Raising Readers: When a Book Finds You at Just the Right Time

I love it when a book falls into my lap at just the right time, and my life seems to converge with the characters in the story in an almost uncanny way. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, I pay attention.

One of the most notable times this has happened in our family was last fall when I was reading All-of-a-Kind Family to my kids (one of our favorite readalouds of the year!)

The very first chapter is about Sarah, the middle of five daughters. One Friday afternoon, the girls are getting ready to make their weekly trip to the library, an activity that is eagerly anticipated by all of them. Except this Friday, Sarah is found in a crying heap instead of getting ready with her sisters. When questioned, she chokes out the awful truth: She can't find her library book.

The whole family is enlisted to help search, but it doesn't turn up, which doesn't surprise Sarah because she actually loaned the book to her friend, Tillie, who said she returned it to Sarah's desk at school but Sarah never saw it. Although sympathetic to Sarah's plight, Mother tells her she won't be allowed to check out anything else from the library unless she pays for the book.

It's a hard lesson, particularly because, most likely, it was Tillie who lost it, not Sarah, but, as Mother says, "You borrowed the book, and that makes you responsible. The library lets you borrow the book, and you're not supposed to lend it to anybody else." Things get even harder when Sarah asks her mother is she'll come with her to the library, and Mother says, "No, Sarah, that's something you must do yourself. If you explain just how it happened, I'm sure the library lady will understand that you didn't mean to be careless. Find out what you have to do, and we'll talk about it when you get back."

It's a long walk to the library, and when it's finally Sarah's turn to talk to the librarian, she can barely get out the words. She's so embarrassed and ashamed. Luckily, the librarian is incredibly kind and understanding, and even though Sarah ends up having to pay for the book (it costs a dollar, which takes Sarah several months to pay off), she is allowed to check out another book, and it's the beginning of a sweet and lovely friendship with the librarian.

I know that was a rather long recounting, but it will be worth it, I promise.

Not two days after we read that chapter, Maxwell came home from school with a slip of paper. It was an overdue notice from the school library, which said that one of his books was ninety days past due, so he would need to pay for it. He seemed fine when he handed me the paper, but as soon as I started questioning him about it, he burst into tears.

I was completely unaware that he'd even lost a library book, much less that it had been gone for ninety days, but from the way he was crying, it was apparent that he'd known it was missing all those weeks but just didn't know what to do about it. All of the pressure and stress and worry unleashed itself in a great flood of inconsolable sobs.

Maxwell has always been very concerned with his image. At school, he is a model student. He does careful work, pays attention, and follows directions to the letter. But a model student does not lose his library book, and the thought of having to own up to it and fix it was almost too much for him to handle. He was not at all unlike Sarah, who was also absolutely mortified at the impression the pretty, new librarian would have of her if she admitted to losing a library book.

I'll admit that my heart almost burst seeing Maxwell's anguish. I was ready to swoop in and take care of it all for him when I remembered the words of Sarah's mother: "This is something you must do yourself." And so instead I said, "Max, do you remember what happened when Sarah lost her library book? She had to talk to the librarian and take care of it herself. I know you can take care of this, too."

We came up with a plan: We were sure he'd lost the book at school because it hadn't ever come home with him. The next day was Thursday. He would talk to his teacher first and explain the situation to her (during first recess because he was adamant that none of his friends know about his mistake). He would ask her if he could look through the bookshelves in the classroom and see if it had somehow been shelved there by mistake. ("Maybe she'll even help you look for it," we said. "She's been teaching for a long time. You aren't the first of her students to lose a library book.") If the book was nowhere to be found, he would go to the library on Friday and pay for it so that it would all be taken care of before the weekend.

The next morning, we said a prayer before he left for school. We prayed that he would be brave and that, if possible, he'd be able to find his book. Then, armed with the memory of how it had all worked out for Sarah, he walked into school. And I let him go.

His story has a happy ending, even happier than Sarah's. He followed our plan and talked to his teacher during first recess and, just as I'd suspected, she helped him look for the book, and they found it on one of the classroom shelves. He returned it to the school library and cleared his record. When he came out of school, his eyes were bright and happy and he was literally beaming.

I know Max's experience would have probably turned out very much the same whether we'd read that chapter or not. But it was so nice to feel like there was someone, albeit fictional, in our corner. It gave both of us a little boost of confidence to do the right thing.

Have you had any experiences like this, where your life bears an uncanny resemblance to that of a fictional character? How have stories helped you through tough learning moments? 

