My helper

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This post brought to you by Penelope, the Hedgehog.  (I was making sure she was awake, friendly, and active for a classroom visit when she climbed up on my keyboard.) 

Let's Talk Turkey

Not long ago I was reading through some Facebook posts and came across a crafty video about making a turkey out of an old book.  Hot glue, cutting, folding, rolling, voila! Centerpiece!

It is a cute idea and a really cute turkey. 

Then you get to the comments.  

I know, I know. Never read the comments. I really did quite by accident, but either way, I read them.  

And boy howdy!  People were becoming unhinged.  

Why? 

Because this project involved the destruction of a book. 

I will be the first to admit that I love books.  I mean, I really love them.  The look of them. The smell of a new book. The feel of the edges of the pages. (I especially love a book with deckle edges.)  Or some of the newer publishings that have color on the edges of the page. I love looking at the binding, seeing if the book is glued or sewn. 

I also love well-loved books.  I am the person who will write in the margins of a book.  It helps me, especially if I am ever planning to reread. (And not just books I teach from; my copy of Blue Like Jazz is positively filled with notes.)  

However

Books are things.  Special things. Wonderful things. But things, nonetheless.  And physical things have a useful life span.  They are created, they are used, and then, essentially, they reach the end of that useful life.  

We try to preserve things that are rare or personal or done by hand, but generally speaking, books, like other things, can reach the end of their lifespan. 

And that is not bad. Or evil. Or wrong.  It is just life. 

When people are nervous about the idea of pulling old books from the library, I try to gently remind them that we are not the Library of Congress.  Our mission isn't to house every book. Nor is it to forever keep every book we ever get. 

We don't have that kind of space, and every old, worn-out, mouldering book on the shelf is taking the space that could be housing a book that a student really wants.  

If a book hasn't been checked out since 1968 (I came across one of those a few weeks ago), it probably needs to go.  If a book is incorrect or outdated or in poor repair, it just needs to go. 

And that is OK.  

And if that is the case, what better usage than living on as a cool, decorative turkey? 

A Long Ago Hurt and a Present Healing

It can be easy to say that what's in the past is in the past, but it never really is.  We all drag around our pasts with us, a bag of burdens that inform, mold, and influence us.  For good or ill. 

But it is a lot easier to pretend past sins don't exist, past errors and flaws are gone. Until they aren't. 

Last week, Representative John Lewis won the National Book Award for Young People with his powerful graphic novel March: Book Three. This book is not

only the true story of the civil rights movement, told by Representative John Lewis, chronicling the Freedom Summer murders, the 1964 Democratic National Convention, and the bombing of the 16th street Baptist Church. It is made in a format that is accessible to everyone. It is deeply moving and a powerful show of what people can do when they are mobilized for change. 

It is an amazing book, and Rep. Lewis is an amazing man.  

Just when you think this is the feel-good story of the year,  he gives his acceptance speech. 

Here are his words:

“I remember in 1956 when I was 16 years old, with some of my brothers and sisters and cousins, going down to the public library and trying to get library cards. We were told that libraries were for ‘whites only’ and not for ‘coloreds.’ To come here and receive this award, this honor, is too much.”

This kills me. It hurts my heart in a way that feels too sharp, too raw. 

The thought of the journey, those two points on a timeline.  To be that young man, kept out of the library because of race.  Then, fast forward, to receiving the National Book Award for a text dealing with that exact struggle. 

But there is no fast forward.  This is Rep. Lewis's life, lived and led. 

And these are the sins of the nation. 

Libraries are, at this point, some of the most progressive institutions in America.  They safeguard access to materials, stand up for intellectual freedom, protect the rights of the marginalized.  

But it has not always been that way, as Rep. Lewis and millions of others can attest. 

And it is up to each and every one of us to assure that this national tragedy is never repeated. 

The hardest part of this is to look in the mirror. 

I would never ever refuse service to anyone. Ever. 

But have I, in smaller ways, done the same? 

Have I ever not purchased a book because of controversial subject matter? I am sure I probably have. 

