A few months ago, I was completing a series of lessons with my Year 2 class on Benji Davies’ wonderfully moving picture book Grandad’s Island. She still comes into my class every Friday and helps out – marking spelling tests, taking groups out, making me a coffee at break time, being my sounding board and generally keeping the class organised! I managed to compose myself and, on reaching the end of the story, when Syd receives a mysterious envelope, asked the children what they thought might be in the envelope. They often prompt us to ‘mobilise our memories’, and in doing so remember and treasure our loved ones, whilst making unexpected connections.

Grandad Eagleton taught me to laugh, collected conkers for us and told us not to worry about anything (“If worrying did me any good, I’d do it all the time! Despite spending a long time reading the book and planning a series of lessons around it, I hadn’t made an emotional connection to it until now. They made some interesting observations about Grandad, his life and interests, picking up many visual clues which I had missed. His first self-penned picture book The Storm Whale, since hailed a modern classic, won the inaugural Oscar’s Book Prize and was Dutch Picture Book Of The Year.

I have a clear memory of him helping with the washing up after Grandad Allen’s funeral and making jokes with an aunt. They are going to find new wonders at every turn as they explore the island and make lots of new friends in the form of the animals and birds.

But having explored the book alongside my class, reading it aloud and seeing the children make their own connections with the characters and story, I had finally made a connection of my own to the themes of loss, grief and saying goodbye, which are subtly weaved throughout the story. They were excited that there was a big metal door in Grandad’s attic and eager to predict and draw where the door might lead to.

They were impressed too with Grandad’s painting and expressed their own longing to visit the island and play in the tumbling, cascading waterfalls with Syd. Some thought that, as the island was hot and tropical, Grandad’s ailments had been cured by the sunshine and warmth – explaining the carefree manner in which he cast aside his walking stick. My mum looked at me, with tears in her eyes, then nodded with determination and, thankfully, seamlessly carried on reading to the children, while I turned away and dried my eyes. What was especially lovely was the children’s engagement with the book – their investment in the characters, their lines of enquiries and, quite frankly, the pleasure they seemed to derive from exploring each page of this stunningly crafted narrative.

One boy was beside himself to discover that he had already seen the animals helping to build the shelter…in Grandad’s attic! What the book allowed me to do is open up my own attic of memories, prompting me to remember both my Grandads. Firstly, I think this is because it was my first successful attempt at carrying out whole class reading over a sustained amount of time (about six weeks).I was sad to see my mum crying and in pain and life, for a while, certainly seemed bleaker and darker. Secondly, the children really enjoyed the story, which created a shared excitement and buzz within the classroom. Now in her 25th year in the primary education profession, Jane’s incredible knowledge and expertise provides a solid framework for teachers, enabling her to support, enrich and sharpen the teaching of reading, writing and spelling.

Actually, they were amazed even before that – that Grandad lived at the bottom of Syd’s garden and Syd could visit whenever he wished. I’ve just stumbled across this as a trainee about to plan and teach my first series of lessons on “Grandad’s Island”. I was reading to the class and had reached the part of the story where Grandad tells Syd that he is thinking of staying on the island. To read the artist’s picture is to mobilise our memories and our experience of the visible world and to test his image through tentative projections…It is not the ‘innocent eye’, however, that can achieve this match but only the inquiring mind that knows how to probe the ambiguities of vision. Many of them believed the island was in fact magic, as Grandad no longer needed his walking stick when he arrived.

Syd and his Grandad are going on an adventure – through the door in Grandad's attic to a ship that will sail across an ocean of rooftops to a magical tropical island.