School Reading Night: Homage to Knausgård

Though it was quite dark, the night was mild and with a feeling of early spring. Susannah held my hand as we walked up to the elementary. It looked so unlike the school in daytime that I became a bit disoriented. She chatted on about Pokemon as I found the right path. I was not listening but found I could pretend to do so by repeating the name of each character she mentioned.

There was a sign on the front door directing us to the cafeteria for the family reading event so we went round and entered. The room was brightly lit, packed with children and very hot. How could a room full of children reading be so loud? We took off our coats and held them awkwardly over our arms as we moved through the room. None of the parents or children who formed our regular group seemed to be there. I greeted Sherry from baby group with whom we had fallen out of contact. Next, was Jeanne from book group, another friendship I had not maintained, despite liking her. Susannah tugged at my sleeve and, although I knew it was rude, I let her lead me away.

We wandered up the stairs and into the darkened hallway. I was irritated to be diverted from our purpose but relieved to be out of the unpleasant cafeteria. Susannah tried the door of her classroom which was locked and then led me to the library. Even as I recognized that this was also always my favorite place, I was concerned that she did not want to be with the other children and we were not reading as we should be. She began to play with a microscope left out on a table, looking at threads of silk, slices bamboo and other such things. Although I was bored and uneasy, my attempts to get her to clean up and go back downstairs were halfhearted. Why couldn’t I make simple demands of my own child? Why wouldn’t she listen? At last, Andrea, the organizer of the event, opened the door and said, “well, at least she is supervised.” I used her words as an excuse for us to go back downstairs.

Once there, we found a space in the hallway on the fringe of the event. We put our coats down and sat on them, leaning against the cinder-block walls. I gave Susannah her book, something about a witch cat or a magic cat, and opened my copy of My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgård. For a few minutes we were quite content. At 8:05 the principal indicated it was time to go. I directed us towards the front door so we would not have to participate in the cleaning up.

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