The Do More Club
A Jewish boy's bravery and kindness are tested after an antisemitic attack on his middle school in this rousing novel in verse.

Ever since twelve-year-old Josh Kline found an antisemitic note in his family's mailbox in third grade, he has felt uncomfortable about his Jewish identity. At a new school where he's pretty sure he's the only Jew, he's hoping to just keep religion out of everything . . . until the morning someone sprays swastikas all over the building. That's when everything changes.

In one of the school counseling groups set up in response to the attack, Josh finally reveals that he is Jewish, and quickly finds out there's more to the other kids in his grade too: All of them have their own struggles. Maybe Josh can do something to help-to “repair the world” as his rabbi teaches, by starting a Do More club to spread kindness. But making a difference is never simple, even when you have new friends by your side.

Fast-paced and conversation-starting, Josh's story is an empowering examination of prejudice, bullying, and how to take the first step toward change.
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The Do More Club
A Jewish boy's bravery and kindness are tested after an antisemitic attack on his middle school in this rousing novel in verse.

Ever since twelve-year-old Josh Kline found an antisemitic note in his family's mailbox in third grade, he has felt uncomfortable about his Jewish identity. At a new school where he's pretty sure he's the only Jew, he's hoping to just keep religion out of everything . . . until the morning someone sprays swastikas all over the building. That's when everything changes.

In one of the school counseling groups set up in response to the attack, Josh finally reveals that he is Jewish, and quickly finds out there's more to the other kids in his grade too: All of them have their own struggles. Maybe Josh can do something to help-to “repair the world” as his rabbi teaches, by starting a Do More club to spread kindness. But making a difference is never simple, even when you have new friends by your side.

Fast-paced and conversation-starting, Josh's story is an empowering examination of prejudice, bullying, and how to take the first step toward change.
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The Do More Club

The Do More Club

by Dana Kramaroff

Narrated by Eli Schiff

Unabridged — 3 hours, 8 minutes

The Do More Club

The Do More Club

by Dana Kramaroff

Narrated by Eli Schiff

Unabridged — 3 hours, 8 minutes

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Overview

A Jewish boy's bravery and kindness are tested after an antisemitic attack on his middle school in this rousing novel in verse.

Ever since twelve-year-old Josh Kline found an antisemitic note in his family's mailbox in third grade, he has felt uncomfortable about his Jewish identity. At a new school where he's pretty sure he's the only Jew, he's hoping to just keep religion out of everything . . . until the morning someone sprays swastikas all over the building. That's when everything changes.

In one of the school counseling groups set up in response to the attack, Josh finally reveals that he is Jewish, and quickly finds out there's more to the other kids in his grade too: All of them have their own struggles. Maybe Josh can do something to help-to “repair the world” as his rabbi teaches, by starting a Do More club to spread kindness. But making a difference is never simple, even when you have new friends by your side.

Fast-paced and conversation-starting, Josh's story is an empowering examination of prejudice, bullying, and how to take the first step toward change.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

06/26/2023

Debut author Kramaroff crafts a thought-provoking verse novel about a group of middle schoolers pushing back against injustice following an antisemitic incident. As one of the only Jewish students at his predominantly white and Christian school, white sixth grader Josh has endured antisemitic bullying his entire life, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. “I liked it/ better/ when everyone/ wasn’t talking/ about/ jewish things,” Josh laments when the discovery of graffitied swastikas on the school building results in increased discussion surrounding his identity. Determined to create an environment in which he and his classmates can feel safe, Josh founds the Do More Club, a group of students dedicated to fighting bullying with kindness. When he notices racist comments being directed toward a Black classmate, however, Josh realizes that injustice runs deeper than his personal experiences. Approachable if underdeveloped messaging surrounding how readers can make a difference permeates the novel, and empathetic prose renders Josh as a vulnerable protagonist. Through carefully balanced moments of pathos and heart-wrenching descriptions of casual cruelty, Kramaroff weaves a gently compelling narrative of self-acceptance and beginner’s advocacy. Ages 10–14. (Aug.)

From the Publisher

"Debut author Kramaroff presents an appealing protagonist in sixth grader Josh, the only Jewish kid in his school . . . The accessible verse, written almost entirely in lowercase, follows Josh’s awakening to the cause of justice." —Kirkus

"Kramaroff, in her well-executed novel in verse, does a fine job of dramatizing an important subject while deftly skirting didacticism. The result is an excellent book for both independent reading and classroom discussion." —Booklist

"Kramaroff crafts a thought-provoking verse novel . . . Through carefully balanced moments of pathos and heart-wrenching descriptions of casual cruelty, Kramaroff weaves a gently compelling narrative of self-acceptance and beginner’s advocacy." —Publishers Weekly

Kirkus Reviews

2023-05-09
An exploration of antisemitism and racism in a small-town middle school grappling with an incident of graffitied swastikas.

