NCTE 2025: Reflections and Takeaways

Longtime readers and friends know that I typically avoid the big conferences. When people ask if I'm going to ALA or ISTE, my answer often includes something like "not if I can help it!" To be clear, this is a classic example of "it's not you, it's me!" I don't have any beef with those conferences specifically, it's all the peopling that I find challenging.

And speaking of people, many of them are often surprised to learn that I am an introvert. But it is true. Our world is designed for people who feel energized by the company of others, so I have learned to adapt. Over time, I've developed strategies for navigating spaces built for extroverts, despite the fact that the social energy required for those large events can leave me feeling completely drained. Because of this, every year I toil over whether or not I should attend the mega conferences.

The one exception is the NCTE/ALAN double whammy - which has become an annual tradition that I actually look forward to! Not only does this yearly gathering of English teachers, librarians, and book creators feel like a family reunion, but the conversations and scholarship at both conferences always stretch my thinking in essential ways. This year, as I made my way from session to session, I felt a sense of urgency around two ideas:

1. Our work matters now more than ever. There is a reason all educators, and librarians in particular, are currently being demonized in our media and by our politicians. The world has never needed people who help kids grow as readers, writers, and thinkers more than it does right now.

2. We need each other. Our world feels more divided than ever. And the older I get, the more convinced I am that community is one of the antidotes to this rift. More importantly, none of us can face the challenges ahead of us alone.

These truths sat with me throughout both NCTE and ALAN. And I've continued to think about them in the days since.

All of that said, before I move on to the specific takeaways from this year (and share my slides, too), I need to tip my hat to Franki Sibberson whose gentle peer pressure convinced me to attend NCTE for the first time several years ago. She predicted that it would only take attending once for me to be completely hooked. I was skeptical at the time, but I should have known better than to doubt Franki. This year she smiled at me and said, “Now you are an NCTE groupie!” As an introvert of epically awkward proportions, this label feels a bit like a hat that doesn't quite fit. Still... I have the sneaking suspicion she might just be right.

Key Highlights From This Year’s NCTE

Scott Snyder’s Keynote

Eisner Award winning author Scott Snyder opened the conference with a conversation about comics that left me buzzing. He spoke about why comics matter at a moment when so many of us are asking hard questions about power, justice, and the stories we use to understand the world. His reflections on courage, imagination, and the emotional truth that lives inside every comic panel reminded me how often young readers turn to comics to make sense of complicated realities. Listening to him felt like an invitation to look more closely at the stories that shape us and the stories we encourage (and too often discourage) our kids to read.

Inspired by Snyder, a few days later Becky Calzada* and I made the trek to Mile High Comics, which I learned is a true Denver institution. To say that this giant warehouse full of comics, magazines, and collectibles was overwhelming would be an epic understatement. I could have spent the entire day and every dollar in my bank account without exploring even half of what the store has to offer. Luckily, a very kind comics guru (and Mile High employee) came to my rescue. Not only was he very knowledgeable about the store, but dude also had the chops to be a librarian, asking great readers' advisory questions like: “Is this for you or someone else?” “When people ask you what your favorite movie is, what do you say?” And “Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees?” (Freddy Krueger, duh!) Thanks to his help, I left with the perfect stack.

One aside: if you have listened to even a few episodes of The Reader's Heart, you already know how much I love MAD Magazine. Imagine my delight at discovering Mile High’s collection of classic MADs. I recognized many of the issues from my own childhood and found myself wishing I still had them, if for no other reason than the fact that they are now worth a ton of money! While my budget did not allow me to stock up on MAD magazines, I did pick up a couple of recent issues, which made eleven-year-old Jennifer’s heart skip a beat.

*Did you know Becky Calzada is running for ALA president?? I am biased, of course, but... VOTE FOR BECKY, Y'ALL!

Quarantine Book Club Reunion

Rather than learning to make sourdough or taking up crocheting, one of the ways I navigated the two years that Washington State spent in lockdown (during the COVID19 crisis) was through an online book club with a few brilliant friends: Donalyn Miller, Cindy Minnich, Franki Sibberson, Katherine Sokolowski, and the late, great Teri Lesesne. Lovingly dubbed “quarantine book club,” we met each week on Zoom to trade updates about life in our respective regions, share our worries, remind one another of the good still happening in the world, laugh, complain, and cry together. We also managed to read quite a few books along the way. Those conversations kept me sane during a completely insane period, and I will be forever grateful for the anchor and steadiness that our weekly meetings provided.

Of course, in the years that followed, life returned to what often feels like an upside down version of what it was before the pandemic, and our weekly meetings eventually came to an end. Believe it or not, in all the years we have known one another, there had never been a time when every member of quarantine book club was in the same place. That finally changed at this year’s NCTE! Getting us all together for a single photo was harder than I care to admit, but I am so grateful that we managed it. Being able to share space with these brilliant, kind, world changing women feels like a gift. We all shouted “Teri” as our friend Patrick Andrus snapped the picture, knowing that our group, and our hearts, will always be one member short of a true quorum.

