📚 The Year We Learned to Fly - Kids Books Read Aloud - Black History Month - Bedtime Stories

Welcome to Read With Me Fun. Today's story is The Year We Learned to Fly by Jacqueline Woodson, illustrated by Rafael Lopez. That was the year we learned to fly. That was the spring when the rain seemed like it would never stop and the thunder boomed so hard we weren't allowed to go outside. Use those beautiful and brilliant minds of yours, my grandmother said. Lift your arms, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and believe in a thing. Somebody, somewhere, at some point, was just as bored as you are now. So my brother and I closed our eyes, and for a few minutes that first day, we weren't stuck in our apartment anymore. We were flying over the city we'd known our whole lives, but it was suddenly different, exploding with every kind of flower we'd ever dreamed of growing. That was the summer we learned to fly, when my brother and I couldn't stop fussing with each other over whose turn it was to wash the windows, to feed the dog, to clean the kitchen. We fought and frowned and made silent promises to never speak to each other ever again. My grandmother said, lift your arms, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and stop being so mean about everything. Somebody, somewhere, at some point, was just as mad as you are now. So we did, and as the soft wind took us out over the city and past the windows of kids who hadn't yet learned to fly, my brother and I reached for each other's hand, flying and diving and laughing and leaving all of our mad far behind us. That was the autumn. Our room felt too big and lonely, with only us in them, and the darkness coming on so fast. But while we hugged ourselves against the too quiet of it all, we remembered that we didn't have to be stuck anywhere anymore. My grandmother had learned to fly from the people who came before. They were aunts and uncles and cousins who were brought here on huge ships, their wrists and ankles cuffed in iron. But my grandmother said, nobody can ever cuff your beautiful and brilliant mind. So our people learned to fly, she said. They dreamed a thing and made it happen, closed their eyes and flew away home. Lift your arms, my grandmother said, close your eyes, and remember somebody, somewhere, at some point, had to figure out they could fly. That was the winter we moved away from the building and the block and the friends we'd always known, to a street where the kids looked at us funny and didn't even answer when we asked them if they wanted to play. It's okay, I said to my brother. Somebody, somewhere, at some point, had to figure out they were ready for any new thing coming their way. So like the people who came before us, we lifted our arms even higher, closed our eyes even tighter, breathed in even deeper, and flew the way we'd always known how to, free as the aunties and uncles and cousins who'd come before us, free as our own beautiful and brilliant minds. For a long time, the kids on the ground watched us. Then one by one, they lifted their arms. One by one, they too learned to fly. Thank you for joining Read With Me Fun. Come back for more of your favorite read-alouds, and please remember to hit the subscribe and like button.