BY CLARA WHITEHILL HUNT, _Newark (N. J.) Free Public Library_.
In writing this paper on the opening of a children's room, I am
presupposing the following conditions: That in a library whose work with
the children has been confined to the general delivery desk, and the
divided attention of clerks whose time an adult public would monopolize,
there is to be set aside a commodious apartment to be known as the
Children's Room; that, considering this work of enough importance to
demand such a department, the trustees are prepared to support it by a
reasonable outlay for new books, necessary and convenient furnishings,
and especially by placing in its charge one who, by natural fitness and
special training they believe to be so thoroughly capable of supervising
the work, that she is to be given a free hand in deciding both how the
room is to be made ready for opening, and how managed after it is
opened. This being the case, I imagine the children's librarian, with
opening day a few weeks or months ahead, planning her campaign with such
wise foresight and attention to the smallest detail that, in the rush of
the first weeks, there may be the least possible wear and tear on nerves
and temper from petty inconveniences which assume gigantic proportions
when one is hurried and tired, and the smallest amount of undoing and
beginning over again as time goes on.
It is difficult to be clear in speaking of furnishings without something
more than verbal description for illustrating mistakes and excellences,
but so much power can be lost by not having the parts of the machine
properly fitted and well oiled that how to furnish the children's room
becomes one of the most important topics under this subject.
To begin with, the children's librarian must cultivate, if she does not
already possess, the architect's faculty of seeing a completed structure
in a flat piece of paper marked off by lines labelled 20 ft., 50 ft.,
etc. If 20 ft. does not mean anything to her she would do well to take a
tape measure to an empty lot and measure off the exact dimensions of her
room to be, until she can see its floor space clearly. She should live
in her room before its existence, locating every door and window, the
height of the windows from the floor, every corner and cupboard, the
relation of her room to the other departments of the library. In
proceeding to furnish the room she will learn what to adopt and what to
avoid by visiting other children's rooms and asking if the tables and
chairs are the correct height, if the exit is satisfactorily guarded,
what working space is necessary for a certain circulation, whether the
electric light fixtures are easily broken, and many other things. If she
cannot make such visits, her knowledge of children and a study of
conditions in her own library will answer.
Limited to a small space the children's room is nevertheless a
circulating department, a reading room, a reference room, perhaps a
repair room, and a cataloging department all in one; and if the
children's librarian has not had actual work in each of these
departments of her library, she should serve an apprenticeship at the
receiving and charging desks, the registration desk, the slip rack, not
only for the sake of knowing the routine of each department, but for
studying improvements in planning her furnishings. The registration
clerk will tell her that she has not enough elbow room, that the
application drawers are too narrow or too heavy; the attendants at the
charging desk find every present arrangement so satisfactory that they
advise exact reproduction. Armed with pad and tape measure the
children's librarian notes all these points.
The problem how with a minimum of help to "run" all departments, to see
all parts of the room, to keep your eye on the entrance so as to nip in
the bud any tendency to boisterousness as the children come in, and to
watch the exit so that no book goes out uncharged, how to keep all
unfinished work out of the children's reach but to give them perfectly
free access to the books, in short, how to arrange your working space so
that one person on a moderately busy day can attend to all these things,
may be answered, I think, in this way. All wall space will sooner or
later be needed for books. Taking an oblong floor space (dimensions
proportionate to size of room and circulation) and surrounding this by a
counter 30 inches high and two feet wide, is a simple way of
accomplishing these things. The counter opposite the entrance is the
receiving and charging desk; at another place it is the registration
desk; books after "slipping" are piled in another part ready for return
to shelves; books waiting to be marked occupy a fourth section; the
catalog case, notices to children, call-slip holders, etc., stand on the
counter. The space under the counter is available for supply cupboards
and drawers. The height of the counter is such that a grown person
sitting in an ordinary chair works comfortably behind it, but it is so
low that no small child feels frowningly walled out in standing on the
other side. Thus all the work of the room is concentrated and
supervision is easy. A few details are worth noticing. First, don't let
the carpenter give you drawers instead of cupboards. Drawers are
wasteful of room for packing supplies, and of time in hunting for them.
