An investigation of rural libraries in North Carolina and of
library work with children in Boston and New England towns led
Miss Caroline Matthews, a member of the Examining Committee of
the Public Library of Boston to believe that "exaggerated leaning
toward one phase of library work must throw out of the true the
work as a whole." The following paper explaining her conclusions
was read before the Massachusetts Library Club in October, 1907.
Caroline Matthews was born in Boston in 1855. She has contributed
articles to the Educational Review and to the Atlantic Monthly.
Miss Matthews is at present living in Switzerland.
I have been asked to speak on this subject, not because I have
professional or technical knowledge of the subject to be
discussed, but rather because I have not. This does not mean that
I have no knowledge whatever of this or other phases of library
work. It simply means that the little knowledge I do possess is
non-professional, and that my impressions, points of view,
conclusions, are wholly those of an outsider.
Up to three years ago I had had no connection with public
libraries beyond being an occasional borrower of books. Then
suddenly, through making a comparative study of the financing of
public school systems here and in France, I found myself in touch
with the public schools of an American city, and through them
with the school deposits of the Public Library of the same city.
Even so, I did not come in touch with the library side of the
work. It was always the school or teachers' side, or the pupils'
side, never any other.
The second year I became a member of the Examining Committee of
the Public Library of the city of Boston. My position on this
committee for my first year of service was a minor one. There was
never anything very important to do, certainly not enough to keep
up one's interest to the point of being a live interest.
Moreover, I spent the winter away from town. But I had the great
good fortune to pass it in the mountains of North Carolina. There
I lived for weeks at a time in the homes and cabins of the
mountain whites. I knew the men their wives, their children. I
visited the logging camps, the mines, the missions, the mills,
the schools. The life was rough, but it was worth while. It gave
me an intimate knowledge of the social surroundings of the
people, and I found the one vital problem, the problem touching
the citizen the nearest, to be that of the rural school, and
affiliated with the rural school, though affiliated in a crude
way, was the library.
Thus, for the second time in my life, I came into contact with
the library by means of the school. This coincidence led me to
think, and I reasoned out that library workers North and South
must be working along similar lines toward unity in practice.
Both were doing educative work. And both, apparently, had the
same goal--the reaching of the parent or adult through the child
or through child growth.
How far such work was legitimate work, how far such work had
intellectual or educational value, how far such work lacked or
had balance, I now wished to determine. To do this it was
necessary to assume some line of active investigation; also to
study results from the standpoint of the library, as well as from
that of the school and the citizen.
There was no need to search for a subject. I had it at hand.
Living as I did with the people I found myself in the very center
of the rural library movement--a movement so splendid in
conception; so successful in results, if statistics are credited;
so direct as to method, the entire appropriation being expended
on but two things, books and bookcases; so naively simple as to
administration, there being neither librarians, libraries, or
pay-rolls--that a study of it could not fail to prove helpful.
What were the actual conditions? First, the name "rural
libraries" I found a misnomer. It in no sense represents facts.
The words imply community interests, interests alike of adult and
child, whilst the reality is that these libraries are simply
school deposits, composed wholly of "juvenile books," graded up
to but not beyond the seventh grade. When one realizes that these
books reach a total of 200,000 volumes, that they are sent to
people living in scattered communities strung shoe-string fashion
high along mountain ridges--back and apart from civilization-- to
a people of rugged character, demanding strength in books as in
life, capable of appreciating strength, one sees what a
stupendous opportunity for community uplift has been wasted, and
one stands aghast at the folly, economic and intellectual, of the
limitations imposed. Why should children alone be considered? And
if they alone are to be considered why should they be fed nothing
but "juvenile" literature? It is both over-emphasis and false
emphasis of the most harmful kind.
Second, far and away the most interesting phase of this library
work in North Carolina is that the whole movement lies outside of
the hands of professionally trained librarians. To understand why
this is so it is necessary to turn to the Department of
Education. Education in North Carolina is a state affair and
centralized, the state being for all practical purposes
autocratic in every educational matter. Decentralization has set
in to the extent of admitting local taxation; otherwise
education in North Carolina to-day is as highly centralized as it
is in France. There is no difference whatever between the power
of the State Superintendent of Public Instruction at Raleigh,
and that of the Minister of Public Instruction in France. Such
being the case it is but natural that the rural library movement
should be absorbed by the state, incorporated into the Department
of Education, and administered by the State Superintendent of
Public Instruction. Neither would it be wise to change this. It
would be wise, however, to appoint as one of the county
superintendents of public instruction a trained librarian, having
as his charge the entire supervision and administration of
library interests.
