Enjoy the Silence.The Disappearing Beauty of Being in the Library.

When was the last time you were in your local library, spending time choosing books, wandering the aisles, checking out the shelves? Does it still have that library smell or has it become a cafe or a hub or a ‘chill-out zone’? ( A wee line for the kids, there). They are quite remarkable spaces and we ‘re lucky to have them. But that opening question? When were you last in one? We’re losing them and we’re outraged at the thought but could it be argued that our increasing aspirations lead us to desire our own books, our own libraries., leaving the traditional ones redundant in our lives?

Our books can become a symbol of how we live our lives. We create libraries which we like to have on display, as much for ourselves as anyone else. They help create an aura of cleverness and respectability in our homes, which begs the question; is a library a collection or a space? Can a library exist without books and does a collection of books necessarily make a library? And when, with the onslaught of computing areas, coffee shops and the like, does it stop being a library? For surely the greatest boon of the library is for it to be one of the last places where silence is not only expected but a rule.

l-and-hI write about this tonight after having two classes up to our school library today. I take my classes up every week, if possible, and we spend as much time there as we can. We write and talk about books informally and spend as much time  as possible reading in that fabulous space. Today I had two class who spent the whole period reading. And they did too. It was lovely. The time to sit quietly and read is something we don’t often get to do and, while I have so many things I have to get through, sometimes, just sometimes, it’s good for them to sit in silence and begin to understand what a reading life looks like. The silence is part of that. We sit in silence together.

We sit among the shelves of books  because I want them to be able to pick up the books, feel them in their hands and read loads of blurbs: I want them to get a feel for the vast, huge, unfathomable number of books which leaves even their teacher feeling intimidated. I walk into bookshops and libraries only to be reminded of what I haven’t read. As Gabriel Zaid says in his wonderful little memoir, ’So Many Books’: “To say, ‘I only know that I’ve read nothing,’  after reading thousands of books is not false modesty.”  Readers have books around us all the time; we deprive our students of that experience if we don’t get them into the library.

However, there is much more to cover isn’t there? Course work is a priority. So, perhaps we could be doing other things, perhaps we could be spending our time in a more constructive way. But perhaps we may be forgetting that the only way we become readers is by sitting in a quiet room with a book. We teach our kids about silence when we are in the library, that silence is a rare and precious privilege at times. We neglect that at out peril. The next time you go into your library, then, have a closer look around. At the books, the history, the space. And enjoy the silence.

Notice them. Don’t Let Them Disappear

I have very few positive memories from my time at Secondary school. I had come from Primary really keen, one of the brightest in the class, ready to do well. I was one of the first pupils in the first year of a brand new school, so the future might have been bright; it wasn’t though. My abiding memory of those teenage years is one of desperately trying to hide from the attention of both teachers and my more exuberant peers. Many a day I recall getting home and sighing in massive relief as I lay on my bed. Another day over. It was perhaps no surprise that I left school with ordinary and unimpressive exam passes.

I was reminded of that unhappy time recently while re-watching the overly schmaltzy ‘Freedom Writers’, the true story of a teacher in east LA who miraculously changes the lives of her students in typical Hollywood fashion. There is a scene in the film where one boy speaks of his love for the classroom – see the clip below – and no-one else in the class even recognises him. His life was so awful that his classroom became his safety zone and ‘home’. It couldn’t have been more different to my experience but something did ring true.

Back in the day, I wanted to be the one who wasn’t recognised, the one no-one noticed. School is hard for some kids. They disappear, often deliberately, often because they are shy or frightened. In the course of their day, we may never notice them, may never find out anything about them. And isn’t that such a shame. Perhaps if any teachers had taken the time to speak to me I would have had a better experience than I did: much of my desire to be a teacher was to provide experiences which were better than I had.

New beginnings to the school years are always challenging. As a teacher I have to get know about one hundred and fifty new names, begin the often long process of developing trusting relationships with kids who want to learn from me, mostly. Some kids will slide off my radar because they are ‘quiet’ and no bother. This year I want to try and view my classroom through their eyes. What are they thinking about school, about their teachers, about their peers? I refuse to allow them to go home and heave a sigh of relief without anyone taking an interest.

Teachers like Erin Gruwell in ‘Freedom Writers’ or John Keating from ‘Dead Poets’ Society’ are lovely, warm images of the ideal of the perfect teacher. Most of us will never be like that. But we can be the teacher that reaches the often unreachable. It’s why I insist on silent classes very often to provide for the ones crying out for a bit of peace and quiet during a day of bedlam. Some kids are trying to hide but you must never let them. A quiet word, an awareness of their presence doesn’t take much. Notice them. I hated my time at Secondary School. I don’t want that to happen to anyone.