LibraryPages: A Mini-Tour of the Public Library in Stuttgart, Germany

Months and months before our Europe trip, and well before we started to plan out an actual itinerary or even purchased flights, @welovebookworms posted a picture on Instagram of the inside of the library in Stuttgart, Germany. I was completely mesmerized and immediately looked at a map to see how close Stuttgart was to Frankfurt (two hours south, so not next door, but also not outside the realm of possibility). I took a screen shot of the picture and mentally filed it away on my bucket list.

It wasn't until we were actually in Frankfurt that we sat down with Rachel and Micah and made a plan for our five days of touring in Germany. Mike, being the nerd that he is, took all suggestions and put them in a spreadsheet. Then we each got a chance to secretly rank each item: three meant it was a top priority for us, two meant we didn't have a strong preference, and one meant we absolutely, positively did not want to go there. After we had all had taken a turn voting, Mike did some fancy calculation that gave each destination its own score and ranked them. (Trust me, after eleven years of marriage, I'm used to such nerdiness now.)

The Stuttgart library wasn't ranked the highest, but no one actually gave it a one, so it was sitting squarely in the middle of the pack. We took the highest ranked items first (the Rhine River boat tour and the medieval castle, Burg Eltz) and put them into the schedule, and then slowly filled in the schedule with the lower-ranked items. Everyone knew that the Stuttgart library was the one thing I really wanted to see and so they were generous enough to give it a spot on the agenda. (Of course, since we were traveling two hours one way, we wanted something else to do besides just see the library. The Mercedes-Benz museum also happens to be in Stuttgart, and so that satisfied the boys' interests.)

On the drive to Stuttgart, I was actually really nervous because I felt personally responsible to insure that this library really was awesome. What if we went and the general public wasn't allowed in? Or what if the photo was deceiving and it didn't really look like that? (Of course, we had looked it up ahead of time and it seemed like it was open to the public, and it had won an award for best library, which seemed like a good sign.)

But then, we walked into the library, and this is what it looked like. Not exactly my visions of open grandeur.

 
Trying to stay optimistic, we walked through various sections around the perimeter of the library, looking for some secret passage or something that would lead us to the view we were envisioning. Finally Mike said, "It kind of looks like they closed everything in. Maybe it was a safety concern or something." I had to admit he might be right. We could go into the middle of the building, which was an open, cavernous space, and look up several floors, and there wasn't even a hint of the bright, light, open space I'd seen in the picture. And no sign either, saying, "This way to the cool part of the library."

Before giving up completely though, we decided to ride the elevator all the way to the top, just to see. The doors opened, and we saw this:

Cue the angels. It was like walking into a fairyland. It was such a stark contrast to the drab space below, and even though it was exactly like what I had seen in the photo, it was such a delightful surprise because I'd started resigning myself to its nonexistence. Walking out of that elevator was one of my favorite moments of the entire trip.

  

There it was: four floors of stairways, railings, sunlight, seating, and shelf upon glorious shelf of books (in a language I couldn't read, but that's beside the point).

The doors on the fifth, sixth, and seventh floors led to additional sections of the library (like the children's section!) and from there you could go outside onto a balcony that encircled each floor of the building. On the eighth floor, there was a darling café, and you could also gain access to the outdoor walkway and the stairs leading up to the roof of the building.

 (lest you be confused, Rachel and Micah's baby, not mine)

 (view from the roof)

After I'd had my fill of the open space (and everyone was very patient with me and let me take my time), I explored the children's section and had fun finding many familiar titles in a not so familiar language--even Calvin and Hobbes, which we had to take a picture of since we knew Aaron and Maxwell would appreciate it.

 Walking around the Stuttgart Library was a highlight of our trip for me. It was so different from anything else we did, and I'm glad we took a chance and went.

Which amazing libraries or bookstores have YOU been to? Tell me, so I can add them to my future travel bucket list!

8 Rules to Follow to Make Library Visits Work With Kids

Earlier this week I took all four boys to the library to pick out their final summer reading prizes (Bradley got a hardback copy of the picture book, Journey--not too shabby). Although I avoid going to the grocery store with all of them at all costs, weekly library trips are always in the schedule.

When Aaron was a baby, we were a ten-minute walk away from the library, and we went often to help break up the day. As the other boys came along, they joined in on the trips. I don't know why I made library trips with children a priority and not trips to the grocery store. Maybe I think books are more important than food . . .

For the most part, we've figured out ways to make our library visits pleasant experiences. My kids love the library. But there have been times, one of them being just three weeks ago in fact, when I have sworn off going to the library with kids ever again. Generally, however, these horrible disasters happen because, in a moment of oversight or laziness, I broke one of my own long-held rules.

Today I'm going to share those rules with you.

