My ten-and-a-half year old son received an early Christmas gift last week from a friend of the family. Well, she’s not just a friend of the family. Several years ago, she and I taught at the same school. Now she teaches at Ryan’s elementary school, and two years ago, she was his third-grade teacher.
The gift was a surprise to us both.
It was wrapped, so as Ryan looked at it and felt it, he first thought it was an iPad. It would have been an incredibly generous, though unlikely, gift. But in his mind it was the right size.
It wasn’t an iPad. It was a book. A hardcover book. A hardcover book signed by the author. A hardcover book signed by the author and inscribed to Ryan.
And Ryan loves it.
Ryan loves it so much he whooped and hollered around the house. He proudly showed it off.
I don’t think it’s a book Ryan would have picked up on his own had we just been browsing at our local Barnes and Noble or public library. But because his teacher selected this book for him, because his teacher asked the author to sign the book for Ryan, Ryan is reading it.
It’s a beautiful testament to the power of books and putting a book in a child’s hands.