The Book Fair (Encore)

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It's wild how complicated taking care of ourselves has become.

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Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone

in which

nothing much happens.

You feel good,

and then

you fall asleep.

I'm Catherine Nikolai.

I write and read

all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittercheim.

We are bringing you an encore episode tonight.

Meaning that this story originally aired at some point in the past.

It could have been recorded with different equipment in a different location.

And since I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different.

But the stories are always soothing and family-friendly.

And our wishes for you are always deep rest and sweet dreams.

Now,

since every episode is someone's first, let me say a bit about how this works.

In order to fall asleep, your brain needs just the right amount of engagement.

And if that engagement

can be peaceful and pleasant, well, all the better.

Sticking to a regular bedtime routine becomes a lot easier when it feels good.

So I have a soft, relaxing story to tell you, and I'll tell it twice,

going a little slower the second time through.

Just by listening to the sound of my voice, you'll fall asleep.

This is brain conditioning, a sort of grown-up sleep training.

So be patient if you are new to it.

You'll find with practice and over time that you'll fall asleep more quickly.

And if you wake in the middle of the night, don't hesitate to just start the story over again.

Our story tonight is called The Book Fair.

And it's a story about a love of reading and the creativity that inspires.

It's also about the last days of school before summer vacation,

taking class outside into into the open air

and the feeling of watching little ones grow up and expand their worlds.

I was a full-time yoga teacher for over 20 years and I know the power of intentional breathing.

It's why our two deep breaths have been part of our bedtime routine since episode one.

And that's why I want to introduce you to Moonbird.

Moonbird is a handheld breathing device designed to comfortably fit in the palm of your hand.

When you shake it, it will start inflating and deflating.

So in your hand, it will feel like you're holding a little bird that is breathing in

and out.

The only thing you need to do is breathe along with it.

When Moonbird inflates, you breathe in.

When Moonbird deflates, you breathe out.

Simple, intuitive, and takes all the effort and thinking out of your breathing exercises.

It's the perfect companion to your bedtime ritual.

Or use it when you're meditating, when you're stuck in traffic.

anytime you need an assist in feeling calm and focused.

Listen, I know how to breathe to feel better, but still I use Moonbird.

Because when my mind is racing or wandering, I need a little guidance.

And it makes my deep breathing more effective.

So when you wake in the middle of the night, don't reach for your phone unless it's to restart your bedtime story.

That's fine.

Reach for Moonbird.

Visit moonbird.life slash nothing much happens to save 20%.

We've got it linked in our show notes.

Now

it's time.

Set everything down and switch off the light.

Get into your favorite sleeping position and let your whole body drop heavy into the bed.

The day is over.

And all that is left to be done is rest.

Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose

and sigh through your mouth.

Nice.

Again, breathe in

and out.

Good.

The book fair.

There were only a few weeks of school left before summer vacation began.

And you could feel the anticipation when you walked the halls.

There was a push-pull energy in every classroom.

A push to the end

to make the most of the last days of learning

and a pull to the warming weather,

an adventure of summertime.

Sometimes that pull was literal.

Our students and even ourselves pulled to the windows

to look at the trees in full leaf

and the bright blue skies.

We teachers

were doing our best to walk the line, to keep our students' interest

and still let them be kids who had big feelings about summer break.

We'd found over the years

that having a few special events to look forward to in the last month or so of classes

helped everyone come to school with some enthusiasm.

So the schedule would be full

right up until the final day.

We'd planned a school-wide field day.

After weeks of being asked hour after hour

if we could have classes outside,

we finally would be able to say yes.

It would be a whole day of outdoor activities.

There would be a chalk drawing contest on the back parking lot,

a treasure hunt with clues planted all over the playground,

races and games on the athletic fields,

and snack tables set up just about everywhere.

Our cafeteria staff would make gallons of lemonade

and pyramids of rice krispy snacks.

There would be giant fruit bowls full of apples and pears and bananas that no one would eat.

And at lunchtime, a small caravan of cars would pull up, delivering enough pizzas to feed us all.

