Friends of the Newark Free Library

Libraries have been a major influence in my life since I could hold a book.  They have opened worlds and cultures that I would never have otherwise experienced.  In my seventeen years, the services I've needed and what I've learned from my local library have changed and evolved.  Similarly, libraries and the services they provide have changed.  Libraries and I have entered a co-evolution with each other, for which I am incredibly thankful. The libraries and their librarians in my life have always provided what I needed, and opened my mind to much more.

When I was young, my parents, who were still students, and I lived in Philadelphia.  Although we were poor, we lived only a few blocks from a local library.  We would visit several times a week.  One summer they had a program where parents could take out up to a hundred books and keep them all summer. We pulled home piles and piles of books in our little red wagon—free books, mine for the whole summer!

When we moved to Rochester, NY, Rochester had a "toy library," one of the programs sponsored by President Bush's Points of Light program to bring educational toys to socio-economic groups that wouldn't otherwise have access to them.  The toy library was like a big living room ringed with fantastic toys. The parents socialized and attended educational programs while the kids played, and at the end you got to take home one of the toys for the week.  The wooden letter blocks and puzzles, and building toys, and dollhouses we borrowed from there provided me with an ever-changing assortment of high quality educational playthings in addition to books.

We lived briefly in a town in south-eastern Pennsylvania, where the library was dismal, drastically under funded, and under stocked.  My parents and I were disappointed.  They hadn't realized some communities had libraries like this, and they learned a valuable lesson; check out the local libraries before you buy a house. When we moved to Delaware eight months later, they chose a house equidistant from three libraries, Hockessin, Kirkwood and Newark, and subsequently I've been a frequent visitor to all three.

     When I was little, I was an avid reader.  I had learned to read at three and by seven I was able to independently read Harry Potter.  During the summer, I would check out, read, and return scores of books, thanks mostly to the summer reading incentive programs sponsored by the libraries.  I loved the prizes! Yes, looking back they were just stickers, pencils, plastic toys and the occasional slice of pizza, but they were a huge motivation to me.  With two special-needs younger siblings, summer camp was a luxury we simply could not afford. Instead, I took joy in sitting in the aisles of the children's section, trying to read the entire Redwall series in a week, and attending programs and activities.

     The county library system offered many summer children's performances and programs. I saw many shows, plays, movies, did crafts, played games, and listened to countless stories.  One program that had a major impact on me was the Hockessin Library's French lessons.  I was around eight at the time, and I loved it.  The fun I had there and the love of foreign languages that I acquired there led me to choose French as my first choice language in high school.  I am now in third year Honors French, a member of the French National Honors Society, and I have an A+ in the class.

My love of literature was highly influenced by my middle-school librarian, Ms. Rockett.  She introduced me to the works of Shakespeare, and dragged me kicking and screaming into the drama club, where I learned to love the theater.  I continued in drama club for the next three years, competed in Shakespeare competitions, and won several awards.  I remember her shoving a copy of Macbeth into my hands during a rehearsal, saying that I would have read almost all of Shakespeare's works by the time I graduated.  I certainly read a lot of Shakespeare.  Ms. Rockett changed me from a person reading J.K. Rawling and Brian Jacques into one reading Gregory Maguire and F.Scott Fitzgerald.  Because of her involvement in my literary life, I have performed in my high school's theater productions.  Because of her influence and direction, I have no fear of public speaking, a plethora of knowledge of the theater, and a greater appreciation for classical works of literature.

The library introduced me to cultures and worlds I otherwise would have never known.  Through my constant scouring of the shelves, I have learned right from wrong, good from evil, epic from ordinary, what a true piece of classic literature The Great Gatsby is, and from Tolkien, why we must protect the innocent.  I have given books a chance even when I didn't like the cover because it was awarded a Newberry prize.  I have learned to have an' educated palate when it comes to literature.  The library's other collections have expanded my cultural literacy as well.  Similarly, my appreciation of art has grown due to my opportunity to check out works of art from the library. The framed paintings used to change week to week in our house as my family would return one and bring home another; we would learn about that work and the artist who produced it. I now love going to orchestral concerts and art museums, and have the ability to appreciate and understand what I am seeing.

My ideal college library would be one much like Widener Library at Harvard University, the largest University library system in the world.  Widener has millions of books stored in it's hallowed halls, on every topic imaginable.  It carries special collections in foreign languages, and employs over a hundred highly trained experts including people who work only in translating texts. With its classic architecture and columned entrances, Widener has great external visual appeal and beckons one to enter and learn.  The interior features newly-renovated rooms, a large amount of study space, and more books than anyone could read in a lifetime. Widener offers both large and small group study spaces, as well as individual carrels that are rented out to graduate students.  They also have many available computers as well as Internet access available. They have quiet reading areas away from the noise and commotion of the many people who use this library.  The librarians are highly protective of the volumes entrusted to their care and take measures to ensure their safety, such as not allowing food, drink, photography, or smoking, and restricting access to Harvard students and faculty only.

Everyone has a place that makes him or her feel that they have been transported to a magical province.  The library is mine.  I am eternally thankful for the libraries (and all those who support them) and their effects on my life.  Without them, my passions for literature, language, history, classical music, Broadway show tunes, and world values would not have developed.  For example, I read Wicked by Gregory Maguire in the seventh grade.  After finishing this book, I heard that it had been turned into a musical. I immediately searched the title on the library's computer and found not only had the soundtrack to the show, but also a "behind the scenes" book. I devoured both and begged my parents for tickets the show as a Christmas present. I saw the show, and have subsequently read Maguire’s Son of a Witch and A Lion among Men.  I also read his other works, and was fascinated by the way he drew fairy tale stories into realistic historic events.  My access to CD's and Broadway show tunes at my library has contributed to my love of Broadway shows, theater, and show tunes.  Because of my exposure to these things, I have seen about a dozen Broadway shows, and have become highly interested in how musical theater has developed over time.  Although not everyone has an iPod full of show tunes, I do, thanks to the influence of libraries' collections.  I greatly appreciate what libraries have provided for me in the past. I am thankful for how they help me now, and I know they will continue to be a presence in my life in the future as my interests widen and deepen.

