Again With the Library Closures

Almost ten years ago, my third graders and I wrote letters to the Oakland City Council about how important it was to keep the libraries open. The plan was to close a bunch of branches - I can't remember how many - and they were all in the poorer sections of Oakland. I've mentioned before that the city is quite segregated and the kids are aware of this. I showed them on the map where the closing branches were and a child pointed out "but those are all the ones near us." We also looked at where the branches remaining open were and someone pointed out that they were near the white people with money. It was true. We had an interesting discussion during which they asked me why people who have money to buy books needed libraries more than them "But we got no books at my house!" They wrote some passionate letters to the mayor and city council and the libraries stayed open. I think they may have believed that our class saved the local library.

Apparently, this is happening again. There are 17 library branches in Oakland. Oakland is broke. There are now three options, ranging from closing THIRTEEN of the branches (that's 76% of the branches. CLOSED) to a parcel tax that will keep them running, mostly. Of course, the branches that will close will be in the - you guessed it - poor areas. The ones without books.

Please HELP. Please. Here are some ideas on how to help.

These kids need books.

Four years ago: Former Students

Five years ago: We Have a Contract!!

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A Loss

(I have been putting off finishing this blog post for months. You'll see why) Today, I was cleaning a bookshelf and I found the journal from one of my third-grade students, who I call Fred in my book , in 2001. I still had it because he didn't come to the last day of school to get his stuff this year and I guess it got put in a pile and somehow I've kept it with me. He didn't come to the last day of school, probably because his family was a mess: dad in prison, mom in an abusive relationship, all the kids (understandably) acting out violently. Fred was expelled from our school in second grade for hitting a teacher. Then he was expelled from the other school, I don't know why, at the end of second grade. He came back on the condition from the administration that he be in my class because I had him as a student in first grade and he listened to me and worked well with me. We had a really good relationship, although Fred was definitely not easy to have in class.

A New Prison, Part Two

Second very long part of the prison visit report. After we got all the paperwork filled out and went through the metal detector, we got visitation slips with the name of the inmate, and made our way over to the other building for visitation. This is not maximum security so thankfully you can just sit next to the inmates, and not be separated by glass or have to use a telephone to talk. First, you get a gate unlocked and go into a holding pen that is of course in direct sunlight (or rain if it's that season) and surrounded by fences topped with razor wire. You wait there until the gate at the other end is unlocked. This holding pen was a little bigger and less claustrophobic than the other prison (I do not have any claustrophobia and I came very close to a panic attack once at the other place) and they opened the other gate more quickly. Then you walk, again in blazing sunlight (or rain) to the visitation building. This one was less of a walk than the other prison but I still

A New Prison, Part 1

My former student, friend, and co-author was moved to a new prison during COVID. We (myself, Mitali, and his Abuela) have visited a couple of times via the video visit functionality they set up, but we've also been trying to visit in person, ever since in-person visits were allowed again. After four of them being canceled (sometimes we were told why, sometimes not), we finally got a visit. I was super nervous about this visit. (I felt better when Mitali mentioned that she was also, because she is an inherently positive and optimistic person!) I am not proud of this, but there was a large part of me that was hoping that the visit would be canceled, just like the previous four were. I felt a little better when someone I know messaged me privately to tell me that they had had very good experiences visiting a family member in that prison. But I still didn't sleep well at all that night, worrying about the guards, the many things that could go wrong, and the projected 111-degree hea

Bronwyn Harris, Author

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