Thanks to MoonCatBlue for blogging about this topic. While I was typing this out, more than one title in Spanish came to mind (i.e. Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez), but for the sake of time/translations (plus patience quotient), I decided to go with all English titles (although there are more than two titles here that have been translated to more than one language). 

Okay, so, the 15 books that come to mind without really over analyzing my choices are as follows:

The Trumpet of the Swan  --One of the first books I understood in English.  I was in primary school and I distinctly remember that the words in English were no longer a labor to read, but they came alive.

Where the Sidewalk Ends--  My primary teacher would read the book to us when it was the end of the day or when it was rainy outside.  I can still read this book and laugh...and I'd like to think I am honoring my teacher by reading this book to my students now.  A favorite of mine and one that I read to my students.

The Diary of Anne Frank-- I read this as part of a class and then I read it again, for my own sake.  One of the messages that resonate with me, that in spite of everything, Anne believed in humanity.

The Indian Fan--  When I was in high school I don't know how, but I read this book. I've read several times now.  I'd like to think I'm a bit of a Drusilla.  Someone who is not necessarily the center of attention (nor wants to be), but knows she has the ability to survive and despite the circumstances, enjoy her life.

Wuthering Heights--  High school as well.  I remember I typed an essay on this book.  I got an A+ on it.  It was titled "Vengeance is not sweet, but sour with a twist of lime".   

Go Ask Alice-- A mother of one of my junior high school friends gave this book to me.  She said she gave it to me so I would not have to be another Alice.  My friend and I were far removed from the lifestyles in the book, but in reading the book, the idea stuck with me that no matter who you are, you can have that moment of weakness that will have so many negative ramifications on your life.

The House on Mango Street-- This is in college.  This is when I was aware that I did not have to choose between one culture or the other in my writing.  I became aware that I could write about both and although that may not be the norm, it was no longer a choice I had to worry about.

Dreaming in Cuban-- Also college.  I like the different characters having an opportunity to voice their opinions via chapters.  I not only saw it as a gem as far as storytelling, but I also was looking at it from an analytical perspective.  It made think of my own writing as well.

The Silence of the Lambs-- On a cold, dark fall day I decided to sit at the LA Public Library and read this book in one seating.  I read it all.  It gave me goosebumps to the point where I had to look up to make sure the library had not gone dark on me. I could very well hear the doctor say, "Hellooo, Carmen".

Where the Wild Things Are--  A childhood favorite.  I also read it to my students.  Personally, I was ecstatic when a line (That night a forest grew) was used to title one of the episodes of Showtime's Dexter.  I got the symbolism.

She's Come Undone-- Another book I read in one seating.  I like books that captivate you, hold your attention, and don't let go.

Romeo and Juliet--  We had one of those postmodern English teachers in high school.  Someone who taught not only how to write, but how to write well.  Someone who did not adhere to the way of doing things. I remember that after reading this play, we were asked to go and see the film starring Leonardo and Claire.  See, now you can calculate my age.   We had to write an essay on both and for me it was not an assignment, I just kept on typing.

Native Speaker--  If I could write one book like this, I would be done. I would be able to live out my days in peace.

The essays written by Thoreau--  I think back to those idealistic, high school days.

There is a Nightmare in my Closet--  My kids (students) like me reading this one to them over and over.

 

I am talking about prefixes and suffixes; I am thinking we are making progress since students are giving me examples. One of my first-grade students raises his hand. He asks:

 “Why did the members of Kiss take their make-up off?”

 He is more than interested in the band as evidenced by his impromptu Gene Simmons impersonation.  In the middle of the rug.  With all his classmates around.  I am tempted to take a picture of him, but I don’t.  My picture will only ignite an already burning fire. He asks me more questions about Kiss.  I am not a Kiss fan, I confess to my student.  I think I know one or two songs.  He tells me that it's okay with a hint of pity. I'm not sure why, but I think I've lost some type of contest. I tell him to research and research he will.  I am sure of it.  A while ago, when we talked about habitats, he started asking about sharks. I told him what I could, but ran out of information.  He went to research.  Days later, in the middle of a polygon PowerPoint presentation my student said in a matter of a fact tone, “You know, when sharks eat a lot they go into what is called a ‘feeding frenzy’”.  Then, he proceeded to tell me that his favorite polygon was an octagon. My student later shared shark books with us. He asked his family to buy him books on sharks.  With pictures. Lots of pictures. 

I wonder if his family will buy him books about Kiss.

   

We have arrived to a momentous day.  We have, ladies and gentlemen, arrived at the 100th day of school.  My kids made necklaces out of cereal.  They would count in groups of ten and repeat the operation quietly, ceremoniously.  I even heard one kid shush another kid.  This was serious business. I caught more than one of my kids eating the cereal though.  They would put on a poker face and then burst out laughing.  "It's all right man," I said, "as long as you did not lose count".  They would stop laughing and go back to the task at hand.

Friday morning I was reminded of one of the perks of teaching elementary, primary grades to be exact.  I was showered with lovely gifts, but lovelier still were the hugs I got.  I was rather the proud mama bear when I got handwritten notes from my kids.  "I love you" written in the best letter formation they could muster. I gave lots of hugs and we celebrated with cupcakes at the end of the day courtesy of E.

One of my kids called me aside.  How odd, I thought.   

"I have something special for someone special next door," he said. 
Ah. 
"My mom said I should talk to you about it." 
Oh boy. 
"What would you like me to do?" I asked foreshadowing my role as Cupid. 
"I would like you to deliver this gift". 

The gift was a flower pot, pink little flowers that were eye catching and had not fully blossomed.  I opened the connecting door.  I excused myself with the neighboring teacher and made my delivery.  I whispered into the little girl's left ear the name of the sender.  She said thank you in a hushed voice.  I sent my class to the rug and called my student.  I told the little girl to wait by the connecting door.  Her classmates were busy elsewhere. I told her to say thank you in person...and she did. My student came back blushing, but happy. 

I always see the innocence of childhood, but there are some clear moments where I get the chance to be a witness to a child's total belief in the world.  Despite its roller coaster tendencies, teaching lets me be part of their world. If there is a fountain of youth, I think I have found it in teaching.