Book Aroma
Reading has always been portrayed as a necessity. To a young child whose home does not enforce reading, it is no longer seen as the way it is portrayed. Therefore, priorities differ greatly of that whose home does enforce reading. Growing up, my way of learning was simply doing an activity grade book, above my current grade. I was doing third grade level activities in the summer of my second-grade year. I don’t particularly recall paying much attention during those activities, though it seems something good must have come out of it. My mother preferred numbers over words. These activity books were the readings I had. The encouragement was to finish the activity book, not so much a single book alone.
My teacher during the second grade did a reading evaluation to the classroom. I remember her telling the class it does not mean one student is smarter than the other; it just means we read at different levels. In a class of about 28 kids, I was one of few who read at a “red” level. The levels were measured by difficulty of the book- green yellow and red. There were those who read green books and other who read red. Everyone could read yellow, however green could not pick out a red, and red could not pick out a green. The evaluation was often, to allow for mobility in books. Meaning a green could work their way up to a red. Some of the books in the red were third grade level books. This intimidated some and encouraged others.
Once a week, the class would have a mini trip to the library. From where the classroom was, a mini hallway that was all the way in the back of the building was centered. This meant we had two ways to get to the library, though often, we would go through the back stairs where it had blue stairs instead of the speckled one (this is what the front stairs had for aesthetic purposes). The library had glass doors, and as any library would be, filled with books. Entering the glass doors, to your left is all the rows filled with creative words written on all sorts of different paper, glossy and pale. In that same direction a window from the floor to the ceiling, wall to wall; overlooked the entrance of the school and the small courtyard. This was also another reading spot where many of the students enjoyed reading. To the right of the entrance, was the section where whispering is allowed. Though this area had whispering privileges, it was the area right by the librarian’s desk.
The library was sectioned by grade, K – 4th. As second graders we were in the second-grade section. However, the few of us that were on “red” level reading could pick a book from the third-grade section. Unlike K though 2 these books were in organized rows that spread from halfway of the library, not against the wall. Wandering through the book filled rows gave me a feeling of joy. I didn’t stop walking through the rows, I found myself doing this for a while, and eventually I sat down in the section for animals. There was not a lot of time left and I needed to select a book, I found a book about lions. I flipped through the pages and decided “this was it”. The next step was to get through the librarian. She was tough on which books kids could get. I remember approaching the librarian nervous that she would say no; I really wanted to read this book. I handed her the book, and she flipped to a random page, 12, then pointed to the top sentence and asked me to read. I read slowly, I was nervous I’d mess up and loose the book – until I tripped on a word. The librarian closed the book and told me I was not able to pick a book from the same section. I asked her if I can try again, and in her stern Russian accent, she said “no”. There was this feeling in my stomach that only grew by the second. I didn’t think before acting, my adrenaline rushed through my body and urged me to flip open the book to a random page and read to her a whole page. She looked at me with her stone blue eyes. She turned and checked the lions book out to me.
After a few weeks of picking out the NatGeo. books on animals, I was determined to prove to the librarian I can read – read at the level that I was evaluated in. I ran – sped walked through the auburn bookshelves, I picked a random row to just look through the titles thoroughly as opposed to rushing through all of them. This gave me time to really think about what book I wanted. I picked out multiple books but put them back due to lack of interest. There was one book that caught my eye. A smaller black book, the spine looked textured, dark ridges and glistening textures. I propped my finger onto the top of the spine and picked it out. I remember first opening the book and this scent of aged pages filled my lungs. That may have been the first time I fell in love with the smell of books. I flipped through the pages, and I knew it was it. The title of the book was Bunnicula, a captivating story of a Bunny that was a vampire. Now the time is limited again, I had a far larger book than last time. The only obstacle that stood between me and this book was the librarian. I had to prove to the librarian that I was capable of reading this short novel. I closed the small black book and got on my feet to walk to the desk. As I walked out of the book area, I saw there was a line of kids waiting to meet with the librarian. Flipping through pages and practicing the words they struggled with. I approached the line with confidence, though seeing the other students getting nervous, reflected onto me. A few kids we’re sent back to select a new book, and others were approved. When it was my turn, I took a deep breath and gently placed the book on the desktop. She looked at me, opened the book to a random page and asked me to read 3 sentences. I read the first two sentences with ease. As I began the third, she stopped me, closed the book then checked the book out under my name. This time, it did not feel as intimidating. I felt that I had proved to her well enough that she didn’t even need me to read the third sentence.
In the eyes of the students, the librarian was the one who knew the most. We all thought this is why was so mean. She was the one to determine which books we were able to read. I began enjoying my time at the library more each time. The teachers would get together and do little workshops to teach the students how to look for a book properly and the importance of putting them back. At the end of the book selection, we usually sat down and read our books for 30 minutes. Though, few were able to help the librarian place the books where they belonged. This process consisted of organizing the book on the rack before placing them on the shelves. I preferred helping keep the library in tip-top shape than reading, knowing that I’ll be able to read on my own at home.
I didn’t appreciate books before then. Yet after, I began to bring a book with me wherever I felt would take forever. My brother loved books as well; this influenced my love for them too. We bonded over the books we read on our free time, some in which we read together. Given I don’t live with him, it is almost always a topic we discuss every time we see one another. I’m constantly getting new books, larger books to really challenge myself. Although my free time has lessened than from when I was seven, I will pick up a book whenever I get the chance. Even letting the aroma of the novel relax me.
