​MY LIBRARY
by Kathryn S. Powell
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My library was a small, gray brick building, not far from the community recreation center and pool. I remember its darkness. It smelled like old paper. Giant shelves, stuffed with books, and worn carpet muffled the sounds like snowfalls muffle the world. I carried my worn card-stock library card, slipped neatly into a paper sleeve, with my name on it. That card was my first form of ID and it made me feel like I belonged. 

I visited most frequently in the summer. Sometimes with friends. Most of the time alone. I rode my bicycle. It was a big bike with a big nerdy basket on the handlebars. Nothing fancy. Think Pee-wee Herman’s bike in “girl” shape. I stood on the peddles to ride it. My feet wouldn’t reach from the seat. Our home was about five blocks and a long stretch of pumping uphill on the way. But coming home was downhill, with my hair flying and a basket of newly checked out books! Freedom!

The only thing I remember about how our librarian looked, is her waist. It was tidy and often wearing a skinny belt with a dress or skirt. No pants allowed for women back then. I was scared of her. But I was scared of all adults. I rarely looked at their faces. She was a stickler for silence and rules. And if you were a kid — she preferred you stay in the kids’ section. 

I liked going to the library alone. I liked the small spaces to snuggle into, looking at books as long as I wanted. And the quiet. Yes! No siblings. No chores. No arguments or fighting. And I loved deciphering the secret library codes in the card catalog and then going on a treasure hunt to find the book. That little library was full of possibilities. 

One year, I decided to learn French — by the end of the summer! I know! I know what you’re thinking. But — I thought I could. Everyone would be impressed. I’d be able to speak French and nobody would know what I was saying. Nobody knew French where I lived! Genius. Very exciting! 

I rode my big bike five blocks and up the long hill, locked it to the rack, and opened the door with hope, bravery, and a plan. First stop — card catalog. The librarian eyed me but didn’t say anything. It took a while to figure out what I wanted. Finally, I wrote down the numbers and headed for the adult books. 

Good. Nobody was in the adult area. I found the reference section and way up high I could make out spines of books about different languages. Too high. I needed a stool. Where? I was almost there and the librarian came down the isle, one stealthy step at a time. I froze.

“Can I help you?” she asked. 

All I could do was stare. 

“You’re in the adult books. Is there something you’re looking for here?”

I nodded. 

She waited. 

I didn’t want to tell her about learning French. It was my secret. Really, I didn’t want to talk at all.

Still she waited. 

Because she was an authority figure, and I had no choice . . . without looking at her, I whispered, “I’m going to learn French.” 

Here it comes. It’s what all grown-ups do. She’ll laugh. Kick me out. Tell me I can’t learn French. Point me to the children’s area. 

But instead, my librarian stretched up and handed me three books. One was a small volume of English to French translations . . . or was it French to English, or both? 

We went to the desk. The cards were stamped and I rode home with three French books, an encyclopedia of dog breeds and a new perspective on my librarian. Something had changed. 

I’ve never forgotten what she did. I’m sure she never realized that simple moment had a lifelong impact on me. I don’t know who she was or what her life was like. I do know that scared, easily intimidated me, might never have returned to that little, gray library had she discouraged or questioned me. She helped me to help myself, dream my dreams, answer my questions. She allowed me to be curious and experience a place to freely think, explore, and learn. In my mind, she was a great librarian.

That’s what libraries, librarians and library staff do. They open the door to possibilities, where even a child on a too-big bicycle, with no money to spend, can dream huge dreams and find important answers, without discouragement or judgement or second guessing . . . for free.

I discovered I couldn’t learn French in ONE summer. I still don’t know how to speak it. But I recognize a few words. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll try again. I have the freedom to learn anything I want to and I know just the place where I can begin. 

Welcome to Reading Aloud for Life.
This site is literacy based, read aloud focused, and picture book specific. I hope you’ll pop in from time to time as I weave the website full of storytime and read aloud tips, resources, music and stories. I still have a lot to learn about creating a website. If you have suggestions, the email is working! 
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Thank you,
​Kathryn