A Screen-Free Library

Like every children’s librarian I know, wherever I walk, I seem to leave behind a detritus of craft supplies in my wake. Today, they were scrap pieces of paper lying next to coloring sheets. Three school-aged kids found the paper and began to draw.

First, they asked for scissors. Whatever. It happens all the time. Then, they asked for glue. I helped them put their creations together and before they even left my desk I heard, “Ha! Now you’re a frog!”

The mostly-boys group had made magic wands. For the next 20 minutes, they hid behind the stacks dodging paper wand attacks, their spells growing more complicated by the minute and, in that moment, I realized that there is something different about this library than the others I’ve worked at.

There is only one early literacy computer for kids in the whole room.

Consider this: when there are no screens, kids look at eachother. They play with kids they've never met before and learn to engage their imaginations. In the enclosed space of my library, with air conditioning and play areas designated in living-room style spaces, some of my patrons have become so comfortable that they’ve taken to treating it like their own house—even to the point that some compulsively take their shoes off when they enter the room. (I’ve made signs against this) So when they are here, they feel at home. Strangers feel like family. Their children feel safe. But what is different about this place than their actual home is that there is no TV. The only computers are made for adult use and are hidden by make-shift rooftops over private study carrels. There is open space, bookshelves, toys, and people--but very little technology.

So the children play. And they read. And they imagine.

There are not many places that this still happens. Everywhere we go, whether it is the grocery store or the coffee shop or a friend’s house, technology is pervasive. Kids are pushed into it. Technology companies thrive in it—creating more and more educational devices and convincing parents their five-year-old needs to learn Python before they go to school. That an iPad can replace the human connection of reading to a child before bedtime. Or a video game or movie is more entertaining than an audiobook on a car ride.

This is the first time I’ve worked in a library where they are imbetween technology. According to my coworkers, the library used to have 10 touchscreen computers, but, one by one, they broke down or went out-of-date. By the time I’d arrived, they only had 1 computer and a bunch of tablets patrons could check out, but could not use unless they’d been unlocked by the front desk.

I’ve always been an advocate for loud libraries, but there are different types of loud. There is the wailing of a fussy baby. There are the squeals of running children, the chatter of busy socialites. The beep-beep-beep of a plastic truck or vroom of a toy vacuum. There is the high-pitched tinny noises that come from a parent’s cell phone. There is the crinkle of a forbidden bag of potato chips.

There are a few of those that I prefer over others. But one I can do without? The styrofoam whine of an early literacy tablet and all its squeaky chatter.