Two Minds Ponder The Only One Club

By SUE EDELMAN

The Only One Club
By Jane Naliboff
Illustrated by Jeff Hopkins
32 pages. Flashlight Press. $15.95.
Ages 4 to 8

The Only One Club has me arguing with myself. I can’t decide whether this is a thoughtful book that empowers children to take pride in their individuality or an unrealistic story that sends a flawed message to kids about what joins people within a community.

The cynical part of me (the one that can somehow find malice in kittens playing) argues that The Only One Club is a treatise on exclusivity cloaked in a do-goody children’s book. My more optimistic side, which is much better equipped to appreciate the good intentions of others, sees this book as a joyous celebration of individuality and pride. This inner debate is fueled by the details of what happens in the center of the book, and not so much by the tidy ending that leaves everyone content. My sweeter side loves happy endings, but that cynical part of me prefers nasty shake-ups and unexpected mayhem.

So what’s it all about? The Only One Club begins as the “holiday season” approaches. Mrs. Matthews, the first-grade teacher, has decided to have her students make Christmas decorations to hang on the classroom windows. But Mrs. Matthews’ plans need some tweaking when little Jennifer Jacobs announces that she’s Jewish and celebrates Hanukah, not Christmas. After a show of hands, it turns out that Jennifer is the only Jewish kid in the class. Rather than shrink with embarrassment, the precocious six-year-old turns the situation to her advantage, creating Hanukah decorations. Mrs. Matthews even lets Jennifer hang her decorations on the window first.

I have never seen a first grader with such a sense of pride and self-confidence as Jennifer exudes. Jennifer doesn’t simply put up her stars of David, dreidels, and hanukkiyot (Hanukah menorahs); she marches proudly to the windows, affixes her creations dead center, and then stands back to “admire her work.” This kid’s dripping with self-assurance!

Spurred by the attention she gets for being the only Jewish kid in her class, Jennifer decides to create “The Only One Club” and become its sole member. She makes herself a spiffy badge and wears it proudly to school the next day. Here’s a young girl celebrating, no, downright flaunting the fact that she is different from everyone in her class. At an age when most kids would be mortified to be singled out in this way, Jennifer is a child prodigy of individuality! She relishes the exclusivity of her club, at least until the other kids get wise to her game.

Classmate Olivia Raven is put out when Jennifer won’t let her join The Only One Club. Olivia points out, having been refused membership in the club because she isn’t Jewish, that the club isn’t just for Jewish people, it’s for people who are “the only one” of something. And, as luck would have it, she’s the only one in the class whose last name is a kind of bird, so she should be admitted, right? For the first time in the story, self-possessed Jennifer is rendered speechless.

Just as my cynical argument is gaining steam, I notice that Olivia is also the only Native American in the class, but the author, in politically correct fashion, has chosen not to split the kids only along racial or cultural lines, as diversity applies to many aspects of who a person is.

Meanwhile, sole redhead Jonah wants into the club and Jennifer is stymied again. By the time recess is over, Jennifer has an angry mob on her hands and they all want in on The Only One Club. Now she feels sad. Her monopoly is on the verge of collapse!

Of course, enterprising young Jennifer, rather than be bullied into letting her classmates join her exclusive club, finds a way to turn her acquiescence into another victory. With much bravado, she makes her classmates line up in front of her to bestow upon each of them the honor of being accepted into The Only One Club. She is the one to determine what each child’s unique characteristic is. From being the only one to wear a dress every day with matching ribbons to being the only one with humongous front teeth, Jennifer is the one to crown them all.

But what if Steven, of aforementioned huge teeth fame, is embarrassed to be singled out for this physical trait? Still worse, what if Olivia was the only one whose brother died fighting in Iraq or the only one whose grandmother has Alzheimer’s? What if daily-dress-and-matching-ribbons Gwen was the only poor child in the class or the only one whose teenage brother ran away from home? Would she want to announce this uniqueness to the world? I suspect that had Jennifer picked certain other unique traits for her classmates, the story might not come to the rosy conclusion that my sweeter side had prayed would occur.

The question is, to what extent is it desirable to encourage kids to value their uniqueness over their commonalities? Is their pride and power in their own exceptional qualities or in the qualities that unite them? Does this equation change if their unique qualities are sources of shame or embarrassment? Perhaps it is the very fact that each of them is unique is what they all have in common.

One side of me optimistically argues that Jennifer Jacobs turns an isolating experience into one of empowerment and joy. All school children may not be as lucky as Jennifer to have a teacher who changes gears so easily, allowing them to make Hanukah decorations instead of Christmas ones. On the other hand, other teachers may be more sensitive in advance, opting either to leave religious holidays outside of the classroom (where they belong!) or incorporating all the various religious holidays of the season into the class activity.

It doesn’t surprise me that this book was inspired by an incident in author Jane Naliboff’s daughter’s young life. What Jewish kid (at least one who doesn’t go to a Jewish school) hasn’t experienced the isolation of being a Jewish kid at Christmas time? These days, with the “Christmas season” painfully extended to include the time between Halloween and the end of the calendar year, it’s hard for Jewish kids not to feel “other.” The minute the Halloween candy gets marked down on November 1, the Christmas bounty gets piled onto store shelves, the Christmas music starts blaring from every direction and the Salvation Army’s deafening bells take up residence on every street corner. In this atmosphere, what Jewish kid wouldn’t feel like the only one? For this reason especially, The Only One Club, with its expressive illustrations by Jeff Hopkins, does fill a need for kids who feel left out in December.

So part of me does have sympathy for Jennifer Jacobs on the day of making Christmas decorations. My cynical side, however, wonders whether a real six-year-old would have the gumption to raise her Jewish voice in the midst of the gentile-dominated class.

In the end, I have to judge this book as a picture book for children that attempts to deliver a lesson on individuality, pride, and first-grade politics. To judge it by grown-up book standards would be unfair. The Only One Club must over-simplify in order to convey a complex message in a way that its intended young audience can grasp. And although I remain of two minds about this book, I have to say that it does get the message across that being different can be a positive thing and a source of pride. For Jewish kids – and all kids who have ever felt “other”—The Only One Club offers a bit of hope in a cynical world.