into the story and now
for the fourth time
you'll hear it,
your fate is not quite sealed,
even in the darkest night,
a star will shine,
a bell will chime,
and a path will be revealed.
The writing of this
book was the same.
I thought I was writing
one book, but instead,
I wandered down a path
and a much larger narrative
demanded to be written.
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> Denise Croker: And
now for our second book.
Ashley Hope Perez's Out
of Darkness is a book
that presents a somber chapter
of our nation's history while
also casting a glimmer of hope,
a way out of darkness.
The novel begins with an
historical event in East Texas,
and I would say as a person
who lives outside of Texas,
a little known historical event
that I was astonished
to learn about.
The explosion of the New
London School in 1937.
Using this tragedy as
both climax and catalyst,
Perez weaves the fictional
stories of two teenagers, Naomi,
a Mexican-American
girl and Wash,
an African-American boy
brought together by a love
that is forbidden
by their society.
This is not a story
with a fairytale ending.
This is still the world
of East Texas which,
in Bob Dylan's words, was a
place where many martyrs fell.
But there are still moments
of great beauty and pure joy.
With strong imagery, poetic
style and bittersweet vignettes
that evoke this troubled time
and place, Out of Darkness,
strikes like lightning.
Because it so beautifully
illuminates an obscure
but significant part of
the American experience,
we honor Ashley Hope Perez
with the Americas Award.
[ Applause ]
>> Ashley Hope Perez: Thank you.
So, always the thank
yous first, right.
I want to also express my
gratitude to the committee
and to CLASP and to Denise
Woltering and Lisa Finelli, too,
for their work organizing
such a beautiful celebration.
And to all the hands that
are moving behind the scenes.
Here, your hands are important,
and we thank you for your work.
Also, for the friends
and family and my editor
who supported this
book along the way.
And especially a thank you to
my mom who came all the way
from Texas to finally
see we get an award.
I am always asking
her to watch my kids,
so I can do this kind of thing.
And this time, she insisted,
and I'm really glad she came.
And my sons are with my husband,
who is always making
everything possible.
So, I send a big thank you to
Liam Miguel and Ethan Andres
and Arnulfo, my husband.
And thank you for
coming to celebrate.
So when readers tell me what Out
of Darkness has meant to them,
or how they cried, which
is a lot of what I get
when they tell me about their
experience, I often share that,
that was taken as a command.
Now it is time to cry.
I often share that whole pieces
of my heart are still
buried inside that story.
If this book tasks readers with
traversing difficult territory,
it did that for me
as well as an author.
So I just want to
share a few thoughts
from that journey
with you in pictures.
Because, why not?
If you ever visit the Pleasant
Hill Cemetery in New London,
Texas, you will find
gravestone after gravestone
with the same date of
death, March 18, 1937.
This was the day that the New
London School explosion took the
lives of nearly 300 people,
most of them children.
Victims of the disaster are
buried in cemeteries all
over East Texas where I grew up.
But there are more buried
at the Pleasant Hill
Cemetery than anywhere else.
It takes just 30 minutes driving
on a hilly country road to get
from my childhood home
in Kilgore, Texas,
to the Pleasant Hill Cemetery,
which is just a few miles
where the original New
London School stood.
But I never once learned
about the New London explosion
in school or on a field
trip, despite the fact
that it is still considered
the worst school disaster
in US history.
As a child, I had some awareness
of a tragedy in New London,
probably from overhearing
whispered conversations
and pressing my parents
for more information.
But my understanding was
limited to a vague notion
that something had
happened a long time ago
and that children had died.
Only much later would
I learn that hundreds
of children were killed
by a natural gas
explosion in the school.
Only later would I learn that
fathers and neighbors rushed
to the site, hauling away tons
of rubble by hand to search
for survivor and
recover remains.
Only later would I learn
that families identified their
children by clothing and scars.
That many churches held funerals
on the half hour for more
than a week, burying
the victims one-by-one.
Even without this information,
walking among the graves
at Pleasant Hill, I encountered
the enormity of the tragedy.
The immediacy of its impact and
the depth of the wound it left.
Seeing again and again
that date, March 18, 1937,
became both haunting
and terrible.
How did I not know
what had happened?
A disaster that killed
one out of three
in a small oilfield town, excuse
me, one out of three children,
in a small oilfield
town in my community.
A tragedy described by some
as the day a generation died.
What could explain the silence?
We now know the importance
of stories and storytelling,
memorials, anniversaries and
other acts of remembrance.
They help us heal
and process pain.
But this has not always
been understood or embraced.
And in 1937, the surviving
youth of New London went back
to school just ten days
after the explosion
that killed many of
their classmates.
And when the senior class wanted
to organize a memorial service,
teachers and community
leaders discouraged them.
It was time to move
on, they were told.
