When I was five, my Mom would read me
Amelia Bedelia books, but would end up laughing so hard, she had to stop and catch her breath. My Mother used to work nights at the hospital, so it was a rarity that she would be the one to read to me. Usually it was my father who always read to me before he tucked me into bed. His main author was Dr. Seuss. I do remember the incredible pride I felt at finally being able to read to him, and the patience he must have had to listen to me stumble through my first book all on my own. It was a book I had ordered through Scholastic at school.
I don’t think I was ever turned off to reading, but I do remember that getting through
The Hobbit was like moving through molasses. It may have been I was too young for the book, but even when I saw
Lord Of The Rings, I still felt like it went on forever and the only thing that kept me entertained was the voice in my head that said, “Would you wash your hands, brush your teeth, and put some shoes on.” We read it in fourth grade, which was a hard year for me anyway, but Mrs. V fell short of my expectations of an educator--she did not make class a safe place to be. No matter now, but I had to reclaim Greek Mythology because she was the one who introduced me to it and it did not have happy memories in the beginning.
As I became an independent reader, I liked Ruth Chew books about witches and supernatural powers. There was one book called
The Third Eye that really stuck with me. Pam and I would go to the library on our summer vacation and check out books—she read more than I, which was good for me to be challenged.
Choose Your Own Adventure novels were hot with my peers and so was Judy Blume because she talked about all the things in adolescence that were taboo. All the girls in sixth grade liked
Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret?, but I connected more to
Then Again, Maybe I Won’t. Even though it was a female author, it was the closest I had and perhaps have ever gotten into the mind of a man.
I recently asked my Mom to look for
The Little Mermaid book I had when I was a kid. It had a green tape to go along with it, and I used to listen to it on our 70’s cassette tape player over and over. I was so deeply touched when the sisters cut off their hair so that the little mermaid could be with them again in the water after she had given her voice to be with the prince. I had short hair at the time and longed for long hair. I thought about the closeness of sisters and how you give a piece of yourself when it’s your blood. Lara told me she would give me a kidney in high school if I needed it when I had high protein in my urine. After she died in a car accident in college, I went back and read
The Little Mermaid again. I was teaching it to kids and I was so moved again by the story. It gave me comfort that even though she was no longer with me in body, she could be with me in spirit just like when the little mermaid became a daughter of the air.
I read a lot for school. I like to discover new short stories to teach and I always reread whatever I am having the kids read. I actually find reading the NEA magazine and articles on teaching to be very helpful.
My apartment is the size of a car, so I try not to buy books. I usually check them out from the library—I absolutely love
the online system. I just finished Men Are From
Mars, Women Are From Venus and
Power Versus Force, both recommended to me by friends. I like reading anything that sounds like I am going to have a better life. I also have a lot of David Sedaris checked out at the moment to inspire me on my own book. Plus I dip into Whoopi Goldberg’s book for a good laugh.
I think everyone has their own list of books that have been like the Bible to them. Mine include
Bodywise, Albinus on Anatomy, Wheels of Light and
Of All The Nerve. Then there are books that I think everyone should read like
Night and
Malcolm X.
Teaching English, I start to reflect on my interaction with Shakespeare. How I’ll never forget how I was introduced to it in fifth grade with “Double, double, toil and trouble,” then read through Romeo and Juliet in ninth grade…it took a lot of concentration to understand Shakespeare, and help from my teachers. I didn’t start off wanting to read Shakespeare in my free time. But while other kids were at fraternity/sorority parties, I was in the grad library in winter at Michigan reading and just sitting with Shakespeare’s plays, and somewhere along the line, digging deeply into text and cracking it gave me great satisfaction. While in NYC, I taught Shakespeare to fifth graders. Some of the teachers I worked with told me iambic pentameter was an advanced concept for elementary, but one of the kids memorized Hamlet’s soliloquy and shocked his teacher as she had never seen him inspired in her class before. Textual analysis can be tedious, but it can also be an amazing exploration of our thoughts as they bounce off a text. One of the greatest things someone can do for another is hold space. That is the greatest asset that I have that I give to my students. The other day, Ondre was reading a passage and asked me questions about it, looking for me to give him the answers. Instead, I said, “Those are excellent questions and that is exactly what I want you to be asking.” He smiled and went back to the text. I want to give my kids the freedom of knowing that there really is no right or wrong, as long as there is evidence to support what is said. I don’t want them to be trepidatious in their learning. I want them to risk.
As I read through this essay, these words on a page, I feel like I am just skimming the surface of my reading experience…how can I convey to a stranger my friends on my bookshelf, how they have touched me so deeply, how I sometimes will share them with someone who may find them just as sacred…how can I explain the layers of feeling like the layers of Sandra Cisnero’s
Eleven…how can I take you into a different state of consciousness that these books have taken me into, different times, different places, they are part of my cells, my muscles, my memories. They have made me laugh and tear, taught me, been there for me. When I was reading
The Monkey’s Paw to the kids one year, I was so dramatic, but I wanted to bring them into the story. There is such magic when that happens. It is the magic of human connection that words can’t always capture, but that happens in between the spaces and the print. Sometimes, when I am experiencing that magic, I am able to share it with others…the movement of swimming, the silence of conversation, the self you discover in the presence of another.
