When I was young, every week, without fail, I would go to my local library with my younger brother. I wasn't very good at reading because of my dyslexia, and I found reading very frustrating, but I always got excited about these visits.
Normally, my grandmother would take us. We would walk with her up from her house and across a railway bridge; if we were with my mother we might have tried to run ahead, but not with Nanny Glen. She was a school teacher, and once told me that if you taught children you had to be able to command their respect the moment you entered a room, something she was highly adept at.
The library itself was a squat building at the end of the High Street, with the children's section located at the very back. Once through the library doors, we would rush to it, fighting over who was going to sit on the giant ladybird-pillow, in our quietest voices. It was a brightly colored area, separated with a wall from the adult sections. This was covered in children's artwork. There were bright wooden boxes of picture books to rummage through, and small chairs for us to sit on.
We were always allowed to choose our own books, so we always had books to take home that we really wanted to read. My grandmother felt this was very important, especially as I was having such a hard time developing my reading skills. She got us to hand our books to the librarian ourselves, along with our library cards, which I remember being extremely proud of. The librarian would ask us about the books we were checking out, which made my brother and I smile shyly, secretly delighted by the attention.
My mother spent a lot of time at work, and had a very stressful job. My brother and I spent much more time with Nanny Glen, and Grandma Amber, as a result, but every night without fail she would sit with us both and read us to us from the library books. It was also a great time to talk about school, and the little things that matter most to children, like my decision to start collecting rocks. My father had made it very clear he did not want me bringing anything living or dead in from our garden, or anyone else's garden, so this was a rather big confession. I swore my mother to secrecy, and she helped me find a cardboard box to put them in, and to hide under my bed. It later transpired my father knew about it all along, but felt less strongly about me hiding fossils in my room than earth worms, or buckets of mud and leaves.
These are some of my best memories, they are a large part of my childhood. My mother helped me to learn to read using library books, and reading from them to my younger brother was one of the few times we both got along. When I could finally read fluently, I decided to read all the books in my school library, starting with Crime. This didn't quite go to plan, though I did discover some of my favorite writers along the way, in an anthology of fantasy and science fiction, as well as a love of classics. In later years I volunteered to help run a reading scheme at my local library, and I got to experience the pleasure of helping others to enjoy reading for the first time. I've come a long way since then, mentoring young people with dyslexia, through an English degree, and into a job as a Bookseller (something I had always wanted to do). None of this would have been possible without libraries...this is why I feel it is so important to celebrate libraries, and the people who run them, especially today.
Sarah
(Dysbooks Founder)
How have libraries and librarians positively influenced your lives?
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