How a mild-mannered librarian became a reading superhero

What can a bookish, Clark Kent kind of guy do to motivate an entire county of kids to read? Quite a lot, I've learned, if he can shed his inhibitions and remember his childhood enthusiasms. Now that I've done that—on TV, no less, and at no small risk to my dignity—I'm convinced that we librarians can use our inner ham to alert kids to the power of books. If it worked for me, it can work for you. And you don't need a camera to prove it.

I make it a point to do new and exciting things every year. Sometimes I fall on my face, and sometimes, well, sometimes, I fly. So last summer, when a producer at the educational cable station of the Baltimore County Public Schools (BCPS) invited me to help brainstorm a motivational reading show, I immediately said yes.

The station's creative team had an ambitious goal. They wanted to advance the district's plan of encouraging kids to read 25 books during the school year. They intended to do it by highlighting reading-related activities and people in the county's school and public libraries.

The brainstorming produced a list of show segments:

• “My School Library”—a celebration of effective activities and events in BCPS libraries
• “Book Time for Baltimore County Public Library”— booktalks on the public library's offerings
• “Reading Tips”—ways to sharpen reading skills
• “Readers Respond”—kid-in-the-street reactions to reading-related questions
• “Word Bites”—introductions to new vocabulary words
• “Reading is Everywhere”—visits to places like a potato chip factory and the National Aquarium to show how reading is used in everyday activities.

For an emcee, we thought up a superhero named the Red Reader. This ham would use his magic books and special powers—flying, disappearing, and teleporting—to bring reading activities to viewers. Roving student reporters would aid him, along with two animated characters: Browser the Wonder Dog and Freddy the Frog.

When it was suggested that I play the Red Reader, I balked. I can't memorize lines, and my looks are more suited to radio than TV. But Cindy Lorenz, the show's producer, persisted. She promised to coordinate the studio's production schedules with the needs of my school, Riderwood Elementary; to buy me a top-of-the-line spandex costume; and to put scripts on teleprompters to compensate for my bad memory. I'm no actor, but I can read with feeling. I am, after all, a librarian.

Help came from every corner of the school community. At Riderwood, administrators went out of their way to provide a block of time for Red Reader's needs. The BCPS's 175 library media specialists and its communications office spread the word.

Thanks to such help, we put together a series of six half-hour shows last year. A new edition of the daily program reaches county schools and homes every other month. Is the show doing its job, encouraging kids to read? The numerous e-mails the Red Reader receives from students suggest that it is. So do requests for personal appearances and the worker in a local deli who shouted to me, “Hey, you're that red guy!” Close enough.

I know I'm not the first media specialist to resort to theatrics to promote books. Buried inside even the most retiring among us, I'm convinced, is a showman waiting to be let out. My advice: Unlock him. Step out of yourself. Put on a library-promotion event in the media center, the auditorium, or the cafeteria. You may be as tickled as Lois Lane with the results.