Rule #1: Bring a stroller

This is my #1 tip. If you have very young children, you must have a way to contain them if the going gets rough. And with four kids in tow, chances are highly likely that it will. You'll know when your kids are old enough not to need to be strapped in anymore. (But here's a general guideline: if they're at an age where you have to follow them around to make sure they don't pull every book off the shelf or just decide randomly to walk out the front doors, they still need a stroller. Clark, at 14 months, definitely needs one.) A few weeks ago, we arrived at the library, only to realize I hadn't put the stroller in the trunk. No matter, I thought, we can manage without it. Ha! Classic mom blunder right there. It was one of the worst library experiences of my life. By the end, it looked like I was stealing my own children as I dragged them screaming from the library. So learn from my mistake: bring a stroller.

Rule #2: Use the library hold system

This follows as a close second to bringing a stroller. If seventy percent of the problems at the library occur because I'm chasing down a toddler at the same time I'm trying to check out twenty-five books, the other thirty-percent occur because I lose track of my children while I'm trying to find books to take home. Make it easy on yourself: do all of the finding from the comfort of your own home. Go to your library's website, type in the titles you want, and wowza, the next time you're at the library they'll be on the shelf with your name on them. It's like magic. (Need help finding good books? Check out eight of my favorite places to go for children's book recommendations.) If all of your kids wind up quiet and occupied, and you have a moment to peruse the shelves, then consider that a happy bonus. But if not . . . you'll be thanking yourself that you can still go home with a big stack of new books.

Rule #3: Bring a Large, Sturdy Library Bag

I know. You think you can carry a small stack of books. Or that the free bag from the hospital will be big enough. I know this because I've convinced myself of it a few times, with deep regrets. Invariably, the stack grows as I'm in the library and pretty soon, books are sliding out of my hands or the seam is ripping open in my free-for-a-reason bag. A couple of years ago, I gave up (or finally wised up) and dug out my old college backpack. That thing has the capacity of a truck, and after years of heavy use carrying around too many textbooks, it can handle thirty picture books like they're cake. Week after week, we load it up, and I'm always so grateful for it.

Rule #4: Park Near the Entrance

This may seem intuitive (of course you're going to try to get as close to the entrance as possible), but I'm often tempted to park farther away just because it's easier to get a spot. However, this can make or break our library experience from the starting gate. If it's a major ordeal just to get into the library without getting run over, we're less likely to go. It's such a big deal to me that I've been known to wait just so I can get a closer parking space. At our current library, we have our favorite spot: the left-hand side of the parking lot, second car from the front. I love that spot because my kids can hop out, run over to the curb, and follow it around to the front of the building. I don't have to worry about them going behind cars that are backing up or getting lost. (And you'd be surprised how often we get that exact spot.)

Rule #5: Go to Storytime

This one isn't really a "rule." You can definitely have very successful library visits without ever stepping foot into storytime, but aside from a few months when Aaron was a toddler and the librarian running storytime read the same books and sang the same songs week after week after week, we've had great success with storytime. Not only have we learned about great new books this way (and, to be honest, we've actually found some of our favorite music albums, too), but it's an easy way to develop a good relationship with your librarian, learn to sit still and listen, and do something fun. During the school year, we go to storytime nearly every week.

Rule #6: . . . But Don't Go to Storytime If You Need to Look For Books

Storytime is fun, but after it's over? Well, the library can get a little crazy. So when we go for storytime, we generally don't try to do much else: no reading on the couch, no puzzles, no book browsing. There are just too many kids running around. If you followed the second rule and have a shelf of books waiting for you, then take a minute to check those out and then be on your way. Save the other fun library activities for another time when it is calm and quiet.

Rule #7: Set Clear Expectations

I've realized that I can avoid so many meltdowns if I just give my kids a heads up for what they can (or cannot) expect: Yes, you can help me return the books, but you must take turns. You may check out one DVD. I can read a maximum of four books today. No, we will not play on the computers. We will leave in ten minutes. A few years ago, one of the libraries we went to had a button to push if you wanted the door to open by itself. My kids loved to be the one to push that button. Consequently, they fought over it. Every single time. I don't know if there's anything so embarrassing as the library door automatically opening to the sounds of screaming, crying children. So we made the button off-limits. And I reminded them of that rule every time we went before we got out of the car. Once they knew what I expected, they were able to walk right past the tempting button without giving it a second glance.

