The first article quoted on the subject of discipline was
contributed to The Library Journal, October, 1901, by Miss Lutie
E. Stearns, who gives the experience of a number of librarians
and interprets them from her own standpoint. Lutie Eugenia
Stearns was born in Stoughton, Mass.; was graduated from the
Milwaukee State Normal School in 1887, and taught in the public
schools for two years. From 1890 to 1897 she was in charge of the
circulating department of the Milwaukee Public Library; from 1897
to 1914 she was connected with the Wisconsin Library Commission,
part of the time as chief of the Travelling Library Department.
Miss Stearns now devotes her time to public lecturing.
In these days of children's shelves, corners, or departments, or
when, in lieu of such separation, the juvenile population fairly
overruns the library itself, the question of discipline ofttimes
becomes a serious one. The pages of library journals, annual
reports, bulletins, primers, and compendiums may be searched in
vain for guidance. How to inculcate a spirit of quiet and
orderliness among the young folks in general; how to suppress
giggling girls; what to do with the unruly boy or "gang" of boys
--how best to win or conquer them, or whether to expel them
altogether; how to deal with specific cases of malicious mischief
or flagrant misbehavior and rowdiness--all these questions
sometimes come to be of serious importance to the trained and
untrained librarian.
It was with a view of gaining the experience of librarians in
this matter that letters were recently sent to a large number of
librarians, asking for devices used in preserving order and quiet
in the library. The replies are of great interest, the most
surprising and painful result of the symposium being the almost
universal testimony that the leading device used in preserving
order is the policeman! One librarian even speaks of his library
as being "well policed" in ALL of its departments. Personally, we
think the presence of such an officer is to be greatly deplored,
believing him to be as much out of place in a library as he would
be in enforcing order in a church or school room. The term of a
school teacher would be short lived, indeed, who would be
compelled to resort to such measures. In several instances,
janitors do police duty, being invested with the star of
authority; and in one case the librarian, who openly confesses to
a lack of sentiment in the matter, calls upon the janitor to
thrash the offender! "The unlucky youth who gets caught has
enough of a story to tell to impress transgressors for a long
time to come," writes the librarian. "The average boy believes in
a thrashing, and it is much better in the end for him and for
others to administer it and secure reverence for the order of the
library."
In one state at least, Massachusetts, there is a special law
imposing a penalty for disturbance; and one librarian reports
that he has twice had boys arrested and tried for disturbing
readers. Another librarian does not go as far as this but adopts
the device of showing unruly boys a photograph of the State
Reform School and the cadets on parade. "The mischief is quite
subdued before I am half through," she writes, "and they
frequently return bringing other boys to see the photograph. This
fact undoubtedly acts as a check upon the boys many times." A
pleasing contrast is offered to such drastic and unwholesome
methods as these by the gentle and cheery methods pursued by a
librarian who says, "The children in this library talk less than
the grown-ups. When they do raise their voices, I go up to them
and tell them in a very low tone that if everybody else in the
room were making as much noise as they, it would be a very noisy
place. That stops them. If children walk too heavily or make a
noise on the stairs, I affect surprise and remark in a casual way
that I did not know that it was circus day until I heard the
elephants. This produces mouse-like stillness at once. Really, I
know no other devices except being very impressive and putting
quietness on the ground of other peoples' rights."
But it is not always such smooth sailing. One librarian writes:
"We have had no end of trouble in a small branch which we have
opened in a settlement in a part of our city almost entirely
occupied by foreign born residents. A great many boys have come
there for the sole purpose of making a row. We have had every
sort of mischief, organized and unorganized. We have had to put
boys out and we have had many free fights, much to the amusement
and pleasure of the boys. We have never resorted to arrests, but
instructed the young man who acted as body guard to the young
lady assistants to hold his own as best he could in these melees.
I finally resorted to the plan of taking the young man away and
letting the young ladies be without their guard. This has
resulted most satisfactorily. The order has been much better, and
while I cannot say that we are free from disorder, nothing like
the state of things that before existed now obtains. The manager
of the Settlement House overheard a gang of these very bad boys
consulting on the street a few nights ago, something in this
wise: 'Come, boys, let's go to the library for some fun!' Another
boy said, 'Who's there?' The reply was, 'Oh! only Miss Y----;
don't let's bother her,' and the raid was not made. Of course we
have done everything ordinary and extraordinary that we know
about in the way of trying to interest the boys and having a
large number of assistants to be among them and watch them, but
nothing has succeeded so well as to put the girls alone in the
place and let things take their course."
The experience of another librarian also furnishes much food for
thought. She writes: "I could almost say I am glad that others
have trouble with that imp of darkness, the small boy. Much as I
love him, there are times when extermination seems the only
solution of the difficulty. However, our children's room is a
paradise to what it was a year ago, and so I hope. The only thing
is to know each boy as well as possible, something of his home
and school, if he will tell you about them. The assistants make a
point of getting acquainted when only a few children are in. This
winter I wrote to the parents of several of the leaders, telling
them I could not allow the children in the library unless the
parents would agree to assist me with the discipline. This meant
that about six boys have not come back to us. I was sorry, but
after giving the lads a year's trial I decided there was no use
in making others suffer for their misdeeds. A severe punishment
is to forbid the boys a 'story hour.' They love this and will not
miss an evening unless compelled to remain away. To give some of
the worst boys a share in the responsibility of caring for the
room often creates a feeling of ownership which is wholesome. Our
devices are as numerous and unique as the boys themselves. Some
of them would seem absurd to an outsider. The unexpected always
happens; firmness, sympathy and ingenuity are the virtues
required and occasionally the added dignity of a policeman, who
makes himself quite conspicuous, once in a while."
