Reading Takes You to Higher Places and Back Again
by Joanne D. Cook
written for the 2012 Invitational ELL Summer Institute
Reading seemed to be a natural pastime to me as a young child. My mom and dad were always reading something or the other. It was not unusual for my father to have at least two different newspapers piled up on a tiny wooden table that stood like a partner next to his favorite chair. If it wasn’t the newspaper then it was copies of “Life”, “Ebony”, or “Jet” magazines.
There was a little ritual of preparation for reading all of his “important” material. First he would go up to the bathroom to wash away all of the dirt and soot of the day. Then he would stroll into my parent’s bedroom and put on his favorite pair of loafer-like bedroom slippers. Next came the hum of happiness, almost sounding like one of the “Platters”. They were a male singing group who performed before the “Temptations” got started, I think. He had a great voice if I must say so myself. Finally he would switch down the stairs with his pigeon toed feet right into the living room where his chair waited for his five feet six inch frame. Everyday his butt plopped right into that sunken in old, ugly, green, chair. No cartoon watching at this time. We, my brother and I, had to either read, play quiet games together, or leave the room.
My mother read everything. She loved to read. My grandmother told me that when my mother was a child, she used to hide under the dining room table just so no one would disturb her when she was reading. While all the other girls in the house were being domesticated for future husbands she was reading her book. Nana told me that she had two or three stacked up like a layered cake. Consequently when she married my father, she knew nothing about cooking, ironing, sewing, or anything of that nature. Maybe her books learned to do them because she didn’t. I did remember eating some spooky looking food. She did improve over the years. Praise God!
My mother extended her love of reading to us, her three children, Michael, Sharon, and me. I am the oldest. She frequently challenged us on the things we read and how that only made us better students and more knowledgeable about our world even though we didn’t know how huge it really was. Two of her most memorable clichés were “Reading will take you anywhere! Reading will let you see the world!”
I thought that was fine and dandy but I’m still in my room looking at these same walls with my big, headed, ugly brother getting on my last nerve. My sister was eight years younger and she had her own little baby sister issues and still does today.
Anyway it became common practice for my mother to take us on a trip to the neighborhood library. There she would select books for us to read and find books for herself. After her choices were made she gathered us around and began to read to us. I loved to hear her read to us. There was such animation in her actions, and so much expression in her voice. It was almost like we were dancing across the pages in the book and anything mommy read was believable and pure gold.
There was one particular book that really caught my attention. It was about Eskimos in Alaska and it really had beautiful, eye-catching pictures. Mom pointed out the items on a page and we had a highly intelligent conversation, at least I thought, even though we were only four and five years old. She noticed that we were engaged in the book and checked it out to read to us later.
Two days passed and during those days Mommy had read the book several times to my brother and me. I remembered being interested in the fact, according to my five-year-old brain’s interpretations, that Eskimos ate raw fish. I was fascinated by that information and it planted a seed in my mind.
I started thinking about the pet goldfish we had in a nice, oval-shaped, glass, fish bowl that my mother placed on top of her new television console in the living room. My brain got to sparking, lights in my head started flashing because I wanted to be like the Eskimos even in the hot summer! I was going to eat me some raw fish because they ate it and they did not die.
I had to find someone to carry out my plan and not call me crazy, fat thing because I was a rather plump child. Low and behold, heaven sent my brother into the room. I educated him about the Eskimos and their eating habits. Then I convinced him to stand on my shoulders so that he could get the fish bowl holding those innocent little fishies. He almost lost his balance, but he did knock over the television antenna. My mother who was ironing in another room yelled from the room, “ What are yall doing in there?” “What’s that noise?”
Of course we yelled back in unison, “Nothing”.
We got back to work. My shoulders were hurting because his skinny, behind forgot to take his Buster Brown, orthopedic shoes off. He snatched the bowl and I grabbed it away from him so that he wouldn’t drop my prize. I carefully put the fish bowl on the coffee table; stuck my hand inside of the bowl; and watched my little, fat fingers chase the fish. My brother’s eyes popped out of his head in disbelief. I got one fish out and popped it into my mouth. He opened his mouth to scream but before he could get the long “O” sound out; I shoved the second fish into his mouth to shut up.
Well the fish tasted horrible and scratched my tongue. My brother threw up all over the place and started crying. I started jumping up and down with my wobbly, fat, self because I couldn’t get the head of the goldfish out from between the gap of my two front teeth. The last thing I remembered that day was Mommy running to the front door of our house and screaming at the top of her lungs to the neighbors for help because her babies were going to die tonight. We were going to die because my newly learned knowledge about Eskimos and fish almost caused me to go to hell and back with a sore behind.
Well at least one thing, you can’t say that I wasn’t paying attention and not interested in learning. I did learn one thing though, and that is, all things are possible but some things are just darn ridiculous.
Joanne D. Cook is an ESOL teacher at Hopkinson Elementary School. She teaches English Language Learners in grades 4-8. This summer she completed her second institute with the Philadelphia Writing Project. She became a teacher consultant in 1993 and completed the Invitational ELL Summer Institute in 2012.