Screening of The Librarians

Another moment that has stayed with me was the NCTE screening of The Librarians, a documentary that lays bare the painful and very real ways school librarians are being targeted by book banners.

Although I knew all of the players and was familiar with all of the stories shared in the film, watching it still felt like a punch in the gut. I'd heard enough about the documentary to know it would resonate, but I wasn't prepared for its emotional impact. Watching it in a room full of educators made the experience even more powerful. The film held up a mirror to the courage, vulnerability, and emotional labor that librarians carry into their work every day. It was heartbreaking at times, yet also deeply affirming. I'm very grateful for the library community who participated in this film and continue to work tirelessly to ensure that it gets seen. But more importantly, I stand in awe of the librarians who remain steadfast in their pursuit of justice and freedom. If you have not seen this movie yet, I hope you will bump it to the very top of your list.

ALAN Workshop

The ALAN workshop is always a highlight for me and this year was no exception. There is something really special about being surrounded by people who want to spend hours talking about young adult literature with genuine love and curiosity. If you've never been to ALAN it's two days worth of non-stop author panels coupled with a massive book-exchange! The conference opens with each participant receiving a giant box of books - many of which are ARCs of upcoming new releases. Because each box is different, ALAN organizers set up a Padlet board for conference goers to post books they are willing to swap for others. It's so joyful! I love watching teachers and librarians hang out with the authors they love while swapping books in order to ensure they leave with a box full of titles that are just right for the readers' hearts they serve!

One of the standout moments was hearing David Levithan and Gabriel Duckels speak about their forthcoming book, The Fight For Our Lives: AIDS in America. I was a teenager during the height of the AIDS crisis and those years left an indelible mark on the adult I would become.

This has a lot to do with the photo I've included here. I’ve shared it before, but I found myself looking at it again after hearing about David and Gabriel's new book, with that feeling I sometimes get about memories I want to hang onto. Perhaps it’s a byproduct of age, but sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the urgent need to remember, coupled with an aching fear that I will inevitably forget. It’s a strange, sad anxiety. I’m guessing I am not alone in it. 

With that in mind, one thing I don't remember from my childhood is my mother having many friends. She wasn’t the easiest person to get to know, but also, it’s possible that friendships were just a luxury she could not afford. Andy Nelson (Pictured right. My mother is in the middle. Andy’s partner Richard is on the left.) was the one exception. They met while working the night shift as CNAs at a local nursing home. I was in middle school. Here’s what I remember about Andy:

He was relentlessly funny. 

He was incisively honest. 

He played the piano. 

He loved to dance. 

He loved tulips. 

He loved my mother. 

He loved me. 

Not long after he came into our lives, Andy moved away to Seattle - which was, at the time, about an hour’s bus ride from where we lived. On occasion, I would take the Greyhound, to spend the weekend with him. I felt so grown up doing it. Andy took me to my first gay bar and to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He introduced me to music I’d never heard before (The Cure and Kraftwerk) and he bought me the first journal I ever remember owning, saying that I’d feel better if I wrote things down. He was right.

When I was in the 8th grade, Andy was diagnosed with HIV and by the time I was a sophomore in HS he was dead. His partner, Richard, died shortly thereafter. In those days (the mid-80s) AIDS was a death sentence - but more than that, it was a LIFE sentence which condemned those who were sick to an existence punctuated by abuse, neglect, hate and violence.  Andy was the first person I ever saw die. But what was even more traumatizing for me were the moments after he died, when the county coroner refused to handle his body without donning hazmat suits… when local funeral homes refused to bury him… when his own parents were too ashamed to run an obituary.

In the end, because no funeral home would take him, Andy's ashes were eventually placed in his parents' garden. One of the first things I did when we moved back to Washington was try to find that house, but I couldn't. It was a long time ago and my memory is a parachute full of holes. This photo is all I have left - perhaps all that is left, period, to document a life that was cut far too short. So I look at it. I treasure it. And sometimes I share it, like now, so that other people will know he existed. And so that I won't forget.

Which brings me back to ALAN. One of my favorite parts of the ALAN workshop is giving away the giant box of books I receive. As someone who has access to a lot of books, it always feels as though the teachers and librarians in that room need them more than I do. This year, after all the books I'd received were dispersed, someone gifted me a copy of The Fight For Our Lives - the one book I hoped to bring home with me, but that wasn't in my own box of books. I'm looking forward to reading it, of course. But more than that, I'm grateful that it exists so that others will know about that time. And so that I won't forget.

Wicked for Good with John Schu

Last year, John and I saw Wicked together while at NCTE in Boston. Naturally, we had to repeat the tradition by seeing the second installment this year in Denver. A lot of people are writing about the movie right now, so I'll simply say this: John Schu brings joy with him wherever he goes. And every once in awhile, I'm lucky that he brings me along, too.

My Session: From Storytime to Screentime

NCTE was the first place where I officially announced that I have a new book coming out in the next year or so with Stenhouse. It was a great joy to share some of the ideas from this book in the session “From Storytime to Screentime,” alongside a group of educators I admire deeply. The heart of this work is media mindfulness, a framework that invites learners to Notice, Name, and Navigate the big feelings that shape their digital lives. In a world where content is engineered to provoke strong emotions and where algorithms reward us for acting on those emotions, helping kids understand the forces at play feels more urgent than ever.

