Stories and Books

So as I apply for more youth services jobs, waiting for the promised greying of the profession to open jobs for me to move into, I read. A lot. A lot a lot. Somewhere around a book book a day, and a few giant stack of picture books a week.

Now, to find these giant stacks of picture books, I’m working off a list generated during library school. The list is down to 211 books right now, but sometimes I’ll read a book, find out it has sequels, and…

Anyhow, for the books that are only at far away libraries, I’ve been making use of ILL. But I’ve created lists using the catalog interface from my local library, and I have them pulled up on my IPad when I’m at the library, checking off books the list as I pull them from the shelves, sitting down with them, sorting them into “like” and “don’t like” piles, and cataloging and tagging all the “like” books into my Shelfari, and then putting them on the “to re-shelve” shelf. Do I feel bad for the teenaged page who has to put them back when I’m done with them? Sure I do. But I’m a taxpaying member of the community, and on top of that I’m a librarian and drama educator who will use these books to reach far more children than if one child had read them.

I’d also like to note that the chapter book reading habit, as well as my drama education, storytelling, and private storytime careers mean that I check out somewhere between 15 and 20 items a week. The women at circulation LOVE me, despite how much work I generate for them, since checking out books is what they’re paid to do, and at least I give great recommendations and conversation while they do it. They all are rooting for me to get a job.

While I was somewhere into book 60, perhaps 70, I overhear a conversation between to women, a librarian and a library associate, both of whom have been both at this library and on this earth a very long time. They’re noticing that the page has brought forward a giant stack of books to be counted and reshelved. They were horrified, wondering if someone had pulled a bunch of books to the floor. I agree: that would suck if that were the case. But when they realize that it’s me, a long time patron of the library, reading through giant stacks of books, they have a conversation at an audible level about what I should do. I would like to note that I do not believe they were being passive aggressive in letting me hear this. I just think that they didn’t care to NOT let me hear it.

They were worried about this destroying their statistics for the day. That was their primary worry. Now, don’t get me started on how asinine it is to take statistics from the picture book section the same way you would from the adult reference collection or the adult fiction collection. All of these need to count books in different ways, since people USE these parts of the library in different ways. I have gone to the library with (borrowed) children, read a big stack of picture books, and checked out none, since we’re READ all the books, or since we were on vacation and didn’t have a library card. Once can read a picture book, like it, and not check it out, since one has already read the book. So…keeping statistics on checkout vs reshelve counts is idiotic and will only generate useless and unflattering numbers. (Also, how many times have you seen a parent let a kid grab 12 random books of the shelves and quickly go and check them out? Does that mean that you have a high quality collection, or does that mean that there were 12 book-shaped objects that might not get read once they get home?)

Anyhow, they were worried about the statistics, so they discussed whether or not to ask me to reshelve the books when I finished reading them. As I said, I feel guilty about generating work for them, but I’m a member of the community using the books for a valid reason, and I’m not being paid to be there. I’m doing professional development, in fact, for a profession that has only COST me money to this point. (SOMEONE PLEASE HIRE ME!) But it is not my job to put books back on shelves, no matter how many or few I take out. I try not to pull books if I don’t have to, but again, I’m a valid patron. They then discussed for a few minutes whether they should discuss this with me.

I’m glad they decided not to. However, this library has been ruined for me for this purpose. I no longer feel welcome there, reading their collection. Which I’m sure will be great for their statistics, but if, say, I took my 15-20 checkouts a week somewhere else, that might NOT be great for their checkout and door counts. I also had to shrink out of there without making eye contact with the woman at the desk, and it ruined my enjoyment of the last 6 books I had to read.

What is this really about, though? It’s about the asinine way we take statistics on collection use, for one thing. That the library would be PUNISHED for my thorough use of the collection is idiotic. But it’s also about the contrast between old-school concepts of librarianship and new ideas. These older women want to keep the books organized on shelves more than they want the books used. Their instinct isn’t that of their former supervisor (who moved on about a month ago), who would call me over after I read a bunch of books and ask me which ones were my favorite, and learn from my work. Their instinct over my years in library school was to find it annoying that I was wasting the time of their supervisor, or at least look annoyed at me whenever I was talking to her, forget who I was repeatedly (I don’t mean my name, but that they forgot I was the one in library school), and not look very friendly to me when I entered the library. I’m not saying that this it was me, specifically, that they aren’t friendly to. They have faces that go that way. They’re the old librarian cliches, the shushers cliche, even though they’ve been taught not to shush.

