Last week, when at a conference at Shenandoah University, I was asked to sign a copy of The Secret School. First, however, I was told a story. The book belonged to a girl, and her father, a US soldier in Afghanistan, had taken a copy with him. Via Skype, he read the book to his daughter, chapter by chapter from afar. I was touched by this account, not least by the notion that this man chose to take a book along to read to his child, when surely he is limited by what he can carry. There are all kinds of honors given to authors, and I have had my share of them, but this was a singular one. Sometimes, in the world of children’s’ books, we forget that one of the most vital things we writers do is facilitate connections, not merely between author and reader, but between parent and child, teacher and child, grandparent and child . . . And so forth. What is worth celebrating is not the author. Truly, it’s about those connections. We should never forget that.