Noisy kids in the library? Throw the book at them
I TAKE it schools are off? Again. And we wonder why so many kids can’t read?
When I am President of the Republic of Scotland, all school-age children will be compelled by law to attend school no less than 365-days-a-year – with one day off on a leap-year.
I’d be happy to pay 90 per cent tax just to clear these noisy little people out of libraries on week days, so I can have peace to write ironically about a cold society full of indifferent adults that no longer cares about them.
Obviously, I’m being slightly tongue-in-cheek. But I can’t lie and say that, while trying to get some work done in my local library, the thought of banning anyone who makes a noise did cross my mind.
The level of potential distractions here is quite dispiriting. Now let me say first that, as a strong supporter of local public services and a critical voice of austerity, feeling irritated by the number of people visiting the library is something of an incoherent position for me.
In an age of cuts to council budgets, I should be ecstatic that so many children are currently yelling “twinkle twinkle little star” at precisely the moment I require some semblance of solitude in order to maintain both a veneer of professionalism and vague the illusion of sanity.
On one hand, it’s great to see public spaces highly subscribed. On the other, increasing numbers congregate in libraries because other facilities/services, which were better suited to their needs, are no longer available.
Most people here today are not reading, they are talking. There is something disheartening about arriving at a library, with the expectation it will be quiet, to find that it is just as noisy as anywhere else. What’s disheartening is the realisation there is no escape from the unending dither of urban-life.
I’m not the only person here who needs a bit of peace now and then. Pensioners and people with disabilities come here to read newspapers. Welfare claimants come to use the internet and make phone-calls. Students come here to swat-up for exams. Libraries are not community centres.
They are supposed to be places you can go to think, reflect and learn.
This is not the sort of thing I ever thought I would feel conflicted about.
Right now, as I type, there’s a parent/toddler group, a squad of pensioners, and the general murmur of young people, each engaged in what certainly sounds from here like lively conversation. In a sense, it’s the perfect model of what a public space should be.
But as a place to be with your thoughts, this is not an easy place to focus.
Urban environments are, by definition, busy and noisy. That’s why rare places of solitude are so important. There should be at least one place a person can go, where they can reasonably expect it to be peaceful.
I feel like a tedious bore even pointing this out. If only some money was invested to at least build some walls, creating purposely-designed spaces so that everyone’s community requirements could be met.
No such noise would be taking place in a university library. That’s because it is understood that you sometimes need a bit of good-oldfashioned peace-and-quiet to get the head down and focus.
The library is bearing the brunt of cuts, having to be all things to all people.
It undermines the primary purpose of a library as a place of solitude. So, here’s a tip of the hat to everyone in the library, it warms my heart to see you here... but gonnae keep it doon a bit?