Another reply is a follows: "Miss C---- has turned over your
inquiry concerning unruly boys to me to answer. I protested that
every boy that made a disturbance was to me a special
problem--and very difficult; and I can't tell what we do with
unruly boys as a class. I remember I had a theory that children
were very susceptible to courtesy and gentleness, and I meant to
control the department by teaching the youngsters SELF control
and a proper respect for the rights of the others who wanted to
study in peace and quiet. I never went back on my theory; but
occasionally, of a Saturday afternoon, when there were a hundred
children or more and several teachers in the room and I was
trying to answer six questions a minute, I did have to call in
our impressive janitor. He sat near the gate and looked over the
crowd and when he scowled the obstreperous twelve-year- olds made
themselves less conspicuous. A policeman sometimes wandered in,
but I disliked to have to resort to the use of muscular energy. I
learned the names of the most troublesome boys and gradually
collected quite a bit of information about them, their addresses,
where they went to school, their favorite authors, who they
seemed 'chummy' with, etc., and when they found I didn't intend
to be needlessly disagreeable and wasn't always watching for
mischief, but credited them with honor and friendly feelings, I
think some of them underwent a change of heart. I made a point of
bowing to them on the street, talking to them and especially
getting them to talk about their books; had them help me hang
the bulletins and pictures, straighten up the books etc. Twice an
evil spirit entered into about a dozen of the boys and my
patience being kin to the prehistoric kind that 'cometh quickly
to an end,' after a certain point, I gave their names to the
librarian, who wrote to their parents. That settled things for a
while and they got out of the habit of talking so much. A serious
conversation with one boy ended with the request that he stay
from the library altogether for a month and when he came back he
would begin a new slate. Once, within a week, he came in, or
started to, when I caught his eye. Then he beckoned to another
boy and I think a transaction of some kind took place so that he
got his book exchanged. But he saw I meant what I said. The day
after the month was up he appeared, we exchanged a friendly smile
and I had no more trouble with him."
We deem the question of banishment a serious one. Unruly boys are
often just the ones that need the influence of the library most
in counteracting the ofttimes baneful influence of a sordid home
life. It is a good thing, morally, to get hold of such boys at an
early age and to win their interest in and attendance at the
library rather than at places of low resort. To withhold a boy's
card may also be considered a doubtful punishment-- driving the
young omnivorous reader to the patronage of the "underground
travelling library" with its secret stations and patrons. Before
suspension or expulsion is resorted to, the librarian should
clearly distinguish between thoughtless exuberance of spirits and
downright maliciousness. "If we only had a boys' room,"
plaintively writes one sympathetic librarian, "where we could get
them together without disturbing their elders and could thus let
them bubble over with their 'animal spirits' without infringing
on other people, I believe we could win them for good."
A number of librarians, however, report no difficulty in dealing
with the young folks. Some state that the children easily fall
into the general spirit of the place and are quiet and studious.
"We just expect them to be gentlemen," says one, "and they rarely
fail to rise to the demand." In such places will generally be
found floors that conduce to stillness, rubber-tipped chairs, and
low-voiced assistants. "Our tiled floors are noisy--not our
children," confesses one librarian. The use of noiseless matting
along aisles most travelled will be found helpful. But one
library mentions the use of warning signs as being of assistance,
this being a placard from the Roycroft Shop reading, "Be gentle
and keep the voice low." In a library once visited were found no
less than eighteen signs of admonition against dogs, hats,
smoking, whispering, handling of books, etc., etc.--the natural
result being that, in their multiplicity, no one paid any
attention to any of them. If a sign is deemed absolutely
necessary, it should be removed after general attention his been
called to it. The best managed libraries nowadays are those
wherein warnings are conspicuous for their absence. Next to the
officious human "dragon" that guards its portals, there is
probably no one feature in all the great libraries of a western
metropolis that causes so much caustic comment and rebellious
criticism as that of an immense placard in its main reading room
bearing in gigantic letters the command, SILENCE--this perpetual
affront being found in a great reference library frequented only
by scholarly patrons. Such a placard is as much out of place
there as it would be in a school for deafmutes.
The solution of the whole problem of discipline generally
resolves itself into the exercise of great tact, firmness, and,
again, gentleness. There should be an indefinable something in
the management of the library which will draw people in and an
atmosphere most persuasive in keeping them there and making them
long to return. A hard, imperious, domineering, or condescending
spirit on the part of librarian and assistants often incites to
rebellion or mutiny on the part of patrons. As opposed to this,
there should ever be the spirit of quietude, as exemplified in
the words previously quoted--"Be gentle and keep the voice low."