Because well over thirty states have passed legislation governing the use of cellphones in schools, and because it is becoming increasingly clear that the amount of time our kids spend in front of screens is doing real harm to their brains and mental health, I have been grappling with how to use analog resources to support today’s learners in the digital world. Picture books offer a gentle and powerful entry point into this conversation. When we read them with intention, they help young people see that every piece of media is created by a human with goals. Picture books create space for readers to develop habits underscored by the following essential truths:

• All media messages are constructed by humans

• Those humans have goals, many of which involve our emotions

• Engagement with media that inflames strong emotions has consequences

• Engagement is a choice

To center these truths and establish the ideas that underpinned our journey, I spent the first half of the session unpacking media mindfulness and the sense of urgency I feel around this work. Then educators Kristin Ziemke, Katherine Sokolowski, Jen Vincent, and Cindy Minnich shared how they have been using media mindfulness with their own students. They were generous in describing both their struggles and their successes. They spoke about the impact of specific conversations and gifted participants with a list of books to help them begin this work with their own learners.

The conversations in this session felt hopeful. They reminded me that media literacy is not only a set of skills but a collection of habits that grow over time. They also reminded me that books remain one of our most powerful tools for helping young people navigate the world with clarity and empathy. The session left me even more excited to share my new ideas and strategies in the days ahead. More than that, it left me grateful for everyone who supports learners of all ages in developing healthy, thoughtful, connected digital lives.

Here are my *slides. I hope you find them useful.

My Session: Boys Will Be Boys

I wrapped up this year's NCTE by moderating a panel titled “Boys Will Be Boys,” which featured an extraordinary group of authors whose work continues to expand how we think about healthy ways to be a man in today’s world. This conversation felt especially timely. Boys and young men are growing up in a world filled with harmful examples of masculinity. Many of them are coming of age inside an information landscape shaped by alpha-male influencers who capitalize on feelings of loneliness and isolation to keep kids hooked. The research tells us that insecurity and a desire for belonging create the perfect conditions for these voices to thrive. When you toss in algorithms that amplify the most sensational, emotionally charged content, it becomes easy to see why so many boys move from feeling lost to becoming radicalized at a pace that often happens too quickly for the adults in their lives to intervene.

Our panel pushed back against these narratives by offering stories grounded in compassion, connection, and emotional honesty. Patrick Andrus spoke about the power of classroom libraries that make space for boys to see themselves as full emotional beings. Federico Erebia reflected on the radical empathy at the heart of Pedro and Daniel. Josh Galarza talked about writing boys who lead with love, drawing on the idea that tenderness is a form of courage. Rex Ogle shared how his own upbringing, surrounded by toxic masculinity, shaped his desire to be a different kind of man both in life and in his books. John Schu offered profound reflections on Louder Than Hunger and the vulnerability required to tell the truth about trauma and healing. And Jeff Zentner described crafting Southern boys who carry both softness and strength in ways that challenge old/low expectations.

Grappling with these big ideas, with these extraordinary humans (who I now lovingly refer to as my "best friends!") reminded me that our online engagement is, in many ways, a conversation. When we interact with content that makes us feel small or unworthy of love or joy, we send a message. When our boys engage with content that offers easy answers to complex emotions and identifies easy enemies among marginalized communities, they are sending a message, too. Each click communicates with the algorithm. We are not only saying, “Show me more content like this.” We are also saying, “I like feeling this way. Make me feel this way again.” These authors helped me share with everyone who attended that as teachers and librarians we can use books and story to begin a different kind of conversation, one that helps our kids navigate complex feelings in healthier ways that center empathy and joy.

This session didn't just leave me with a full heart! It also filled me with a renewed sense of purpose. It affirmed that the work of putting the right book in the right reader’s hands is no small thing. It is one of the most powerful ways we help young people feel seen and understood. And it is one of the many reasons I am grateful for the authors, educators, and librarians who continue to push this conversation forward.

Here again are my *slides.

*Finally, this should probably go without saying, but just in case... these slide decks are set as view only. Options for downloading your own copy have been disabled. While you're more than welcome to view and share them, I don't allow others to adapt and edit them. And I really, really don't want you to put them (or any of the resources I create) on TpT.

🎶 BETWEEN SESSIONS

As an extremely introverted person, (see above!) when I'm at a conference, I often wear headphones between sessions. Not only do they cancel out the surrounding noise, but they also afford me the opportunity to wrap myself in something familiar: music. If we're ever at a conference together, and you see me wandering around with headphones on, this doesn't mean you can't say hello to me. It does mean, however, that I might not hear you when you call my name, so don't be afraid to give me a wave or tap me on the shoulder, too. In recent years, I've gotten in the habit of creating a (short) playlist for each trip I take for work - obsessing over a handful of songs which I listen to over and over again for the duration of the trip. For anyone who might be interested, here's my current go-to playlist.