Have I ever shied away from a difficult discussion because I found it personally painful, even though it was morally right? Definitely. 

Have I been the best, most vocal advocate for the marginalized?  Doubtful.

My place in the library and in the school is to be the one who safeguards access.  While restrictions might not be as overt as those that kept Rep. Lewis out of the library 50 years ago, they can be just as effective and sinister. 

Which means I need to look at myself, and the ways I try to ensure that the library is fair, free of bias, open, and accessible.  It means I need to be purposeful in noticing those minute ways that people and subjects are kept out or hidden. 

But let's be honest here.  It isn't always the big things.  Sometimes it is the kid who has a fine and can't pay it. Or the kid who has lost a book and is terrified. Or the ones who have been made to feel uncomfortable in libraries in the past. 

Library anxiety is a real thing.  It can keep people from being where they need to be, where they have a right to be. 

What about hours of operation?  I have the luxury of being open during the entire school day.  What about schools that have so restricted staff that the hours don't accommodate students?  What about kids who might need the library before or after school? Or at lunch?  How can I make the library accessible, so accessible that no one is ever turned away?

Rep. Lewis's story is, in the end, a victorious one, but also an indictment, and one that can't be ignored.  

Truth, Reality, and the News: Training a Critical Eye

I love The Onion.  I really do.  It scratches the itch that sits firmly at the intersection of my need for intelligent commentary and craving for satire.  From the gang violence between academics who use APA and MLA citation styles to the new requirement that welfare recipients provide sweat samples to show how hard they are working, The Onion provides skillfully crafted commentary on our world, society, and those aspects of humanity that define us, occasionally uplifting but typically through shame. 

While The Onion is great fun, it isn't news. Heck, its tagline is "A farcical newspaper featuring world, national and community news." It is satire. It is farce. It is hilarious.  And it is not news. It is fake.  Everybody knows that, right?  

Well, no, everybody doesn't know that.  News organizations don't even seem to know that, since they are so readily fooled by it and cite the Onion as a source. And it isn't just international news organizations; politicians in the US seem to be unaware of what The Onion actually is. 

I guess it is no surprise, then, that the average American is so easily fooled by it. And it isn't just The Onion.  

weeklyworldnews.com

There are a whole host of satirical news sites. Some proudly wear their absurdity on their sleeves like The Weekly World News (Batboy lives!!! Their favicon is even a picture of Batboy), but at the same time sprinkle in believable headlines. Today's slide show on their homepage rotates between Megyn Kelly leaving Fox News and Saturn being a large UFO.

weeklyworldnews.com 10/31/2016

While most people wouldn't even consider the latter, an awfully large section of the population wouldn't think twice about the former.  


And that is in no small part due to the mixture of reality and fiction. Kelly has been reportedly looking elsewhere.  But she hasn't left yet, and that makes the news story fake. 

weeklyworldnews.com 10/31/2016

But people still share it.  And they share it with a level of faith in the validity that is strong.  

In the last week alone, news organizations around the world have written about the problem of people reading (or, more often, not reading) fake news and sharing or re-tweeting it, with a signal boost that gives it a wider range and a greater likelihood of catching another unsuspecting reader unawares.  CNN, The Guardian,  The Daily Beast (Newsweek's digital home), all talking about how people are tricked by spoof news sites. 

And let's be honest here.  This is only talking about satire news sites. What about satirical sites within reputable ones?  Things like The Borowitz Report (100% fake) as a legitimate column within The New Yorker (entirely legitimate news source).  

Who cares though?  It is all good fun! 

No, actually, it isn't. 

According to the Pew Research Center, "Twenty years ago, only 12% of U.S. adults got news online. Today, that number stands at 81%. About six-in-ten (62%) get news through social media – a figure that rises to 84% for 18- to 29-year-olds. We have also reached a point where a large majority of the public (72%) gets news on a mobile device." Source

If people so readily believe news that is 100% fake (and tells you that right upfront), how much more do they fall for news that is a mixture of truth, reality, spin, bias, and hyperbole?