I snuck out, hoping to not be confronted on my way out. I think I was worked up enough to go into a tirade about how if they want me to not do things like this, they should make good on the promises of the greying of the profession and freaking retire, so that I can have their jobs and not have the time to sit around and read 70 picture books in one sitting. I’m pretty sure I would have said that to their faces, and then gone off on the myriad ways I make their numbers better, and how that way of figuring statistics is idiotic anyhow. It’s good they didn’t confront me.

But the problem is, since they acted like they might, I no longer feel welcome coming to the library to read picture books. I think they’re going to frown at me when I come in, and look at me like I’m some sort of trouble maker who *gasp!* reads TOO MANY BOOKS OFF THE SHELF. Is it a total pain in the ass that I go into the library and pull that many books off the shelf to read? Completely. But out of the top 10 annoying patron habits, making too much use of the collection seems a minor one…but my negative impression of the children’s wing of my local library now that my librarian friend isn’t there will last a lifetime. I mean, most specifically the lifetimes of these older women, not my own…but still…someone’s lifetime…

I think one of the problems with typical cataloging systems is that picture books are all shelved together, placing Eve Bunting’s Smoky Night and One Green Apple next to Hurry! Hurry! This not only causes the awkward moments where parents of a three year old end up with a bedtime story about the LA Riots, but it keeps the book out of the hand of the 9 year old who could appreciate it, since he wouldn’t find himself in the picture book section anywhere near Hurry! Hurry! Libraries don’t shelve Rachel Cohn’s The Steps with her Gingerbread books, since they have separate sections for Tween and Teen books. We should do the same with picture books.

Beyond that, when I’m in charge of a YA department, I’m going to create a YA picture book section. It will look like this. I’m not saying I’m going to steal ALL of these books from the children’s section. Most of them should be owned in two copies so we can keep one in each collection. I believe in the power of Punk Farm with 4 year olds, fully. I just also believe fully in its power to engage 14 year olds. I also believe that with a section for YA picture books, we’d have a space for All My Friends Are Dead and Zombies Hate Stuff, which are CLEARLY picture books written for Teens and/or hipster adults. And while Garmann’s Street/Garmann’s Summer could be shelved in the children’s section, this particular book would find a stronger more receptive audience in Tweens/Teens. If the stack was located close enough to the section that 4th/5th grade boys browse in, it would also actually get Eve Bunting’s picture books into the hands of the audience she intended them for. If we keep them next to the baby books, the right audience will never find them.

I haven’t decided how I feel about libraries that create Toddler, Preschool, and lower grade school picture book collections. (Actually, I’ve only ever seen separate Toddler collections, never lower grade school collections, but I assume SOMEONE has done this.) On one hand, I believe in the power of picture books for 7/8 year olds, and as long as we continue to shelve the books all together we are keeping the higher achieving and/or helicopter parented children away from the books written for them. Also, I believe that library selection should be made easier for parents of toddlers, and that kids should be invited to select their own books, and I want to help parents avoid the argument with a cranky 20 month old who has just grabbed Wolves in the Walls off the shelf randomly and insists that they want to check THIS BOOK OUT. This could have been avoided if we had a toddler section. However, when I look at my shelfari, too many of my books straddle these collections, and you can’t buy two copies of everything that works for 4 to 6 year olds, so it becomes a purchasing problem to divide into too many collections. Also, if you get too prescriptive about the age requirements of a book, it discourages kids from reading below or above their reading levels, like those damn colored dots in the easy reader section. Then there are the problem books, like Where the Wild Things Are, that every parent thinks is a brilliant short book for their 2 year old, but really is best for 1st graders. Obviously I’d shelve it where I think it developmentally fit, but that’s not really an argument that I want to have.