Rule #8: Leave Enough Time For Reading/Playing

When I take all my kids to the library, it is an event. There are no quick trips in and out. Those are for the times when I'm by myself. We always plan to stay awhile. And they have their little routines. First they like to spend a few minutes choosing a new DVD to check out. Then they separate: Aaron goes to the craft section, and I don't see him again until it's time to check out. Maxwell goes to the early chapter book section to find a few new books to read. Bradley goes to the children's section and puts together a few puzzles. Sometimes I get a few minutes to check out the new arrivals section. Then Bradley wants me to read a few books to him. Max sometimes listens too. Clark wanders around. Then I check out our new items, and we go. I try to give them enough time to do everything they want to do. (But, I realize, sometimes that's impossible. Last night, it was impossible for us, and Aaron was definitely not okay with that.)

 

While I love going to the library with my kids, and these rules usually make the time we spend there smooth and pleasant, there's nothing quite like going to the library all by yourself. So try that sometimes, too.

How do you navigate the library with children in tow? Tell me your tips and tricks in the comments!

KidPages: Frogs by Nic Bishop (or, Why It Pays to Go to Storytime)

Most Tuesday mornings will find us at the library for storytime.

In the realm of storytimes, I think the ones at our library are pretty standard: we listen to a few books, we sing and dance to a few songs, we color a picture at the end. On lucky days, the parachute comes out.

My boys (especially Bradley) love it. And I love it too because I almost always come away with a new book or two I want to take a closer look at.

This last Tuesday was all about frogs and the color green. Annie (the librarian), asked, "What color are frogs?" Many of the kids (including Bradley) called out, "Green!" Then she asked, "Can frogs only be green?" The kids were quiet as they thought about the answer.

Annie pulled out the book Frogs and said, "I want to show you a few pictures in this book." And then, almost as an aside for just the parents, she said, "I love the books by Nic Bishop. They're always full of these great closeup shots of animals." She proceeded to page through and show a few of the frogs in the book (which were, I'll admit, impressive). She then closed the book and launched into a rousing rendition of The Wide-Mouthed Frog.

But I was still stuck back on Nic Bishop's books. I am always on the lookout for interesting nonfiction for my kids, and this was an author I'd never heard of.

After storytime, I looked up the call numbers and found a couple of his books on the shelves. (That alone shows how desperately I wanted them because usually I just reserve what I want so I can pick it all up in one place and not have to go in search of a book when I'm trying to keep an eye on my crazy kids. But I knew these were just the kind of books my kids would love, and I didn't want to forget about them after I got home.)

We checked out both Frogs and Lizards. Even though we'd seen a few of the photographs from Frogs during storytime, we hadn't heard any of the text, and it was fascinating . . . detailed and interesting without being overly wordy or laborious. Did you know that a spadefoot toad can dig itself several feet underground?  Or that "the skin of some dart frogs contains enough poison to kill ten people"? I didn't . . . until I read this book.

At the back of the book, Nic Bishop shares a little bit more about how he captured some of the photos. For example, there's this one incredible shot in the book of a frog leaping out of the water to snag a caterpillar. Nic tells about how he literally had to train the frog to basically jump on command in order to get that photograph. I really love a little behind-the-scenes info.

But really, the photographs are the crowning point of these books. Tiny poison dart frogs, vibrant red-eyed tree frogs, and big, billowy bull frogs. Each one as clear and breathtaking as if you were kneeling right beside it. My very favorite picture is of the glass tree frog. In real life, it is the size of a pea, and its skin is translucent, which means you can see each of its tiny organs. It's amazing to take the photo in the book and shrink it down in your mind to its real-life size, which is something so fragile and tiny and intricate it makes you gasp in awe.

Alas, there are only six books in this series (and I'm a bit fearful to check out the one on spiders--the larger-than-life photos might be a little too vivid for my liking). I wish there were dozens more. But a few of them have been converted into easy readers, which I'm anxious to check out for Maxwell. And besides his own books, Nic Bishop's photographs have also graced the pages of several other nonfiction works, including the Scientist in the Field series. (Aaron actually checked out one of them, The Snake Scientist, several months ago, and it was quite a bit more text-heavy than I like to read aloud in one sitting.)

Discovering Nic Bishop's books totally made my week. To think that they've been sitting on the library shelves all this time just waiting for us to come along and take them home! With all the time we spend at the library, it always kind of surprises me how many books we still haven't seen or heard of. There really is a never-ending supply of good books. And it gives me a little thrill every time I find a new one. What other amazing books are hidden in the stacks?

Do you have a favorite nonfiction picture book author? Please share!

A Perfectly Eclectic Christmas Tree

I don't think I will ever be one of those people who has a gorgeous, perfectly matchety-matched  Christmas tree. I'd like to be, but even if I someday live in a home that is big enough to house two trees, two trees is . . . a lot of work. I guess I'm a fan of being able to finish all our decorating in one day. Actually in about three hours. It's really pretty nice.

