Mourning Charlotte

After reading posts this morning about the teachers scrambling in Florida to comply with all the new laws, and the banning of The Diary of Anne Frank in a Texas school district, I was reminded of my first-grade experience.

When I was 4 years old, my mom took me in to the school to see if they would let me start kindergarten. The school year had already started, but my big brother was in second grade, and I really wanted to go to school as well. I begged and cried until she took me in to see if I could go.

The school secretary peered over the desk at me and told my mom, “I don’t know, she’s really small. Maybe you should wait one more year”

My mom, not wanting to give up too easily, said, “Well, she can read and write.”

The secretary went and got the principal, who gave me an assessment for reading and writing. Within a few short minutes, it was decided that I could not go to kindergarten, and instead needed to start the first grade that day.

So, about 9 a.m. on that sunny day, the principal walked me down to Mrs. Wright’s class. When she opened the door and we entered the classroom, all the kids were sitting on the floor, looking up at the smiling teacher who was holding a book. After introductions, Mrs. Wright invited me to sit with the rest of the class, and then she continued reading “Charlotte’s Web”.

Now, obviously I love books. I love how words create worlds and paint pictures and make us think and spark us to feel and give us a view into things we would never see with our own eyes. I love everything about books.

I sat there listening to Mrs. Wright read Charlotte’s Web, and I had no fear that I was suddenly in “all-day school” since kindergarten was half days, and first grade was the whole day. I wasn’t worried about the kids I had never met before that seemed so much older and bigger than me. I was simply entranced by Charlotte and Wilbur and their story in that book. She read part of that book to us each day for over a week. I distinctly remember trying so hard not to cry when Charlotte died, because I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of the “big kids”.

I wonder if Mrs. Wright could have had any idea of the impact she had on me? I wonder if E.B. White ever imagined how that beautiful tale would ease a scared child into school?

And yes, Charlotte’s Web is one of the books we can find on banned books lists.

So today I find myself not just mourning Charlotte all over again but mourning for the kids who may never meet her, or Anne Frank, or Scout and Jem Finch or so many other characters whose stories shine in my memories like diamonds.

I mourn the death of Charlotte and the death of dreams and imagination and creativity and finding thoughtful approaches to understand the experience of others.

I also find a need to hope, yes, to hope and pray that this next generation of kids will find a way to sneak a book and a flashlight under the covers and overcome the obstacles being thrown in their way!