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Vol. 6, No. 2 |
Fall 2005 |
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from Dr. HarrisA Passion for Reading |
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My love affair with reading was influenced both by my family and by working as a library assistant during my high school days. Books have fascinated me as far back as I can remember. In the years before I began public school, my four older brothers and sisters would sit around the table each evening after finishing their household and farm chores. Books would open, pages would turn, and heads would bow. The stillness of the house would capture brief, familiar sounds: paper rustling, pencils sharpening, and the occasional snicker. It quickly became evident to a three-year-old that books were serious business. I savored this time with my siblings; I never spoke while they worked, but colored in my coloring book.
The country school where I was enrolled had an informal system called "making two grades in one year." This meant that a student who scored high on the state's achievement test would spend the fall semester in one grade and then move to the next grade the following January. This occurred twice for me: I completed third and fourth grade in one year, and did the same for seventh and eighth grade. As I entered the ninth grade — at 12 years old — my family moved to the city. Up to this time, I had never read a novel; I only enjoyed reading whatever printed material I found around the home. This would change, however, during the spring semester of my freshman year, when I volunteered to work as an assistant at the high school library. This was a coveted position, and most of the library assistants were juniors and seniors. So why did I attempt to get it? I recall entering the library one day, and there I saw a beautiful, brainy, and popular girl, working as an assistant. I spoke with her about my desire to work in the library, and she encouraged me to speak with the high school librarian. The librarian hired me to work for one period a day. Although our high school library was small, there were more books in one space than I had ever seen! I became acquainted with the Dewey Decimal System and helped many students find resources for homework and term papers. It was here that I also discovered novels.
Whenever I speak to young people, I discuss the power of reading. I can't imagine being bored as long as there are so many books waiting to be read! Books have taught me so much about history, different cultures, and life in general. They have also validated my existence as an African American woman. For example, Angela Davis' Women, Race and Class; All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, but Some of Us Are Brave (edited by Huls, Bell-Scott, and Smith), and bell hooks' Ain't I a Woman and Sisters of the Yam have been poignant reminders of both my history and my responsibility. Other African American authors like W.E.B. DuBois, Carter G. Woodson, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X have given me the strength to live in a society that did not always live up to its creed of "liberty and justice for all." Zora Neale Hurston was the first writer who presented life in the black community that was familiar to me. She captured the love of family and the desire for a better life. J. California Cooper has written about the life I knew while growing up in the Deep South. Her book, Homemade Love, should be on every reading list. Richard Wright, James Baldwin, Alice Walker, John Williams, and a host of other black writers have provided support, love, and understanding during critical periods of my life. Although my reading habits are eclectic, my favorite novels are those written within a historical context that both teach and entertain. Some examples of these include Sally Hemings by Barbara Chase-Riboud, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson, and A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. I don't normally read autobiographies, but two special books also fit this category: The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, and A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I am indebted to writers and librarians everywhere. Thank you for the printed word and for promoting reading for generations to come.
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In This Issue
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Eventually, my older sister decided it
was time to teach me the alphabet, followed by cursive writing,
reading, counting, and memorizing the times table. I vividly remember
writing the letter "a" in a Chiefs Tablet and comparing it to a
tadpole. Since there was not a television in the home or any
reading material other than textbooks, there was little else to do.
When my siblings were in school, my mother would fill the void by
telling me stories from the Bible. We would also draw pictures and
make up stories about the images. By age five, I was a reader.
Since Texas did not have a kindergarten system at the time, I had
to wait until I was six and a half before entering the first grade —
and by then I had read all of the textbooks my sisters and brothers
would bring home to study. Going to school was thus a joyful time
for me, not only because I had my own textbooks but because I had
already read them!
The
first novel I read was A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty
Smith. I chose this book because another girl whom I admired
checked it out of the library. Realizing that she was a "straight
A" student, my decision was made! I checked the book out as soon as
she returned it, read it, and ignited my enjoyment of novels. When
reading took second place to rearing three children in later years,
I always felt that something was missing, especially during social
gatherings when friends would discuss certain books they had read. On one such occasion, I mentioned not having time to read. An
economics professor responded, "People who love reading always find
time to read." These words reignited my passion for reading.