Therefore, in conclusion, I have no idea what I think about Toddler/Preschool/lower grade school separations in the picture book collection, but I dream of Tween/Teen Picture Book collections gracing my shelves…soon…

My preschool storytimes usually begin with a rendition of “If You’re Happy and You Know It” called “If You’re Ready for a Story.” The first verse is “clap your hands,” the second applies to the theme somehow, and the third is “peek a boo!,” as it’s adorable for kids that “old” to get to do “peek a boo.” I’ll then do a longer, more challenging book. For example, if this is “Things that go Vroom,” I’d start with Jon Scieszka’s “Smash Crash.” Then I’ll do a poem or a song with action. (Here I do something called “I’m a Little Sportscar.”) Next a shorter book, here “Toot Toot Beep Beep” by Emma Garcia. Next another poem or song, ideally with a felt board or puppet. Here, “The Wheels on the Bus.” Finally I do the shortest book. Here, “School Bus” by Donald Crews. Sometime, if the kids are feeling it, I’ll do a short and funny book that’s very interactive as a fourth book, but not usually. Something like Jan Thomas’s “Can You Make a Scary Face” or “Guess Again!” by Mac Barnett. I end with The Milkshake Song by Anne-Marie Akin, which begins as a torch song and ends up like a kiddie punk song. If you don’t know it, google it. It’s fantastic. The brilliant part about this song is that kids who are challenged by sitting still know that they get this as the reward for sitting still, and the kids who are sad storytime is over get this as a reward for being okay with it ending.

With Toddlers, I’ll cut the longest book of the theme, or completely remake the theme for them. For babies, there are a lot more stretchers and sometimes only one book. For 5-6 year olds, you start with an even more complex book, you cut the baby songs and only do the cool songs, you bring in more comedy if you can, and add a craft that applies to the book you read, ideally, or turn one of the stories into a completely interactive creative drama. (Bringing the story to life with each kid getting to be the protagonist at the same time, blending non-performative improv with storytelling.) I have a website showing all my themes I’ve worked up, but I know you don’t want my name anywhere on these pages, so I won’t put it here, but it’s an evolving website.

The first part of this question has two answers: the generalizing version and the wibbily version. The wibbily answer is that I know 17 year olds who remind me of 12 year olds, and I’ve taught 12 year olds who seem like they’re ready for college. When Neil Gaiman is asked if Coraline is appropriate for a certain age of child, he always replies that he doesn’t know the child, so he can’t answer the question. This is not only true of book recommendations, and not only true for Neil Gaiman.

But I’m guessing that a sweeping generalization answer will also be useful here, since YA librarians not only deal with individual patrons, but also groups of patrons, in programs, in TAGs, and sitting at tables in the library. Middle School aged teens in groups are more conscious of whether the people around them think something is cool or not than their older peers. Middle School kids might think that something is cool when they’re just talking to you, and might even find YOU cool when it’s just the two of you, but very few things, especially you, will be cool when peer groups are around, unless you’re in a very cultivated TAG situation. Middle School students need to be listened to carefully, to understand the sorts of programming that they’re interested in, since they’ll mostly think their own ideas are cool, but the problem is that they’re not great at suggesting ideas unless they think that everyone else likes the idea. Now, of course, these generalizations better apply to working with kids in schools. When I’ve worked with kids at theaters, a lot of these problems dissolve as the kids begin to trust each other, so, again, a trusting group of middle school kids wouldn’t have these problems as much.

When kids hit high school, they’re much more comfortable expressing what they want to do and what interests them, so letting their ideas help take the lead is even more essential at this age, since when they think something is cool, they’ll get into it at this age. Many teens, especially library (and theater) teens, fully accept their inner geek, especially now that geek is cool. However, some of them are much more jaded at this age. Again, these are sweeping generalizations that might not apply to any groups of teens that would come to Oak Park Library, so I’d be ready to drop any of these assumptions when presented with a group of kids.

What I love about Middle School Teens is watching them discover things for the first time. While all people discover things for the first time, and honestly, there’s nothing cuter than a 4th grader discovering something, when it happens to a middle school teen, you see all the cool veneer break down, and they get puppy dog excited, like a 4th grader. They’re also making connections so quickly, since they know enough things to be able to connect the things to the other things. When I got the cast of Jungle Tales (my loose adaptation of The Jungle Books) to actually read the Kipling, and they saw the lines I’d taken, and found other lines I’d left, they got so excited to see what was on the page coming to life in what they were doing. They even had each other sign their copies of the actual book, taking full ownership over the book as theirs, since they’d played an animal in it. Middle School Teens absolutely OWN the things that they love.

