I love books. Love the heft of them, love turning the corners of the pages on the top to mark my place and on the bottom to mark something incredible that I need to go back to when I’m finished. Love looking at them on the shelf–kind of like a miser looking at his gold, I guess.
But I’m in mourning. My classroom library isn’t much–just two bookcases filled with books. I’ve scoured Goodwill for years and then paid extra luggage charges to bring them to the schools I’ve taught at in Ecuador and Costa Rica. But my classroom library is in its last throes of dying. When I announce time for sacred reading, hardly any of my students pull out a book. They pull out their computers, phones, and iPads.
I’ve even succumbed. I got a smart phone for my birthday and discovered that I love to read on the phone. I choose books that I want to read slowly, in snippets, and then read in spare moments–on the bus, while on lunch duty. I love it, but I feel like a traitor.
My husband will be happy, because we won’t be paying extra luggage fees any more, but I, I just hate to see my library dying.