Ying Xin Jiang

Professor Janelle Poe

FIQWS: 10108 HA16

September 16, 2018

The Tides of Literature

Seven… eight… nine… and ten. My right-hand travels to turn the corner of page fifty, my other hand on my cheek. Not moving my head an inch, I quickly glance up from the book. Ms. Haystill is in her usual spot, at her desk to the left of the chalkboard. There are two stacks of paper on her desk, her red pen taps against a sheet before twirling into multiple circular motions down the paper. She furrows her eyebrows and places the sheet on top of the right pile. Like a security camera, her eyes shoot up to do a swift, but a meticulous sweep of the room. I quickly duck my head back down before she can scold me. My fingers pinch a few pages to turn them over, feigning progress. It was a fool-proof technique.

It didn’t start out like this because I tried, I really did. I’ve tried horror, sci-fi, and fantasy, the genres I was sure I would like. Eventually, I grew tired, the flame of curiosity I once had, died with the books I turned away. However, I discovered something about me during this process, and that is the fact that I really don’t care about what color little Mary’s sneakers are, I really, really, don’t. Books made me feel nothing, reading is as bland as water. I only read because I need to.

My fingers drum against the cool laminate school desk, eyes shifting to the clock near the doorway. I internally groaned, 30 minutes left.

“Row number two” Ms.Haystill called, looking in my direction.

Guess I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought. Maybe she caught me staring at the clock, or maybe she was just looking at my general direction or— I stared down at my crumpled reading log. Ah yes, that might be a small issue. According to the first column, I’ve read the same book for the past two months.

I grab my blue bookbag from behind my chair to dig out the said book. I wrestled around my ten-pound notebooks until I fished out Charlotte’s Web, or rather what’s left of it. The cover has been folded in half, along with the corners of half of the pages. It has undoubtedly been trampled on by my numerous notebooks. The people beside me let out a small howl as I attempted to unfold the cover. It wasn’t my fault that paperback books are so fragile.

I lazily stand up from my chair and shuffled over to the bookshelves that were right behind me, nice, cozy, and suffocating. It’s almost like Ms.Haystill knows I hate books, so she purposely makes me sit here so that maybe the books will grow on me. Well, I certainly feel the weight of the ten books I’m supposed to read, growing on my back, and pushing me down like a boulder. The bookshelves were divided alphabetically into sections based on reading levels. I was considered a level U, the average for a fourth grader, but something I raised my eyebrows at. Just two years ago, I would’ve been considered an ESL student, one of those kids who have their skinny reading books in ziplock bags. I casually shoved “Charlotte’s Web” back into the level T section, and skimmed the spines of the books. My hands traveled to the left. I wanted something easier this week… or month. Ms. Haystill’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“You guys should be reading books of your level or above”

I sighed, I guess I’m not rereading Junie B. Jones again. My hand drifts to the right.

“But if you really want to read a book, then a level under is ok.”

Okay, to the left slightly? I debated on just grabbing a random book and calling it a day.

However, my eyes landed on Mara Daughter of the Nile by Eloise Jarvis McGraw, and I was intrigued. I’d never seen a fictional novel based on ancient Egypt. And I’ll never forget it.

This book taught me that reading can be enjoyable. It was the first time that the characters stood out to me. Mara is the total opposite of me, but I love how she is able to speak her way out of tough situations and hold her own. I find myself spending hours of days trying to figure out how many pockets Mara has in her linen robes for her to able to hide all her loaves of stolen flatbread. Her new spy attire was even more unique, with multiple layers of colorful stylized clothes that I struggle to puzzle together. I slowly began to see the papyrus reed boats sail across the unpredictable waters of the Nile river. I felt something brew inside of me, a feeling that I now understand is pride. I not only tolerated a book, but I also enjoyed it.

Before, I felt so insecure about my reading abilities. I remember the time when I visited my cousin, Tiffany. Tiffany is a lot like Mara— smart, witty, and loves to read books. I could go on, but I don’t want to sound like my parents, who tell me this on a daily basis. I remember trying to impress her with the new vocabulary I learned from science class, the word “ligament”. However, she let me know that I mispronounced the word, and so I ended up making a fool of myself instead. After that, I always felt a feeling of inferiority when it came to reading. However, this book made me realize that I am capable of enjoying books, and made me reconsider my relationship with literature.

I was like Mara, the girl who cheated her way through life. But who would have thought that the slave girl would be able to become a duchess? Mara challenged the throne to save Egypt, despite the fact that she would be thrown to the crocodiles if she was caught. I was so afraid of even trying to test the waters in the ocean of literature. What if I drowned or got a bit if I tried? It turns out that the ocean was actually just a river. Difficult if I swam against the current, but soothing if I just let it guide me to shore.