Third, all responsibility for the care of these libraries rests
with teachers. The teachers should never have such
responsibility. It is entirely beyond and outside of their proper
work. I feel sure that this problem of how to care for school
deposits of library books, a problem which is an issue North as
it is South, is not so difficult of solution as library workers
would have us believe. Disabuse yourselves of the notion that it
is the teachers' work, and a way out of the difficulty will be
found.
Fourth, not only is there a growing dissatisfaction with the
library act as administered, but there is actually active
opposition to it--on the part of some teachers, and on the part
of certain public-spirited citizens. So much so is this a fact
that a counter movement is already in progress. This consists in
the establishment of rural libraries by private gift, by the
citizens at large, and by certain societies. Tryon has such a
library, a delightful building with two rooms and an ample
supply of standard books; Lenoir has one; Boone has one. Yet
these are small towns, two of them not exceeding 300 inhabitants
each. An interesting feature of one of these libraries is that it
serves largely as a social center for community life. Afternoon
tea is served in it; musicals held; club papers read; even the
Woman's Exchange meets and exhibits once a week. I had no means
of discovering how general this movement was, nor yet of
determining the ratio of emphasis laid on the social side of the
work. But I want you to note one point--the movement starts with
the adult and with standard works, and only by means of the
adult, or through the parent, is the child reached. It is the
exact antithesis of the state movement.
Fifth, the libraries are neglected. In no school did I find a
well-appointed one, and where there were bookcases they were
tucked aside in corner or entry, thick with dust, unused.
The state statistics as to the growth of this movement ignore
absolutely the facts I have mentioned. Therefore, I claim that in
no true sense are these statistics representative. The movement,
however, has interest. It is alive. It is sweeping through the
state. It spends thousands of dollars a year. It concerns itself
wholly with children. These are its characteristics. There can be
no two opinions as to its lack of balance, for the adult is not
even considered. There can be no two opinions as to its
intellectual and educational values. Buying only "juvenile
literature" they are of the smallest. There can be no two
opinions as to its morality: the people are taxed, yet only a
fraction of the people, only those who have children below the
seventh and above the first grades, receive a return.
How far North Carolina was seeking guidance of the North, how far
the North was also over-emphasizing, if it was, the children's
side in library work, I next wished to determine.
This brought me back to Boston, and to my second and final year
of service on the Examining Committee. The chairmanship of the
sub-committee on branches gave me opportunity for studying
library work as it touched the child and the school in cities.
This I supplemented by a less intensive study of library
conditions in towns, in Massachusetts, Connecticut, New
Hampshire, seeking to make my knowledge comprehensive.
The first impression I received was that of the many
interpretations put upon library work. These were almost as
numerous as were the librarians and custodians. Viewing the work
as a whole such divergence in practice seemed an error. There is
power in unity; results worth while follow. There is loss in the
frittering away of time caused by casual experiment; moreover, it
bears heavily on the child. To this you may be inclined to answer
that social and moral conditions vary so in each city and town
that the individual condition must be faced individually.
Granted, but not to the extent you might wish. To illustrate:
there is wisdom in allowing a certain station of the Boston
system complete liberty of action. But the situation at this
station is unique. It could not be duplicated even in Boston. The
work is in the hands of a skilled leader, and it forms part of a
large private work, financed by a philanthropist noted for
leadership in wise experimentation. The library shows breadth in
accepting the situation. But it is not wisdom to allow the
introduction of the story hour, or, as is the case in a
neighboring town, the throwing wide open of the children's room
to tots so tiny that picture blocks have to be furnished them to
play with--before the educational authorities have pronounced
such work necessary and just.
I next noticed and with some alarm the feminization of the
library corps. And I confess that I see no remedy. The schools
are facing the same difficulty, but eventually it will be solved
for them in the raising of certain salaries to a man's standard.
This is not likely to happen in library work. Consequently we
have this feminization to reckon with, and to me it is an active
factor in the diversity of library practice to which I have
referred, for women far more than men are prone to indulge
individual fads.
