(A quote by Sydney Smith)
Another favorite library quote of mine:
My library was dukedom large enough.
(Shakespeare, The Tempest)
Every other Friday, we have library check-out. We march down to the library, and the kids disperse into the large circular room. Some make a bee-line for the couch. Couch seats are prime real estate in the library -- ten minutes of slouchy comfort and chatting in the middle of a rigorous day. Some end up at the computers checking the catalog of books for ideas. (It’s interesting to me that these students find a topic-specific computer search less daunting than actually looking at the books on the shelf.) One lucky student per week gets to sit and read in the claw-foot bathtub filled with pillows by the entrance. What bliss, after a day of hard student desk seats…
Some kids park themselves at tables to read or chat. I especially like one of my groups of boys. They collect over by the magazines and group around a table, some of them so anxious to see what everyone is looking at that they can’t even sit down. Leaning over each other to see the table, they stare at skateboarding magazines, pouring over the pages as if they hold the key to the world’s most important puzzles. They’re immensely serious about their study, which is surprising for a group of boys who normally can’t stop goofing off. Earnestly, they discuss the tricks portrayed in the photos, listening to each other explain their own attempts, desperate to learn from each other's failures and master the technique themselves. They congratulate each other on successes and nod at each other when they remember the name of whatever professional skateboarder is pictured. But they never smile. They're far too serious for that. Even when a page is turned and collectively they lean back from the table, saying, "Whoa..." at a particularly impressive stunt, they never smile. Then one of them remarks, "That's tight," and the others all nod and agree, eyes still glued to the magazine.
The remainder of the students begin their bi-weekly ritual of pacing along the round edge of the room, trolling the shelves for literary options. Something that’s not too long… but not too short… something interesting, not boring or dorky… something their friends will think is cool, or at least not notice as being dumb… something they won’t mind reading every single day in Mrs. Chandler’s class because you lose points if you don’t have a book, and she’s always making you take out your book and read whenever there’s down time or the class gets too noisy…
I love this ritual. I love to watch it, and I love to help with it. I divide my time in the library between shushing the chatters who are having a little too much fun, and wandering around behind the “book-lookers.” (Book-lookers = (plural noun) during library time, students who have not yet made it to the check-out line because they are still looking for books.) I don’t talk to my students while I wander behind them; instead I let them come to me. And they do. Together, we look for certain types of books: nonfiction, realistic fiction, science fiction, historical fiction, fantasy, books about girls or books about boys (respectively), books about sports, books that aren’t about sports, and mostly books that aren’t boring or dumb. If you’ve never realized how many books in a school library are boring or dumb, try finding a winner for a middle schooler.
And then they line up at the counter to check out their treasures-for-two-weeks. I call for the couch people to line up – "make sure the cushions are put back on the couch" – and for the computer people to line up - "go back to the catalog homepage" - and for the table people to line up – "push in your chairs first… Cory, go back and push in your chair!" - and then we march back down the hall and troop into the classroom. I love the first few moments when we get back from the library. Some of them chat, and some of them show their books to their friends, and some – my kindred spirits – open their new books and start reading immediately. It is these students that I loathe to interrupt, even to get back to the lesson. We’re supposed to be cultivating our students as readers, aren’t we? So I drag my feet about restarting class, just to give them a few more minutes of restful, precious reading time.
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