story time

there are so many things i miss about elementary school: recess. no homework. workbooks. multiple-person desks. indoor recess. games like 'around the world' and 'heads up, seven up.' snack trades at lunch. but what i miss the most about those years is story time.

story time was always the most tranquil part of the day. the teacher sat on one of the kid chairs at the front of the room and we gathered around on the carpet at his or her feet. in the younger grades, they'd hold up the book in the hand-cramping, outward facing way so we could see the pictures. that was nice, but our attention spans then were minimal at best and they read very short stories. story time really got good in fourth and fifth grade, when they could branch out to longer books and didn't bother with the pictures.

i've always loved listening to someone read aloud. my mom read to us when we were kids, and there's something very comforting and magical about lying around and imagining what they're describing. and besides, during story time you could always do something else, like have your hair braided in a fancy french braid while the teacher was speaking -- until she looked over and snapped something like, 'this isn't a beauty parlor, girls.'

the most vivid memory i have of the story time is in fifth grade, which seems a little old for gathering on the carpet, but really is a perfect age for this sort of thing. during the other stories, i had been busy weaving the laces of keds sneakers in a cool pattern for all of my friends. but then mrs. huffman announced she was going to read us 'Bridge to Terabithia,' by Katherine Paterson and warned us that she'd make use of the box of tissues she placed down by her feet.

she wasn't kidding. for some reason that story resonated with me so much that even now, 16 years later, i can recall certain scenes with vivid clarity, down to the cinematography, slow motion sequences and the music i imagined would have been playing in the background. i was so caught up in Terabithia that i couldn't even concentrate on shoelaces or even getting the hang of that fishbone braid.

this weekend, as i was driving home from a barbeque and trying not to scratch my mosquito bites, i thought of how much i loved listening to stories. i was flipping the channels and happened to catch (npr) chicago public radio's program, 'Stories on Stage.' i had heard this show before, years ago, probably on some friday night when i was stuck in traffic on my way into the city. (why they always play the best stuff at prime times is beyond me) and i had been so enchanted that i didn't even notice when the gridlock opened up.

basically it's an actor reading someone's story aloud, usually with voices. the one i happened to catch this time was called, 'Harold,' written by Sara Gmitter and read by Kevin Gudahl.

it made me miss an exit on the way home, but it was worth it.