There are certain times when the library is indispensable. Often these are times in life when their is a pause in the action and we emerge from our ‘busy’ness to rediscover the joy of reading- but sometimes our peaks in library attendance are due to more pressing matters. In particular I am remembering a wintry time when I lived in a very small house in with a very active toddler. I was not working full time, in order to have more mommy time, and therefore had zero funds for external toddler supervision. There were three places that saved me from going crazy: the laundrymat, the playplace at McDonalds and the library. Hannah and I revelled in our local library and made library trips religiously (we were always testing supplemental branches for wild-child friendliness).
The Middletown Library on West Main Road in Middletown, RI, was an oasis, definitely designed by someone who knew that generations do not always get along when forced to mix in public spaces. The children’s room had a separate parking area and entrance. It was closed off from the main library with solid (probably sound proof) doors that mischievous hands could not open and bolt through and had its own circulation desk. Completely self contained. It was a physical safety zone full of equally rambunctious children. Hannah’s favorite part of the room was the corner with the giant Dr. Seuss characters (they were as big as she was) that she could re-arrange and read to and the Playschool barn (the one that ‘moos’ when you close the gate). She would play happily, strewing pigs and chicken across the rug while I caught my breath and peacefully browsed through beautiful picture books, accumulating a giant stack to bring home to our tiny cottage.
In Harris County Texas (surrounding Houston) they have turned the pecking order around - instead of having a noisy children’s room isolated from a quiet library, they have “quiet rooms” (no talking, typing, eating, ringing, singing, buzzing, sipping, etc.) walled off in certain areas of their bustling libraries. Harris County is the largest county in Texas (3 millionish people) and the 3rd largest county in the US and their libraries have it all going on: video gaming rooms, family nights, blood drives, film festivals, Internet cafes, chess club, knitting groups, tech training and, get this, Barbara Bush and her poodle Mini even stopped by a few weeks ago to read to a group of kids. Hand me my ten gallon hat - I’m going to Harris County, and I’m bringing a whole bunch of kids with me (and leaving them outside my quiet room).
I love Texas because Texas is future-oriented, because Texans think anything is possible. Texans think big - Senator Phil Gramm
The Middletown Library on West Main Road in Middletown, RI, was an oasis, definitely designed by someone who knew that generations do not always get along when forced to mix in public spaces. The children’s room had a separate parking area and entrance. It was closed off from the main library with solid (probably sound proof) doors that mischievous hands could not open and bolt through and had its own circulation desk. Completely self contained. It was a physical safety zone full of equally rambunctious children. Hannah’s favorite part of the room was the corner with the giant Dr. Seuss characters (they were as big as she was) that she could re-arrange and read to and the Playschool barn (the one that ‘moos’ when you close the gate). She would play happily, strewing pigs and chicken across the rug while I caught my breath and peacefully browsed through beautiful picture books, accumulating a giant stack to bring home to our tiny cottage.
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| by Nancy Agafitei |
I love Texas because Texas is future-oriented, because Texans think anything is possible. Texans think big - Senator Phil Gramm
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