The Librarian as Herpetologist

I have one more "teaching" experience that I would like to share with you from my school librarian days.

Classes at my school were scheduled into the library for one session per week. Our time together went pretty quickly. The kids wrote in their reading logs--a journal of the books they read all year long--then they checked out books. There was often a lesson about finding or using information in a library or online, and then came our favorite part. I would always spend a few minutes reading aloud to the group, a custom they were loathe to part with even in the older grades. I found that there was absolutely nothing else I could do that modeled the value and enjoyment of reading better than these few moments spent sharing a book together.

Some books just seemed to call out for props and these were the ones my old students would come back and talk about years later. One of these was a fascinating one by Bianca Lavies, called A Gathering of Garter Snakes. It is a photo essay about the red-sided garter snakes that hibernate together by the thousands in communal dens in Manitoba, Canada. The subject matter is absolutely riveting, although not for the squeamish.

I would read the book while taking lots of time with the photos, which we would all exclaim over together. After a bit, I would get a sort of twitchy thing going, pretending to be distracted by something under my shirt. Eventually, while focused on the group--still reading and not missing a word, I would slide a hand in and pull out an apparently wiggling little snake. Continuing to read and ignoring all the reactions in the audience, I would casually place it in my lap. After a bit, another little (preplanted) rubber snake would follow, then another, and another. I never, ever lost the attention of a single child during this performance, and the book was always one of the most popular in the library.

Photos from Google Images

Happy National Library Week last April (or next)

Before viewing this video, you should know two things about me. I'm a retired librarian who has worked in all kinds of libraries, from a coastal California bookmobile to a tiny New England town library; from a huge Canadian university research library to elementary school libraries to a biggish eastern city public library. The second thing you should know is that in all those years I never, ever remembered to celebrate National Library Week on time.

The third thing (beside the fact that I can't count) is that I've always treasured an old Herb Caen column in the San Francisco Chronicle that he wrote about libraries. It was probably during an actual long-ago National Library Week that he told us about the book that had been returned to the San Francisco Public Library with a piece of bacon in it that had apparently been used as a bookmark. I don't know if it was a need to protect books or a love of bacon, but from that moment on I knew where I wanted to work.

There. Now you can watch this video.

Dear Bradley

Dear Bradley,


I’d like to tell you something about the retirement gift you left on my desk last year on my very last day of being a school librarian. I was just about to walk out the door when I saw it lying there. I knew that by then you were back in class, and I knew if I said good-bye to one more person I would start to cry. I also knew that, once started, I would have a hard time stopping. I was leaving so much behind—my career, my school, my library, my friends, and my wonderful students. So, I tucked your present into my pocket and continued on my way. When we got to our new home in a new state where I didn’t know anyone, I put your gift on my bedside table, with its little note still attached.

I don’t even know what to call the little gadget you gave me. I guess it’s a desk toy, shaped like a little hourglass. It reminds me of a tiny lava lamp, and when it is turned over the bubbles shift into a new design. Every time I see it, I turn it over and think about you. It brings back all my old school memories. When I turn the little “fidget gadget” over--

-I remember when you first came to school, a brand new first grader and a good reader already.
-I picture your cute little-boy "skater" haircut.
-I think about how kind you were to your classmates in 2nd grade, even when they weren’t being lovable.
-I remember your first disagreement with your best friend, and how hurt you were.
-I think about the tragedy that struck your family. It was way too much sadness for a little boy. Even the adults at school were worried about what to say when you came back, but you put us all at ease with your matter-of-fact approach and frank words.
-I picture your kind smile.

You are almost a whole year older now, a big third grader. Even though I mailed you a thank you note for the gift long ago, you have probably forgotten all about it. Perhaps the gifts we give that we hardly notice can turn out to be the most important ones.

Bradley, I just wanted you to know how much you gave in a moment you might not even remember. Funny, it’s just a little gift for which I have no name, but it means all the world to me.

Love,
Mrs. Z