You know those things that stick with you? They may be silly, but they resound in your memories through the years and every now and then it perks up and you are right there, again, as if you were a child?
One of those moments for me was when I was about seven or eight, in the library. It was a small branch on the outside of the city and I went there several times a week thanks to my mother. When summer hit, I couldn’t wait to sign up for the reading program. It was all I did – read. I consumed everything in sight and it was extremely exciting for me to find that a program was designed around how many books you could read in a summer. I considered it a personal challenge.
Getting my name on the wall was everything. Watching it printed on the brontosaurus, then the stegosaurus, then the t-rex, put on different parts of the bulletin board, it filled me with an immense feeling of accomplishment. And all I had to do was read books for this?
One week during that summer, I went to return books into the librarian on duty. I handed them to her, with my mother behind me, and she began checking them in counting them to see how many I had read so she could write my name on another dinosaur for the board. She stopped and looked at me, and then at my mother.
Are you sure you’ve read all these? She was faintly glowering at me behind her glasses. It was not the question I was expecting in my excited little heart.
Of course, I managed. Yes I did. She kind of clicked her tongue and kept going, giving my mother another look meant only for parents. I could hear my mom stick up for me, but at that point, the ringing of embarrassment in my ears kind of took over.
I don’t know why that moment stuck with me as monumental, but I return to it from time to time to remember who I am with librarianship, and who I do not want to be. Even though the woman could not have meant harm to me, she took something special from me and sullied it, made me feel as if I was breaking the rules, when the only thing I wanted to do was, 1. follow the rules (this was huge to me as a kid) and 2. read ALL THE BOOKS.
I bring it up now because I think, every now and then, we need a gentle reminder as parents, educators, and librarians, that the choices our precocious kids make as to what they read, how much they read, the age level the want to read – it’s all relevant, and valid. Yes, we should make sure it is age-appropriate to some degree, but when kids start exploring with reading material on any subject, we should show them respect. Intellectual Overexcitability is no small thing. It is all-consuming and feverish – and if they want to read all the books on geology every day for six weeks, and then switch to obsessing over something silly and slightly crude like Captain Underpants, don’t fear. It is all valid, and relevant, in their internal world.
Think about the gentle and quiet souls we deal with on a daily basis. Even if we’re having a tough day of our own, approach them with kindness. Instead of questioning a feat “You surely didn’t read all these books?” Perhaps try a different angle, “Wow! You read all these? That is amazing!” And watch their faces change, for the good, and feel as if they accomplished something.
We are the gatekeepers of information and they are asking for the keys. Trust them to return it, enjoy their romp in the stacks, and smile at them when they are done. Libraries are a safe place, and I may say that too much, but it is essential to what a library is, at its core. Be a welcoming ambassador and encourage all those shining lights that come our way.
The Questing Child 