High School Teens still make connections, but they’ve already seen and experienced a lot, so it’s harder to get them that adorkably excited about things. What I love about them is their expertise. I may be a cosplay geek, but I’m Sandman/Doctor Who/True Blood, not Manga/Anime, and there’s nothing better than getting a teenaged expert to explain to me the things that I don’t know yet. They’re just so confident when they are in their zone of expertise, and haven’t yet learned that silly adult social rules that tell you not to go on about topics you know. I love tapping into what teens are into and what they’re good at and learning from them.

When I was a teen and tween, the library was a safe space. I had other safe spaces too, including the theater, but I knew that I could let my geek flag fly at the library with no judgements. And this was in the era right before YA literature started to heat up. There was no high school collection at Wilmette Public Library when I was a teen, since there wouldn’t be enough books to put in it. I do love young adult books: I love their immediacy of action, I love that they’re written with the hope that teens haven’t already formed preconceptions of what they should or shouldn’t like, what is acceptable or unacceptable reading material, and just appeal to the reader’s need to hear a good story about interesting characters. Of course, some teens have learned what they should and shouldn’t like, whether it be a “highbrow” version of what they should like or a “lowbrow” version of what they should like, and that’s where having a body of literature that has the focus on story and character comes in handy in pushing those teens with society’s rules in their heads past those rules. I love all kinds of YA literature, and I read them as my fun reading during my tenure in Hollywood and in theater, before discovering that my librarian tendencies needed a graduate degree to go along with them.

I come out of theater, having written plays for young people, including tweens and teens, taught, acted with, and directed tweens and teens, and done storytelling workshops with tweens and teens. I love engaging young people with information and story, and the energy that comes off their bodies when they get to engage with new ideas of all sorts. I am energized by being around someone the first time they realize something. I might be bored with 99% of the adaptations of Shakespeare I see done by adults in the theater, but there’s still nothing like watching a young person decipher a famous soliloquy for the first time. Finally, I’ve read the literature about the teen retention problem in libraries. I value libraries, and I know that if don’t value teens as patrons who deserve their own space, collection, and programming, we will push them away once they get their drivers license, and not get them back until they have their own kids. I want to be a teen librarian to be part of the team that bridges the gap to the 20 somethings, keeping libraries relevant, current, and therefore funded.

The most important thing to do in a reference interview, whether with an adult or a child, is to not start walking over to the shelf until you know what the patron is actually asking. In my (limited) experience doing reference, either volunteering at my library, answering questions for preschool teachers at my outreach centers, or helping out parents of my students or my students, I know that the patron rarely forms the question in a clear way the first time. Just last week I was volunteering at my library and got a question from a dad who wanted a story for his 6 year old son for before bed. My first instinct was to walk him over to the chapter book section and possibly give him a classic or modern classic to read, chapter by chapter, at night. But he wasn’t asking for that. When I asked him specifically if he wanted a chapter book or a picture book, he clarified that he actually wanted stories that he could read by himself and TELL to his child at night. It was then that I knew to walk him over to the folk/fairy tale section and found one Yolen book and one scary stories book for him to look through, also telling him about some collections that our library didn’t have that were similar if these failed him. So with questions, you want to know what their question is first. With readers’ advisory, I developed a pretty foolproof intro question when I was working at a writing center in where we had 3 large bookcases of books that I kept circulating among the students. I asked the kids to tell me one book they loved, one book they’ve hated, and one book that they read for school that they liked. Those three questions usually can usually give me the information I need to find the right book for the kid, whether it be within further school-type constraints or for pure pleasure. For the kids who say that they’ve never liked a book, that’s when you ask them what they’re into: what magazines they like, what movies they like, what websites they go to, what tv they like, and what they do for fun. My encyclopedic knowledge of books for ages 0 to 18 comes in handy here, as well, as does the fact that I read, on average, one chapter book a day and about 50 picture books a week, and have been doing this for a few years now.