Library Card

The temperature stayed below 10 degrees today, so we headed to the public library to switch out our books and say we had done something. The children's room has eight computers for general public use. As long as kids are behaving appropriately, they can use the computers as they wish. Usually they are playing video games, specifically Runescape. In the past I have felt annoyed by these boys who are not doing anything literate, or remotely valuable, on machines that are publicly funded. How could this be okay? They should be READING in a library, not hunting down virtual enemies for hours on end.

But now I know the boys. They all go to my school. Most are in the fifth grade. One of them, James, is in my class. They are some of our most "difficult" kids. They are disruptive, insolent, oppositional, real pains in the *#$. Their parents are not available to care for (or about, it seems) them. So here they come, at 2:30 every day on weekdays until closing, and all day on the weekends.

On Friday morning, the biggest, loudest, most painful one of the bunch, who is not in my class, wandered in to my classroom as kids were arriving. He sauntered up and said, "I love you. Can I have a hug?" And gave me a big hug. I checked his pupils to see if they were dilated. What was he on? I have been working with him in the after school program, but affection from this kid was enigmatic. I returned the affection and tried to conceal my reservations. I was reticent to let myself believe that perhaps this loveless child had actually warmed up to me.

He was there this morning at the library. All of the boys greeted me respectfully. They were happy, safe, in their element, hanging out on a Saturday, out of the cold and away from danger, under the discriminating watch of a librarian. Suddenly I couldn't imagine a better place for them to be. Thank God for the public library.

As I was checking out our pile of books I asked the librarian how the boys were doing. Did they follow the rules? Did she feel that she was able to manage them? In a sense we are co-parenting these kids. Shouldn't we be communicating? For the remainder of this year, or at least this winter, these children are in a place where we could reach them. A captive audience. Are we missing a major opportunity? Shouldn't we be DOING something?

But whose responsibility are they? From 7:30 - 2:30, they are mine, ours, at school. But after that... Does the library have a responsibility to these boys? Their parents are not taking care of them, so shouldn't we, the other adults in the community, be working together to take up the slack?

The head children's librarian assured me that they could handle the boys (even though they had been kicked out last week and had then mooned the library entrance in response), but thanks for the offer. It is clear that none of us, the librarians, my principal, the school counselor, myself, knows what to do for these kids. For now, we are just thankful that they show up to school, spend their time at the library. Thank God for public institutions.