My comfort zone is well defined and gives me strength. The thing is, many people don't realize these things about me.
Several years ago, I had students in my psychology class take a Myers Briggs typology test. It indicated (as it has every single time I have ever taken the test, consistently over a 25 year span) that I am deeply an ISTJ. My students, however, were willing to go to war with me over whether I am an I or an E, that is, an introvert or an extrovert. Which led to a great conversation for a psychology class about the fact that in my professional life, I appear to be an extrovert. I can be talkative, passionate, unyielding, loud, bold, and entertaining. But in my personal life, I am quiet, thoughtful (though still unyielding), reserved, and inwardly focused. I value solitude, anonymity, and silence. I am intensely private.
When we moved to our current area, we came from a metropolitan area of over 350,000. I could go to Walgreens (10 to choose from! all open 24 hours!) and likely not see anyone I knew. But the town I work in, where my schools are, is just the opposite. 900 students K-12. One town of just over 700 residents, another of just over 600, a third with around 2,000.
Anonymity is a thing of the past.
Working with high school students mostly, it was still a bit preserved. They are happy to duck around a shelf to protect their own privacy in public or just give a polite wave as they drive down the road.
But elementary is an entirely different ball game. I went into a local gas station yesterday and was greeted happily by three different students, one who explained she was with her grandmother, and one who gave me a hug. A hug! In the gas station!
And it was great.
In a second grade classroom the other day I asked who could guess what my job is. (I had mentioned my title and a few of my duties on the previous visit, so I was just checking for recall). Four different kids called out "You read books to kids!"
And it really hit me that reading books to kids is a part of what I do, and it is an important part. Maybe one of the most important parts.
I can still remember being read Tailypo as an elementary kid and having a delicious terror and thrill all mixed together until I memorized the book. It was a scary book I would never ever have read on my own. 
I can very clearly remember years later being read "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" and having such a vivid idea of the way words can be used to persuade, to move, to influence. I just spoke with a teacher who said she is reading a book to her kids, and they are loving it. "They would sit there all day and listen if they could!"
Many times I have students call out, "Read it again!" And if there is time, I do.
I grew up being read to. It was important in my family, so it was prioritized. And I recognize very profoundly that the ability to prioritize that is a product of many types of privilege: socio-economic, educational, occupational.
I read to my children, and now that they are older, I readily check out audiobooks for them (Yay! for Overdrive through my public library!) so that while they are playing with LEGOs or action figures, they are being read to. (They spent the summer reading through the entire Harry Potter series and are now on the Percy Jackson series. )
But to make that happen, I check out books on Overdrive and use our WiFi to upload them to an old smart phone I no longer use (a Samsung Galaxy S4, still new enough to use Overdrive).
And that takes time. Time for a person to be able to go into the online system, find the book, download it, or place it on hold if it isn't available.
And it takes money. We live in an unincorporated part of the city, so we pay the tax equivalency to access the public library. I am happy to support the library, but I fully recognize many people could not afford to do this. Also, I pay for WiFi. (We live in the boonies, so we have satellite internet which is far from inexpensive.) And I have a new (not cheap) phone that frees up another (older, but by no means old) for my children's recreational use.
And it takes knowing that the resource exists, finding out how to use it, and troubleshooting when it doesn't work exactly as planned.
All of these are things that in today's world, today's economy, my local economy, many people do not have access to. Time. Money. Resources.
So, I step into that gap. I read to kids. I get to see their eyes light up and hear their laughs or groans. I see the light bulbs go on over their heads when they figure out the trick or twist or joke.
And they now know me as the person who reads to them. I do lots of other things, but first graders neither know nor care about grants, purchase orders, circulation statistics, curriculum alignment, footfall tracking, weeding, or technical support. They know and care that I show up in their class with a fun book and read to them.
I now have no anonymity. My public life has no privacy. I get hugs in the gas station. I am introduced to grandparents and talked about from two aisles over. I get vigorously waved to in hallway at school and in The Dollar Tree.
And I love it.
I read to kids.
I am kind of a big deal.
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