For ten years or more my library was situated next door to the music room. When Barbara moved into the former science room, I have to admit, I was not happy. Having music as a next door neighbor seemed a bad marriage. A library was suppose to be a haven of quiet, a place where children could come to read and think and make connections with books. A music room, on the other hand, was a place where boisterous children burst into song accompanied by piano music, where kindergartners danced the freeze dance and the bunny hop, 5th and 6th graders rehearsed for chorus week after week, banged on drums and tambourines and belted out songs the whole day through.
At first it drove me batty. Sometimes I had to go next door and kindly ask Barbara to close her doors (which she always did) or to tone it down a notch or two. Sometimes, while I was reading to the kids, they'd sit on the floor doing hand gestures to the accompaniment of the songs. It was a major distraction. Eventually Barbara learned to close her doors and turn down the volume and I learned to love the music that drifted beneath the door and seeped through the walls of my little library.
I learned to like "The Cat Came Back" and "It Don't Mean a Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing" and the theme from "Beauty and the Beast", developed an appreciation for "The Monster Mash" and the bubble gum song (which I don't know the title of). Around the holidays, it was "The Jingle Bell Rock" and "Over the River and Through the Woods" and as spring burst into bloom and the rains came whipping across the parking lot, I learned to love "Button Up Your Overcoat" and the classic "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Most of the songs were old, but some were new, gleaned from recent movies and hit lists. What swept beneath the door and through the walls with all these songs was a lovely poignancy, a kind of poetry that I learned to adore. Often the songs seemed to reflect the mood of the book I happened to be reading or to mirror my own personal feelings.
Four years ago I was yanked out of my library and plopped down into somebody else's. No music room next door. Instead, I'm now next door to the gym. The air is punctuated by the thud of basketballs, the occasionally screech of a whistle, the scream of children playing tag or some other fun game.
I never thought I'd be saying this, but I miss the music.
