Still Cool, Apparently: Notes from a fifth-grade visit (#539)

After doing a book reading of my latest children’s picture book, Bin Chicken Abroad, to a 5th grade class, I received thank you letters from each of the kids I had read to.

This is one of them:

It mentions that I am perceived as cool.

In fact, it suggests that I may be the coolest.

A word from my generation.

I was struck by the use of this word by a twelve-year-old.

The letter itself is full of everything one hopes for when visiting a classroom.

Enthusiasm, sincerity, and a touching declaration of future ambition.

Evelyn, who signs herself Evelyn (the veterinarian), tells me she wants to become a vet one day.

That alone would have made the morning worthwhile.

But then comes the line that stayed with me:

You are the coolest.

Not a word I would associate with myself at all.

I smiled when I read it, partly because the word felt so familiar.

Cool belongs to my youth.

To the 1960s and 70s.

To jazz clubs, denim jackets, and the quiet approval of one’s peers.

It is a word I associate with my generation.

Yet here it was, decades later, offered without irony by a twelve-year-old.

It made me wonder what cool actually means when it travels across generations.

Cool Isn’t About Age

When an eleven- or twelve-year-old calls a seventy-five-year-old cool, it clearly isn’t about fashion, music, or cultural relevance.

It’s about something else entirely.

In fact, I’ve come to think it usually means a combination of simple things:

• You’re still curious

  • Children have a finely tuned radar for adults who are genuinely interested in the world.

  • They can tell the difference between someone performing for them and someone discovering things alongside them.

• You treat them as people, not as kids

  • Children know when they are being talked down to.

  • They also know when they’re being listened to.

  • Respect, even in small doses, leaves a deep impression.

• You carry your years lightly

  • Not trying to be young.

  • Just comfortable being yourself.

• You’re interesting, not impressive

  • Cool to a child rarely means status.

  • It means stories, humor, warmth, and authenticity.

  • It means you brought something real into their classroom.

And perhaps most importantly:

• You bridge generations

  • Their word for that is simple: cool.

  • What they really mean is: You belong in my world too.

The Unexpected Gift of Children’s Books

One of the quiet joys of writing children’s books is that the feedback is immediate and unfiltered.

Adults may send polite emails or thoughtful reviews.

Children send drawings, misspelled letters, and astonishing honesty.

And sometimes, they send a word that carries far more meaning than they know.

Being called cool by a twelve-year-old isn’t about validation.

It’s about connection.

It tells me that stories still travel.

That curiosity still translates.

That the distance between generations is not as wide as we sometimes imagine.

A Note Worth Keeping

I suspect Evelyn will forget that letter someday.

I won’t.

Because it reminded me that the real purpose of reading to children is not to impress them, but to meet them on their side of the world.

And if, in that moment, they decide you’re cool…

Well, that’s about the nicest literary review you can receive.

#bunyipsbooksbeyond