And if I can only have one Christmas tree? Then I guess I'll stick with the eclectic, homemade variety I've got. It's not like I have an amazing ornament collection, but the ornaments I do have are full of happy memories.

I love the little Christmas tree ornament I made out of a paper bag when I was around nine years old--not because it's pretty to look at (to tell you the truth, I usually put it around the back of the tree), but because it was one of the first sewing projects I ever completed, and sewing has brought me a lot of joy in the years since.

I also love the handcart ornament I got when I was 12 and participated in the sesquicentennial trek commemorating the Mormon pioneers' arrival in Utah.

I even love the dozen or so beaded candy cane ornaments that Aaron made with obsessive zeal last year. Every time I turned around, he was hanging a new one on the tree, and it was actually pretty funny to pull them all out again this year and think about how he's changed (and not changed) over the last year.

But one of my favorite ornaments (and the real reason for writing this post) is one I didn't even receive until after last Christmas. So really, this is its first official year hanging on our tree.

My little hometown commissioned a series of limited edition ornaments that featured various landmarks unique to the town. One of them was the library, and my mom knew that out of all the ornaments, that's the one I would want to have. Other than my parents' house, the library was my very favorite spot and the place where I spent an amazing amount of time as a child. (If you are a fairly new reader here, you might want to go back and read My Hometown Library--still one of my very favorite posts.)

Anyway, on the back of the ornament, it gives some cool little facts--such as that the town's first library opened in 1915. But to me the most amazing info given there is that since 1931 (when the library featured on the ornament was built), there have only been three librarians. Did you catch that? Three. In over eighty years, a grand total of three women have held that position. (And something tells me that, unbelievable as that is, it must be true since in the 31 years my parents have lived there, they have only known one librarian). Apparently, when you're one of only three, you've basically reached star status, and you get your name printed on the back of the commemorative ornament.

When we decorated our tree a couple of weeks ago (and one of the added benefits of having a tree like ours is that you don't worry about your kids helping with the decorating), I was so happy to pull it out and give it a spot among the paper bag Christmas tree, handcart ornament, and beaded candycane.

It looked just right.

P.S. I seem to wax sentimental in December. Last year I wrote about the little wooden train Mike made when he was a teenager.

The End of the Summer Reading Program

In July, I wrote about the two summer reading programs we were participating in.

I expressed a little disappointment that with three (or four) set prizes, it encouraged my kids to read but not to read more.

But then we went to claim the final prize at the county library (a free book), and all disappointment immediately dissipated.

Last year, I wrote about the final book prize because I was so surprised (and pleased!) when there were dozens of high-quality books to choose from. I didn't think I would write about it again this year because either a) it wouldn't be as good so not worthy of mention or b) it would be as good so I'd basically be repeating myself.

But then we saw the books, and I practically did a little happy dance right there in the library, and I knew I would have to brag about our good fortune.

It was so nice to see such a wide selection: recent titles alongside older ones, award winners and character books (not what I would choose, but I suppose they have their place), easy readers and more sophisticated books. With so many good books out there and such a wide range of book tastes among kids, I was so glad they didn't do what would have probably been the easier thing and restrict the choice to two or three unmemorable books.

The book prize could be claimed anytime during the month of August, so of course (since our charts were already filled up) we went early in the month to capitalize on the best selection.

I may have done a little coaxing to get the boys to stay away from the more commercialized books, but in the end, they were all super happy with their choices.

Aaron selected Barnum's Bones: How Barnum Brown Discovered the Most Famous Dinosaur in the World by Tracey Fern. We had never read it before, but it's the true story of the first Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton ever discovered. You know how I feel about picture book biographies . . .

Max went with Z is For Moose by Kelly Bingham. I wrote about this book a year and a half ago when the boys and I were making predictions for the 2013 Caldecott. It has remained a favorite ever since, and we're so happy to own our own copy of it now.

Bradley chose Mitchell's License by Hallie Durand. I fully intended to write about this book for Father's Day because it is the sweetest, funniest story about a little boy who gets to "drive" his dad to bed. My boys had forgotten most of it but soon fell in love with it all over again. They started laughing uncontrollably at the part where Mitchell honks his dad's nose. I couldn't even continue reading for a good long while because they were laughing so hard. I'd be happy to read it over and over again just to hear those giggles.

Like last year, I asked one of the librarians to inscribe their names in the front so they could remember the summer when they got these books.

And me? I participated in the adult summer reading program and decided to take home one of my all-time favorite books (but one I didn't own yet), A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith.

