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Assignment X: The Library is All Around

“The library is everywhere” is an overwhelming thought. It’s similar to “God is everywhere,” a typical lesson for young emerging Christians, with the guiding principle that if you look, you will find it. Equally perplexing is Briet’s famous claim that the antelope is a document. These concepts, while excellent fodder to chew on, are difficult to construct a building upon. In fact, they even scare people away. How, then, do we create a modern library?

            The ancient Greeks used the agora as their exchange space: ideas, politics, and gossip were traded alongside foods and other goods. It was an open space that was full of information. Today’s library is a space for modern exchange with information as a currency. The books are nearly becoming an afterthought. Casey O’Brian (2019) of the San Francisco Public Library observes that, “100 years ago, the goal [of libraries] was for people to have access to books… but now people are very hungry to be connected.”(link). Lefernik (2018) argues in his blog, “To Keep people happy…keep some books” , activities with specific surrounding elicit specific behaviors, and possibly outcomes. Books are expected in a library, but is it the books or the space or the people, that catapult thoughts? Physical spaces remain core to human experience. 

            In Denmark, they famously opened the “human library,” where people can exchange ideas and learn from each other in a safe space. Maybe you have a question about the practices and understandings of Islam and muslims: the library sets an appointment for those who practice Islam to share their beliefs and practices, and answer questions. Maybe you read a book that you would like to discuss. The library will set-up an appointment with another person who has also read that title and would love to exchange ideas. This interactive exchange is education without reliance on formalities.

            Progressive elementary education has moved students towards working collaboratively rather than in siloed desks, where a student is isolated with his own limited knowledge of a concept. Working collaboratively allows students to learn together, one step at a time, furthering personal and group knowledge with each contribution. Each brings his strengths from which the understanding blossoms.

            Blog contributions break formalities and barriers by allowing anyone to contribute: an expert, a hobbyist, or a curious child. The contributors are colleagues in research. All of these contributions are valid, leading all involved to a greater understanding, growing our collective knowledge. It is empowering. In the “Unquiet library,” the concept of Library 2.0 is shown to be brought to life in spectacular fashion with considerable success at Creekview High School. There is eating, talking, information, furniture moving, art being drawn, and homework being done. Teachers learn as much from students as students do from teachers. Lesson plans are renegotiated to meet these exciting ideas, all drawn-up in a collaborative jam session. It keeps lessons and learning fresh. But what is the difference between this  library and a huge student center?

            These exciting concepts of open exchange and wild collaboration lead me to one thought: in a world that never stops, where information zips and zooms at the speed of light, I want a quiet place to spread my materials and focus my brain—mine alone—to focus or even wander. What are we gaining by fostering so much exchange? What, I am afraid to ask, are we losing? Education, after all, is collaboration and should never be reserved inside the omnipotent brain of a professor; but rather shared, explored, related-to, debated. Trust and respect for the participants are required, and open-concept library spaces allow for these excellent exchanges. But when I just want to shut-out the excitement and find a quiet space to explore my own thoughts? Are we belittling the individual creative? Can the library welcome these moments, too?

Shannon Mattern (2014,) questioned how much we can possibly ask of our libraries before it is too much. “Ultimately, we need to ensure that we have a strong epistemological framework — a narrative that explains how the library promotes learning and stewards knowledge — so that everything hangs together, so there’s some institutional coherence. We need to sync the library’s intersecting infrastructures so that they work together to support our shared intellectual and ethical goals.”(link)

If we agree that a library can be anything we want it to be—a modern agora and center of connection, and the library is all around us, just like God is everywhere and the antelope as a document, should we also ask the library to DIS-connect us, too? To recharge and restore ourselves so that we may invest in knowing our own thoughts? Can we successfully have all of these concepts in a single, well-curated space? Are we now asking too much? Should we reserve disconnection for forest bathing?

                                                                                              

 

Resources

Leferink, S. (2018, 24 January). To keep people happy… keep some books. https://blog.oclc.org/next/to-keep-people-happy-keep-some-books/

 

Mattern, S. (2014, June). Library as infrastructure. Places Journal. https://placesjournal.org/article/library-as-infrastructure/

 

O’Brian. (2019, 24 June). How San Francisco public libraries are embracing their changing role. Shareable. https://www.shareable.net/how-san-francisco-public-libraries-are-embracing-their-changing-role/

 

Matthews, B. (2010, June 21). The unquiet library has high schoolers geeked. ALA Online. https://americanlibrariesmagazine.org/2010/06/21/unquiet-library-has-high-schoolers-geeked/

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