My years as a teacher/librarian brought me many different experiences and memories.
I remember with great fondness one little kindergarten boy who was a frequent visitor to the school library. He was an extremely bright child and his teacher was often at a loss as to how to keep him actively engaged in the kindergarten program. He rapidly completed any extra work she prepared for him.
The idea of moving him on into grade one was quickly vetoed by his parents.
They knew that he needed to remain with his peer group as his emotional maturity did not match his intelligence level.
"He is just a little boy" reasoned his mother. He needs to have the opportunity to interact with other children his own age.
His mother was working hard with him to help him to realize that it was not always the best idea to correct people, especially adults, even if he was correct and they were not.
It was decided that the school library should provide the extra enrichment that he required and that he should be allowed to go to the library whenever the need arose.
One day, I was shelf reading while awaiting the arrival of my next class . The kindergarten child came into the library.
"What 'ya doin?" he asked.
I explained that every book had an address on its spine. That address showed exactly where the book should live on a library shelf.
Your house has a number and many of these books have a number to show where they live.
"I think I can do that." said my young reader.
Knowing that he loved dinosaurs and all things prehistoric, I asked him if he would like to take responsibility for keeping this section in proper order. This was a very big assignment as this section was one of the most used areas in the library.
I might be in the middle of teaching a lesson or reading a story to a group, when my young paleontologist would quietly enter the room.
He would make his way over to his area of responsibility and then a small voice could be heard exclaiming "Now who has been using my dinosaur section?" With lightning speed the books would be restored to their proper order. This was achieved along with a running commentary from the young shelf reader.
"No, Mr. Brontosaurus, you know that is not where you live. T Rex how many times have I had to put you back in your spot?Where are all the books on Triceratops? There were lots of them here yesterday.?"
My parent volunteers would watch in open mouthed amazement. "Who is this kid?" they would ask after he had left the library.
I have lost track of my young bibliophile over the years. I often imagine him as a professor at a prestigious university. I see him entering the huge library there, clad in his tweed jacket with the suede elbow patches. I see him approaching a shelf and then he exclaims "Sigmund Freud! What are you doing here on this shelf?Stop being a nonconformist and get back to your proper shelf immediately!"