As far back as I can remember
there was always something to read
My father had his Popular Mechanics
the odd Edgar Cayce, a manual or two
But my mother...she had books upon books
Book-of-the-Month Club books
Harlequin romances--one in every room of the house
library books, New York Best Seller paperbacks
My mother could get so lost in a book
"Mom......MOM!"
you'd have to call her name twice
Of course, she bought us books
Nancy Drews and Hardy Boys
comic books and library cards
"Circle what you want from the Scholastic order
I'll write you a check"
This leads me to wonder
if my own book hoarding
my career in the library
is really just a yearning
for Mom.
******************
Here's an early wish for a Happy Mother's Day to all moms who pass on a love of reading to their children, not just by purchasing books, but by being readers themselves.
It finally hit me last Wednesday. The blah-ness set in.
I had staved it off with work ethic. I got up early, showered and dressed in cute shirts and colorful jeans. My school laptop was turned on promptly at 730a, sometimes earlier, at my designated work space in the study. In the last four weeks (has it only been four?), I assisted with developing a help site for teachers, recorded over half a dozen read-alouds, tweeted out online author events, created library lessons for six grade levels, supported my instructional tech teacher's virtual broadcast project and attended over twenty virtual meetings. I've watched webinars on information literacy, database accessibility, middle grade book releases with author panels.
I have enough work to keep me busy. I am blessed to have a paycheck.
But reading aloud to a screen, without the reactions of and interaction with listeners, began to fall flat. How can I tell if they're getting the joke, picking up the pattern, following along? Book talking without kids present can feel like prescribing medicine without knowing the symptoms. It's easy to say "Keep reading, students!"--but do they have access to the books that fit them, that fill their needs?
I miss collaborating with my teachers at the circulation desk, too. They are busy figuring out how to personalize the district-provided lessons for their classes, some navigating virtual classrooms and learning platforms for the first time. A few pop in to my weekly "office hour" to listen to tips on connecting ebooks to Google Classroom, differentiating with database tools. But most are up to their ears in emails from parents, virtual team meetings, and online grading--all while holding down the fort at home with their families.
I'm still getting up early, dressing for work, logging in promptly. There's been a little more interaction with parents and students--a happy note from a suggested activity, a screencast to help a student navigate an ebook platform. It still feels so very one-sided, though...I miss my days in the stacks.
Not Just Words
Be careful when you open that old Funk & Wagnalls
(It's the same age as my brother, how did I not know that?)
Gold titles fading on spine and cover
The bindings have seen better days
Every inch of space inside the covers is used
Pronunciation key, foreign sounds, "specimen entries"
My father's name in my mother's handwriting squeezed in front
Abbreviations and weights and measures in the back
Those pressed corsages were my mother's, blackened now
Yellowed plastic containing their fragile petals
From proms or Army balls or Mothers' Days, I don't know
But they were important to her, so they are important to me
Don't throw out that folded napkin in the back!
Open it to find a list of names
Sixteen girl, eleven boy, one for either
To have at the ready for both of our babes
Genders unknown 'til they made their arrivals
So be careful when you open that old Funk & Wagnalls
(It's the same age as my brother, how did I not know that?)
Gold titles fading on spine and cover
The bindings have seen better days.
I am entering my third week of working from home. He is entering his second week.
Our routines used to be more separated and defined. My four-thirty-am alarm, his six-am. I would be finished with my morning tasks at the computer before he entered the study, hitting the shower as he drank his coffee, kissing him goodbye before he finished his first cup. Unless I had the day off, he was always the last to lock up the house. We wouldn't speak to each other during the day. I would call from the car in the late afternoon to see which one of us was running later than usual. If he got home before me, the door would be unlocked and ever-so-slightly ajar, enough that I just had to push it open, because he knew my hands were often full.
Now we're both having trouble with consistent morning routines. I still manage to wake up before he does, but sometimes by just a few minutes. My eighteen minute commute, his half hour, are now shortened to thirty seconds, tops, from bedroom to desk. My setup is at the craft table in the study; he has taken over half the kitchen table, where our college boy usually sits when he's home. We both log in before we're dressed for the day. His first tasks are sometimes accompanied by my workouts in the living room, but once we're bent over our computers, we can't see each other from our respective "cubicles".
He is an incredibly understanding and supportive co-worker. I pass by him several times an hour when my Fitbit reminds me to get up and walk, our small house not affording much room for movement. I sometimes pause for a kiss, and he hasn't reported me to HR (yet). He is quiet while I am recording read-alouds or running a Hangout, and hasn't interrupted a single virtual meeting by getting in the frame. Come lunchtime, we'll break for a quick walk around the block together.
They say office romances don't often work out...I think we'll be fine. Quarantine or not, it's nice to be married to a coworker with a shared work ethic. Just don't tell the boss about those midday kisses...