Time to put the disaster
behind them.
It was best not to
talk about it.
The silence that followed
stretched on for more
than half a century until
finally survivors began meeting
and telling their stories,
first to each other,
then to the community.
Now, volunteer staff a small
museum about the explosion,
and children in New London
learn about the disaster.
Still, the event remains unknown
to many Americans,
as Denise noted.
So when I first began
writing Out of Darkness,
or the book that became Out of
Darkness, as Pam pointed out.
We don't know where we're
going when we start.
And books have different
intentions for us sometimes.
When I started, I
had this notion
that I would be contributing to
this broader effort to reckon
with the impact of that
explosion on the lives
of people in East Texas.
But once I began researching,
I found myself thinking most
about the stories that
I did not find collected
in the archival materials
on the disaster.
Because the New London
School was built
to serve white children,
historical accounts
of the explosion have
focused on the tragedy
as the white community
experienced it.
And I should have
shown you a picture.
This was just as, this
was probably an hour
after the explosion
just as another part
of the school is
beginning to collapse.
So in the archive, this is
really framed as a disaster
that affected the
white community.
No one recorded how people of
color in the area responded
or how they viewed the tragedy.
So I found myself
with many questions.
I wondered, for example,
what the event meant
for African-Americans
who had been spared
from the explosion precisely
because they'd been
denied access
to the far better-funded school.
And this was a school that
because of oil revenues,
had chemistry laboratories,
suites of sewing machines,
band instruments for
every child in the school,
uniforms for sports,
all for the children
of mostly poor oil
field workers.
But this was a space of
tremendous opportunity
that African-Americans
did not have access to.
So I wanted to know,
well what was this like?
If you were an African-American
parent, how strange the relief
that was made possible
by that exclusion.
And this question
was a persistent one.
So I new from early on that
there would be an important
African-American
character in my novel.
And yes, I imagined him as
the young Jackie Robinson.
This was always my
picture of my character.
This is Wash, yes, but Wash
has already had the face
of Jackie Robinson
in my imagination.
So, I knew that he was
going to have been there
when the explosion happens.
So this is how I
began imagining Wash.
I had to think about how
would my character end
up involved in this explosion.
And so he's working on
the grounds of the school.
He can't go to school
there, but he can work there
when the explosion happens.
Then I got the gift of spark
for my other character, Naomi,
when I came across a name
that surprised me on a list
of children who had
died in the explosion.
That name was Juanita Herron.
Or, was it Juanita Herron?
I found a photograph of Juanita,
and I began to imagine her
as a Mexican-American child
recently arrived in New London.
In my mind she came, like
so many children did,
accompanying a parent who had
been drawn by the prospect
of jobs in the oilfield
community.
And this was a rare pocket
of prosperity in the midst
of the Great Depression.
But could a Mexican-American
have attended the New London
School during the Jim Crow era?
This is the world of the time.
In some ways, the
lack of Latinos
in the are made it
more possible.
At the time, parts of Texas
with established Latino
communities tended to be subject
to a three-fold system of
segregation for schools.
White schools for
white children.
So-called colored schools
for black children.
And so-called Mexican schools
for Mexican-Americans
and other Latinos.
This is the reality that Naomi
and her siblings
experienced in San Antonio.
In New London, however,
there was only a white
school and a black school.
This made it more plausible
that Mexican-American families
could have enrolled their
children in the New London
School in much the same way
that descendants of Cherokee
Indians in the area had.
So this was a very careful
entry into the schooling space.
So, here's a little, an image
of, one of the, I have a range
of images that informed
my view of Naomi,
but this is one of them.
So I began thinking about
what it might have been
like for a Mexican-American
teenager to come
from San Antonio and navigate a
community with color lines drawn
in black and white, and this was
the beginning of Naomi's story.
The drama, tragedy and hope
in Out of Darkness come less
from recorded history than from
my efforts to imagine the kinds
of stories that were never
recorded, at least not
from the perspective of
black and Latino-Americans.
But its actual details
did influence how I shaped
fictional events.
For example, during
my research I learned
that an angry mob did converge
on the New London School's
superintendent's house
after the explosion,
looking for someone to blame
for the deaths of
their children.
In real life, mounted
Texas rangers protected him
from the potential
vigilante violence.
The crowd dissipated,
and no one was harmed.
But I started to wonder,
well what would have happened
if that mob had turned its
energies toward a scape goat not
granted such protection.
So this is one of the
ways that what the,
what is in the historical
record prompts questions
for me about what's not.
So I see fiction as a space for
posing questions about the world
around us, questions
that relate to our past,
our present and future.
In Out of Darkness, these
are questions about privilege
and segregation,
about new beginnings
and what we make of them.
They are questions about
which families count and about
who we are allowed to love.
They are questions about human
weakness and human strength.
