The Hard Books

In elementary school, once a week my homeroom class would go to the school library.  At the library we would listen the librarian, Mrs. Odiorn aka Mrs. O, would read to us and give us worksheets to fill out.  Near the end of our visit we got to pick out a book to check out until the next week when we returned. For me, this was the worst part of the trip. I had two options, an easy book or a hard book.  The benefits of choosing as easy book were endless. Pictures were great, not hard to read, not a huge time commitment, and most importantly I did not have to read to Mrs. O.

If I wanted to check out a more difficult book I had to prove I could read it by reading aloud a sentence to Mrs. O.  Reading aloud under those circumstances terrified me, it felt like life or death. One unknown word and the whole class would think I was a bad reader.  However, one day I decided I was going to do it. I picked out my book, which I do not remember, and rehearsed the first sentence over, and over again. With only a few more minutes left to check out books, I ran back to the shelves and replaced my hard book with an easy one.  I knew how to read that sentence perfectly but I was too nervous. I never liked our trips to the library, and in turn I despised the hard books. In middle school I was able to pick out whatever book I desired, no sentence reading required, only then were the hard books not so bad.