Next, have the cupboard doors slide, not swing, open, for economy of
your working floor space. Underneath registration and charging desks
leave space empty for your feet. Just under counter near the
registration desk have a row of drawers, sliding easily but fastened so
they cannot fall out, made of the exact size to hold your application
blanks and cards, with guide cards. A work table within the counter will
be necessary.
In addition to this working space, every large children's room should
have a locked closet, or better still, a work room opening from it. In
busy times things _will_ accumulate which must be kept out of reach, and
it would not be sensible to take valuable space out of the children's
room to hold such accumulations until you have time to attend to them.
The height of the children's chairs and tables seems to have reached a
standard in children's rooms--tables 22 and 28 inches high, with chairs
14 and 16 inches to go with them. I think it best to have very few
tables of the smaller size, for tall boys take the strangest delight in
crouching over them, snarling their long legs around the short table
legs and trying, apparently, to get a permanent twist to their
shoulders. Small children do not stay long, and it is less harmful, if
necessary, for them to sit in a chair a little too high than to compel
large children to spend a holiday afternoon with bodies contorted to fit
a small chair and table.
By all means have the electric light _fixed_ in the center of the table
so that each child gets an equal share of light, and have the
connections so made that jarring the table and the movements of restless
feet will not put the fixtures out of order. Be very careful not to have
the shade so high that the glare of the lamp instead of the restful
green shade is opposite the child's eyes.
When you see a chair that you like, find out before purchasing whether
it is very easily tipped over. You will know why, if you are not wise,
on some rainy day, when the room is full of readers and the reports of
chairs suddenly knocked over sound like a fusillade of cannon balls.
Leaving this hasty and most unsatisfactory discussion on getting the
_place_ ready for opening, I would say a word about getting the _books_
ready--not about buying a large quantity of new, and putting the old
into the best possible condition of repair and cleanliness, for that
will naturally be done. But from experience I know that the moment is
golden for weeding out, never to return, authors you think
objectionable.
Suppose a girl reads nothing but the Elsie books. Very likely one reason
is that she knows little about any other kind. In a printed catalog with
a scattering "j" between many titles of adult books it is easier to make
lists of numbers from the long sets of prolific writers, and those
excellent authors who have produced only a few books for children are
oftenest overlooked. Suppose in the process of moving the Elsie books
are left behind. The little girl comes into the beautiful new
children's room. She sees the shining new furniture, the pictures, the
comfortable tables and chairs and book cases so planned that any child
can reach any book. She finds that there is perfect freedom for every
child in this room--that no stern Olympian comes and says, "Don't do
this," and "You can't have that," and "Those books aren't for you," but
that among all these hundreds of fresh new covers she may take her pick,
may sit anywhere, or stand or kneel as she chooses. Do you imagine that,
as these unaccustomed delights sink into her mind, any child is going
off in a huff when she finds one author is lacking, if the children's
librarian uses any tact in introducing her to others adapted to her
tastes? I have been asked for Alger and Optic and Elsie, of course,
though much less often than I anticipated, but I am perfectly certain
that I have never lost a "customer" because I did not display these
wares. One little girl exclaimed in doleful tones, "Oh, haven't you the
Elsie books? Oh, I'm _terribly_ disappointed! I think those are _grand_
books!" But in spite of this tragic appeal her curiosity and interest
proved stronger than her disappointment, and I have the satisfaction of
seeing a more wholesome taste develop in a child who must have been on
the high road to softening of the brain and moral perversion from
association with the insufferable Elsie. If you once put these books on
the open shelves, however, and later attempted the weeding out process,
a howl would arise which would not be silenced without consequences
which I, for one, would not like to face.
Furniture and books are comparatively simple matters to make ready, but
to prepare your assistant or assistants for opening day and the time
that follows is harder. The external preparation for the rush of the
first weeks consists in drill in the routine to be observed. Assigning a
place and certain duties to each person, foreseeing as far as possible
all questions that may arise and making sure that each attendant
understands what to do in any case, having a place for everything, and
everything in its place, and every person knowing what that place is, so
that there will be no frantic search for an extra set of daters when a
long line of people stands waiting--this also requires only foresight
and firmness. But so deeply to imbue your chief assistant with your
spirit and principles of management that she will not simply obey your
directions, but be inwardly guided by your desires, and there may be no
break in the steady march to a definite end--this demands that rare
species of assistant who is born, not made, for the position, and a
leader who possesses strength, tact, contagious enthusiasm, a likeable
personality, and other qualities difficult to attain.
