At my library, my office door faces the short corridor that connects the entrance of the library with our circulation desk. Literally, it’s six feet over my left shoulder if I’m at my desk.
The result of this architectural design choice is that (unless my door is closed) I see every single person up close and personal who walks into the library. And they see me. So close am I, that sometimes children will simply wander straight into my office after losing their way on the way to our kid’s room or the bathroom.
I like that. Yes, it often pulls me away from work. Yes, it can be distracting.
But as I mentioned to someone the other day who apologized for making me pause my work to help him with something, “You are my work. The rest is just doing math.”
I was struck to write about this today because I realized that this curious way our library is designed creates a maze for kids which they mostly know how to navigate in order to get to the children’s room. The pattern is an S, from front door to kid’s room and they learn to fly through it like show horses stomping their way across a stage.
During a particularly busy period yesterday afternoon the little ones roared past my door, racing through the maze, trying to be the first to get to Dr. Seuss and the Hungry Caterpillar. I even had a chance to sit back and watch them come and go, like a tiny toddler marching parade, their little feet wobbling them to the promised land.
And I thought, yeah, that’s what it should feel like. We’ve sort of lost that haven’t we? Why shouldn’t our hearts race as we step out of our car to check out a new used book store? It should be exciting to get that call that lets you know the book you wanted has come from another library and is waiting for you with your name on it.
Next time you pull into the library parking lot, just race to the front door! Be excited! Run past my office clapping. And we’ll clap right along with you!
love it! We should all be excited about life.
Thanks for writing about the joys of libraries Dan!