What about heavily biased or extreme right and left-wing news sites like The Drudge Report or Salon.com, even though they make no pretense at hiding their slant (and, in fact, celebrate it)? These sites make no apologies about putting a spin to news. 

Or bloggers who present their views, bias and all? Alex Jones of Infowars is a blogger, radio host, and conspiracy theorist who, according to Quantcast, reaches over 7 million listeners a month.  he dances between outright conspiracy theory (the US was behind 9-11 and faked the moon landing) and "news" stories purporting to reveal the truth the government hides. Michael Moore is an award-winning documentary maker and news shaper. He has 3.2 million followers on Twitter and refers to his own pieces on his website as "letters", though they give the look and feel of news. 

Neither hides his bias.  Both are upfront about who they support, who they oppose.  And neither are impartial news sources. 

But readers see the stories, tweets, blog posts, and letters from all of these sites, people, agencies, and more, and readily believe that there has been a background check or the vetting of information.

When people rarely read beyond the first paragraph of a story, it is so much easier to spread misinformation. 

But why should I care?  Why should anyone care? 

As a librarian, I strive to encourage literacy, and being able to detect spoof, satire, and misinformation is a big part of digital literacy. 

If one need only use a serif font and put leaves around some well-worded headlines in order to trick people, then that is not literacy. 

Being able to recognize some letters or symbols is not literacy.  To be literate, one must understand , and a part of truly understanding is knowing when something is real, when it is factual, when it is presented without bias, and when it is not. 

The problem, I think, and I include myself at times in this indictment, is that this can take a lot of work.  Not always. Sometimes it is obvious. Or should be.  The now-famous meme about dividing 360 million dollars among the people of America created online debates so fierce that the UK Daily Mail reported on it. Solving that didn't even need research. Just a calculator.

But there is an entirely different level of story that needs to be run through Snopes, an award winning, highly respected site that debunks rumors and false news stories. 

Often, it is just a question of doing one's due diligence.  

• Read the story. (I know. We are all busy and tl;dr is an easy way out, but at least read more than the first paragraph.) 
• Look at the source.  
• What is cited? 
• Who is cited? 
• What is the date or the story? 
• Can you find the same info at any other site?

And all of that takes work, but it is part of being informed. It is part of literacy. It is a part of knowing that the information you are getting is true, accurate, unbiased. And if it isn't, at least being aware of the bias, and countering it.

This isn't explicitly about politics, but that does seem to be the field on which the battle for accurate information is most regularly fought these days. I am not so foolish as to think that it will all go away on November 9th.  Honestly, it is something that has been building for years, with the rise of social media and the increased use of non-traditional sources of news including The Colbert Report, The Rush Limbaugh Show,  The Daily Show, Brietbart, and Last Week Tonight.  

I fully recognize that as a Gen X, it is tricky to look at the way Millennials and Gen Z get their news with a critical eye without being purely critical.  Millennials, as a group, are highly informed. They are critical of news sources,and they are exposed to politics in their Facebook and Twitter feeds at a higher rate than Gen X or Baby Boomers.  

So this isn't a generational thing. It seems that it is societal.  At the risk of turning the nation into a monolith, generally, people are in a hurry. They digest news quickly and move on (tl;dr). And that creates a prime breeding ground for misinformation. 

For many people, and I include myself in this, there are times that a news item is what we want to believe.  We want  it to be true. In those cases, it doesn't take much convincing. 

And in those cases we must be ever more diligent. 

To check sources. 

Look for citations. 

Demand verification.

Ask the hard questions.

Because being a well-informed, literate digital citizen is more than just consuming information.  

It is knowing what information to spit out. 

Well, It Is about Time!

By now, the world of Twitter and Facebook have awakened to the news that, yes,

Photo Credit: Nobel Foundation

in fact, Bob Dylan did just win the Nobel Prize for Literature.  No, it isn't an article from the Onion. Yes, it really is true.  