The Light of Literature

2008 John Wriston Scholarship Essay

Stephanie Bonner

                                   Newark High School

            I was the little girl who read by the light of anything that gave off light.  To this day, I believe that I’ve worn glasses since second grade because I would crouch in between my bed and the wall where my night light was and, holding the book about three inches away, read until I heard footsteps coming up the stairs at who-knows-what-time.  I would read by the headlights of the cars behind ours, holding my arms above my head to see when brightly-lit shopping centers were not in proximity to the page.  I would bring books with me to parties and dances.  My friends and family would check me for books when we left the house; consequently, I found a number of ways to hide books on my person.  Just one book was never enough; I’d have a pile by my bed of everything I was then reading—a stack that was always falling over.  My backpack was made heavy by the books I read for fun before I ever even had textbooks.  Today, my bookshelf is approximately the same size as my bed.  It all started because I thought I was short at age eight. 

            Etta J. Wilson elementary school has quite a large library.  It is placed at the center of the ground level floor, classrooms surrounding it and students constantly filing through it to get to other parts of the building.  The three things I remember most vividly about the room are that it is generally circular, freezing, and it has a high ceiling.   My perception of being short made me feel as if the whole world was contained in this room; but it also gave me the then-negative idea that because the whole world was contained within the room, and the world is quite a large and complex place to an eight-year-old, I felt that there were only certain books that I was “fit” or “able” to read at the time.  Looking back, I see that this has had the positive effect of increasing my respect for the sheer amount of knowledge that can be tapped from a library; and my delight with the books I read in elementary school allowed me to assume that all books would be as engrossing as the thick, yellow, hardcover books of folklore from around the world that I used to read obsessively.

            I still enjoy such stories; indeed, I wrote my junior research paper on Grimm’s fairy tales, from their conception to collection to circulation.  This affinity for all things imaginative has had a myriad of influences on my life, both academic and personal.  For instance, a child such as myself with a Unitarian Universalist upbringing is encouraged to understand many of the major world religions; and reading has given me a broader perspective of how the world could be.  Science fiction has broadened my perspective of the possible far-reaching effects of technology if we only stretch out our arms enough.  My love of biology in particular has benefited from such visual thinking, allowing me to create my own mental images of the way, for instance, a cell’s dynamic inner machinery works.  Books were written, to my mind, for the express purpose of allowing me to see things I would not come across naturally and enabling me to probe deeper into the existence of that which I do experience day-to-day. 

            This idea of journeying through worlds of words also came from a program called Cybersurfari that I joined in elementary school.  The librarian, Ms. Koria, sponsored the activity, which aimed to benefit the school computer labs by having students compete in a virtual treasure hunt that enabled them to learn how to successfully “surf” the web and learn about various topics.  Cybersurfari was a race among schools—the program started on a specific date at a specific time and then we were off.  Ms. Koria had a large binder of the clues and questions that the participants had to decode and discover online.  The first few questions were easy, but they progressed in difficulty level the further down the list one went.  When we approached deadlines, everyone would work on the final one or two questions that seemed impossible to first decode orally and then find online.  Although we each worked alone at a computer, we would share ideas and news (“it’s not this link,” “maybe it could mean…” etc.), calling across the room: one of the only times Ms. Koria would allow such behavior.  My most vivid memory is of when I was the one to find that last question that everyone was working on, the whole room crowding around my discovery and displaying excitement as only third and fourth-graders can. 

Such community is deeply rooted in my awareness of myself.  Teenagers often cannot remember when they developed a particular trait or liking for something, but as I write this essay, I know that the first time I experienced such a combination of friends, productivity and community was in my elementary school library; followed by a Montessori school of approximately one hundred students ranging from age eight to thirteen.  At Newark Center for Creative Learning, my interest in writing grew until I graduated eighth grade with twelve other students, convinced of two things: my two best friends would be so for the rest of our lives and that I was destined to become a novelist.  Over the high school years I met many people who have subtly altered these convictions for the better, one of whom was another librarian.

            Linda Brizendine began working with my church youth group after we had completed our Coming of Age program.  At the time she was a substitute teacher for Charter School of Wilmington and Cab Calloway School of the Arts and since then she has earned a full time job as a journalism teacher and co-librarian for Charter.  Linda seems to me to be the epitome of all things literary.  While, as a teacher, she uses many specific means to increase others’ proficiency in the English language, I especially value her for her less formal power to expand the way I think by way of her natural interest in anything medieval, our shared love of discussion, and the fact that we both take pleasure in the natural world and home-based activities such as cooking and knitting.  Beyond these seemingly trivial details, Linda is like a second (or third) mother to me and certainly a companion in the drawn-out journey of a love of literature.

            Having a full bookcase is like having a crowd of friends at hand whenever they’re needed.  Wake up from a nightmare and right there, within reach is a soothing voice that wipes away all memories in the pleasure it imparts.  Stuck somewhere with nothing to do, a book will draw its reader into its world of endless possibilities for action.  One cannot possibly describe all the virtues encompassed by paper and printer’s ink.  In the history of human consciousness, the availability of knowledge has been vital. But libraries are more even than that: they are how we have passed on human reasonings and imaginings.  Without libraries, such things would be left untapped and untold, unable to aid in drawing our civilization forward.