Recently I had the pleasure of reading my Prissy story to a group of children in a children's home. It was a different experience for me because I usually give readings in a classroom setting. And although I've done a 'pajama party' reading for a school, that, too, had been on school premises, which made it feel a little institutional. It could have been that it was a Friday evening, or the home-like setting, or the fact that the kids were actually in pajamas that gave it a different feel.

I wasn't there simply to read to the children. They were given a sweet treat that they could decorate before eating, along with milk. The volunteers and I were there to shower the kids with love and attention. And just before they would be sent off to their cabin for bedtime, I would read my story to them. 

As usual with my readings: the kids got to shout, they got to jump up and down, they got to fly in their "spaceships" around the room and then bring it in for a landing. I was going to read another story when something unexpected happened. Instead of the kids shouting out stories for me to read or clamoring to give me their favorite book, they wanted to read the book they picked themselves. They wanted to do as I did: stand in front of the room and read aloud.

Some of the older ones, as old as 11, were skilled readers and their only hinderance was their shyness. Children as young as 3 would even stand in front, unwittingly holding a book upside down, and say random words--but they were reading!

I was most impressed by a 6-yr-old struggling reader. He was so energetic and emphatic about reading a book. His friends let it be known that he couldn't actually read; but that didn't stop him. He could make out simple sight words like, "to" "the" "and," and I was able to help him with the rest. The book he chose to read was Ben's Trumpet by Rachel Isadora. That book had words that were difficult and unfamiliar to him like, "musicians" "pianist" "saxophonist," but I would whisper the sentence to him, and he would recite it proudly. By the time he got to the last page, he was able to read the sentence on his own: "And we'll see what we can do."

He showed us what he could do. He showed us what perseverance and tenacity looks like. There was an inherent drive in him to want to read. At only six, he understood the basic truth that reading is fundamental. Reading is necessary. And most importantly, at its core, reading is fun.

When I read at a school, I'm always on a strict schedule; the kids are already in the middle of a day full of school work, and there is recess and lunch to be had. In that home, where the children are displaced from their family, perhaps the cozy act of reading, a warm lap, and a soothing voice made them feel a little closer to home. I don't know the answer to that. I know we did have to pry the books from their hands and tell them that it was bedtime for them, as well as for us. It also made me happy in my choice to be an author. Children love books. They love to read, to imagine, to dream, to cuddle, to laugh, to discover new worlds, and to feel safe.

I will never forget that little boy, or any of those children. Especially in a day of movies, and video games, and other distractions. On a Friday night, those little kids wanted nothing more to do than read.