A third impression was the lack of fitness of some library
workers for their posts. This is particularly unfortunate when it
occurs in a children's room. Unless the person in charge possess
the requisite qualifications, better far close the room. The
fault lies perhaps with the colleges offering library courses. It
may well be that the training in these should be more specialized
than it is. Take the case of a student intending to pursue a
given line of work--say children's departments. Something
definite should be offered her, something corresponding in worth
to the graduate courses in practice and observation offered
students of education in departments of education at
universities. This is a practical suggestion; it only requires on
the part of colleges and libraries similar agreements to those
already existing between universities and schools. A second phase
of this question is that of libraries whose employees are not
drawn from library schools or colleges, but who reach the several
posts by a system of promotion based on efficiency and faithful
service. Is there any reason why employees of such a system,
specializing in children's work should not serve an
apprenticeship in the children's department at central and be
required to return to it again and again for further instruction?
As far as I know the heads of these children's departments have
no duties of this kind. But would not the value of a library
corps be increased tenfold if they had? They seize eagerly the
opportunity to go out and instruct the teacher, to go out and
instruct the parent. They have classes for the schools in the use
of the library. But they neglect utterly the training of the
library employee who is to serve as assistant first, as chief
later, in the children's room at branch or station. Yet the
knowledge acquired by only one day of observation under skillful
guidance in the children's department at central would prove
invaluable to these women. Broaden the training given employees,
and centralize experimentation.
I found no TRUE affiliation with the schools. There was none in
North Carolina; there is none here. In countless ways the library
and the school are overlapping. Why there should not be a clearer
vision as to what is library work and what is school work is
incomprehensible to an outsider.
I grew to have a horror of children's rooms--as distinct from
children's departments. Intellectually, physically, morally, I
believe them harmful. Neither can I see their necessity.
As regards classification of books, I received the impression
that the broad division into "adult" and "juvenile" is too
dogmatic, too arbitrary. Whatever other forms or divisions are
necessary, this particular one should be abolished. It lowers the
intellectual standing of the library with the community.
The splendid character of library work in tenement districts
stood out strongly. It is vigorous, alive, with an
ever-broadening opportunity.
More vivid, however, than any other impression, stronger still,
was that of the time and thought and care bestowed on the Child.
Everywhere, in city, town and suburban library, the effort to
reach the Child is apparent. Special attendants are in readiness
to meet him the instant he comes into reading room and station
after school hours. Thoughtful women are assigned to overlook and
guide his reference work. Entertainment is offered him in the
form of blocks to play with, scrap-books to look at, story hours
to attend. Books specially selected with regard to his supposedly
individual needs are placed on the shelves. Picture bulletins are
made for his use in the schools. Where he is not segregated he is
allowed to monopolize tables and chairs. I find no corresponding
effort made to reach the adult, to reach the young mechanic, to
draw to the library the parent. I at times wonder whether
librarians and custodians are even aware that exaggerated leaning
toward one phase of library work must throw out of the true the
work as a whole.
Nothing has astonished me more than this new development in
library practice--the placing of the child in importance before
the adult. The old belief that the library is primarily for
adults and only incidentally for children still holds good at the
central buildings of large city public library systems. In these
we find the children's department only one of many
departments--the child always subordinate, the adult
dominant--the result of a well balanced, admirable whole, each
unit in its proper place, all forces pulling together. I fail to
see why the same relative balance should not be maintained
throughout the entire system, from branch to station, not always
in kind and measure, but approximately.
A second thought to which I cannot adjust myself--is that of the
parent as a factor in school and library work. The parent
believes in the public school, and he pays heavily in taxes for
the education of his children by means of it. The parent believes
in the establishment of public libraries and he pays heavily in
taxes for their equipment. Both sums raised are sufficiently
generous to enable school and library to furnish trained,
capable, efficient teachers and librarians. Such being the case
does not the parent show intelligence in turning over to the
public care the direction of his children's education and
reading? Is he not justified in so doing? Why then should he be
held ignorant or selfish? Eliminate the parent as a factor in
library practice. Give the children quality in books. Strike off
50 per cent., if you only will, of the titles to be found on the
shelves of children's rooms. Substitute "adult" books, and you
will not need to appeal to the parent to guide the child's
choice.
That there is similarity of practice in library work, in North
Carolina and here, you can hardly deny. Point by point, in so far
as the work relates to the child, the problems are mutual. Their
solution lies in the getting together of school and library
authorities, and the setting aside of the modern thought that
library work is primarily educative and primarily for the child.
Let the schools educate the children; and, if you can, let the
adult once more dominate in library practice. You will then have
a well-balanced whole, free from over-emphasis on the child's
side.