My Library Family

by Cheyenne McConnell-Sawyers

Many people when they think of their reading experience are haunted with memories of bad grades and the many hours that they spent trying and failing to sound out words correctly. However, when I think back on how my love for reading began I can’t help but smile. My passion for reading was nourished by two inspirational librarians, Mr. Wally and Ms. Heather.

When I was seven years old I begged my mother to get a better variety of books for her to read to me at our nightly storytime sessions because the pages of I Love You Forever by Robert Munsch were starting to look so mangled that the words would have been unrecognizable had I not memorized the story. During our nightly storytime session my mother would read to me one of the books I was gifted from family members that were always ready to be read by my bed before she fluffed the blankets, whispered “I love you forever I like you for always as long as I live my baby you will be,” and kissed me goodnight. Instead of buying more books she took me to the public library and changed my life forever.

When I first walked into the library I immediately felt an icy fear creep into my mind at the sight of the monstrous bookshelves. I was so scared I couldn’t move. After a few minutes of me standing frightened, a nice lady came over and asked me if I wanted to see the kids’ room. I didn’t know it then but that woman, Ms. Heather, would become more than just a nice lady. She would become a second grandmother.

In the kids’ room I found three tables with books for kids along with rows of shelves filled with kids’ books. However, perhaps the best thing in the kids’ room that first time was the other librarian Ms. Heather introduced me to, Mr. Wally. He was an older gentleman who always had a smile; he spoke with a stutter, but that didn’t stop him from inspiring everyone with quotes. He was one of the kindest people I have ever met. Mr. Wally and Ms. Heather talked with me about what my favorite books were and what I liked to do; at that time, I liked watching the tapes of “Raffie.” He was a pleasant guy who sang on tape while playing guitar. I had only seen one tape of his before at my grandma’s house. I thought it was just something that grandma had. However, Mr. Wally pointed out that the library had what seemed like a whole wall of these music videos. Ms. Heather and Mr. Wally helped me decide which tape to check out first. That day Ms. Heather gave me my first library card which I thought was a special club just for people who liked Raffie. 

After that first visit I got to know Ms. Heather further. She was this blonde lady who always wore a sweater. She had the greatest voices for storytelling; She could make what seemed like any character’s voice in a story. I returned to the library twice a week at that time because I loved her and Mr. Wally so much.

As I got older Ms. Heather would suggest books that she thought I would like. I would read every day just to be able to talk to her about those suggested books. When I was middle school age and toiling through difficult homework, she would always help answer my questions. I remember many times I wouldn’t be grasping the subject and she would make a great story up to explain it. She made reading Romeo and Juliet simpler to understand for the test. I wasn’t able to do a lot of normal kid things, like climb trees or ride a bike for fun. I have a disorder that causes constant broken and fractured bones, but Ms. Heather let me help with storytime activities for the younger kids who were learning just like I had about the library. Ms. Heather put me in her skits to act out books. She made a great Big Bad Wolf to my Little Red Riding Hood. Ms. Heather never turned me away because I had casts or said I couldn’t help because she was afraid I would fracture another bone. She would just say “Well this new cast adds drama to the story today” as she hugged me. I will never forget her teaching me the love of all books no matter what genre they were. She instilled the saying “It doesn’t matter if it’s not your type of book. It’s worth reading because someone thought it was worth writing.”

Mr. Wally was always right there too in the storytime activities making the books realistic as “Chef Wally.”   He loved to bring the weird foods like green eggs and ham to real life for children, so, he would make them. He would put on a little skit himself pretending to drop the egg while he made the green eggs and ham. He didn’t just perform to bring books alive; he would have book debates with me or what he and I would call “The Meeting of the Minds.” We would discuss different points and perspectives we had about a book we both read. I remember one conversation we had about the poem “The Raven” by Edger Allen Poe. Mr. Wally said, “It is all just a dream. No one was actually at his chamber door; he was just imagining the rapping.” I replied, “It was more than a dream; it was Lenore. She came back for him, and it was sweet of her.” That was the most memorable debate because from that day forward every time either one of us heard someone knock on a door, we would say out loud, “Is it you Lenore?” Mr. Wally taught me that every book has a set word count. He also taught me that the words may be written in ink, but we all read the words differently. 

