The title (“Stacking Books to Maximize Car Space”) is slightly deceptive; if you’re anything like me, trying to fit yourself and your library books into your car is hopeless. There are a few drastic measures you may find beneficial, such as removing your back seat. Perhaps putting the books into a box tied to the top of the car would work. Or try putting your books into the car, and yourself on top of the car. You could always charter a jet, and have them delivered…assuming the librarians cooperate. I personally believe that the best way is to simply buy a pickup—most of the books will probably fit into the back.

There are, of course, other concerns when visiting the library. To be specific, carrying your books without dropping them. (Note: grocery carts are helpful, if the librarians don’t kick you out and if the supermarket people don’t apprehend you). You might drop your card and be unable to bend down to retrieve it for fear of dropping your books, too. Sometimes the library is closing and you’re nowhere near done finding books. Worst of all, no one can withstand The Horror of learning that the book one wants is checked out.

This "curtained area" is now officially a confessional:

I was walking out of the library the other day, chatting amiably with my stack of books. (I talk to inanimate objects. Got a problem with that?)

...“And if you slide again, I swear I’ll have your dust cover off. And YOU! I don’t know who you think you are, but remember that…” But suddenly, I fell silent, for a short, very short period of time, at the sight of the stout woman who was passing in front of me. Then I got… louder. “WHO ARE YOU (I said) AND WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO TOUCH MANSFIELD PARK?! DID YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR THAT BOOK FOR OVER THREE MONTHS?! I…WANT…MY…BOOOOOOOK!”

My stack of books landed in an ungraceful heap on the ground, and I tackled the middle-aged woman who was holding my book. I managed to snatch it out of her hands, and ran out of the library, out of the parking lot, and by the time I stopped I was somewhere near Nashville.

Or anyway, that’s what I thought of doing. I’m afraid all I actually did was drop the books I held, and blush furiously as everyone within hearing distance turned to stare.

Homeschoolers are odd that way. (Not the book dropping. That’s a touchy subject, and you will please hush up about it). Our obsession with the written word, our fanaticism about literature, is legendary. A homeschooler is easy to identify in a crowd; listen for anyone casually dropping words like ‘reprimand,’ ‘ineluctable,’ or ‘evanescent.’* Or watch for tell-tale skills like managing to walk through a crowded store reading, and yet still avoid people with radar-reminiscent accuracy. Park in the library parking lot and keep a lookout for those teens/children that seem to be having trouble fitting themselves and their books into the car.

Should you spot someone who fits into one or more of the above-outlined categories, it is probable that you have just seen a homeschooler. It is recommended that you rush up to them, shake them heartily by the hand, and demand to know if they homeschool. (If they, out of honesty or out of fear of you, answer “No,” fume about oppressive public schooling and conformity. This usually results in subtle backing away and has never yet gotten anyone out of public school, but it is very satisfying).

It is not unusual for a homeschooler to read upwards of a hundred pages an hour…or to be a speed reader at age ten. Indeed, one strong sign of a potential homeschooler is their tendency to finish their stack of about fifteen library books within forty-eight hours of getting them. (The trick is to read without taking time out for insignificant things like eating, going to the bathroom, and definitely not for sleeping). Local librarians are no longer surprised at seeing homeschoolers twice in one week, with stacks high enough to warrant someone pulling a “Tower of Babel” on them.

Normally, this fixation with books is good. Every so often, however, people are injured in the name of reading. Strained wrists, mostly. (“Well, see, I was holding Atlas Shrugged with one hand, and taking notes with the other…”) There are also, of course, the little incidents involving The Complete Works of Shakespeare and someone’s toes. Most dangerous, though, is when someone insults a homeschooler’s choice of reading material. This is one of the most direct ways to get a book hurled at your forehead. Please, don’t go there.

Well, my conscience is objecting to the lack of Educational Stuff in this column. Therefore, I’ll share with you a thought from the famous John Ruskin. Listen up, and may the force be with you.

And now, back by popular demand, the always insightful public schoolers’ question of the month:

Question: If you homeschool, how will you learn to stand in lines? Answer: Every day, right after our ritualistic reading-of-the-dictionary, we practice standing in lines. We have reached a state of perfection undreamed of by public school teachers.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, dear readers. I am going now.... I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye.

Cheerfully and with great grace,

Jenn Young

(*This may be the reason public schoolers find it so difficult to understand a homeschooler’s speech).