A feat that seemed impossible, but somehow happened every year.

There was also the spring concert to look forward to.

Our fifth through eighth graders would file into their seats on stage in the auditorium

and nervously grip their trumpets and clarinets.

Our music teacher would stand on her riser with the music spread open on a stand in front of her,

a baton in her hand,

and wait

till every musician's eyes were on her.

She'd raise her baton.

They'd all take a breath together.

Their instruments raised and ready.

And off they'd go.

That was one of my favorite nights of the year.

Our students playing together with such focus focus and care.

Whenever I walked through the music hallway,

I'd hear them working through a new piece,

or else

playing something

they'd worked on for weeks with pride.

And I'd smile.

All of them

coming so far.

That was a night when all our local restaurants would be busy.

Families taking their saxophonists and xylophone players out for a meal,

still in their matching dress pants and button-down shirts.

Of course, our eighth graders would be graduating and moving on.

And that was always an emotional day for all of us.

When you see a student,

especially one who might have struggled on their way up from elementary school,

now

standing in front of their families and fellows.

Ready to head into their next journey.

It makes your heart brim.

So glad for them and grateful to have been a part of it.

And then,

when they come back to visit years later,

when they stop into your classroom or office,

and you can spot the little face inside of the grown-up one they now wear.

And they tell you what they are doing, how their life is going.

It's a feeling of pride.

A child

you helped in your way to raise.

Who comes home and remembers you.

I was thinking of all of these moments getting a little misty, if I'm honest.

as I was setting up for my own personal favorite end of the school year event,

and that was the book fair.

We were a book-obsessed school

that had started years ago

with our last school librarian, whose love for reading was so great

that it became contagious.

She ran reading contests for every

and started a couple of different book clubs for the staff.

She made curated tables in the library

for different genres, for every holiday, for the birthdays of favorite authors.

She wore costumes pretty regularly

and had boxes of props the kids could play with

as they listened to stories.

And she turned our small, poorly attended book fairs

into events that the whole school looked forward to.

When she retired, it took several of us to fill her shoes.

But we'd managed to keep this love for books a mainstay in our school.

And the fair was still a big part of it.

It no longer fit in the school library.

So we were setting up in the gymnasium today.

And we didn't just set up a bunch of folding tables and lay out books on them.

We made the gym into a portal to distant lands and other times.

Part of what made our students fall in love with reading

was bringing the stories out of the books.

So we'd each picked a few favorite titles and with the help of the seventh and eighth grade art classes, we're transforming each section of the gym into a slice of those worlds.

One of my pics told a story of a world under the ocean

where Atlantis still thrived,

and the art students had covered the windows with blue and green gels

so that the light coming in rippled like water.

There were streamers that moved on a crank, washing over you,

a a bit like those strips of cloth in a car wash.

And we had a speaker playing wave sounds.

Across the gym, in our classic section,

rubber hobbit feet had been procured

and set in a row under a half-dozen hanging cloaks.

I'd heard there was a ring hidden somewhere in the display,

and that one of the many science fair volcanoes had been saved to erupt at an exciting moment.

We had book worlds for all ages of our students,

ghost stories and first loves,

mysteries and adventures, sports and science,

and every way to be in the world.

In our school, we welcomed every story,

and our students flourished as their worlds grew wider.

With each turned page,

we would send them into the summer with an armload of new ideas.

And I was already looking forward to welcoming them back in the fall

to watch them continue to grow.

The book fair.

There were only a few weeks of school left

before summer vacation began.

And you could feel the anticipation when you walked the halls.

There was a push-pull energy in every classroom,

a push to the end

to make the most of the last days of learning,

and a pull to the warmer weather

and adventure of summertime.

Sometimes that pull was literal.

Our students and ourselves pulled to the windows

to look at the trees in full leaf

and bright blue skies.

We teachers

were doing our best to walk the line,

to keep our students' interest

and still let them be kids.

We'd found over the years

that having a few special events

to look forward to in the last month or so of classes

helped everyone come to school with some enthusiasm.

So the schedule would be full

right up till the final day.

