Around here, school is about to start. This is quite evident with the flashing school zone lights, and the conversations among the younger set. I spent Sunday night hanging out with two of my favorite girls, Grace and Sophie. However, the usual “back to school” conversation took an unexpected turn. Grace, now 11, started talking about boys. It was a very long conversation. Questions were posed such as “Would you rather be kissed by the dumbest boy you know? Or a dumb boy you don’t know?” “If a boy kissed you, would you faint from embarrassment?” I also learned that Sophie had a pre-school boyfriend, who she kissed every day. And Grace has her first official crush. Luckily, she’s in that stage where she can still talk to him and not blush, but she’s also desperately hoping he doesn’t figure it out.
In the middle of all of this, I hopped up from the table and turned on my nook. Since finishing up the Betsy-Tacy books, we’ve been reading Anne. I have never before been so nervous introducing a book to kids before. Anne is so near and dear to my heart. What if they didn’t like her? Before we read the first chapter, I told them that if they didn’t like it, I understood–that there were lots of other books I wanted to share. As I started reading, I got more nervous. It is a much harder read-aloud than Betsy–the rhythm and pacing are so different. I also worried about the whole “are you going to send me back” part because these girls are also adopted. I shouldn’t have worried. Grace, Sophie and I are indeed kindred spirits and they really like Anne.
Anyway, back to my story. I knew we were getting close to the wonderful scene in which Anne thwacked Gilbert with a slate. But would we get to it tonight, after talking endlessly about the problems of liking boys? Miracle of miracles, it was the next chapter! What are the odds? Life lessons through literature, handed to me on a silver platter!
So, we read about Gilbert teasing Anne. And Anne setting Diana drunk. And I was struck anew at how funny Montgomery is–and how true those scenes still are. They totally got why Anne was so mad at Gilbert–and we talked about the deep desire to sometimes whack a boy with a book (not a slate. I had to explain what a slate was.) I watched as Sophie and Grace’s face lit up at the thought of hosting a friend without the parents around. I’ve read this book so many times now that the lovely details often just wash over me. As I stumble over some of Montgomery’s “poetical” words, laugh at the jokes, and watch the girls’ reaction as they hear this classic for the first time, it feels like a fresh, new book.
As they were going to bed, Sophie asked me: “Am I like Anne?”
My reply: “I think there’s a little Anne in all of us. You’ve got a great imagination, you get into trouble sometimes, but you have a big heart. Just like Anne.”