Review of "Not Everyone Walks the Stage" by Sierra Andrews & Nicholas Seidler

Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)

Not Everyone Walks the Stage is an ambitious, fun, educational, and—at times—humorous children's book by Sierra Andrews & Nicholas Seidler! It is colorfully illustrated by Alisa Tverdokhleb, who truly does an exceptional job (as we'll get to later).

This book provides much-needed representation for disabled and wheelchair-bound individuals, specifically children.

This book is actually broken into two halves: the story-half and the educational-half. Both have something unique and interesting to offer.

The first half follows a character named Sophia who is anxious about her first day of kindergarten. Sophia gradually learns that kindergarten is like a lot of things in life—there are ups and downs, good days and bad days (and days in between), mean people and supportive people, and lots to see, learn, and experience!

It is eventually revealed that Sophia is disabled (wheelchair bound) and has been experiencing everything that the other students are experiencing despite this. The one thing she doesn't experience—as the title alludes to—is literally, physically walking the stage for her kindergarten graduation. However, this doesn't take the importance, significance, and meaning of this moment from Sophia. If anything, it adds to it.

She may not be able to physically walk the stage, but she can still live, achieve, and experience the moment—to know that she accomplished and completed something just like the other kids.

The story portion of the book is great in concept. It is elevated by colorful and eye-catching illustrations by Tverdokhleb. The framing and presentation of the story itself is a bit odd and clunky.

First and foremost, who takes kindergarten graduation seriously?
Sure, the kids might learn a song or a little interpretive dance to perform for their parents, but graduating from kindergarten is really not that big of a deal. It's not like graduating from high school, college, or even from middle school—it's literally just completing a year of school.

So, there's an issue with stakes.

This issue is exacerbated by the very strange plot-point that not everyone graduates from kindergarten—something that's repeated and reiterated throughout the book.

Wait a minute, do kids really fail kindergarten?!
Like, really?!
Kindergarten!?

Based on what? Not being able to say their ABCs, count to 10, and color inside the page?
What, did No Child Left Behind make the standards for passing kindergarten that unobtainable?

Even the prospect of not letting little kids participate in the graduation ceremony seems silly, absurd, and ridiculous.

So, that's when we considered that this whole plot point might actually be humorous and comedic. Like, maybe it's supposed to lighten the mood and to have readers view this story as more of entertainment than something to take overly seriously. Maybe it's supposed to be silly, like when Ella from Why? (by Elena Kayne) thinks that her grandma is wrinkled because she spend too much time in the water. Now, that's cute, funny, and relatable.

But keep in mind: it's the adult teacher, Ms. Brown, who keeps telling the students that not everyone will get to walk the stage for kindergarten graduation. Emphasis: the adult teacher is telling little kids they can fail kindergarten or not get to take part in the ceremony. On one hand, maybe she's lighting a fire under them to get them to perform better in school and pay attention more in class? We get it. But... that's also quite mean.

Heck, it's not just mean, it's inappropriate for that age group.
It would've made so much more sense if Sophia were a 6th grader in her final year of elementary school or an 8th grader in her final year of middle school. It would have made a TON MORE sense if she were a senior in high school. As it's presented here, it just doesn't seem realistic or plausible.

If Ms. Brown actually decided to keep Sophia and other students from walking in their kindergarten graduation, she would be inundated with parent complaints and investigated by the administration and possibly the school district. Sophia and the other students might not know that, but they have rights, and one of those rights is the right to age-appropriate education and expectations.

The other issue we had is how scattered, fragmented, disjointed, and out of focus much of the story seems. It goes from talking about how Sophia is better at some subjects than others, then starts talking about how another student named David is mean, then starts talking about how Sophia studies different subjects at home during the holidays, then starts talking about how Sophia shares her studies with her grandpa and learns geography from him, then starts talking about how Sophia helps David with his schoolwork, then starts talking about her friends at the school talent show, then starts talking about the school science fair and Sophia performing well in it, etc. It just keeps shifting focus. It doesn't seem smooth or like it flows naturally at all.

Oh, and by the way... Is this book saying that there are kindergarteners competing in and winning science fairs with projects about subjects like cartography? That sounds more like something a 6th or 7th grader would experience.

Well, anyway, that's how we felt about the story segment.

As revealed in the educational second-half of the book, the story is partially based on co-author Sierra Andrews's life and experiences living with a disability. She is actually paralyzed from the waist-down due to a car accident when she was 18-years-old.

Her story is remarkable and inspiring! This second-half of the book really won us back.

It serves sort of like an interview about Sierra—her experience with mobility impairment, her insights about life in a wheelchair, and the realities of accessibility and representation. It's honest, candid, and educational without being preachy.

What really stands out is how Sierra emphasizes the importance of autonomy and consent, especially when it comes to how others treat disabled individuals. One of the most impactful anecdotes is when a man insists on pushing her up a hill despite her repeated “no’s”—a situation that made her feel dehumanized. These moments ground the book in real-world truth and foster empathy in ways that fiction sometimes struggles to do.

There’s also a practical, how-things-work section about wheelchairs—from their maintenance and mobility to customization and decoration. This is exactly the kind of everyday knowledge that’s often left out of children's literature and even many adult conversations. And it’s delivered in such a way that kids and adults alike can understand and appreciate it.

The book doesn’t stop there—it continues with an engaging Q&A with the illustrator, Alisa Tverdokhleb. Her insight into the visual storytelling process—from digital sketching to color palette choices—makes this a great read for aspiring artists or those curious about picture book creation. We're not sure what that has to do about the themes of the book, but it's interesting and reveals some insider information on creating art like Alisa does.

Finally, the book closes with educational tidbits and fun facts about graduation traditions, and a playful scavenger hunt inviting readers to go back and look for hidden objects in the illustrations. It encourages rereading and deeper engagement with the material.

Speaking of educational tidbits, there are also recommendation about how to treat and accomodate people who have disabilities, which is nice.

This is one of those books that has a lot going for it—a great premise, nice illustrations, and a lot of heart and soul—but it could have used more refinement in terms of how its story was presented.

Check it out on Amazon!