The Man Who Walked Between the Towers

I'm a special education resource teacher who works with struggling readers in small groups. I recently read "The Man Who Walked Between the Towers" as an instructional read-aloud to one group. They were absolutely fascinated, and these fifth and sixth graders who have reading difficulty were so engrossed in the story of Philippe Petit. They asked wonderful questions and eagerly tore into a post-reading writing assignment. The illustrations in this book, also by the author, are awe-inspiring. I can't recommend this book highly enough; it's fantastic and one of the best additions to my classroom library in a long time.

I bought this for my daughter when she was five because I read it in a bookstore and was moved by the story and the art. I had wondered how to explain September 11 to my daughter, and this book was just the right way to approach the subject. The story about Phillipe is inspiring, even though he is technically breaking the law with his high-wire walk between the towers. He is punished, very appropriately, by the end of the story. The story is really about Phillipe's passion, and it does a wonderful job explaining why he took the risk of walking between these towers. And at the end, the book states "now the towers are gone" and it is a smooth segue into how the towers and so many people in them were destroyed. A solemn tale, but one my daughter wants to read again and again.

On an otherwise normal day in August 1974, a young Frenchman pulled off what may be the most impressive (not to mention foolhardy) wire-walking exhibition in history. New York City's early commuters looked up to the almost-completed World Trade Center towers to see a man, experienced aerialist Phillippe Petit, walking back and forth across them on a wire. This amazing (albeit highly illegal) achievement has now been immortalized in impressive ink and oil paintings in Mordicai Gerstein in The Man Who Walked Between the Towers. Among the artwork you will find the ingenious use of two foldout illustrations, each one establishing an amazing change in perspective of Petit's wire-walking feat and making the drama of the event all that more palpable. Published in 2003 and the recipient of The Caldecott Medal, this book is sure to captivate many young minds with its story and artistry (with a sense of vertigo thrown in absolutely free of charge), and it does stand as something of a touching reminder of the two towers that fell on September 11, 2001 and the spell they cast in their own silent yet mighty fortitude.Alongside the artwork is the story, economically told, of Petit's dream and the manner in which he made it come true. It describes how he and some friends dressed up as construction workers, hid out on both towers until nightfall, and got the wire-walking cable (which was a mere seven-eighths of an inch wide) in place, after which Petit walked, ran, danced, and even lay down on the outstretched wire over the course of nearly an hour. He was then, of course, arrested but, to my surprise, ordered only to perform his feats for the children of New York City. This is a fabulous story that will literally take your breath away, especially if you are as afraid of heights as I am, but I can't get over just how dangerous and illegal this was (to his friends as well as himself) and can only wonder how Petit got off so easily.

I have heard that very refrain from children time and time again while reading this book. In my Gypsy-like lifestyle of a substitute teacher, I took this book with me, knowing that it would enchant the students I had, no matter where I was. Every class I read this to was spellbound. They would gasp and stare and just could not believe that a REAL person ever did what Phillipe was doing! I had a first grader reach out to touch the sky under Phillipe on one spread, he was so enthralled. In a class of 29 very-hard-to-impress third graders that I was in for 6 weeks, we made a project out of it when they designed their own drawings on what they would walk between, because they were so inspired. During the reading, near the end, on the page that stated quietly "Now the towers are gone," I had very quiet acceptance of the missing towers. The author tells the story with such reverent delight (if it was ever possible to combine the two, Gerstein has) that children naturally fall in and accept the story as is. "The Man Who Walked Between The Towers" has become one of my favorite children's books and has earned a spot in my teaching "bag of tricks." It is very moving and inspiring, and highly deserving of the Caldecott Medal for 2004.

After the events of September 11 there was an odd movement on behalf of the children's book publishers to explain the event in picture book form for the benefit of the little ones. Some of these attempts verged on the callous (paper cut airplanes flying into paper cut buildings) while others were nice thoughts but ultimately raised more questions than they answered ("Fireboat", for example). In the case of Mr. Mordicai Gerstein, however, a happy medium was reached. Here is a book that is all about the Twin Towers, but it does not linger on their fate. A mere two years after the events of 9/11, this book is an eloquent and elegant elegy to a moment when the Twin Towers helped to bring the world a great deal of wonder and joy. The story is based on the true tale of one Philippe Petit. A French aerialist, Petit was adept at juggling, unicycle riding, and (as it happened) tightrope walking. When construction finished on the Twin Towers in 1974, Petit happened upon the crazy notion of walking between them. The man was no stranger to such a stunt. He had, after all, walked between the towers of the Notre Dame Cathedral back in his native France. After asking the Tower's owners for permission, his request was quickly declined. To be allowed would fly in the face of a million safety regulations, after all. The quick thinking Petit reasoned that all that was left was to go ahead and do it anyway. Involving some friends, a construction disguise, and a four hundred and forty pound reel of cable, Petit successfully made it to the roof of one tower in the night and connected the line between the towers with help. Then, as the dawn broke, he did his famous walk across. Once finished, Petit was sentenced by a judge to perform for the children of the park as his penance; a punishment the artist suffered gladly. The book concludes the story on a wistful note. We view the space where once the towers stood and read, "Now the towers are gone". A ghost of the Two appears on the next page and the book says, "But in memory, as if imprinted on the sky, the towers are still there. And part of that memory is the joyful morning, August 7, 1974, when Philippe Petit walked between them in the air". What Gerstein has done is give us a memory of the Twin Towers that is a good and joyful one. This is no mean task, especially when you consider the horrors that were to follow. I've heard an interesting assortment of objections to the book in my time. Some people argue that no book about the Twin Towers is appropriate for children, whether the book concentrates on 9/11 or not. Such sentiments are silly. You can't ignore the past and, when done tastefully, a book about a significant event can teach more to children than a lesson plan could ever hope to. Other objections say that the book glorifies a silly stunt. Considering the fact that Petit was well trained, took all the necessary precautions, and did what he did for the love of his art, this objection i