Another interesting thing he taught me was that everyone has a different perception, of those set words. As Ms. Heather never turned me away for my disorder of broken bones. Mr. Wally never had a shortage of websites and books to turn to for more medical information or more writings to read for our debates. He was the one who recommended I read the book Handle with Care by Jodi Piccoult. He wanted me to know that I wasn’t alone. What he didn’t realize was that with my adopted library family that he and Ms. Heather were, I never felt alone. I will forever cherish and remember the influence that each of them had on my love for reading.

Nanny McPhee said, “When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go.” I had Mr. Wally to influence my dreams and goals in life. I will forever carry his memory in my heart. I still have Ms. Heather to inspire and cheer me on from afar in my academics today because I still need her. I hope that everyone has their own versions of Ms. Heather and Mr. Wally, to nourish their reading for them like Mr. Wally and Ms. Heather did for me.

Let's Read!

By Emmalisa Kaminski

from www.pixabay.com

In these last few weeks as I have been writing my literacy narrative I have had to think a lot about one of the most fundamental pieces of my life.  Literacy is the foundation for anything that we will ever learn as well as a way to escape from the harsh realities of the world that we live in.  Sadly in places around the world literacy is something that is more often than not, placed on the backburner for things such as food, and work.  Children in impoverished countries and areas all around the world, including within our own country are not receiving the literary education that they should be.  Sometimes it falls on the teachers to make sure that the child is being provided with a literary education but really it is the responsibility of the parents to take the time out of their busy schedules to read to the child.

My advice to teachers would be to continue doing what they are doing.  Teachers today have so many standards placed onto them by the state that they are in fact providing the child with a good basic literary education.  However, if there is one thing that I think that teachers could do better for their students and encourage reading in their classroom, would either be an interactive story for the month, so that children can become accustomed to reading out loud in front of an audience, or be able to set aside a time where you could take students aside in groups and begin to have something along the lines of mini book clubs in your class.  There are so many things that you can do for the children, so that they are able to build a positive relationship with literacy and books.

Perhaps the most important part about a literary education would have to be making sure that the child’s reading relationship is growing at home.  It does not matter how hard the teacher might work to make sure that the child is receiving a good literary education, it is up to the parents to make sure that they are taking the skills that their child has learned during the day and cultivate and nurture them in the home.  Whether that is having your child read to you as you are cooking dinner, or reading a story before bed time.  If there is no literacy in the home than the likeliness of the child developing a healthy relationship with reading is going to be quite slim.  Therefore, my advice to parents around the world is to make sure that you carve out time to be with your child and make sure that they are reading anything and everything that they can get their hands on. 

from www.pixabay.com

The final thing that I want to cover is that the children of today NEED literacy.  It is something that in my opinion is slipping away into history.  From all of the technology that is available today I see more kids playing Pokémon GO, or Clash of Clans than I see sticking their noses into a good book.  Literacy is something that is going to help them throughout the rest of their lives; it is a skill that has to nurtured and cultivated by the people around the child.  For the people that need to help cultivate it, you need to know that the rest of the child’s life is going to depend on what you teach them during these crucial years, for those families that live in impoverished countries or areas, go to someone and explain to them your situation and tell them that you want to be able to teach your children how to love reading.  For the people that meet these parents crying out for help in educating their child, listen to their cries and answer them because these children are the future of our world.  These children could be the next Nelson Mandela or Gandhi, but they will never be able to reach their full potential unless we help them.

