When I was first put in jail, I searched the library cart for something to read. The TVs were controlled by certain cliques, and just about the only thing they ever played was ESPN (Entertainment and Sports Programming Network). I do not care about sports in the slightest.

Among the stacks of religious books, thirty-year-old and mainly discredited self-help books, and cheap airport paperbacks, I DID manage to find something worth reading: “Hamlet”.

I was sitting on my bunk reading it, and one cellmate saw it.

Cellmate: “What is that?”

Me: “Oh, it’s Hamlet. I know, pretty cheesy, but it’s about the only thing worth reading on the library cart.”

Cellmate: “What’s Hamlet?”

Me: “You know… Hamlet… by Shakespeare.”

Cellmate: “What’s Shakespeare?”

Me: “You’re kidding, right?”

Cellmate: *Completely blank face* “No. What is it?”

Me: “Wow, I’d at least think you’d have heard of him in high school, or through pop culture osmosis or something. He’s only the most well-known writer in the English language.”

Cellmate: “Nah, I usually only know about rap music.”

Me: “Ooookay, hang on…”

I flipped over to the “To be or not to be” soliloquy and read/acted it out for him.

Cellmate: “Wow, that’s pretty cool. I really like that ‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come’ part the best! Has this guy… What was his name again?”

Me: “…William Shakespeare,”

Cellmate: “Yeah! Has he written any other stuff?”

I was unable to shake the feeling I was being pranked.

Me: “Yeah… He’s written a few things.”

Cellmate: “Cool. I’ll have to look him up. That ‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come’ part would make a dope rap song!”

Years and years ago, I had a coworker who took lunch at the same time I did. Usually, I had a book with me. And usually, [Coworker] would announce to the room:

Coworker: “Ah, there’s [My Name]. She thought she would get to read for her lunch break, but I feel like talking to her.”

On days when I did not need to heat my lunch, I ate in my car, or I didn’t bring lunch at all and walked down the street to eat at the local sandwich shop.

What was odd was that [Coworker] was a voracious reader herself. If she wanted to talk, there were at least five or more people in the break room. She and I were part of a group of friends who went out two or three times a month for lunch.

We are friends to this day, but I never understood why it was only me who couldn’t read a book in blissful silence. She never bothered anyone else who was trying to read.

As a high school English teacher, I have utilized the play “The Diary of Anne Frank” as an educational tool for many years. One year, I was tasked with teaching a small class of students, and as we read the play aloud, we discussed Anne’s story, the history of the persecution of Jewish people, and World War II. I am a strong believer in teaching the importance of empathy to young people because it enables students to understand their classmates, as well as others in the world around them. One of the many purposes of teaching this play is to reduce instances of bullying and conflict. Anne’s detailed prose allows readers to feel as if they have been transported to the summer of 1942 and are living with her in the annex.

After we finished the play, I gave a test, and one of the questions read, “What role does hope play in this story?” I anticipated responses describing Anne’s hope that light would dispel darkness and her hope that evil would come to an end.

However, during the test, I noticed that one of my students looked particularly troubled while taking the test, tapping his pencil with a furrowed brow. I was surprised by this because he had been an active reader and had regularly participated in our class discussions. I quietly walked over to check in with him to see what was troubling him.

Me: “Hey, How’s it going? You look a little confused. What seems to be the trouble?”

I was careful to speak in a soft tone, not wanting to single him out in front of the other students in the otherwise silent classroom.

Student: “Mrs. [My Name], I’ve been sitting here wracking my brain about this question.”

He pointed to the question about the role of hope in the story.

Student: “I thought I knew this story pretty well, but this question has me stumped.”

Me: “How so?

Student: “Well, I can tell you anything you want to know about Anne’s family, Peter’s family, and the dentist guy, but I’ve got to ask you an honest-to-goodness question.”

Me: “Of course. What’s your question?”

Student: “Who in the world is Hope?”

Me: “Hello! Attached you will find two concepts for the book design. Please let us know which one you prefer, and then we will design the rest of the pages.”

Client: “We prefer Concept B, but we aren’t sure we like the color. Can you please make it blue?”

I look at Concept B.

It is blue.

Me: “I’m happy to change the color, but the concept is already designed with blue as the predominant color. Are you looking at the file on your screen or printed out? Sometimes standard office printers can make colors look off.”

Client: “I’m looking at it on my screen, and it is definitely gray and not at all blue.”

Me: “Hmm… that’s strange. Take a look at this file and let me know what you think.”

Clients: “That’s great! Thanks. You can go ahead with the rest of the design.”

I had changed the color by shifting the color code by a single digit. To the untrained eye, both files would appear to be the exact same blue. I still have no idea what happened there.

I am putting out some flags to celebrate World Book Day. I am summoned by another customer, an older woman, as I do this.

Customer: “What flag is that one?”

Me: “I believe this is Germany.”

Customer: “I knew it! Why would you put up a flag for a country of Nazis?!”

I pause, taken aback by the shocking statement.

Me: “It’s not! It’s just Germany.”

Customer: “That’s the same thing! And if your store promotes them, then you’re just a bunch of fascists!”

Me: “Ma’am, we’re not fascists. I voted for Bernie Sanders.” 

Customer: “So, you’re a socialist?! That’s even worse!“