Sandy Hook School in Sandy Hook, CT, suffered an unthinkable shooting in December 2012. Our library, and our entire elementary school, was relocated to a former middle school in a nearby town. Our library staff made an enormous effort to keep our processes and appearance consistent for our student population, which was in such need of comfort and stability. Now, three years later, we are packing up to move our collection back to a new school building built on our old site in Sandy Hook. I have spent many hours thinking about what this temporary home has meant to our library users—and what a library means to a school in a time of crisis. My poem, below, conveys some of those thoughts.—Cindy Clement Carlson

OLD LIBRARY, NEW LIBRARY, NEW LIBRARY

Like Ron Weasley we splinched, a splitting blow

Our spirits in Sandy Hook, our bodies in Monroe

Like the Crayons we wanted to quit, to bend

Like the Crayons we came back again

To a mothballed school seven miles away, we

Were gray ourselves, yet gave it vibrancy

Trucks brought books; the Lorax and Pooh

Cars brought staff, shocked straight through

Students took comfort in what stayed stable

The dragon! Library cards! The rug! Each table!

Big Nate, princesses, Rosa Parks

Yes, we’ve got those books on sharks

Kitty was still Bad. Hugo, still inventing

And Miss Clavell? Still unrelenting!

Count Olaf was ever yet deranged

As if nothing at school had even changed.

We mourned our loss, grieved our dead

Still, Babar and Celeste were wed

Stilton, Geronimo, and Watson, Mercy

Started crazes, so of course we

Took the holds and filled the orders

Safety in routine, process, rules, borders

On Dickinson Drive you liked Frog and Toad?

We have them here on Fan Hill Road!

The media’s interest was invasive, dramatic

Yet our books were here, downright phlegmatic

As mental health help came and went, we

Stayed steady, thanks to Melvil Dewey

Gun rights wars around us rage

Yet there’s Strega Nona, fixed on the page

Months unfolded with the usual displays

Four Passovers, Four Valentines, Four MLKs

Hype for Easter and three Hanukkahs

Halloween books had lots of buzz

Four seasons of Nutmegs gave the carousel a spin

But you still can’t return a Kindle in the library bin

The aftermath held moments difficult, sordid

And still four years of Caldecotts were awarded

While each anniversary distressed us again

Out came Wimpy Kid books eight, nine, and ten

Noted authors, illustrators, the Science Guy, a sloth

Passed through while we rebuilt what we lost

Not one entry in the Dork Diaries

Pertains to hoaxers inquiries

And Rhyolite is not perturbed

By how our town also has been disturbed

Though all we knew is horribly changed

Not one syllable of Hoot is rearranged

Released: police report, 9-1-1 recordings

Yet Templeton with his barnyard hoardings

And Charlotte with her careful weaving

Stood steadfast while we were grieving

In our hearts and heads, images horrific

Yet gentle Wilbur, ever Radiant and Terrific

Pigeon, you still can’t Drive the Bus

But we’ll take you back with us

You’ll all be boxed up, taken back

Put on shelf, bin, sill, and rack.

Like Wemberley, things worry us,

Just like George, we’re Curious

But as surely as 595.02 A-R-G

Follows 594.24 M-C-P

Every book will have its place

And we’ll still know How To Burp in Space

Humphrey will still spin on his wheel

Pete the Cat will sing with unchecked zeal

Despite the schoolyard rearranging

We’ll have our book characters unchanging

And despite the many thoughts we’re thinking

Take solace in their constancy unblinking

You can’t undo a madman’s breach

But you can sit, open and read. And teach.

Cindy Clement Carlson has lived in Sandy Hook, CT, for 16 years. She has worked in the Library Media Center at Sandy Hook School since 2011, and her three children have attended the school. She and one of her children were present when 20 first graders and six educators were killed at the school on December 14, 2012.

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