Working At the Book Fair: My Fantasy vs. My Reality

I'm working furiously to complete the 2009 Mini Challenge before the end of the year. Here is one of my latest task to be completed:

Go to a book event; blog about it or tell the group about it.

The book event I chose is the Scholastic Book Fair at my son's school. I volunteered to work at it while his kindergarten class picked out their books. I thought it might be amusing to write about my fantasy version of what working at the book fair would be like and then write about the reality of the book fair. Turned out, I was a little bit off in my expectations.

My Fantasy

I envisioned myself guiding small children to books that would unlock a lifelong love of reading. I would take each child by the hand and talk to them about what they liked. I would then peruse the available books with them and find the perfect book—award-winning books, lavishly illustrated books, books that sparked their imagination. Each child would be dazzled by the books I found for them. They would take them home and the book would magically come alive for them. Their imaginations would soar, the words would make sense, they would get lost inside the book and wouldn't want to come out. Because of the book I helped them find at the book fair, each child would become a lifelong reader. Years later, after they had devoured 1,000s of books, they would think back to that magical day at the book fair—when a wonderful lady helped them find the book that unlocked the magical world of reading for them.

In My Fantasy Book Fair, I Unlock the Magic of Reading

My Reality

I am assigned to three children—my son and two of his friends, Nicholas and Luke. I ask them what books they are interested in. "Bakugan!" they cry and take off at a run down the book fair aisles. "Wait for me," I cry—tripping over other shoppers. "Bakugan! Where are the Bakugan Battle Brawler books?" I hear my trio of boys shout.

I race to catch up to them and find Nicholas pawing through a table of books meant for older readers. My son is yelling "Mommy, a Transformers book. I want this!" Luke is waving his check around and saying "My mommy says I can only buy these books but I want BEN 10. Can I get it? Can I?"

I grab a pile of books before Nicholas topples them and say "Please be quiet, boys," in what is perhaps a bit louder than my regular speaking voice. "OK, now. Let's help Luke first. What is on your list?"

His list has been filled out by his mother and does not include a BEN 10 book. I tell him he can only get the books on the list that his mother approved and sent a check for. He does not see it that way. "Why don't you buy me the BEN 10 book then?" he asks. I tell him I can't but his mother did say he could get a Bakugan book. "But I want BEN 10," he whines.

While this is happening, my son is repeating "Can I get the Transformer book? Can I get the Transformer book? Can I get the Transformer book? Can I get the Transformer book? Can I get the Transformer book? Can I get the Transformer book? Can I get the Transformer book?" directly into my ear.

"SHUT UP," I hiss at him.

He gets tears in his eyes and I immediately feel like a horrible mother. I apologize, hug him and tell him I'm sorry and that he can get the Transformer book. I'm beginning to sweat. Suddenly, I realize Nicholas is nowhere to be found. "Where's Nicholas?" I ask the boys. "Over there," they scream—pointing across the book fair where Nicholas is waving his $10 bill in the air and yelling "I want to buy this. I want this one!"

I hustle the other two boys over to Nicholas, tell him he can't buy the Disney/Pixar Cars movie projector book because it costs more money that he has, and inform him that he needs to stick with me and keep his voice down.

I quickly find the approved books for Luke and tell him to stay with me while holding his books. "They are too heavy," he says. I carry Luke's books for him, clutching his check and list in my sweaty hands. I ask Nicholas if he has a list of books that his mom wants. He informs me he can "buy anything he wants." I tell him that is true but he can only spend up to $10 because that is all the money he has.

He says he wants a Bakugan book and a BEN 10 book.

Luke gets upset because Nicholas is getting the BEN 10 book.

My son is upset because I yelled at him before. He now wants the BEN 10 book even though he has never seen or heard of the cartoon before.

I tell him my son he can't get the BEN 10 book but he can the Hot Wheels book he found and now wants desperately.

I drag my three boys up the register area. Nicholas pretends he is going to put his $10 in the book return area. I snatch the bill away from him and say "I'll hold this." He begins screaming, "Give me my money! Give me my money!" I give it back to him but whisper menacingly "Then hold it and don't play with it."

At last, all three boys make their purchases. I feel a twinge of guilt for hoping that I don't have to chaperone Nicholas during the upcoming field trip.

In the end, my three boys purchased a grand total of 7 books—one BEN 10 book (based on a cartoon show), three Bakugan books (based on a cartoon show), a Transformers book (based on a movie) and a Hot Wheels book (based on a toy) and a book about cats that was on Luke's list but that I never looked at.

Not exactly the books that will unlock a lifelong love of reading.

Not exactly the dazzlingly, lavishly illustrated magical books I had in mind.

Not exactly the magical moment of connection I envisioned.

I go home and take a nap.

This Is More The Reality of the Book Fair Once Nicholas Was Done

Me at the End of the Book Fair