I suspect that every public library experiences some form of this challenge: unattended minors. Whether it’s nine-year-olds hanging around the parking lot after closing because they’re waiting for a parent to pick them up, or a toddler ripping down the “do not leave children unattended” sign while her mother chats on Facebook on the other side of the library, unsupervised kids can cause real frustration for staff (and sometimes serious trouble for library systems).
The library where I work looks like an aftercare center each weekday beginning at 2:30, when the elementary school a few blocks away lets out. (Well, hopefully it doesn’t look like a daycare where you’d leave your children, because that would suggest you leave them at a facility with no staff to guide their activities.) Children as young as four—accompanied by older siblings who may be eight or nine—pour through the door after spending hours in a classroom. Needless to say, they’re ready to run and rough-house with the other kids who also seem to have nowhere else to go, e.g., a rec center or home. They bring candy, drinks, sometimes sports balls, or other toys . . . but almost never a library card . . . or a parent or caregiver. After the kids arrive, other customers tend to get short shrift because our limited staff’s energy goes to trying to maintain some semblance of order.
It would be easy to say this is not the library’s problem. Call social services; find somewhere else for these kids to go. But clearly our situation (that has turned the few remaining brown hairs I had grey) indicates a need in the community that is not being met, and, therefore, an opportunity for the library to meet it. Is it the library’s mission or responsibility to entertain these children? I think so, depending on how you frame the picture. And consider: Many libraries struggle to attract program attendees, particularly tweens and teens. At my library, we have a ready audience (just too few resources and programs). We are incredibly fortunate to have two talented librarians visit from other branches every other week. One conducts a Boys Read! program, and, on alternate weeks, the other conducts a Girls Read! program. Despite being brand new, both programs are very successful, but they account for only one hour a week of the time the kids flood the library.
I admit to despairing sometimes, but I do retain hope and even excitement about the possibilities for serving these kids effectively. I just started reading Teach Like Your Hair’s on Fire: The Methods and Madness Inside Room 56, by famed teacher and leader of the Hobart Shakespeareans Rafe Esquith. I really like this book for its specific recommendations that include techniques and resources (some of which I plan to share in future posts). We in libraries are not classroom teachers, but, very generally speaking, I see our mission as the same: to encourage life-long learners, engaged citizens, and (I think) a kind, supportive, and thriving community.
Definitely “to be continued”!
The library where I work looks like an aftercare center each weekday beginning at 2:30, when the elementary school a few blocks away lets out. (Well, hopefully it doesn’t look like a daycare where you’d leave your children, because that would suggest you leave them at a facility with no staff to guide their activities.) Children as young as four—accompanied by older siblings who may be eight or nine—pour through the door after spending hours in a classroom. Needless to say, they’re ready to run and rough-house with the other kids who also seem to have nowhere else to go, e.g., a rec center or home. They bring candy, drinks, sometimes sports balls, or other toys . . . but almost never a library card . . . or a parent or caregiver. After the kids arrive, other customers tend to get short shrift because our limited staff’s energy goes to trying to maintain some semblance of order.
It would be easy to say this is not the library’s problem. Call social services; find somewhere else for these kids to go. But clearly our situation (that has turned the few remaining brown hairs I had grey) indicates a need in the community that is not being met, and, therefore, an opportunity for the library to meet it. Is it the library’s mission or responsibility to entertain these children? I think so, depending on how you frame the picture. And consider: Many libraries struggle to attract program attendees, particularly tweens and teens. At my library, we have a ready audience (just too few resources and programs). We are incredibly fortunate to have two talented librarians visit from other branches every other week. One conducts a Boys Read! program, and, on alternate weeks, the other conducts a Girls Read! program. Despite being brand new, both programs are very successful, but they account for only one hour a week of the time the kids flood the library.
I admit to despairing sometimes, but I do retain hope and even excitement about the possibilities for serving these kids effectively. I just started reading Teach Like Your Hair’s on Fire: The Methods and Madness Inside Room 56, by famed teacher and leader of the Hobart Shakespeareans Rafe Esquith. I really like this book for its specific recommendations that include techniques and resources (some of which I plan to share in future posts). We in libraries are not classroom teachers, but, very generally speaking, I see our mission as the same: to encourage life-long learners, engaged citizens, and (I think) a kind, supportive, and thriving community.
Definitely “to be continued”!
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