Читать книгу They Call Me Güero - David Bowles - Страница 14

LEARNING TO READ

When I was a little kid,

my abuela Mimi would ease down

into her old, creaky rocking chair

to tell my cousins and me

such spine-tingling tales

as ever a pingo fronterizo,

crazy for cucuys, could hope to hear.

I always had questions

at the end of Mimi’s stories.

What was the little boy’s name?

What did his parents do

when they found him missing

from his room?

Is there a special police squad

that tracks down monster hands

and witch owls and sobbing spirits

in order to save the boys and girls

that they’ve stolen?

“No sé, m’ijo. The story just ends.

Happened once upon a time.

Nobody knows.”

But I didn’t get it. I was so literal.

I believed every story she told was true.

So I kept asking my questions,

guessing at answers

till she broke down at last

and told me the greatest truth:

“You have to learn to read, Güerito.

You will only find what you seek

in the pages of books.”

So I began to bug my mom

to teach me to read till she did.

I was barely five at the time.

First day of kinder arrived, and I was so excited

at all the books my sister said were waiting

on the shelves for me.

But then the teacher started drawing

the letter “A” on the board, and I soon got it—

none of the other kids could read.

She was going to teach us the alphabet

one letter per day! Not me! No way!

I dropped out of kindergarten,

little rebel that I was.

Instead, my mom took me

to the public library

every day, all year long.

I read book after book after book

delighting in the new tales,

the strange and mysterious places.

And when first grade rolled around

(not optional like kinder),

the school was so amazed at my skill

they put me in a third-grade reading class!

I got picked on, sure, but I was pretty proud

and didn’t care when kids called me nerd.

The school counselor told my folks

I can already read at college level!

And I’ve found lots of answers,

but also many new questions.

Of course I pass all the state tests

with super high scores.

Learning in class is easy for me.

Dad says all those books

rewired my brain,

got me ready

for study.

Just think—

I owe it all to those stories

my abuelita used to tell us

sitting in her rocking chair

as we shivered and thrilled.

Even then, words were burrowing

into my brain and waiting,

like larvae in a chrysalis,

to unfold their paper wings

and take me flying into the future.