P.S. I should mention that the Salt Lake City Library also gave a book to each child, but at the beginning of the program when they signed up. We missed the kickoff day (new baby and all that) so missed the best selection but still found three great books to bring home.

Raising Readers: Summer Reading Program

If the 100-degree temps didn't give it away, it's the peak of summer right now. And while we love swimming, biking, and playing outside, sometimes the activity that's most tempting is retreating into the air-conditioned house with a good book.

One of the first things my boys and I did this summer was sign up for our local summer reading programs. Did you sign up your kids, too? Reading is always fun (of course!), but reading for prizes? Even better.

In this post, I want to share some details from our current experience and also hear about how the summer reading program goes down in your neck of the woods.

But first . . .

 . . . can I tell you about the summer reading program when I was a little girl?

Because really, it was awesome.

I've talked about my small hometown library before. I have many fond memories of that little brick building, but perhaps none so fond as those surrounding the summer reading program. Here's how it worked:

On the first possible day, my siblings and I biked over to get signed up. Our library only had one librarian, Jan, and she gave us our reading logs. For every two hours of reading we did, we got one prize. That's it. Simple, right? So if we read four hours in one day (which we often did), that translated to two prizes.

Prizes consisted of things like candy bars, juice boxes, Little Debbies, cans of soda, little plastic toys, bookmarks, etc. Jan displayed all the prizes on the shelves by her desk. We could choose whatever we wanted. We usually cashed in on our prizes once a week, and let me tell you, we made bank. We came home loaded with a year's supply of sugar--much to my mom's dismay.

After every 20 hours, we got a free book. It was not unusual to earn three or four, sometimes even five, books in one summer. (I remember the summer after the 1998 Winter Olympics, Jan had a book about Tara Lipinski and Michelle Kwan. At the time, I was quite the figure skating junkie, and I couldn't wait to read my first twenty hours and claim that book for my own.)

All summer, we carried around our timers so we could keep track (to the exact minute) of all the time we accumulated. We recorded our time in my mom's planner and then added it all up at the end of the week so she could sign off the appropriate number of lines on our reading logs. 

My sons' experiences with the summer reading program are very different from my own. It's still fun for them, no question, but they are not motivated to read a lot, just consistently.

We signed up for two programs since we live in an area with two different library systems. At one library, the boys have to read 20 minutes each day. At the end of seven days, they get a designated prize (for example, the first prize this year was a little prism spy glass).

 

At our other library, they're also supposed to do a certain amount of reading each day (the parents and child can decide on an appropriate amount). There's one prize for each month, and they can pick it up at any time during the month (in other words, they don't have to reach a certain place on their chart in order to claim their monthly prize, as long as it's all filled in by August).

As you can imagine, for kids who are already consistently reading every day, this does little to motivate them. They can just do what they've always done with the added bonus of a little prize.

At the beginning of the summer, Aaron was all gung ho about reading. He read his first 20 minutes, colored in the first little bottle on his chart and then exclaimed, "I'm going to read some more!" I had to tell him that that was great but that he wouldn't be able to color in another little bottle until the next day, even if he read another 20 or 40 or 60 minutes. "Oh," he said, deflated, "I guess I'll go outside instead."

Let me be perfectly clear: I am not criticizing our summer reading programs at all. They have a limited budget with thousands of kids participating. Of course they have to have some limits and boundaries. (I don't know how many participated in my little town when I was a kid, but I'm guessing it was only a couple hundred). Summer reading programs are great for reluctant and avid readers alike, which is why I'm talking about it as part of my Raising Readers series. I just wish there was a way to encourage the already well-established readers to read more.

Which is why I'm now turning this discussion to you. Tell me, how does the summer reading program work in your area? Our libraries both participate in the Collaborative Summer Library Program (CSLP), which I'm sure many of your libraries also do. But even with the common theme, every library utilizes it in a different way and uses different prizes and incentives. How does your library do it? Or do any of you scrap the library's program and do your own at home? Please share!

(For more Raising Readers posts, click here.)

LibraryPages: Borrow, But Don't Read

Note: the following is not meant to be unduly critical of the library. I love the library! I just want to express my feelings and then hear your wise and unbiased opinions.

Yesterday, Aaron and I went to the library. When I tried to use the self check-out, a little message popped up and said there was a problem with my card. This was not surprising since our library recently revamped their computer system and changed their check-out/check-in systems, and in the last two months, I always seem to encounter some kind of problem.

So I made my way over to one of the real, live librarians and told her I couldn't check out. She scanned my card and said it was because there was a $29.00 fine on it and they only allow fines to go up to $25.00. My mouth gaped open in astonishment, and I spluttered, "That cannot possibly be true." I said that in good faith since I had checked my account just that morning and seen with my own two eyes that my fines amounted to a measly 80 cents.

