Mrs. Chamberlain was the librarian in my elementary school. She was small and had short hair and was, in my third grade opinion, a bit booky. She was also very tolerant as much of my young library time was spent socializing with Sarah and Jim and Sami, and not looking at books, as suggested. Her library was large, full of comfortable chairs and tables with row after row of neatly organized books. It took me a few years to find my way but once I did, the library became my favorite place. And when I discovered the biography area, I was set. My quest then became to read biographies of all the first ladies, Abigail Adams my favorite, but thankfully there were many others from which to choose. My library was in a brand new suburban school, amply funded and well kept. There has been no librarian in Mary and Kate’s school for at least four years. The last book was purchased about six years ago. Librarians are an apparent luxury, one small schools are not afforded. Organized this summer by a crew of parents with encouragement from a new and energetic principal, the library is back in business, on very shaky, yet growing, legs. Because there is no funding for a librarian, it is staffed two days a week by parent volunteers. We shelve books, read to the children and help them check out a book, one book per week. In my two days in the library I have learned this, I know a great deal about books of interest to five, six and seven year children. My need to obsessively amass books for Mary and Kate has left me well qualified for a position reading to children up to second grade. Beyond that I am completely lost. Goosebumps? Do we have Goosebumps? Are you cold? Do you need a sweater? Today we had 9-year-old children, fourth graders, intent on finding scary books. Ramona the Pest and Henry Huggins are the extent of my repertoire, not terribly scary, but familiar to me and available in our antiquated library. Yesterday we found a dictionary published before I was born. While appreciating it’s aged quality, I struggle to find its usefulness in preparing book reports in 2009. Certainly there are days when I wish my children only needed a dictionary of words commonly used in the sixties, but the reality is that dictionaries, like libraries, need to be up to date. Perhaps the thinking is that information is now widely available on the Internet, and while that is true, there is something important and valuable in knowing how to navigate the library, and a wonderful joy to be found in opening books, turning pages, and discovering new words and worlds far from your small school on the north side of Chicago. The Chicago Public School system, clearly overburdened and faced with enormous challenges, doesn't allocate funding for a librarian, and so the task falls to the parents, who it seems are more than happy to volunteer their time. My love of books can translate into enthusiasm, but not expertise; there is far more to a library than Corduroy and Babar. Mrs. Chamberlain would know where to find scary books, just as she knew years ago to direct a young girl, who chose talking over reading, to Dolly Madison, Mary Todd Lincoln and Eleanor Roosevelt. The beagle and I are very grateful.