Questions about the heroism
and horror we are capable
of when we've lost everything.
When our world is
shattered beyond recognition.
When our hearts are broken.
I started Out of
Darkness with questions
about the stories we hear and
the stories we don't hear.
But by the end of my
journey with the characters,
I was left holding a
different question.
This one was about how tragedy
can beget terrible injustice.
This is to give myself
courage, this is an image,
one of many I have
of hollow trees.
And there's a very
important tree in the story,
which is really the one
safe space for Naomi
and Wash to be together.
I did not want pain
for Wash and Naomi.
I wanted a future
full of possibility,
a world where their love could
flourish beyond their secret
meeting place in the woods.
And yet, the trajectory of
the story pulled me away
from my own desires and wishes.
Pulled me toward loss and
heartbreak and suffering
of the characters, and
myself a little bit.
My husband could tell you.
Yeah, probably suffering for
him even more than for me.
But that pull of the story
is something you simply,
you cannot disregard, or you
disregard at great cost I think.
So when I was writing, I
did not know why I had to go
into darkness with
my characters.
I only knew that I had to
and that anything else would
be dishonest and unfaithful
to the story that had
been entrusted to me.
I'm beginning, little by little,
to understand why this journey
is important, this journey into
and perhaps out of darkness.
Why it matters for
me and for readers.
The injustices that Naomi and
Wash suffer should anger us.
But they should also remind us
that the racialized violence
and deep inequities that still
trouble our nation today,
these have a long history.
The depth of our
feelings for Naomi
and Wash may make our reading
painful, but they also,
these feelings also highlight
the unique value of their lives.
The promise we all lose when
anyone suffers discrimination
or loses a life to
racialized violence.
We must act for justice, not
only for ourselves, but for all,
especially those whose stories
of suffering have too
often been relegated
to the margins of history.
I hope that readers leave
the pages of Out of Darkness
with a commitment to
creating a world where we work
to honor black and brown
lives and embrace the right
of all loves to flourish.
So, for all my questions,
I think the one
that matters most is this.
Can encountering darkness and
injustice in fiction teach us
to hunger for light in our lives
and in the lives of others?
Thank you so much for this honor
and for taking the time
to celebrate with us.
[ Applause ]
>> Denise Woltering-Vargas:
Part of, one of our traditions
for presenting the Americas
Award is to present something
that commemorates the weaving
that you all do,
weaving stories.
So each year we are
very excited to work
with our Kaqchikel
Maya Language Scholars
to bring back a special
weaving from Guatemala.
So we'd like to present both
Ashley Hope and Pam Munoz Ryan
with a weaving, representing
your weaving of stories.
[ Applause ]
[ Background/Overlapped
Speaking ]
[ Applause ]
>> Lisa Finelli: So
congratulations again
to Pam Munoz Ryan
and Ashley Hope Perez
and all the authors recognized
by this year's awards.
I'm Lisa Finelli, and I am
one of the co-coordinators
of the Americas Award.
And I wanted to thank you for
coming out this afternoon,
taking time out of your busy
day, traveling far and wide,
to join us here for
the presentation
of the 2016 Americas Award.
I'd also like to extend
a special thank you
to Georgette Dorn
and Catalina Gomez
from the Hispanic Division,
Pamela Jackson and Anne Bonny
from the Center for the Book,
and Jared McNeil from the Office
of Special Events for helping
to coordinate today's event.
Denise and I are extremely
grateful to the committee
for the care and
passion that they put
into selecting the winners,
honorable mention
and commended titles.
I would like to recognize
Paula Mason, Denise Croker,
and Laura Kleinmann, who
are all here with us today,
as well as committee members
Maria Sheldon and Emily Chavez,
who could not join us at
the ceremony this afternoon.
Without their hard work
and careful consideration,
the Americas Award
would not be possible.
The Americas Award is
sponsored by the consortium
of Latin American
Studies Programs,
and it would not be possible
without the generous support
of Vanderbilt University, Tulane
University, the University
of Wisconsin Milwaukee, the
University of New Mexico,
University of Florida,
University of Utah,
Florida International University
and Stanford University.
These institutions
all have the privilege
of receiving Title Six funding
to be national resource centers
on Latin America which enables
them to sponsor programs
such as the Americas
Award through this grant.
As Denise mentioned, there
will be a special K12 teacher
workshop tonight
featuring Alma Flor Ada,
where teachers will explore the
diverse city of Voices Available
for Children's Literature
as highlighted
by the Americas Awards books.
Thank you, again, for
joining us this afternoon.
And at this time, I join you,
or I invite you to join us
for refreshments in the back,
and there will be a book signing
by our two award-winning
authors this afternoon.
Thank you so much for coming.
[ Applause ]
>> This has been a presentation
of the Library of Congress.
Visit us at loc.gov.