In prepping for class tonight, I’ve re-read one of my favorite books about reading and kids, Daniel Pennac’s The Rights of the Reader.

Here is why I love it so:
(I dare you not to choke up, at least a little.)

"… that ritual of reading every evening at the end of the bed when they were little — set time, set gestures — was like a prayer. A sudden truce after the battle of the day, a reunion lifted out of the ordinary. We savored the brief moment of silence before the storytelling began, then our voice, sounding like itself again, the liturgy of chapters…. Yes, reading a story every evening fulfilled the most beautiful, leas selfish, and least speculative function of prayer: that of having our sins forgiven. We didn’t confess, we weren’t looking for a piece of eternity, but it was a moment of communion between us, of textual absolution, a return to the only paradise that matters: intimacy."

" ‘Again, again…’ really means ‘We must love each other, you and I, if this one story, told and retold, is all we need.’ Reading again isn’t about repeating yourself; it’s about offering fresh proof of a love that never tires."

"In French slang we talk about being ‘tied to’ a book. Figuratively speaking, a big book is a ‘brick.’ Untie yourself, and the brick becomes a cloud."

"As a teacher, you will only patch up your student’s relationship with reading on one condition: that you ask for nothing in return. Nothing. Don’t bombard them with information. Don’t ask any questions. Don’t add a single word to what you’ve read. No value judgements, no glossing the meaning of difficult words, no textual analysis, no biographical information… Reading as a gift. Read and wait. Curiosity is awakened, no forced."

See what I mean?