Today I
found myself standing where I am often most at home, the bookstore. It isn’t as
easy as driving downtown to get to a bookstore when you live surrounded by
cornfields. No, you must get in said car, drive twenty-five miles, visit Barnes
& Noble because there are no independent stores remotely close by, peruse
the shelves, stop at Starbucks, and drive twenty-five miles home.
That being
said, I love it.
There is something comfortable about a bookstore. There is possibility all around me. Books just waiting to be opened, stories to be told. I think my heart rate slows down when I’m there, my breathing is deeper, I’m more at ease than anywhere else. It’s quiet, but not too quiet, and I feel at peace.
When I head
to the bookstore, I almost always head straight to the back, the children’s
department. There I greet L.B.B.[1]
and head to the left where the picture books reside. While I’d love to purchase
every new picture book, two items must hold me back. One, I already spend a
small fortune on my classroom each year. One must be choosy. Two, we are at a
one in, one out point in my classroom. The room is encircled by bookshelves.
There is simply no more room for new books. Apparently 3263 is the magic
number, no more, no less.
And so, the
first thirty minutes or so of my visit finds me reading as many picture books
as I can. As I read, I think whether this book is a must purchase for my
classroom. Can I think of a mini-lesson I would use it for? Is it something
that fifth graders need before heading to middle school? Today I read ten
picture books and ended up deciding to purchase Courage. Not sure what book will have to come out to make room.
After
spending time in the picture books, I move to the right and the world of middle
grade novels. I shake my head at some clearly YA books that have been placed
here. I can only assume that the folks working at Barnes & Noble don’t read
all of the books they shelve. I briefly consider reshelving them for the employees
when my attention is diverted – a woman and a young girl struggling to find a
match.
I begin
eavesdropping and pick up a few facts. They are not related, the young girl is
getting ready for third grade and her mom is the woman’s friend. They pick up a
few books, but the young girl despairs. The books look too hard for her. She
whispers, “I’m just not good at reading…” and I swoop in.
I ask if I
can make a suggestion and the woman looks at me like I’m a bit crazy. I explain
that I teach reading to fifth graders and love books. She then gives me the
hopeful glance of someone reaching for a life preserver. I look at the little
girl and ask, “Have you ever read a graphic novel?” She shakes her head. With
my heart lifted, I say, “Come and meet my friend, Babymouse,” and I stride
across the room.
We stand at
the shelves containing Babymouse for only about five minutes. I quickly
describe the backstory and point out a few features of the book, like the
reasons for the pink background. The girl opens up Queen of the World and reads the first three pages. Glancing up,
she smiles and says, “Hey, this is good. And I can read it!” Tears spring in my
eyes and I wish her well. The woman thanks me and they begin pulling several
volumes off the shelf to buy.
I return to
the middle grade novels area with a smile on my face. Grabbing the new book in
Jon Scieszka’s Frank Einstein series,
I head to the register. After purchasing both it and Courage[2],
I head to my car.
Almost on
autopilot, I find myself in the Starbucks drive through. I realize I’m smiling,
thinking of the girl meeting Babymouse for the first time, the new students who
will experience these two books currently residing on my front seat, of the
fifth graders I will get to match with books this year. I miss that over the
summer. Bookstores. Libraries. They are
simply the best. Walk into the door and the whole world awaits. What a
wonderful way to spend a morning.