I was awake for the announcement (Some people have their World  Series, some people get up early for the Nobel announcements). I really do look forward to the announcement each year.  It starts with the beginning of October and waiting for the announcement of the date (October 13th. Later than usual.), then the actual waiting for that date. In the interim, I occasionally check the betting odds makers, often review past winners to look at trends, and renew my yearly hope that Haruki Murakami doesn't win. (I know, I know. He has many fans, but I am not one of them. I'm sure he is worthy, but I suppose I am still bitter about 1Q84, also known as "1,000 pages of my life I will never get back".)  This year was no different from any other. 

Then Bob Dylan won. 

And my  Facebook feed blew up with not just news articles about it but also people posting to me specifically. 

Why? 

Yes, I am a follower of all things literary award. I really love literary awards. All of them. Following the journey from long list to short list, reading about controversies and revolutions, reading the works.  Nobel, American Book Award, Abe Lincoln, Man Booker Rebecca Caudill, Printz, Hugo, Newberry, you name it. I love literary awards. 

But I am also a longtime, faithful, loyal Bob Dylan fan. 

I was that nerdy kid who had the lyrics to "Positively Fourth Street" hanging in my locker (In the late '80s, early '90s, well outside Dylan's "cool" phase).  In my first full time teaching position, I had the students in my poetry class read Dylan. My senior year in high school, I did a semester long biographical research project on Bob Dylan.  Seeing him perform live is on my bucket list. I, *ahem* , still have some of his music on cassette. 

So what happens when a vaunted literary award like the Nobel is given to a...folk singer? Rock star? Gravely voiced musician? 

Many of the articles and comments I read had the same theme: Nobel Laureate Bob Dylan? Really?

They should have said: Nobel Laureate Bob Dylan? It's about time!

I am not here to wax poetic on the value of

Dylan's musical skill (Acoustic vs. Electric,  Folk vs. Rock, Love that voice! Hate that voice!) 

I am here to say that Dylan's Nobel doesn't lessen the award; it expands it. In one fell swoop, the Nobel became far more relevant to far more people, even those who are not fans of Bob Dylan.    

First of all, the Nobel is awarded to a body of work, not a specific title or piece. Though it can be technically quantified, it is hard to really imagine the truly vast nature of the body of Dylan's work and the influence it has. 

More than 35 albums. Over 5 decades. His published catalog alone is hundreds of songs. It is truly a body of work. With each work creating ripples in the pond, Dylan is responsible for waves. Decades of waves that changed the shoreline. 

Second, the directions Alfred Nobel left dictating the mission statement of the literature prize are very vague. It states that the award should go the the person producing "the most outstanding work in an ideal direction". This gives great latitude to those awarding the prize.  It has been given to novelists, essayists, journalist, poets.  Those working in non-fiction, realism, romanticism, magical realism, on and on. There are few constraints.  Let it just be "the most outstanding work". 

Is Bob Dylan that?  Someone creating the most outstanding work in an ideal direction? Absolutely. And he has been for 50 years. 

For the Swedish Academy to recognize that really shows their expanding view of what it is to be working in an ideal direction.  It expands the very concept of literature.

Let's be honest here. For far too long, the literary canon has been mostly dead white guys. 

The literary world is whatever is the polar opposite of an early adopter.  It spent centuries rejecting outright the works of women and minorities. It is quick to devalue the works of those who are able to break into the publishing world.  "She must have stolen the idea (and probably from a guy)." "Successful black author? He must have stolen the idea from a white person (probably a guy)."  "She only got that award because she is a woman."

One of the things the literary elites loathe, in addition to those non-dead-white-guy types, is that which is new.  

New style? Rubbish! 
New themes? Unworthy! 
New voices? Unnecessary!

So, for Bob Dylan to get this award, it broadens the scope of what it means to be literature. Poetry that is put to music. Poetry written for the people. Poetry written not just about but for the common man. Poetry that rebels.  Poetry that has mass appeal. Poetry that is sometimes funny, sometimes dark, always entertaining.  Poetry that is political, offensive, irreverent, nonconforming. How to quantify it?  

All of these point to the true issue at hand: if the average person loves it, how can it be an example of greatness?

