It's Banned Book Week

 

In 1971 I was a sixth-grade teacher.  At that time, I taught in a self-contained classroom.  That means I taught every subject: math, science, social studies, reading, English, spelling, handwriting, health and physical education.  That made for a very full day. 

            I set my reading instruction for the hour after lunch and part of that time was used for library reading.  One day, I noticed that a girl in the class was reading Are You There God, it’s Me Margaret by Judy Blume.  The book had been published the year before and was making quite a splash in the educational community.  I kept abreast of the Young Adult market and had read the book the previous summer.  I did not like it. I thought it was coarse, vulgar, and pandering.  But here was a good, solid student pouring over Are You There God… like it was written on stone tablets.

When I walked by Annette’s desk, I asked her if she was enjoying the book.  Her enthusiasm was obvious.  Yes, she loved the book, at which point the girl who sat behind her said that Annette had promised it to her next.  I smiled and said I was glad they had found a good book and asked them to tell me what they liked best about it when they were both finished.  What were they seeing that I had missed?

            They did and during that conversation (which took place on the playground when I was supervising recess) I accepted what they said without judgement.  I did ask them if they thought the author was talking “down” to them and they assured me she was not.  Blume wrote the way they talked.  For them it was validating.  When the whole class was reading and discussing Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, I made a point of comparing the classical language of Stevenson with the contemporary language of Blume.  In that discussion I found out two things, first as many boys as girls had read Are You There God…, second that the students had no problem accepting both ways of writing.  One student asked if maybe Stevenson’s way of writing was modern for them, just like Blume’s was modern for us.  Now that, my friends, is elevated thinking.

            When it comes to banned books, I always remember this encounter with a good student about a book I did not like.  Selection is always a better choice than censorship.  My idea of what makes a good book is not the final word.  I am one person, and art is in the eye of the beholder.  As a parent I have the right to guide my children. As a citizen I have the right to make my opinion known.  But if I want to influence others, I must couch my opinion in more than reductio ad absurdum.   Nobody is going to replace Room on the Broom for the Kama Sutra in the kindergarten class.  You simply make yourself sound silly when you say (let alone believe) things like that.

            Banning books is more than what some vague, faceless “they” don’t want your child to read; it is about what “they” don’t want you to read.  Banning is concerned with power, not piety.  It is about control.  “They” fear of the questioning mind of a literate person and I will not allow myself to be manipulated. I still find Judy Blume coarse, but she might find my writing banal.  No matter, I will defend her right to a spot in the library every time.  Annette taught me that. 

            P. S. My maiden name was Yatckoske, and The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes saved my life, so I keep the faith.