Jiya Kohar Week 7: #tbt (Throwback Thursday)
The other day in Mrs. Smith’s room, I wasn’t really thinking about anything. I walked in, half awake, kind of annoyed at the day already, and stopped. From the corner of my eye, I could see someone lunging at me with full force. The next thing I knew, he hit me hard and fast as I felt the knife pierce right into the middle of my heart. As I tried to catch my breath, I turned to get a better look at the perpetrator: the Scholastic Book Fair pamphlet sticking out beside the class and homework bin. Before I could even form a solid thought, he grabbed my collar and yanked me back in time.
The room around me flickered out, and I felt like I was falling down multiple flights of stairs. One second I was trying to catch my breath, and the next I was standing right in the middle of my elementary school’s library. Boy, oh boy, I could just feel the knife digging in deeper by the second.
Everything was exactly how it used to be, down to the perfect multicolored carpet that we used to pluck the fibers from. I hadn’t thought about that pattern in years, but seeing it again made me sick to my stomach. The warm air passed through my wounds, and the soft lighting made time seem slower.
My eyes shot up to the posters. Geronimo Stilton was riding a mythical Western Dragon and Greg Heffley was staring at me with a rare smile. They waved to me as they were illuminated with the same magic as when I was a kid.
The noise came in next. I heard the melody of overjoyed children marching in and chairs scraping. The smell accompanied them. New books. Fresh paper.
I could see myself moving through the tables. I tried to hold on tightly to all five senses, taking mental pictures of all the untouched books, bins of posters, and piles of toys. I felt pocket-sized in the vastness of the fair and circled almost everything, even though I knew I wouldn’t get most of it.
As I ran my fingers through all the new exciting books, I was reminded of how much I enjoyed reading my Dork Diaries and I Funny’s. I forgot how easy it used to be to get pulled into another world. It was strange thinking back to how much my classmates and I were built by these walls of stories, and how an entire country of children used to be united through the same experiences.
The library faded out just as fast as it appeared. Someone brushed past me in the classroom, and it was gone. I was back, with the same sting in my heart, but without the matching external wound. As I snapped back to reality, I put the pamphlet back down and continued to my desk. I tried to focus on something else, but knew it wouldn’t be long before the gash would reopen.
Image Citation
The room around me flickered out, and I felt like I was falling down multiple flights of stairs. One second I was trying to catch my breath, and the next I was standing right in the middle of my elementary school’s library. Boy, oh boy, I could just feel the knife digging in deeper by the second.
Everything was exactly how it used to be, down to the perfect multicolored carpet that we used to pluck the fibers from. I hadn’t thought about that pattern in years, but seeing it again made me sick to my stomach. The warm air passed through my wounds, and the soft lighting made time seem slower.
My eyes shot up to the posters. Geronimo Stilton was riding a mythical Western Dragon and Greg Heffley was staring at me with a rare smile. They waved to me as they were illuminated with the same magic as when I was a kid.
The noise came in next. I heard the melody of overjoyed children marching in and chairs scraping. The smell accompanied them. New books. Fresh paper.
I could see myself moving through the tables. I tried to hold on tightly to all five senses, taking mental pictures of all the untouched books, bins of posters, and piles of toys. I felt pocket-sized in the vastness of the fair and circled almost everything, even though I knew I wouldn’t get most of it.
As I ran my fingers through all the new exciting books, I was reminded of how much I enjoyed reading my Dork Diaries and I Funny’s. I forgot how easy it used to be to get pulled into another world. It was strange thinking back to how much my classmates and I were built by these walls of stories, and how an entire country of children used to be united through the same experiences.
The library faded out just as fast as it appeared. Someone brushed past me in the classroom, and it was gone. I was back, with the same sting in my heart, but without the matching external wound. As I snapped back to reality, I put the pamphlet back down and continued to my desk. I tried to focus on something else, but knew it wouldn’t be long before the gash would reopen.
Wow, you really brought me back. I remember the library being frustratingly small in my first elementary school, Stratford. Even though it was a private school, the tiniest room possible was allocated for the library, and I remember wanting there to be more options and more books. Then, from 4th grade onward, I moved to Ardenwood, and the library became my home. It felt a million times bigger and I would check out numerous books to read at lunch every single day. It was there that I also experienced the first Scholastic Book Fair that I can remember. The library would be transformed, with colorful shelves lined with equally colorful books. There would be weird little trinkets near the front, including chocolate calculators and invisible pens. Then we all moved to online school, and my sister introduced me to ebooks. No matter what happens, books seem to follow me everywhere, and I love that. You mention that you forget how an entire country of children used to be united through the same experiences and stories. I like to still think that people, no matter how old they are, are still connected by the books that they read, and as a result, the communities that they join. Even though I don't get as much time anymore to read, there are books that I go back to whenever I can, and it feels like I'm right at home, beside everyone else who loves that book like me.
ReplyDeleteThe amount of nostalgia I got when I was reading your blog was surreal. While you were describing being sucked back into, I’m guessing, 2015, the sounds of “overjoyed children” and “chairs scraping” the floor creates such an accurate representation of the nostalgic feelings elementary school provides. I remember loving the "Scholastic Book Fair" when I was younger, with a distinct memory of taking a bite out of the scented chocolate calculators. After the Covid-19 pandemic I was heartbroken to hear about all the things that had to be left behind due to health regulations or underfunding, like Science Camp or A Walk Through History. Education is one thing but these events are what makes school exciting and encourages children to actually want to learn. As a kid we have this wild imagination which allows us to travel to “another world” with such ease. It makes us feel like whatever we can dream, we can achieve. I often miss this feeling. As we grow older our goal in school becomes more practical and deviates from the whimsical hopefulness that elementary school provided us. As I have grown older many of my extracurricular activities allow me to spend a lot of time with kids. It makes me happy to hear that things such as the Scholastic Book Fair have remained as big of a part of their childhood as it was in mine. I hope that activities like these never cease to expire in the eyes of future generations.
ReplyDeleteWow Jiya, you have just opened a can of worms. I completely forgot about the Scholastic Book Fair but my passion has been reignited. For me, I had the fair every year in elementary school until COVID-19 striked and ended this joyous occasion. It is as simple as you described, “New books. Fresh paper.” However, to the “overjoyed children” like myself, those books were worlds, new adventures I could experience wherever I went. At Warwick Elementary School, I also remember teachers having a classroom wishlist where they can request books for families to buy. These books would be used in class and helped students. Those books were like gold to me. They were verified books that are considered good but so entertaining. Geronimo Stilton was one of my childhood classics. I read too many of those books -- and even as I realized later that they were just reusing the same stories, it still is dear to my heart. Thank you for a trip on memory lane and enabling me to remember my childhood.
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