First words

I grew up a reader. My mom would read to me every night before I went to sleep. Every summer, I participated in the summer reading program at my local library. Each week, I would go the library, load up on books and then sit on our steps, unable to make it all the way up to my room, and read. I learned at an early age how books can change who you are, what you do and what you think. 

I live now in a country where very few books exist. (The largest collection of books I’ve seen is the library at our Parakou workstation.) In my seven months in village, I have seen one child reading for pleasure.

My students don’t even have textbooks. We have 27 English books at my middle school, but until 2 weeks ago, they were locked in a closet to which I did not have a key.

Last Friday, I got the books out for the first time during my 6eme class. I had a lesson planned about vocabulary at the market and didn’t feel the need to take the time to draw tomatoes, onions and mangoes on the board. 

I don’t know how many, but I have a suspicion that for quite a few, this was the first book they had ever seen, let alone be able to touch and read. 

Within 5 minutes of passing out the books, I knew I was not going to be able to finish my lesson. My students had become absorbed by the pictures and words, and nothing I could do would pull them back out.

I looked at my phone. We had 20 minutes left. I sat down at my desk and faded into the background. There was no need to interfere.