My Library Card to the Rest of the World - Essay Example

 My Library Card to the Rest of the World “The more you read the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go” are the words a librarian said to all of us once when I was in fourth grade. Reading never appealed to me when I was young. It always seemed laborious and too time consuming. Books were there only to decorate empty shelves and take up room in our lockers. This changed when on an ordinary Friday my fourth grade teacher booked a trip to our local library. There I touched upon the tip of the world of books and learned the words above that have been embedded in my memory for this long. It was just like any other Friday, on a beautiful spring day. After lunch the entire class was to gather all of their belongings and walk down to the local library with our teacher leading the way. Of course being kids and out in the open we joked and wrestled each other most of the way trying fruitlessly to stay clear of the teacher’s stern gaze. After a short 20 minute walk we walked into the library, a small, brown and brick, single level building tucked away on a street corner surrounded by lots of trees. We were greeted by a gentle looking, elderly librarian. She ushered us all inside and led us to a quiet corner where we had to be seated on low, colorful benches and chairs designed for younger kids. Although we had to go down to our school library many times, it was the first time that I was actually sitting inside this one. It was serenely quiet with only a few other people scattered about here and there browsing through the shelves. Beautiful tall, green plants graced practically every corner, giving the library a more earthy and natural feel. The building itself was quite unimpressive but there was just something about that library that really struck me and pulled me inside. To this day I can’t pinpoint the exact thing. I guess it was a combination of many subtleties; the soft hum of the photo copy machine, the swish of the plants as stragglers brushed against them, the smell of old and new books mingled together on the tall, wooden shelves, and the yielding softness of the carpet beneath my dirty sneakers. The place held me down and rendered my brain quiet and peaceful. The librarian after having seated our class, stood tall and graceful next to our teacher who was sitting awkwardly in the front on a small stool in hopes of keeping an eye on all of us. She proceeded to explain the basics of library conduct and the process of applying for a library card. We were all given small forms and instructed on how to fill them out properly. Pencils scratched the rough, wooden tables as we excitedly filled in our names and perfectly memorized phone numbers and addresses. It was the first time for all of us to be receiving our library cards. I felt strangely grown up being in possession of a small, laminated card with my name scribbled across its front. I pocketed it right away afraid to get any pencil marks on it already. The librarian along with our teacher started giving us a tour of the library. It was small but cozy with the check out desk dividing it right down the middle, separating the adult and the young kids section. We were mostly led around our own section, with the librarian pointing every so often at a set of encyclopedia volumes, the new arrivals, or the newspaper collection. Finally, we came to a stop near our corner, where book shelves lined from floor to ceiling with books stood tall over our heads. We were allowed to browse through and choose 2 books of our liking to take home that day. My friends and classmates hurried about the shelves pulling down many books and flipping though several colorful ones with bright pictures and large fonts. I felt a strange sensation in my stomach as I stepped closer to the shelves. There were rows upon rows of books. Some were hardcover with glossy coverings, while others were bent and worn at the sides. I slid my fingers gently over one row feeling the touch of the cracked paperbacks. They remained standing tall and proud on the shelves and didn’t easily give way to my touch. My fingers bumped along their backs as I stood there, taking in their scent. They were only books I remember thinking to my self. There were many just like these at our school library. Their touch wasn’t any different from any of my textbooks that I was always in a hurry to shove in my locker or push under my bed. But why did these hold a different type of power over me? I wandered away curiously to a different section away from where everyone else was already sitting at the tables thumbing through their prized choices. It was a small shelf off to one side lined with thin paperbacks and other old looking books. I idly ran my hand through one set where one yellowed and dog-eared one caught my eye. I pulled it out immediately and looked at the cracked front cover. It showed a group of four kids heading down a snowy path surrounded by evergreen trees with the tip of a castle protruding from amongst the trees. Of course, everyone knows the story now that it has been turned into a movie. But that day the title “The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe” held me transfixed. I took the book and sat down at the nearest table oblivious to what anyone else was doing or how much noise some of my class mates were making. I flipped to the beginning and started reading, leaning back on the chair with my feet outstretched under the table. I remember flipping one page after the next. Time stood still for me that day just like it did for the Pevensie children. I was transported to another world filled with talking animals, wandering fauns, and good and evil forces. I had not looked up once since opening the book and was startled as one of my classmates touched my shoulder to let me know that everyone else had already checked out their books and was ready to leave. I dashed across the library to gather my things, tucked the book under one arm and ran to the check out desk. The screen beeped, as the lady behind the counter smiled while handing me the book. We were all led back to our classroom from where we headed our separate ways to our homes. I remember not saying a word and being lost in thought the entire way home. As I rounded my street corner, I dashed through the front door, hollered out a half hello and ran up the stairs. I flung my back pack to one side, kicked off the sneakers and plopped down on the bed pulling the book out in haste. My back rested against my soft pillow as my night lamp shined across the yellowed pages. My mom called me for dinner once or twice, but I don’t remember going down and actually eating. The sun sunk low behind my window and my covers bunched up around me as I continued to read and read. The world of Narnia and the White Witch captivated and enchanted me. I read through chapters and chapters before I turned the last page and closed the book, resting it gently on my side table. It was well past my bedtime and I still had to get out of my school clothes. I rubbed my eyes sleepily as I slid under the covers with images of Aslan and the lamppost running though my drowsy mind. This was the first real book that I had ever finished and that too in one night. Had I actually done that? My fourth grade self felt extremely proud. As I turned on my side ready to turn off the lamp I felt the library card still tucked away safely in my jeans pocket. I slid it out and held it in my hand. I didn’t realize it that day, but that library card was to be my ticket around the globe, gaining knowledge and visiting far off places. That day a window was opened for me to the rest of the world. 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