Two Perspectives on the Poetry Reading by Dan Albergotti

Perspective 1

by Carlos Garcia

My First Time Attending a Poetry Reading

Prior to this experience I had never attended a poetry reading, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. The poet featured that day was Dan Albergotti. I was somewhat surprised at the turnout. When I entered the room most of the chairs were filled, so I decided to sit up front. Albergotti was getting prepared while occasionally glancing up at the crowd while stooped over the desk sorting out which poems he was going to read. When he was finished sorting through his stuff and proceeded to the front of the room I noticed that he was a tall slender man that possessed an intensity about his glare.

When the poet began, he opened up with poems that had great rhythm as well as humor. This was more or less what I was expecting, light-hearted poems with the occasional laughs, but then something happened that I wasn’t really expecting. He began reading some of his poems that were anything but lighthearted. The energy in the room changed as he read some of these poems with dark undertones. This was something I wasn’t expecting. 

Some of the poems were intense in a way that I never thought a poetry reading could achieve. The poem that stood out for me was “Holy Night,” which was a poem about his father’s racism  and the horrible sentiment towards a child. As he read the poem it felt like the entire room was anticipating each word with a tension that was palpable. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this experience, and I was surprised at the energy and emotions that a poetry reading could evoke. 

Perspective 2

                                                     

By Alex Lund

What you are about to read is something I experienced in a poetry reading at College of Central Florida. The gentleman that came on 10/5/16 was Dan Albergotti.   I had never been to a poetry
reading, so I didn’t know what to expect and neither would you if you haven’t been to one. 

He began by introducing himself. Like I said before, his name was Dan Albergotti. He talked about where he was from and that he wrote and published two books that were for sale. Then he began to start reading off his poems in his books. While he was doing so, I just started writing down whatever he read. The first poem was called “Bad Language.” So here it is: “The root of fuck is as much to strike as to copulate” and “To know is to understand … What do you mean when you say no? I think I know. I want to know. Understand me.”   I think when he wrote this he was in an emotional state which was intense where the only word he could come up with is "fuck," which is a curse word. Writing this might have been to help him understand whatever situation he was dealing with. That gave him confidence in his path to succeed in clearing his issues. 

Another poem called “Ars Poetica” starts with “It’s not a perfect world, Mother, but you died at home, without thought, in little or no pain, better than most.”  Later in the poem he talks about the things he wishes he could have changed, like taking away all the things that she lost and the pain and suffering from her illness and in her life. He says “I would take away the illness from your brain” and “You would meet a kinder man in 1946.”   He regrets how he treated his mother when she was alive, with nothing like kindness and thoughtfulness. What I got out of that, is he wishes he could take everything away that's bad and make it better.   All he knows is poetry is left in him. How sad it is. I believe he tells us about how life can be short. No matter where we are, we must communicate with our loved ones.   

The last poem that stood out to me is called “Holy Night." This poem was about his father being a racist. It starts like this: “My father said he wished the child were dead. He didn't say it in so many words but he said it. And it was Christmas Eve.”  It goes on to tell about his father hearing a news story about a black couple who had seven children and all died but one who would survive. He then says in the poem: “I’m sorry to hear that my father hissed. That’s just what this country needs, seven more --  Of course he used the word. You know he did.”  What he means in that is his father is a man with no words but ones full of hatred.  He is ashamed that his father is racist and hateful to people who are different. 

After he had read some of many poems he has written, there were questions if anyone wanted to ask him and he would answer. Unfortunately I could not stay for that because I had to leave after he read his poems. I thought it was interesting to see how another writer communicates through their writing and how their passion goes through them like a lightning bolt and comes out as poetry.

Celebration of Navratri

I have had a passion to dance for as long as I can remember. I have done hip pop, modern, Indian, break, and salsa. One of my favorite dances is Garba, which is a type of Indian dance. Garba is a type of dance that anyone can do however they want, as long as they dance in a circle. Most of the time Garba is performed at weddings or any celebration, for competitions, and especially during Navrarti, which is one of most important festivals in Hinduism.  

