In the graduate student compartment of my life, last week
was finals week for an incredibly intense,
longer-than-eight-weeks-should-ever-be summer school session. One comprehensive
exam loomed before me (yes, dear readers, those do STILL exist), and all I wanted
to do was change my name from “Mommy” and bury my head in my books—or notes—as it
were. Unfortunately, I was overruled by my Little Misters, and so “Mommy” I
remained.
Monday came and went. One day down; nothing accomplished.
After finally conquering bedtime, Hubs and I sat on the couch—our typical
battle ground—determined to devise a strategy to ensure victory over that
blasted ball-o-stress. This is what
Operation Slay-That-Test looked like:
Hubs: I’ll come home as early as I can tomorrow,
and you can…study.
Me:
Questioning look, as visions of myself barricaded in my bedroom with the Little
Misters chanting “Mommy! Mommy! Moooooommy!” grappling with the child lock on
the doorknob played in my head.
Hubs: Maybe you could go somewhere…somewhere where
you can just make a nest with everything you need and have a study session.
Me: I guess I could go to Barnes and Noble.
Hubs: There’s really a lot of distraction there
for you.
Me: Ugh…yeah…I guess.
Silence.
Hubs: Too bad there’s not like a library or
something you could go to.
And there it
was. Battle plan devised. Victory assured.
He wasn’t
even being snarky, but I was fairly ashamed that it was the Hubs that thought
of the library and not his Teacher-Librarian wife, but a good idea is a good
idea, and his was stellar!
Tuesday
night found me rounding the corner to the campus library, greeted by the
beautiful and overwhelming sound of silence. When I walked in, the faces of
half my class greeted me, sheer determination in their eyes. They were there—all
of them—with a shared purpose and an individual mission. They were there
together, but each alone—two on desktop computers (a row apart), two on personal
laptops (one with headphones attached), and one in a private study carrel. I assumed
my own position in their battlefront—a comfy chair and coffee table in the
middle of the room. Commence battle…
In the week
that followed, I reflected on the significance of that experience as a
Teacher-Librarian in today’s world of education. People ask me all the time, “Is
the library even relevant anymore?” I always respond with passionate zeal about
the resources we provide, the information literacy skills we impart, and the
one-stop shop for just about anything anyone might ever need in life. (Did I
say I was passionate?)
But last
week, I realized the library affords so much more than that. It provides people
space to just be—to be alone, to be together, to be alone.together. In the
noise of the 21st century technology-infused educational world, the
library teaches respectful use of personal technology in a haven for isolated
togetherness. As media progressively infuses more of our students’ lives,
authentic connection is lost for Facebook friends and text-message discussions;
however, 21st-century life readiness skills dictate that students “communicate
and collaborate” and make meaningful connections between “their futures, their
teachers, their parents, their peers, the environment, and the spirit of their
school, their community, and their world” (LeButt, n.d.). It’s difficult to
teach students effective interpersonal skills without authentic connection, and
the library offers an environment rich with resources, brimming with real-world
opportunities, and booming with silence big enough to foster connection...and in
my view, that’s pretty relevant.
References
Lubutt, C. (n.d.). Empowering your students for the 21st
century. Retrieved from http://www.empoweringyourstudents.com/Home_Page.html
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