"It's for a damaged item," she said. "A Mind at a Time."

I had just returned that book a few minutes before, and I feverishly racked my brain for what kind of damage I had done to it. Thrown it into the fire? No. Stomped on it in a wild dance? Not this time. Ripped it up in a fit of rage? It wasn't that kind of book.

The librarian could see I was getting flustered, so she beckoned to another librarian, who came over holding A Mind at a Time. I refrained from snatching it out of her hands.

"How is it damaged?" I asked. As she opened up the front cover, I remembered.

When I checked out the book, the first grouping of 20 pages was beginning to pull away from the binding. During the few weeks of opening, closing, holding, and reading it, the pages had come all the way out--but were still glued together in their own little group.

So there it was. My abuse was not in burning or stomping or ripping, but in reading.

I rushed to defend myself: "I didn't do that! The pages were already coming out when I got the book."

Apparently, the librarian holding the book had been in the process of writing me an email. I almost wish it had been sent before we got things resolved. I would have loved to know what she was saying. Instead, she said, "Oh, that's fine. Next time, just make sure you tell us about the problem when you return the book."

So the fine is gone. And I should be happy. But I'm still a bit rankled for three reasons:

1. I check out well-used items from the library all the time: board books with flaps missing, paperbacks that are bent and scuffed, DVDs that are so scratched they skip more than they play. Am I really going to have to start reporting how all these items are damaged when I return them just so that I don't accrue unwarranted fines?
2. As items get read and used, it should be expected that a certain amount of wear and tear will occur. Even under the best handling, an item can only be passed between so many hands before it starts to show its age. How do you decide who is responsible for the damage when it was the work of several different people reading the book?
3. The book was still very readable (so readable I forgot to even mention the damage when I turned the book in--and, rather ironically, I did mention some problems with a picture book I was checking in at the same time). Even if the damage had been completely the result of my negligence and my mistreatment, I still don't think I should have had to pay the full cost to replace the book. If the book was so damaged it had to be retired, then yes, of course. But if it was merely going to be repaired and placed back on the shelf? Then charge a fine for damage but not an entire replacement fee.

Mike and I were talking about the whole situation, and we both half-seriously agreed that I maybe should have paid the $29.00 just as a way of saying thank-you for the thousands of dollars worth of books we've checked out over the years. Or because our own little bits of damage (a DVD scratch here or a crease or small tear there) have probably added up to $29.00. I certainly do not want to be stingy in regards to the library because I love that system so much, and my life would be completely different without it.

However, I also want to be fair.

And in all fairness, there have been many times when I've mentioned damage that we've done to books. I'm definitely not trying to get away with abuse. The funny thing is, because the damage was small, they've always just smiled and said something like, "Oh don't worry about it. That book has been around forever. That's what happens when you read a book."

This time was just so surprising and unexpected. I don't know if they're trying to crack down a little and make patrons more responsible or if this particular librarian was just a little over-zealous.

I would welcome any feedback, particularly from current- or former-librarians. Is it too optimistic to hope I have a silent reader or two who works in one of the Salt Lake City libraries? How about other moms who have had to deal with the dilemma of reporting damage? Do other libraries charge a damage fee, or is it all or nothing? Please share your opinions (but of course, do so kindly!).

The World's Strongest Librarian by Josh Hanagarne

When I heard that this memoir was written by a librarian who works at the Main Library in downtown Salt Lake City, I was instantly intrigued. Although that's not the library I regularly go to, I've been there several times for various events, and there's something about reading a book set in your own neck of the woods that just makes it that much more exciting (especially when you know it's being read on a national level).

So when I saw a giveaway for this book on Entomology of a Bookworm (after being depressed by the long hold list at the library), I decided it couldn't hurt to enter. And then I saw that only a handful of people had entered (apparently other people weren't as intrigued by SLC librarians as I was), and I realized I might have a decent chance of winning it.

Soon after entering, I was suggesting this book as a possible choice for our next book club. Realizing that the long hold list might make it difficult for people to read, I mentioned that I might WIN! a copy. That seemed like a lot to count on, but then, what do you know, I actually won it! That pretty much made my week, especially when it arrived in all its stiff, unblemished glory.

Josh Hanagarne is not your average librarian: he has Tourette Syndrome; he's 6'7"; he bends horseshoes on his lunch break; he can bench 350 lbs.; he's a Mormon. Tell me that combination doesn't make you slightly interested.