That which is great should be elite, out of reach, ideal, inaccessible. It should be fenced off, placed on a plinth, and admired from afar. It should be muttered about in hushed voices of admiration, with eyes downcast while mourning for the poor commoner who could never grasp, never fathom, never appreciate such perfection. 

And then Bob Dylan has to go and ruin it all. 

It is about time. 

Intellectual Freedom

When I was in high school, I wanted to read The Satanic Verses, by Salman Rushdie.  I wanted to read it for no other reason than that it had been all over the news.  Libraries were banning it. People were burning it. Ayatollah Khomeini put out a fatwā  on Rushdie's life. What, I wondered, could be so powerful, to cause so much fuss? 

Likewise, I would walk slowly past the section where Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire sat on the shelves of my public library. I was a bit of a chicken when it came to scary things, so vampires were a no-go at the time, but the book called to me because I had heard whispered conversations that it was "bad", read the newspaper articles saying that it should be "banned" and "taken off the shelves".  (It would take me another 20 years to get around to reading the book. In 2015, Louis and Lestat were hardly terrifying, but the images of grief, remorse, redemption, loneliness, forgiveness, and suffering hit me like a fist.  I wondered again, how could anyone want to keep people from this book?)

Last week, I was at home discussing the upcoming Banned Books Week festivities I hoped to host.  My youngest daughter asked what "banned books" meant, so I tried to explain it to her. (Full disclosure:  I am a fervent, tireless advocate of intellectual freedom.  I have a very strong bias against banning literature.) It went something like this:

Me: Well, there are some people who don't like certain books or certain topics, so they don't want to read books on those topics.  But they also don't want other people to read them either, so they try to get them removed from the classroom or the library.  

Her: (puzzled look)

Me: I know. 

I am a strong advocate for self censoring.  If one does not like something, one should avoid it. That doesn't mean that one can tell others that they must avoid it too. 

I am also a strong advocate of parental involvement in children's lit selection.  I do see what my children read, mostly to have an idea of what they are reading about.  But occasionally I do warn, "That is really violent" to my child who is sensitive or "You need to be a little older to read that" for topics more mature.  

I know some people bristle at even that, but parenting is a difficult path, and this is how I choose to navigate that road.  I don't tell my kids they can  never read something, just that they need to be older. And I do have a child who read The Hunger Games at 11. After flying through the series (and dressing as Katniss for Halloween), she wanted to read Divergent.  It is more

mature (especially in latter books), so I was hesitant, but trusted in her ability to self-censor and her judgment of herself and her interests.   She read Divergent , then lost interest in the follow up books (where things became more mature). She recently expressed a desire to read them again, and I continue to trust her judgment.  

So then people ask, what if she wanted to read Fifty Shades of Gray? She needs to be older. Period. 

What if she wanted to read something with an LGBT character/issue?  This is simply a nonissue for me. She has classmates who are LGBT (whether they are out or not), friends, family. Books today reflect reality in a more brilliantly vivid and accepting way than ever before.  And, again, if such a topic bothers her (which I hope it would not), she should self censor. That is not my place. Period. 
  
What if she wanted to read something that I personally found offensive?  I think it depends on what it is.  
If it is something sexual, it is probably a "read it when you are a bit older". 
If it is illegal (child porn), no. That is an issue of consent and privacy, not censorship.  
If it is violent, I would caution about that and let her decide (she doesn't like violence). 

If it is obscene?  

Good question.  Obscenity varies from person to person.  When I was a child, I knew a woman who was like a grandmother to me. She was kind, loving, and generous. I respected her above all others and valued her opinion as the law.  And she could not say the word "pregnant". She grew up in a different time with a different set of values, and the mere mention of the word was impossible. It was obscene.

So, I guide my children the best I can, knowing that what bothers me may not even register to them.

15 years ago, I taught with some teachers who were horribly offended by Harry

Potter and crossed those books off on the Scholastic Book Order that they sent home. 

