Take my word: I love books

I’m 5 years old, wearing a striped, blue-and-green Danskin outfit. As I walk toward my kindergarten teacher’s desk, I feel excited. Mrs. Stuchio pulls out the little plastic chair and tells me to sit. I place my workbook on the table and begin. “A pig can jig,” I recite. “Excellent,” she says. “Go on.”

As I read the words and look at the pigs, I feel strong, smart . . . happy.

I don’t remember much else about that 1974 day at the Hills School in Dix Hills, but when I realized that sounding out letters on a page allowed me to read an entire story, I was hooked.

As a child, I had a busy life: birthday parties at an East Northport crafts store and the Commack Roller Rink; soccer games; guitar and piano lessons; riding bikes with friends; and story times at the Half Hollow Hills Community Library. I can still hear the librarian reading “Make Way for Ducklings.” My favorite place, though, was in my pink-and-orange bedroom snuggled up with a book.

When I was old enough to read chapter books, I couldn’t get enough of them. “Harriet the Spy,” “All-of-A-Kind Family,” anything by Judy Blume. Then I graduated to Danielle Steel and Sidney Sheldon. Back then, the “young adult” genre didn’t exist; I went straight from family breakfast scenes to love stories, like “Evergreen” by Belva Plain. The times I was lucky enough to visit Book Revue in Huntington, I was thrilled by the possibilities as I ran my fingers across the book spines. Years later, I took my own children there.

At Candlewood Junior High School, English became my favorite class. I have vivid memories of Mrs. Ayers, with her thick bob, reading “The Cask of the Amontillado” aloud as my eighth-grade classmates and I sat mesmerized by her deep, emotive voice. At Half Hollow Hills High School East, my 10th-grade English teacher, Mr. Alford, was a strict man who wore suits and sweater vests. We had a rigid schedule of spelling tests and book reviews that we recorded in black-and-white composition notebooks. I loved the structure.

In subsequent English classes, my teachers assigned strenuous books (“The Stranger,” “A Tale of Two Cities”) and complex research papers. For the first time, I felt book-related anxiety.

After getting my college degree in English and working at seventeen magazine, books called again: I left to get my teaching certification.

As a new English teacher in Manhattan, I stressed the importance of immersive reading. Annotations, I feel, break the momentum; I encouraged students to read without distractions. Years later, after raising my three children, I taught English, filling in for teachers on leave at Half Hollow Hills High School West. “Sustained silent reading,” during which students spent entire periods reading, was integral to my curriculum.

Today, as a librarian at Manhasset High School, I promote reading with enthusiasm. For a recent ninth-grade class, I created a “reading workout.” Students sampled books spread across tables and read with no agenda. I’d never seen them more engaged.

Looking back on my literary path, I recall the joy from that kindergarten day. I dream of a school curriculum centered around books. For now, I’ll keep getting lost in reading and use my platform as a librarian to share my passion.

Reader Karin Greenberg lives in Dix Hills.