Anyone can write a memoir. I'm not being facetious; I really mean that. Everyone is living a life and therefore has something that, if pressed, he/she could write down. The catch is, not everyone has a life that other people want to read about. In the case of Josh Hanagarne, his story is worth reading not only because he has had remarkable success with subduing and controlling his Tourette's (memoir-worthy in and of itself), but also because he writes about faith, doubt, love, and endurance in a very real and honest way.

Before I go any farther, might I coerce you to watch the book trailer?

You might decide after watching it that you don't need to read the rest of this review; you just want to go read the book. That's what I thought when I saw it for the first time (except for the part about skipping this review, which was not an option). However, I found that some of the expectations I formed while watching the video went unfulfilled when I actually read the book.

Writing a review of a memoir can be tricky because critical statements can be taken more personally: instead of just criticizing the plot or the writing style or the climax, it's like you're criticizing the actual person.

I have no intention of doing that, but I do want to make a few broad and general statements that reflect my own impression of the book.

First, there is a hefty amount of foul language (I lost track of how many times the f-word was used). In almost every instance, the swearing was coming from someone Josh was quoting: a belligerent library patron, a homeless man on the street, the army guy he trained with, etc. I can appreciate the fact that he was trying to accurately portray some of the people he had contact with. However, I think he easily could have cut down the offensive language by half (especially in the case of the trainer), and I still would have formed the same mental picture but without having to read so many nasty words. (On the other hand, it's quite possible that he already had edited their language, and I actually was reading the "clean" version.)

Along similar lines, I was disappointed with all the crude humor and slang. This, even more than the foul language, felt gratuitous, probably because most of it came from Josh himself. And yet, it's a memoir, so I guess it doesn't necessarily make sense that he would clean up his language (although I haven't noticed the same kind of crudeness on his blog, so which one is the real Josh?).

As I contemplated what I wanted to mention in this review, I debated whether I should even address any of my feelings about the religious aspect of this book. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (i.e., a Mormon), so maybe I can't offer a completely objective opinion, but I can at least add my opinions and thoughts to Josh Hanagarne's.

Although Josh went on a mission and was married in the temple, he has struggled with the conviction of his faith for much of his life (at least, that's the impression I got from the book). I can definitely relate to some of his doubts. I think seeking for answers to those doubts is a natural way for us to extend our faith and strengthen our testimonies.

However, I have to admit that as I read Josh's definitions and explanations of Mormon culture and doctrine, it felt foreign to me. His tone alternated between being flippant, cynical, and snide (along with a more reverent side I'll talk about in a minute). I was a little disturbed to realize that if this was my only exposure to Mormonism, I would probably not be interested in learning any more about it.

For example, when he's talking about callings (assignments or jobs within a ward/congregation), he said, "Not everyone has a calling, because the decision to call someone rests on the answers that a church leader receives during prayer. So maybe you'd make a great teacher, but if you never flash into someone's head while he's trying to figure out the best person to fill that slot in Sunday school, your number might never come up." Maybe I'm being too sensitive, but his tone suggests that he's not convinced that callings are made in the right way, nor does he acknowledge that many of these callings are often discussed and prayed about by several people.

But in all fairness, there were other times when he talked about some of his experiences in very reverent and respectful ways. For example, during his mission, he began to have more and more difficulty with his Tourette's, to the point that he was no longer able to do the work of a missionary. When he talked to the mission president about being released, he related, "He [the mission president] had the kindest eyes...'Oh, Josh. You've done enough. You served with honor and if you choose to leave now, you need to know that you served your entire mission. You did all you could and you did all that was asked of you.'" Anytime he spoke about his contact with church leaders, he only had positive things to say.

These were my thoughts, but I understand that belief is something which is highly, highly personal. Josh tried to capture his own beliefs and relate them so that other people would be able to understand him and his relationship with his religion. It's not the way that I would write about Mormonism, but it's not my memoir. It's his. And I think he tried to be very honest in how he related his feelings. That's something that, even if  I was a little disappointed in the content, I can still appreciate and respect.


As I wrap up this review, I have to tell you that it's one of the hardest reviews I've ever written. I wrote and rewrote paragraphs and sat at the computer just thinking about this book and how I could best sum up my feelings. I felt like every sentence was a struggle...definitely not my favorite way to write.

I think I had such a hard time, in part, because I didn't love the book, but at the same time, I did love the insight I gained by having an inside look at another person's life. There's something completely priceless about that. It would be a difficult book for me to recommend, but I still completely admire and respect Josh Hanagarne for his honesty and sincerity, for all the ways he has helped people with Tourette's, and for being willing to put himself in a vulnerable position by putting it all into a book.