Ask A Librarian: Answers You Won't Get From Google: Part 4

I am beginning to wonder if I will get all the questions answered. But I will push on, headed now mostly into the more personal questions I received.

I begin with Arden, who has, so far, asked two questions. The second question was, "Are you going to answer our questions?" Her first question was, "How could you, as the school librarian, connect what you do in the library to today's student and their achievement and the Common Core standards?"

To answer the second question first: Yes.

First answer to the first question: Huh?

Second answer to the first question: Almost everything I do in the library, from the books to the STEM labs to Battle of the Books practice to letting y'all come in during lunch and recess (when I feel like it) connect's to today's students. After all, yesterday's students have moved on and tomorrow's students are not here yet. Of course, today's students aren't here at the moment, either.

And about the Common Core standards: The library is about putting good books in the hands of its patrons. It's also about creating a welcoming place for all students and staff. To the extent that you all read good books, the library supports student achievement on Common Core tests.

Unfortunately for all of us, the testing-industrial complex that produced the Common Core is not nearly as welcoming as your local library.

Nathan Bales wants to know, "Does Hagrid die? I have read all of the Harry Potter books but I never hear about Hagrid in the last one."

Nathan, I of course know the answer, and I would love to tell you. But that would break the "No Spoilers!" clause of the librarian's oath. Even librarians have their secrets, I'm afraid.

Farah askes, "Would you arther go see the core of the earth or see the sun close up and why?

This is easy: I would journey to the center of the earth. In fact, Journey to the Center of the Earth is the title of a Jules Verne novel that has been made into several movie versions, including a 1959 production that starts Gertrude the Duck. That's right - a duck. If you know this librarian, you know that ducks rule.

In a continuation of games designed to ease the boredom of long family car trips, Colton asks, "If you could have lunch with one person dead or alive, who would it be?"

Colton, I am going to rule out lunch with dead people, since digging up their bodies would probably upset their families and quite possibly get me arrested. I suppose I could go to their grave sites, if there is one, and eat lunch, but the conversation would be a little one-sided: "So, Bill Shakespeare, why did you decide to stop producing plays when you were at the height of your popularity." Bill: Nothing, which is what he's been saying since he died 400 years ago.

So the living person I would choose to have lunch with is my muse, Bugs Bunny. He's smart, funny, and probably has great stories about outwitting Elmer Fudd.

Nikki was full of questions: A genie grants three wishes; what do I wish for? If superpowers are an option, which one? "What is the funniest memory you can remember?" "What is your greatest fear?"

That's a lot of questions. OK, for the three wishes, including one superpower: 1) hiking shoes so comfortable I don't even know they are on; 2) a bottomless cup of chai, flavored just right with mild and honey, that never gets too cold or too hot; 3) Eagle-like vision. I've had to wear glasses since third grade, and I am tired of having them fog up, slip down my nose, and be a general nuisance. Shoot, I'd settle for plain old perfect human vision with no need for lenses at all.

With regard to funny memories, I have images of laughing so hard that my stomach hurt, or I couldn't stop, or I snorted milk through my nose. But these are the funniest memories I can't remember: times when something hysterically funny happened but I can't now remember what it was.

I do clearly remember when two friends, Ed and Kathie, visited for several weeks one summer. Kathie and my sister built a great fort, complete with a door and a roof. It was clearly secure against any pine cone attacks.

Ed, my brother Greg, and I offered to test the fort. But not before we hid several gallons of water nearby. Once Pam and Kathie were in the fort, one of us leaned against their very well-made door while two of us emptied several gallons of water on them.

As I ran away, perhaps faster than I have ever run in my life, my greatest fear was that Pam and Kathie would catch me and beat me with sticks from their fort.

My greatest fear is that Pam and Kathie are still plotting revenge. They've had about 45 years to plan, after all.

Annora wondered what the best book is that I have read, and what my favorite book is, that I can remember. (Nikki suggested I had read so many books that I couldn't remember what my favorite one is).

I used to be able to answer this question easily. When I was in fifth grade, I would have chosen a Hardy Boys mystery; in eighth grade, and ninth and probably tenth, it was Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. In high school I might have mentioned The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula LeGuin, Dune, by Frank Herbert, or The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck, while in college I probably would have said Gravity's Rainbow, by Thomas Pynchon.

Yes, I'm avoiding the question. So I'll just choose Bleak House, by Charles Dickens. It has at least two love stories (one of them tragic), an orphan heroine, a Lady with a secret that an unscrupulous lawyer attempts to discover, a legal dispute that has spanned several generations, a kindly uncle, a nefarious con man, a murder, and a character who spontaneously combusts. You can't go wrong with Dickens, kids.

Catherine H., who in an earlier post asked about curing writer's block, asked, "Why do you collect rubber ducks?"

Actually, Catherine, I don't collect rubber ducks. Not exactly. Nearly ten years ago, when I first started teaching in a middle school, I was at first puzzled and then annoyed by the fact that I couldn't get students to stop messing with my stapler and tape dispenser.

"Distract them," suggested my wife. "Give them something else to mess around with." She gave me a few rubber ducks and a small globe made of whiteboard material, and over the years I have added stuffed animals. Lately, students have been adding ducks - lots of ducks. And origami figures. And a tiny pair of ice skates that look like a Christmas tree ornament. More recently, a student named Jocelyn brought in some rubber fish.

As the photo makes clear, there are no staplers or tape dispensers in sight, which means students leave them alone.

Of course, I can no longer find my stapler or tape dispenser, but at least there are the rubber ducks to distract me from my loss.

Jocelyn, who brought in the rubber fish to go with the rubber ducks, asked, "Why are rubber fish appreciated in your rubber duck pond?"

I like to think that the rubber fish bring a bit of rubber species diversity to the duck pond. Sure, we call it the duck pond, but let's face it: a little diversity in plastic species is good for all of us. Besides, the fish are cute and they keep the ducks from getting too big for their feathery britches.

Kizzy went for the always reliable color and pet questions: "what is yur fave color? have u ever had any pets? if so, what kind, how many and what was yur fave?"

Kizzy, my wife says that it doesn't matter what my favorite color is, since I have so much trouble matching colors in the clothes I wear. She has a point.

I've had a few pets in my life. When I was a kid, we had a German shepherd and, later, a stray that just kind of settled into the family. My wife and I had a couple of cats, years ago, but have not had any pets since one disappeared in a torrential Ohio thunderstorm and they other died years later, shortly after we moved to Montana. Favorites? I honestly can't say.

OK, folks, I think that I'm all caught up with your questions. Let me know if I missed any!