Now I think, honestly?  Who is bothered by Harry Potter? Well, According to the ALA Office for Intellectual Freedom, the Harry Potter series was the most frequently challenged book in libraries in the 2000-2009 decade.   

Today, though, it seems most challenged books are due to either religion or sex. 

One of my favorite books of all time is The Librarian of Basra. It is the true story of a librarian who saves books, many ancient or sacred, during the war in Iraq.  And people wanted it removed from libraries because it was "violent" and promoted "the Koran and praying to Mohammed". This is a book I have read to my children again and again. The librarian risks her life for books and freedom and knowledge. And she wins.  The books are saved, in spite of war and bombs and flame, and it unites her communities. How is that dangerous? Powerful? Yes. Dangerous? Only to tyrants. 

I my children to grow up in a world where And Tango Makes Three is a fun, sweet,cute book and nobody raises a stink about the fact that the penguins are the same gender. I want my children to read I am Jazz and marvel at Jazz's strength and fortitude, not clutch their pearls at the LGBT aspect of it. People are LGBT; moving right along. 

At the same time, I am in a public school library, so it is a bit different from a public library itself.  Some books do not fit in the mission and focus of the school library (which shapes the collection and the books I purchase), so, no, my library does not have Fifty Shades of Gray.  But the public library in town does, and that is as it should be.

And yes, we have Twilight. Don't think it is quality 
literature? That is not important. My library is here to create lifelong readers.  And if people want to read about sparkly vampires (which, based on sales and circulation data, they clearly do), then I am happy to help them. 

Do we have the Walking Dead graphic novels? You bet!  I can't keep them on the shelves. The kids want to read them! Are the pictures creepy and gross? At times. I would not ever read a book about a zombie, much less an illustrated book on zombies.  But the artwork is amazing, the story lines are great, and the students want to read them.

While I call my students "my kids", they are not, in fact, my children, so it is not my place to censor their reading. Period. I am here to guard their access to information.  

And so I have my Banned Books Week display up for all to see.  A few kids have asked about it, and I am happy to talk about why it is important to have access to literature.  

And I am hosting a school wide Banned Books Bingo. (Spoiler

alert: Mine is The Librarian of Basra)

And I carry on the good fight.  Talking about books and reading and intellectual freedom. Buying books. Promoting reading. Encouraging students to self censor. (Don't like it? Don't read it.) Discussing why things have been challenged in the past, and why that is important. 

It is an important discussion why Huck Finn is a challenging read, that stabs at the heart of America and many of the issues it still struggles with.  We need to talk about why one can't just remove the N-word from the book to try to soften that blow, that reality.   

It is important that students have access to the information they need: accurate, current, unbiased information. 

It is important that we not forget that in the past people did pile books up and burn them. (And unfortunately still do. In America.) It is essential to realize that one can still be killed for owning certain books in parts of the world today.

And lest Western arrogance cloud our eyes, it is crucial to realize that the Chicago Public School system recently talked of removing Persepolis from the

summer reading list and pulling it from the library, with planned confiscations that drew national attention and the focus of the mayor.  Why? Because the book deals with issues like war, growing up, totalitarian regimes, and a "brief sequence depicting torture in Iran, including a man urinating on a torture victim."  The students reading Persepolis are the same ones who must grapple with the realities of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay.These are issues that are important and real. Painful, but important. 


It feels odd to say I celebrate banned books week, because it is less a celebration and more a reflection.  
A call to see what is happening. 
A rallying cry for intellectual freedom. 
A view of what we have come through and how important it is to protect the freedom we have. 

As a kid, I worried about Salman Rushdie. His family. His well-being. His life.  I feared for him (though I barely knew who he was) and wondered at the disguises he must wear and the fear he must shoulder.  I suppose my young heart thought that as an adult, the world would have moved past that sort of judgment, shame, and censorship. 

Apparently not. 

Losing Anonymity, Finding Purpose

I am a really private person.  I am an extreme introvert.  (Also, I'm a Ravenclaw) 

My comfort zone is well defined and gives me strength. The thing is, many people don't realize these things about me.  