Debut author Kramaroff presents an appealing protagonist in sixth grader Josh, the only Jewish kid in his school, who is coming to terms with claiming his identity in the face of heavy-handed antisemitic slurs and actions, like tossing coins at his feet and calling him “a dirty jew.” The accessible verse, written almost entirely in lowercase, follows Josh’s awakening to the cause of justice as his almost entirely White and Christian school responds to the transgressions. Regrettably, Josh and his school community conflate justice with kindness, resulting in adulation when Josh founds the Do More Club, which combats hate through affirming sticky notes and kindness rocks. Underdeveloped side characters serve to teach Josh about his privilege and portray him as a mensch. When seventh grader Marcus, the only Black kid in school, experiences a similar racial attack, Josh discovers that anti-Blackness is more pervasive than he’d realized, but Kramaroff does not afford Marcus the agency to react outside of Josh’s framework. In addition to his caring Do More crew, Josh receives support from a rabbi who explains tikkun olam—the Jewish concept of repairing the world—as well as from the school’s lone Black teacher. Unfortunately, neither pushes Josh—or readers—to consider a more robust, systemic understanding of justice and equity.

Well-intentioned but simplistic. (Verse fiction. 9-12)

Product Details

BN ID: 2940178171707
Publisher: Penguin Random House
Publication date: 08/29/2023
Edition description: Unabridged
Age Range: 10 - 13 Years

Read an Excerpt

my life
can sorta be split into before 


and

after.

before the swastikas were graffitied all over my middle school

and now

after.

to be honest?
i liked it better when everyone wasn’t talking about jewish things.

i hear before mom and dad hear,
which is weird because parents should def know about big things 
that happen 
before kids do so they can explain things 
to their kids so that their kids aren’t so scared.

(i am scared.)

but in middle school one person finds out 
about something and then 
it’s all over social media 

and that

is

that.

when i was little
i would creep into mom and dad’s room while it was still dark.

i would go in there 
about everything from the 
boogie man to weird noises.

so i guess that’s why i end up standing at the foot of their big bed again.

i don’t want to wake them 
but i don’t want to be

alone.

mom does this thing
whenever she gets woken up real suddenly.

she sort of yelps and pops up,
shouts loud,
“josh? what’s wrong?”

“something happened,” 
i whisper.

by now dad’s up too and i am frozen there not really wanting to say much else.

i answer in simple sentences.

graffiti.
school.
police.
i don’t know.
i don’t know.
i don’t know.

i’m anxious
inside.
my chest is cold and icy feeling.

it’s something 
i’ve never felt before

ever.

sitting in
silence while we eat bagels and cream cheese is not normal for 
us.
the silent part,
i mean.

no one says a word.

every once in a while mom’s phone dings.

all the sixth-grade moms are 
talking about what happened too.

well, it’s not
okay at all.

which is exactly what mom wants to talk about every five seconds and i keep saying,
“yes i’m fine.”

but the truth is 
if i really think about how much it bothers me 
then i’ll have to admit that for the 
first time ever

i wish 

i wasn’t 

jewish.

things like this

aren’t supposed to

happen

here.
everyone is still
texting about what happened.
it’s kinda like kids have never heard about swastikas nazis or that jews are a hated group of people.

every kid is surprised but i’m not.

ever since the bagel-mailbox thing that happened when i was 
eight.

i’d never thought 
that kind of thing 
could happen 
again.

but as mom says,
“never say never.”

i just 
don’t 
get why they are so 
surprised that 
bad people 

attack

jewish people

i’ve been learning about this stuff since third grade in hebrew school,
in synagogue,
at home.

i guess i wish i didn’t know so much more 
than 
the rest.

it’s not like my school
or town is a bad place.
it’s just not that diverse.

except for mr. g.
and our new principal everybody is white and 
christian.

mom and dad went to the meet and greet a few weeks 
ago excited to meet dr. harris.
she’s jewish like us and i think that made them feel comfortable.

maybe that’s why my insides are so worried.

’cause i’m wondering if the graffiti is

because of dr. harris and if it is well i’ve got

zero words.

the tv stations
have vans parked up and down the road in front of school.

i know because kids keep posting on social media.

it’s like when the temp gets to 100 degrees and every single kid posts a picture 
of the car thermometer.

i’m so sick of 
every single 
kid i know talking about this thing that happened to my school,
because it feels like 
the swastikas the words “die jews”
all in red spray paint 
written on the bricks the sidewalk the doors the windows and “gas the jews”
written on the “no place for hate”
banner feels way more about dr. harris 
and me the only jewish kid than it is about my school, 
washington middle.

my plan to get away from all this talk is to hide in my room.

this way i don’t have to see mom whispering to dad his worried face their phone calls to our old rabbi in our old town and to our new rabbi in our newish synagogue.

it makes me want to turn my music loud and shut it all out.

which is why I turn off my 
phone because all the buzzing and beeping is driving me nuts.

when the bagel-mailbox thing
happened i was short 
for a third grader and 
had to stand on my toes 
to reach 
the envelopes. 


i pulled the door down stuck my hand inside but yanked it back super quick.

mom tells the story that i shouted out scared.
yelling for her to come.
she ran and grabbed 
my hand holding it away from my clothes she sniffed and announced,
“shaving cream.”

