Book Police

Aimee loves to read. Actually, that may be one of the hugest understatements of the decade, as Aimee lives, breathes, eats, and drinks reading. I often have to remind her not read while walking, or to read during a family meal. If we're not paying attention, she will read instead of doing her morning list (i.e. getting dressed!), and will read until she is propping her eyes open late into the night hours. I love reading, too, and I completely understand how she feels (even though she vigorously insists that I can't possibly know how much she NEEDS to read). I remember when I was a girl, my dad woke us up at a certain time, and we had half an hour to get ready and be in the kitchen for breakfast. I would read for 25 minutes, then hurriedly throw some clothes on and make my bed, sometimes requiring a stern knock or two on my door as a reminder.

So I am sympathetic when I find a reading Aimee in her room having done nothing at all that I've asked her to do, or when I've asked her to put a book down and come help me with something - and within a minute or two, the book magically reappears in her hands. I know the pull, and I'm still not immune to it, and we are working (still, and probably forever) on a happy compromise between the necessity of belonging to the hum-drum of ordinary life, and being lost in all the joys and delights of reading.

But it seems that we are faced with a challenge now that I have only thought of in passing once or twice before. In the earliest days of Aimee's private reading, I knew all the books she was reading, or if I hadn't read them myself, it was fairly easy to look through them if there was a question of their suitableness. Even these days, she's been sticking to a couple of series that hav seemed completely innocuous, and I've been providing her with regular supplements of meatier literature with which I am familiar. But she's had such a large volume of books lately, and she's read them so quickly, that I haven't been able to read through everything she's brought home. She's still reading through the Dear America series (how many books do they have, anyway?), and while I think they are rather "fluffy" sometimes, their historical settings seem to lend them some merit, and I haven't seen anything objectionable in them yet. But she picked up one at our last trip that caught my eye. Its time period was more recent, marked by a good many controversial and politically- and socially-charged events. It's not that I want to entirely shield her from all historical events that were dificult or controversial, but there are some things that I would like to be careful in the way the kids are introduced to them. And that's not to say I want to present those things in the light of one opinion; rather, in most instances, I want to look at events and people in an impartial light. In other words, just the facts, ma'am - and then the kids can process that information through the worldview that we've been striving to give them, ultimately developing their own ideas and decisions. What I don't want is for my extremely passionate and impressionable daughter to read a book - yet, anyway - that layers historical facts with strong opinion and even propoganda - oh, yes, and not mention one that broaches certain general life subjects that said daughter and myself haven't yet. When I read this particular book, I was very much wishing I had caught it when she first brought it home, but by the time I read through it, it looked like she had already read it. It's just going to happen that she will read and see things that I'd rather she didn't, I know, but it did bring to my attention that I feel we need some way to filter the books she's going to bring home. As far as she knows, the juvenile fiction section of the library is all fair game, but that simply isn't going to be true. I don't want to be the book police, and stand at the door scrutinizing every item before she takes it into her room, and I do want to trust her to be able to use some critical reading skills - but she is only 9 (almost), and I think I still have a responsibility to protect her still-developing mind. The trick is to use a gentle filter that isn't threatening and doesn't make her feel bad about her choices. Is that possible? Any thoughts from out there, anyone?