I began this quarter with a set of expectations. I thought I would be the class expert, the one who had the well-developed experiences of having already taking a quarter of children's literature. I dreamed of leading the online class in deep, thought-provoking discussions about the books I had already read and therefore knew everything there was to know about them. I pictured myself being a mini Sherri, a facilitator of greatness in learning. My well-imagined castle began falling during the first week of the quarter as I was struck with my own pride. Having one short quarter of children's literature under my belt, while an amazing experience, left me far from knowing it all. I quickly realized that this process of education never ends, and I will never “be there” at a mountaintop of full knowledge, even if I one day become a distinguished professor of children's literature.
With newfound humility about myself, I was able to dive in to a new quarter of learning. From the moment I began reading The Secret Garden, I noticed a theme to my education. While last quarter was about my discovery of children's literature, this quarter seemed to center on my personal relationship with reading. Everything I read and studied somehow landed on this idea. I spent the quarter formulating my reading habits.
I have often said in the past months that I don't want to graduate with an English degree and a distaste for reading. Last quarter I very much enjoyed the reading, but was still a bit disconnected from then. This spring, though, I had the opportunity to hand pick the books that I was interested in. This made me eager to begin each book, and once I did, I was engaged from the first page. I often read the books in one or two sittings, hardly able to put them down. I did not feel as if my reading this quarter was a set of assignments; rather, these were extensions of my own reading. On my nightstand my copy of Elijah of Buxton was stacked on top of Burned by Ellen Hopkins and Stiff by Mary Roach. Because of this integration, I found a deeper enjoyment in both my “assigned” reading and my leisure reading. All the books swirled together to create a habit of reading for both pleasure and education all at once.
Each book seemed to emphasize my desire for personal growth in my reading. I learned an important lesson from each book. Rather than sitting in a traditional classroom, the books themselves were my instructors. I did not set out to find the “moral” of each story. The lessons found me when I was ready to receive them. The Secret Garden taught me the value of a personal haven, a paradise of one's own making. I found mine curled up on my quilted duvet with a delicious work of children's literature in my hand. I found that reading was my secret garden, a world that no one was allowed to enter but me, a place where I could be myself and explore my imagination. Elijah of Buxton taught me the power of a new perspective. I have often avoided books about males or people from a different background. I felt a bit uncomfortable stepping into the shoes of someone so different from me. When I finished the book, though, I felt a kinship with Elijah, a young boy living a world away from my life. I saw through his eyes things I would not have been able to see from my reading comfort zone. The Fences Between Us taught me the importance of learning from history and admitting to the wrongs of our country. I liked to live with the idea that Americans could do no wrongs, but The Fences Between Us shattered that. I needed that to happen. When You Reach Me taught me the value of each human life-the ignored, the passed-over, the awkward. All are precious and should be treated as such. Persepolis taught me the resilience of children during tragedy and the importance of social justice work throughout the world.
As the end of the quarter and my time at Whatcom comes to a close, I have arrived at a new place. I no longer see my education in children's literature as a journey to ascertainment or success. I now see it as relationship with the books, the authors, and my fellow readers. I see that this love I have found over the last two quarters will not end now or anytime in the future. Far from being the “class expert,” I can see that I am at the beginning of all the things I will learn about these marvelous books. This childhood of mine that I have rediscovered is here to stay. Scholarship and play are bundled up in a colorful package called children's literature. I will be holding on for quite some time.
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