she yelled for dad and they walked me into the house together.

i started crying mostly because of their faces.

mom poured me milk and fed me three oreos 
which never happened.

but what i remember most was dad coming back in not too much 
later.

he was quiet and just looked at mom and placed a big shaving cream-covered bagel on the counter and a note that said:
“eat this,
jews.”

lots of people eat bagels
but jewish people eat them more.

bagels in mailboxes are not funny.

bagels in mailboxes filled with shaving cream are meant to be rude like “we know you are jewish 
and we want to make your mailbox hard to clean.”

which is why when i moved to my new school in 
fourth grade and i heard all the last names being called out on the first day of school and none of them sounded jewish

i didn’t tell anyone that i celebrated hanukkah.
we didn’t start
at the new synagogue until the summer after fourth grade ended.
it took us months to find the perfect one.

especially when there weren’t any close by like in my old town.

the thirty-two-minute drive feels like double that.

rabbi marx is goofy and nice and it kind of feels good hearing his voice on the 
phone talking to mom about how 
to talk to me about this thing that just happened.

mr. dave,
my hebrew school teacher from 
last year,
taught us about anti-semitism.

he taught us 
about how stereotypes grow over time and how jewish people have been blamed for different things throughout history.

which, 
looking back,
made my decision to 
keep my religion a secret a smart choice.

mom and dad mr. dave rabbi marx my sunday school class,
those are the only people who need to know

especially after what happened.

i’m real glad
it’s the weekend because i don’t wanna be sitting in every class with every 
kid talking about what’s going on.

it’s like the 
graffiti is about me

but it’s not because nobody knows what i am

so why 

does it feel

like it’s totally 

about me?

our superintendent is
the person in charge and sends an email 
to parents saying something is happening when we get back on monday, 
we are all going to
“come together to fight this act of cowardice.”

i guess we’ll see what happens.

but in my head all i can think is:
can a school of kids 
who didn’t even know 
what a swastika was possibly begin to get it?

and i think a lot about dr. harris and wonder if she feels like me or if because she’s a grown-up maybe it doesn’t feel as bad?

the longer-than-long
drive 
to hebrew school feels like
one hundred and thirty-two minutes today.

as much as i’ve tried and tried 
to shut out all the noise,
every hour brings more and more about the graffiti.

a lot of kids in my hebrew school class
go to the jewish day school that’s 15 minutes farther from my house than temple beth israel (tbi for short).

the rest go to parkward middle school where there’s a lot more diversity.

their
“no place for hate”
banners must mean way more than our school’s where every kid looks the same and believes the same things.

it’s as if 

the sameness 

is what made this act of hate 

possible.

ms. brooke
my hebrew school teacher looks sad-serious not like her normal happy self.

rabbi marx has on the same face as hers 
as he walks toward mom, dad, and me.
but when he sees me it’s like a switch turns on and his smile comes quick.
“hey, josh!”
he fist-bumps me and i force a small smile back.

as soon as we pass, i turn back and see his smile disappear. 

usually mom and dad don’t come into synagogue with me 
on sunday mornings

so, already it feels not-normal but today we are all expected to be in the sanctuary.
and there’s no hiding.

mr. dave leads our class in 
with the others.

rabbi marx raises his hand high in the air and everyone quiets right away. i catch dad’s eyes across the room.
he sticks his tongue out real quick and the butterflies stop for a second.

rabbi marx says all the things you would expect
him to say:

this is horrible we will overcome this we will not let history repeat itself.

even though our synagogue is thirty-two minutes away you would think it happened right here.
i can see it on the faces of the parents.

but it didn’t happen here.
it happened in my small town.

i guess an attack on some jews is an attack on all jews.

no matter

how close or

how far away.

my class walks to our room
in silence.
the adults have moved into the multi-purpose room to eat bagels and schmooze.

max, whose jokes are usually funny, announces,
“well that was 
awkward.”

normally, i’d laugh or roll my eyes but the crack in the wooden desk holds my stare and i wish i could dive down into that space and push out all my worries about going back to school tomorrow and
“my obligation as a jew to speak up”
and most of all the scared feelings in my head.

community members
speak out on the news,
say things like,

“we are deeply disturbed.”

“this should not have happened here.”

“the perpetrators will be found and charged.”

“we will not stand for this.”

and too many other woulda coulda shouldas to count.

i spend part of sunday night watching the group chat
with my classmates mac, shay, christian, patrick, austin, and cassidy which started as a science class chat where we’d complain about too much homework mr. houser’s too-smelly coffee breath and his too-boring lectures.

but it has blown up big-time and now they all just say the same things like,

“i can’t believe that happened.”
“i can’t believe someone would do this to our school.”
“did they catch who did it?”

i get so sick of the same words going round and round 
that i put my phone under my pillow ringer off trying to block it all 
out.

today is gonna be
super weird.

the whole school is meeting in the auditorium.

the only times we are all together like that are for the first day rah-rah speech the holiday concert and the last day of school awards ceremony.

so that’s why it feels so strange odd weird.

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