As I came in to work this morning, looking at all the favorite book door decorations, and thinking about how I have failed to organize anything else for I Love to Read Month, my mind thought back to a school I worked at long ago.
One day, we had some pro athletes come to school to talk to our kindergartners about reading. The memory still rankles.
My class had a young man come in to speak who apparently had no real idea of why he was there. He used the occasion to complain about the leeches in his personal life who were always trying to get money from him, now that he was in the big leagues and making the big bucks.
I’m sure he went to college along the way to pro sports, but it hadn’t seemed to have made much impact. He rambled on about his personal problems, without any awareness that the five year olds in front of him couldn’t understand anything he was saying.
My students had really hard lives, and really huge needs. This was the class that played “Call 911, my boyfriend is coming over to kill me” in the house corner. And here we were, stuck, wasting our time listening to the inane ramblings of an inarticulate, overpaid, undereducated man-boy.
So no, you will not catch me organizing a visit from athletes to talk to students about reading. Instead, you will find me actually reading to the children.