We'd planned a school-wide field day.

After weeks of being asked,

hour after hour,

if we could have classes outside,

we would finally be able to say yes.

It would be a whole day of outdoor activities

with a chalk drawing contest on the back parking lot,

a treasure hunt with clues planted all over the playground,

races and games on the athletic fields,

and snack tables set up just about everywhere.

Our cafeteria staff would make gallons of lemonade

and pyramids of rice krispy snacks.

There would be giant fruit bowls full of apples and pears and bananas

that no one would eat.

And at lunchtime, a small caravan of cars would pull up,

delivering enough pizzas to feed us all,

a feat that seemed impossible, but

somehow happened every year.

There was also the spring concert to look forward to.

Our fifth through eighth graders would file into their seats on stage in the auditorium

and nervously grip their trumpets and clarinets.

Our music teacher would stand on her riser

with her music spread open on a stand in front of her,

a baton in her hand,

and wait till every musician's eyes were on her.

She'd raise her baton,

and they'd all take a breath together,

their instruments raised and ready,

and off they'd go.

That was one of the best nights of the year.

Our students playing together

with such focus and care.

Whenever I walked through the music hallway,

I'd hear them working through a new piece,

or else

playing something they'd worked on for weeks with pride.

And I'd smile,

all of them coming so far.

That was a night when all our local restaurants would be busy.

Families taking their saxophonists

and xylophone players out for a meal,

still in their matching dress pants and button-down shirts.

Of course, our eighth graders would be graduating

and moving on.

And that was always an emotional day for all of us.

When you see a student,

especially one who might have struggled

on their way up from elementary school,

now standing in front of their families and fellows,

ready to head into the next journey.

It makes your heart brim.

So glad for them

and so grateful to have been a part of it.

And then

when they come back to visit years later,

when they stop into your classroom or office

and you can spot the little face

inside of the grown-up one they now wear

and they tell you what they're doing and how their life is going.

It's a feeling of pride.

A child you helped in your way to raise

who comes home and remembers you.

I was thinking of all these moments.

Getting a little misty, if I'm honest,

as I was setting up for my own personal favorite end-of-the-school year event,

and that was the book fair.

We were a book-obsessed school.

It had started years ago with our last school librarian

whose love for reading was so great

that it became contagious.

She ran reading contests for every grade

and started a couple of different book clubs for the staff.

She made curated tables in the library for different genres,

for every holiday,

for the birthdays of favorite authors.

She wore costumes pretty regularly

and had boxes of props the kids could play with

as they listened to stories.

She turned our small,

poorly attended book fairs

into events that the whole school looked forward to.

When she retired, it took several of us to fill her shoes.

But we'd managed to keep this love for books a mainstay in our school.

And the fair was still a big part of it.

It no longer fit in the school library, so

we were setting up in the gymnasium today.

We didn't just set up a bunch of folding tables and lay out books on them.

We made the gym into a portal to distant lands

and other times.

Part of what made our students fall in love with reading

was bringing the stories out of the books.

So we'd each picked a few favorite titles

and with the help of the seventh and eighth grade art classes,

were transforming each section of the gym

into a slice of those worlds.

One of my pics told a story of a world under the ocean

where Atlantis still thrived

and the art students had covered the windows with blue and green gels

so the light coming in rippled like water.

There were streamers that moved on a crank, washing over you a bit like those strips of cloth in a car wash.

And we had a speaker playing wave sounds.

Across the gym,

in our classics section,

rubber hobbit feet had been procured

and sat in a row under a half-dozen hanging cloaks.

I'd heard there was a ring hidden somewhere in the display,

and that one of the many science fair volcanoes

had been saved to erupt at an exciting moment.

We had book worlds for all ages of our students,

Ghost stories

and first loves

Mysteries and Adventures

Sports and science

and every way to be in the world

In our school we welcomed every story

and our students flourished as their worlds grew wider

with each turned page,

we would send them into the summer

with an armload of new ideas,

and I was already looking forward

to welcoming them back in the fall

to watch them continue to grow.

Sweet dreams.