Several years ago, I had students in my psychology class take a Myers Briggs typology test. It indicated (as it has every single time I have ever taken the test, consistently over a 25 year span) that I am deeply an ISTJ. My students, however, were willing to go to war with me over whether I am an I or an E, that is, an introvert or an extrovert.  

Which led to a great conversation for a psychology class about the fact that in my professional life, I appear to be an extrovert.  I can be talkative, passionate, unyielding, loud, bold, and entertaining. But in my personal life, I am quiet, thoughtful (though still unyielding), reserved, and inwardly focused.  I value solitude, anonymity, and silence. I am intensely private.

When we moved to our current area, we came from a metropolitan area of over 350,000. I could go to Walgreens (10 to choose from! all open 24 hours!) and likely not see anyone I knew. But the town I work in, where my schools are, is just the opposite. 900 students K-12. One town of just over 700 residents, another of just over 600, a third with around 2,000.  

Anonymity is a thing of the past.

Working with high school students mostly, it was still a bit preserved.  They are happy to duck around a shelf to protect their own privacy in public or just give a polite wave as they drive down the road. 

But elementary is an entirely different ball game. I went into a local gas station yesterday and was greeted happily by three different students, one who explained she was with her grandmother, and one who gave me a hug.  A hug! In the gas station!

And it was great.

In a second grade classroom the other day I asked who could guess what my job is.  (I had mentioned my title and a few of my duties on the previous visit, so I was just checking for recall). Four different kids called out "You read books to kids!"

And it really hit me that reading books to kids is a part of what I do, and it is an important part. Maybe one of the most important parts. 

I can still remember being read Tailypo as an elementary kid and having a delicious terror and thrill all mixed together until I memorized the book. It was a scary book I would never ever have read on my own.  

I can very clearly remember years later being read "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" and having such a vivid idea of the way words can be used to persuade, to move, to influence. 

I just spoke with a teacher who said she is reading a book to her kids, and they are loving it. "They would sit there all day and listen if they could!"

Many times I have students call out, "Read it again!" And if there is time, I do. 

I grew up being read to.  It was important in my family, so it was prioritized.  And I recognize very profoundly that the ability to prioritize that is a product of many types of privilege: socio-economic, educational, occupational.

I read to my children, and now that they are older, I readily check out audiobooks for them (Yay! for Overdrive through my public library!)  so that while they are playing with LEGOs or action figures, they are being read to. (They spent the summer reading through the entire Harry Potter series and are now on the Percy Jackson series. ) 

But to make that happen, I check out books on Overdrive and use our WiFi to upload them to an old smart phone I no longer use (a Samsung Galaxy S4, still new enough to use Overdrive). 

And that takes time. Time for a person to be able to go into the online system, find the book, download it, or place it on hold if it isn't available.  

And it takes money. We live in an unincorporated part of the city, so we pay the tax equivalency to access the public library.  I am happy to support the library, but I fully recognize many people could not afford to do this. Also, I pay for WiFi. (We live in the boonies, so we have satellite internet which is far from inexpensive.)  And I have a new (not cheap) phone that frees up another (older, but by no means old) for my children's recreational use. 

And it takes knowing that the resource exists, finding out how to use it, and troubleshooting when it doesn't work exactly as planned. 

All of these are things that in today's world, today's economy, my local economy, many people do not have access to.  Time. Money. Resources. 

So, I step into that gap.  I read to kids. I get to see their eyes light up and hear their laughs or groans. I see the light bulbs go on over their heads when they figure out the trick or twist or joke.  

And they now know me as the person who reads to them. I do lots of other things, but first graders neither know nor care about grants, purchase orders, circulation statistics, curriculum alignment, footfall tracking, weeding, or technical support. They know and care that I show up in their class with a fun book and read to them. 

I now have no anonymity. My public life has no privacy. I get hugs in the gas station. I am introduced to grandparents and talked about from two aisles over. I get vigorously waved to in hallway at school and in The Dollar Tree.

And I love it. 

I read to kids.  

I am kind of a big deal.