According to Merriam Webster a pivot is “a person, thing, or factor having a major or central role, function, or effect.” Recently I listened once again to the Stanford commencement address given by Steve Jobs. He tells three stories, each one a pivotal event. I thought about what was a pivotal event that changed me. One of those moments was when I became a reader.
When did I begin to read? My earliest memory of reading was at the Brooklyn Public Library. It was a modest brick building that was arranged like a split level. The downstairs housed
all of the adult material, the upstairs was the children’s book section, and the central level held the librarian’s desk, periodicals and newspapers.
On Saturday mornings, my mother washed and waxed the floors in our apartment. She systematically removed the table and chairs from the kitchen, and she would shoo me out the door with my older sister, “Go and play and don’t come back until the floors are dry.” We left the house and my sister was terribly annoyed that she was stuck with me for the morning. I had no idea how long it takes for floors to be washed or waxed and was happy to go with my sister. My sister knew how to navigate the neighborhood. She liked adventures. She announced we were going to the library. I was in second grade and she was in fifth.
The library was ten blocks away from our house, which was a long walk for me. I remember that it was hot and that my sister promised me that the library was air conditioned. The cracks in the sidewalk were filled with black tar and if I shuffled my feet a bit I could get the tar to stick to the bottom of my Keds and drag it along. “Oh mom is going to love that on her clean floor,” my sister blew in disgust.
When we arrived at the library my sister stationed me upstairs at a table . “Don’t’ move,” she ordered, “I’ll be back in a little while.” She dashed downstairs to the adult section. By fifth grade she had read mot of the books in the children’s section and was granted special permission to take out books from the adult section. The air conditioning was unbelievable. It was even better than she promised. I made myself comfortable and began to read my favorite story, The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss. I never tired of that book. After some time, my sister found me and gasped. “Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed. “You are still reading Dr. Seuss books. You are going to grow up to be an idiot.”
She sprinted to the shelves and returned with three books: Charlotte’s Web, a picture book of Indonesia, and An American Anthology of Poetry. “You will finish these by next week and from now on I will pick out the books for you to read,” she commanded. I never complained. I was a little scared of her. I remember sitting in my father’s great upholstered blue club chair and reading Charlotte’s Web. Until that moment I did not know that a book could make you cry. The day I finished that book I became a reader.
My sister was as good as her word. Each week she picked out a selection of three books that I was to finish by Friday. Sometimes she would ask me questions about the books. I did not know what genre was or fluency or what level I was supposed to be on. Sometimes the books were very hard. Most of the time, I loved them. Perhaps that is why I became a reading teacher —so that I could help people discover the treasure of books.
My sister still sends me book titles that she thinks I should read. Now I know how lucky I am.
