I love to read. While school is in session, I find that I struggle—not surprisingly—to really delve deeply into any significant work. I try to carve out at least an hour on a Sunday morning to read the New York Times, but for the most part I am limited to quick glances at an article, a Tweet or perhaps a blog. Moreover, while I crave a good book at night, I all too often find myself fighting sleep only two or three pages into it. For the most part, the best literature I have read in the last few months was all geared toward the elementary set. While I love revisiting long-time favorites such as Sylvester and the Magic Pebble and a few newer gems such as The Curious Garden and Animals Should Not Wear Clothing with a group of children, it does not necessarily satisfy my own reading needs.
With a two-week holiday break nearing, I am mindful of the opportunity this time presents to set aside a few hours for meaningful reading. For me, taking this time is a little like heeding the injunction that we receive before taking off in an airplane. “In the event of an emergency, be sure to put on your own oxygen mask first before trying to help your child.” Ultimately, in order to be the best parent and educator I can be, I need to create time and space for myself to read. Reading challenges me intellectually, it forces me to consider different perspectives, and it opens me up to new ideas and concepts. Reading encourages me to reflect, to take a step back and consider questions both big and small. Reading also allows me to escape, to disconnect from the day-to-day.
One of the less heralded benefits of December is the appearance of “best of” booklists. Every newspaper, magazine, and website is sharing its top 10 list of books. I eagerly review these lists and create my own list of books to read in the year ahead. As I noted in the beginning, my discretionary reading time is limited so I rarely make it through the list, but I find the exercise satisfying and rewarding in its own way. It represents a sense of possibility—just look at all of the books I could potentially read, I find myself thinking.
It reminds me of a revelation I had when I was in my early 20s. I was a senior in college and I found myself spending many Sunday afternoons at a local bookstore near my college. The bookstore was in an old mill along a river, and included a great coffee shop and beautiful views. It was cozy and inviting—particularly on a cold winter afternoon. There were thousands of books, mostly used, and I found myself browsing stacks for hours. At one point I vividly remember feeling a growing sense of anxiety. How can I possibly read all of these books? The feeling stuck with me for a few weeks. I even avoided going to the bookstore one weekend because I couldn’t handle seeing all of the books I would never have time to read.
Then, for whatever reason, it hit me—a seemingly infinite number of books did not represent a burden, it represented a gift. It meant that no matter how old I grew or how many books I read, I would never run out of something new to read.
To make it even better, as I grew older, I realized that not only would I never run out of new books to read, but some books I could read again and again. Three books in particular—All the Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren, One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and The Courage to Teach, by Parker Palmer—are books that I have revisited numerous times, each time experiencing something new based on where I am in my own life.
This lesson—the joy in rereading a favorite book—is something I share with children whenever I read to them. I almost always choose at least one book I know many of them will have read or heard before, like Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus or Ferdinand, the Bull, and then point out to them that even though they have heard it before, it is always wonderful to hear it again.
While I know that reading is not necessarily everyone’s proverbial “oxygen mask,” I suspect that many of you are often in search of a good book. In the last year, I have read a few good books, including Sutton by J.R. Moehringer, Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman and In the Garden of the Beasts by Eric Larson. You might check those out if you are searching for something in the weeks ahead.
I welcome any and all suggestions for books that you think I might enjoy. I can’t promise I will read them all in the year ahead—in fact, I can almost guarantee I won’t have time—but I will eagerly add them to my ever expanding list. I know I’ll never read every book I want to read, but I also know I’m going to have a wonderful time trying.