This brings us to the consideration of what the guiding principles of
the new department are to be--a question which must be pondered and
settled by the children's librarian before making the external
preparations. If the senior members of the American Library Association,
the librarians-in-chief, would consider the children's room of enough
importance to give us their ideas of what it should stand for, what its
scope should be, the result might be more uniformity of thought among
members of the library profession in this regard, and a more sensible
attitude toward the children's room in the library. Between those who,
on the one hand, take themselves so very seriously, pondering with
anxious care what probable effect on the child's future career as a
reader the selection of a blue or a green mat for mounting the picture
bulletin would have, and those who look upon the children's room merely
as an interesting plaything, driving the big boys away in disgust by
encouraging visitors who exclaim, "Oh, what cunning little chairs and
tables! Why, you have a regular kindergarten here, haven't you?"--from
either point of view, the discussions on children's rooms in libraries
seem almost to lose sight of the very word library and all it carries
with it.
The children's room is only one room in a great dignified library. As
the newspaper room, the catalog room, and all the rest are fitted up
with furnishings suited to their peculiar needs, so the children's room
is furnished with tables and chairs and books suited to its
constituents. Apart from this, all its management and spirit should
correspond as closely as possible to that of the other departments. The
same dignity, the same freedom, the same courteous attention to every
want without fussy attentions which by grown people would be called
intrusiveness should prevail. Make the selection of books what it should
be, provide guides and catalogs, perfectly clear but not patronizingly
written down, show the children that you are always willing to respond
in every way to their questions, and then--let them alone!
Some one has asked me to speak on the question of discipline. After the
first two or three weeks, if one begins properly, there will be no such
question. Allowing something for the noise of small feet which have not
learned to control themselves as they will later on, and expecting more
"talking over" an interesting "find" than is common with adults, one
should aim for library order. Teach the children what a library reading
room means. If in the first days there is a disposition on the part of
any boy to be rough or unruly, or if a group of girls make a
visiting-and-gum-chewing rendezvous of your tables, don't waste any time
in Sunday-school methods of discipline, trying to keep a hold on the
child at any cost to the library. A sentence in a report of Pratt
Institute children's room is worth adopting as a guiding principle. "The
work of the children's room should be educative, not reformatory." Give
one decided warning and then if a child does not behave, send him out at
once. Do not be afraid of seeming stern at first. The fascinations of
the room are such that a child who has been turned away for disobedience
comes back a subdued and chastened young person and your best friend
forever after; then with your aim and your firmness early settled, you
will have no more thought of discipline than the reference librarian
with his tables full of studious adults. After the first a little care
about the way a child enters the room will be all that is necessary.
Your courteous manner, low tones, a little reminder about caps and clean
hands while discharging his book, will give him the cue as to what is
expected, and he will have a pride in living up to what is expected of
him as a gentleman, not demanded of him as a child under authority.
Many other points will engage the thought of the children's librarian,
for example, what shall be the attitude of the children's room toward
the other departments--whether it is to encourage the children to make
use of the adults' reference room, to take out cards in the main
delivery department, and get into the way of reading standard works from
suggestions of the children's librarian; or whether the line of
separation is to be rigid and she will be jealous of their "graduating"
from her care. How to prepare the public, especially the school-teaching
public, for the opening, so as to secure their hearty co-operation from
the beginning is worth constant effort. The question of blanks and forms
for the children's room is a minor matter which is after all not a small
thing. To make as few changes as possible in the forms already in use,
so that any assistant from the main delivery room can in emergencies
quickly take up the clerical work of the children's room without needing
to learn a new routine may save much confusion should the children's
staff all happen to be stricken with grippe at the same time!
Beginning early to plan, profiting by other people's mistakes, getting
the routine of each department at one's finger tips, foreseeing every
probable obstacle and removing each in imagination, beforehand,
proceeding with calmness and common sense, thus the new machinery will
move as smoothly during opening weeks as if it had been running for
years, and, as "well begun is half done," every thought given to
preparation while the room exists only on paper will have a far-reaching
effect on the permanent influences of the children's room.