It’s Not Really Work If You Love what You Do

Can you fall in love with a room full of books?

The day that I walked into the elementary school library, I fell in love. The room was large and filled with books. I walked up and down the aisles, and like a child, I touched everything.

I took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of books. That smell is a combination of paper, dust, and joy.

My mind was racing with how I was going to redecorate. I couldn’t wait.

When I took the job as a librarian, I couldn’t think of anything better to do with my life than work with children and teach them to love reading as much as I do.

It was my first time working with children that young. I had to get used to a lot of things. For example, I would leave an “out to lunch” note on the door and then be puzzled about why the children ignored it. But, of course, the little ones couldn’t read!

I might be standing by a book cart and be startled because there would be a hand poking me on the rear end. It was as far as a little hand could reach.

For the next seven years, I looked forward to going to work. Seeing those little children pick up a book and get excited about taking it home filled me with joy.

I was not a traditional librarian. My library wasn’t quiet by any means. We were much too busy talking and laughing to worry about keeping our voices down. There was no shushing allowed. Because of this, some of my teachers would schedule their classes for the end of the day. They told me that it was because I got their students too riled up! I took it as a compliment.

I spent my weekends prowling through yard sales looking for additional books to buy for the students. I did this so often that the people who held yard sales would hold books back for me.

I also purchased toys, and the library was full of dollhouses and footballs, and other novelty items. I created a jungle area full of plants so the student would have a fun place to read. The sky was the limit in my library.

My favorite thing to do was to get on the intercom each morning and pump the kids up before school started for the day. Then, I would hold contests and call the winners’ names to come to see me so they could get their prize.

I once kidnapped a visitor from the office and asked her to come to speak to my students. She was wearing a beautiful turban on her head, and I was reading a book about hats. She graciously came and explained to the students why she was wearing the turban.

While my visitor was talking, I could see my principal pacing back and forth outside in the hall. It turns out the woman was an official judge for an award, and our school was in the finals. Of course, my principal had no idea why that judge was in the library, but we were having a good time talking about hats! Our school won the award, by the way! We were voted a “friendly” school, and forever after, the judge referred to herself as the “woman in the hat.”

Another time, I read a book about how tall giraffes were. I got down on the ground and let the students measure me. One six-foot librarian plus another two or three children, and we have the length of a giraffe. After they measured me, I had a dozen little children trying to pull me up off of the floor.

Reading to the children was the highlight of my day. At the end of the story, I would say,

“Oh, that reminds me of a Bad Little Miss Berry story. Who wants to hear it?”

After a chorus of “yes,” I would begin.

I would tell a story from my childhood.

I told the students how my sister taught me to clean my room by shoving all of my toys under the bed and covering them with a long bedspread. Afterward, I proudly lifted the bedspread to show my mother how smart we were. However, I was confused about my mother’s reaction! Instead of telling me how proud she was of me, she was upset. Hmm.

I told them how my oldest sister used to ride a manure wagon on my grandmother’s farm. Two big draft horses pulled it. Of course, I had to explain what manure meant. I heard a chorus of “Oh yuck!” My sister is now a mature, well-dressed lady. It’s hard to imagine her riding a manure wagon.

Then there was the time my sister’s friend scooped up a piglet from a mean mama sow. This story led to a discussion of pig mamas and how you don’t take off with their babies.

When I finally retired, a friend gave me a journal and told me to write down my “Bad Little Miss Berry” stories. I took her up on it, and I’ve been writing ever since.

I’ve written two books and a memoir for my children. I write something every day. One job working with the books that I love led to another job writing down all of the stories floating around in my head.

I never won an award at work. I was never “Teacher of the Year” or got called to the Superintendents office for acknowledgment of my work.

Some things are better than a plaque or a certificate.

One day a young lady walked up to me at a restaurant where she was working. She told me her name and reminded me that she had been one of my students. She said that I had taught her to read! She thanked me with tears in her eyes.

It was the biggest gift of my life, better than any award at a ceremony. A student said that I had helped her and now she could read. What more could I ask for?

Another student stopped me when I was at a yard sale and thanked me for teaching him how to find a job. I had taught a career class at a middle school, and he had been one of my students.

Most recently, I helped a friend who was going through chemo treatments. As I helped her pack her stuff after finishing her treatment, the nurse asked if I was a friend.

My friend looked at the nurse and proudly stated that I had been her favorite teacher!

But the ultimate reward was when my son thanked me for making him read. He said that another student could barely pronounce any words, so he was grateful that I had made him read every day.

My reward was helping as many students as I could.