Navarti is celebrated for nine nights since “nav” stands for nine and “ratri” means night. Depending on lunar calendar Navratri is celebrated in September to October. Indians celebrate Navratri to worship the Goddess Druga, who is a form of divine power. Navratri has a traditional story like other Indian festivals.  Long ago, there was a king demon Mahishasur, who had body of a human and head of a buffalo. He prayed and mediated hard for many years to please Lord Brahma. Seeing this, Lord Brahma was pleased and granted Mahishasur’s request that no human or god should be able to kill him. Soon after he became a demon and started to spread terror on earth. 

Devi Druga defeating Mahishaur

Seeing this, the Goddess Pravti became angry and took the form of Devi Druga, a goddess with many arms, to be able to battle with Mahishaur. She fought Mahishasur for nine days and nights. At the end of ten nights, she won the battle, and restored the balance of life. Hindu celebrates Navrati to worship Devi Druga.

To celebrate Navratri women and men wear traditional Indian clothes. They dance the Garba in circles with different styles. The best part about Garba is, except for when doing competitions or performing on a stage, there are no rules at all. Dancers at festivals and celebrations can perform any style they please.

After the puja, which is the main prayer for Devi Durga, is finished, music will begin to play and people will begin to dance in circles. The music can be of different types, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, with the dance changing to fit the music. The lyrics for the music is a prayer for Devi Durga.  The traditional dance steps are simple, though over the years people invented more complex steps. The music is loud and people of all ages are dancing and sweating, happy and celebrating. 

by D. Patel

A NIGHTMARE ON PINE STREET!

Hey guys and gals, I will be part of the haunted trail at Wayne’s World of Paintball. The event will be fun, if you like to get scared. I’ve been told that even grown-ups have peed their pants, so if you’re a scaredy-cat be aware that this event it’s not about puppies and unicorns. We are doing this for a good cause, to benefit Toys for Tots. Last year the event raised more than $15,000.00; we hope to raise more than that amount for this year.  

 

Come join us at: Wayne’s World of Paintball 4841 S Pine Ave, Ocala, FL 34480

This is not a paintball event.

It is 2 ½ Acres of Haunted Attractions, so we recommend proper footwear.

Dates and prices:

October 14-15, 21-22, & 28-29

8:00 P.M – 11:00 P.M

$10 Per Adult

$5 Per child (12 & under)

I’ll be happy to scare you guys, please join.

By: Gerkary B.

 

The Supernatural Stole My Life

by Summer L.

Being an Indigo Child¹in this modern concrete age isn’t always the easiest thing, but it’s definitely something to be passionate about, or even celebrate. Similar to caring for a flower, one must cater to the needs and requirements of being moon-called. Luckily for me, I am not reliant on others to recharge my batteries. No, it’s the fairies in the garden, the whisper of the wind, and the smiles of flowers that aid in my psychedelic survival. 

Unchained from the contemporary mindset of our generation, there is elation to be found in the simplest of things. Sunshine, moon light, rainbows, and flowers growing in between the slats of asphalt are little miracles that will forevermore elicit a smile. The positive, productive energy the earth provides zings across my skin like a livewire, or a companionable kiss. Clouds in the sky stop by for a quick “hello." Water nymphs dance and play in rain puddles whilst waving as I pass by. Forest trees offer perpetual hugs. Rain falls, temporarily washing away the effects of man until the next shower.

You will find me there, dancing blissfully in the rain, rejoicing in our joint cause. Come nightfall, the stars beck and call to me until they switch to singing a goodnight lullaby upon the moon’s sweet command. She and I are always in touch with one another, always celebrating the other’s existence. Together, we live in symbiosis with all the other fairies, wildflowers, and creatures of all kinds-even the shapeshifters and wandering spirits. Together, we bring love, passion, and fascination back to the otherworldly beings such as ourselves.

1 Indigo Child: one who possesses supernatural abilities and is separated from other individuals by a different wavelength of thinking