Literacy Narrative

Cory King

Beth Bensen-Barber

Eng 111 DL06

February 1st 2012

Library Day

          On a warm Saturday morning in the spring of 2001, I was awakened by the smell of breakfast creeping its way up the stairs greeting me with pleasure. The smell of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and the sound of laughter from below were music to my ears and smells my nose loved. As I rose up out of bed, I slipped on my gray slippers and headed down to a scene of my family laughing all together: mom by the stove top cooking all of us a great breakfast and my brother taking me under his arm (with a little brotherly wrestle) on the way to the table where there was so much love and happiness going on.

As I was finishing my breakfast, I remember that today is library day. I always loved going to Ridgefield library. It was housed in half of this old elementary school building that  built in the 1940s. Even though I wasn’t a strong reader at the time, I still liked to go and look at the books and practice reading them, or maybe watch a movie in their movie section. Even go on an adventure in the vacant part of the old dusty school building’s hallways and rooms that lie quiet and childless.

As I was taking my stroll down the old, dusty hallways, I came across a room marked 127. I had passed this room before on other days, but today as I went to pass it, a noise from the far left corner of the room stopped me dead in my tracks.

As I entered the old class room, I come across on my left, a brown book laying right side up. I started to blow off what seemed like forty or more years of dust to see a title in gold lettering across the front that read “Babes In Toyland”. I thought to myself I had never seen this book title in the library before.

I started to make my way back to library section of the building to ask my mom if I could keep it. As I approach my mom squatting by a bookshelf looking for “How To Keep Your House Plants Alive”, the book slips out of my hand and falls to the floor. Luckily the fall did not damage the book. As I am telling my mom where I got the old book and asking if I can keep it, she asks where I found it and I told her I found it in one of the old class rooms. She says “I don’t see why not.” Being ten, I was excited.

That night after dinner I went up to my room and started reading the old book. I was excited to start reading for I had never heard of “Babes In Toyland” I started reading chapter one that had on the first page this awesome picture that had a scene of a guy and girl playing in toyland. There were giant teddy bears, nutcrackers, and a ton of other things that would make any child want to disappear to such a land. As I kept reading, I got more and more intrigued by this story line, and what fun it would be to go to a place such as toyland.

Two days later, I was on chapter five and still wanting more. I couldn’t read fast enough it seemed like. I could not wait to see what was next. Are Mary and Tom going to make it back home, do the toys trap them in toyland forever? I was anxious and kept reading as much as I could every day.

By Saturday, a week later I was in chapter nine and found all of it hard to read. The little black words of joy and happiness that filled pages chapter one through eight started to fade from the years past of juvenile use as chapter nine started. I was left in a clueless state of mind of how the story came to a close. I kept trying to read the once thriving little black letters that filled other children’s minds with joy and excitement, but my eyes started to hurt and gave me a headache as I kept trying to read the next to last chapter of a book that was giving me joy and helping me be a stronger reader.

The next day, I asked my mom if she could take me to Barnes and Noble to buy the book so I could finish the last two chapters. I was told we would go after lunch. So I sat my anxious butt in the kitchen chair (that squeaked when you would move around on it) and watched the clock. As the fingers on the clock seemed to take forever to reach the one O’clock position, I started to bounce to make squeak after squeak (it didn’t take much to occupy me). Before I knew it, the little hand on the clock was on the one O’clock position and boy was I excited.

As we returned from the book store, I went straight up to my room, kicked off my shoes, hopped up on my bed and started reading the last two chapters. After three hours, I had finished. I was sad and happy at the same time. I was sad that the book was over, but happy with what I had gained from it. The thoughts of imagination, laughter, joy, and the force of what will happen as I kept reading brought me to be a stronger reader.

I never knew that one week before, I would find an old dusty book that could give me things I never thought a book could. Granted I had to buy a new copy for the last two chapters, but that day I found work of literature, and a book that gave me joy, laughter, excitement, and pushed me to become a better reader.

 

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