Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, November 21, 1995 TAG: 9511210059
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETH MACY
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Her first memory is of her mother reading that book to her and her sister before bedtime.
``It was a special time,'' Demetria Tucker says. ``We looked forward to it.
``That bond is what I most remember. You cannot get that bond from watching a video.''
Tucker is the Roanoke Library's youth services coordinator. That's her adult title, anyway; to the population she serves directly, she is simply called ``The Story Lady.''
For more than 20 years, she has been spreading out those little carpet mats, taking her seat in her big rocking chair and then opening her mouth - and minds - to the imaginative powers of the written word.
She can read ``Goodnight, Moon'' for the 137th time and, with her dramatic whisper, make ``the quiet old lady who was whispering hush'' sound brand new. She can ``Pat the Bunny'' - and smell the flowers, and touch Daddy's scratchy face - like nobody's business.
She can cure your son's addiction to ``Thomas the Tank Engine'' videos by prescribing ``The Little Engine That Could'' as the hard-cover antidote.
Listening to her read for a recent nighttime story hour - in her flannel-footed pajamas - I could almost smell my musty, dog-eared copies of ``Homer Price'' and ``James and the Giant Peach.'' I developed a serious craving for whole milk with Hershey's and my Grandma Macy's considerable lap.
In her little corner of Roanoke's main library downtown, Demetria Tucker has elevated reading aloud to the art form that it deserves to be.
She worries about declining literacy rates - only a quarter of the nation's fourth graders are solid readers, according to a 1994 assessment. She worries about the kids she sees who, she can tell, have never been read to at home, or anywhere. ``They don't know how to hold the book even. They hold it upside down.''
She uses less-than-literary bait to try to lure kids in: comic books, cassette tapes, popular adventure series like ``Goosebumps'' or ``The Babysitter's Club.''
``Then I'll say, `Now, let me show you this book.' We use those other things as a means to introduce them to `good' literature.''
To combat the almighty tube, she's trying to cultivate a more user-friendly image. That means the age-old no-talking rule for kids has become the newfangled no-shushing rule for librarians.
``I'm trying to get rid of that `shhhh!' image of the librarian with the bun,'' she says. ``I tell the parents not to shush their kids. I mean, if the kids are laughing and excited about a book, I think that's wonderful.''
Why is it so important to read aloud to your small children? Why can such a quiet and simple pursuit be so magically captivating?
Why is it that, when remembering the third grade, you haven't the foggiest notion what countries you studied, or which science project you entered, or how you managed to memorize those dreadful multiplication tables?
All you remember is Mrs. Bradbury's daily readings of ``The Hardy Boys'' after lunch - the way you begged her not to end on the cliff-hanging chapter, the way your palms sweated on the laminated desk, the way she peered over her reading glasses during the most dramatic parts.
Demetria Tucker speaks to elementary-school classes regularly, touting the benefits of her library. She goes over the two rules for obtaining a library card: You have to be 5 and able to sign your name.
She tells them a library card is like a credit card - minus the finance charge. With it, you can travel anywhere you want to go.
She knows that television is the medium of the masses, and computers are here to stay. But TV can't beat a book when it comes to opening the windows of our imagination.
And it's hard to snuggle up with a computer on your grandma's lap.
by CNB