To attempt to enumerate, one by one, the qualities that combine to make a wise and successful disciplinarian would be fruitless. We can talk endlessly about what OUGHT to be. The most practical thing to do to obtain such a person, is not to take a raw subject and pour advice upon her in hopes she will develop some day, but to hunt till you find the right one and then offer her salary enough to get her for your library. And this suggests a subject worthy of future discussion, that head librarians should reckon this to be a profession within our profession, just as the kindergartner is a specialist within the teaching body, demanding a higher type of training than is the rule, and PAYING THE PRICE TO GET IT.
Just a word about what degree of order and quiet to expect, and to work for, in a children's room. Are we to try to maintain that awful hush that sends cold chills down the spine of the visitor on his first entering a modern reading room, and tempts him to back out in fright lest the ticking of his watch may draw all eyes upon him?
I should be very sorry to have a children's room as perfectly noiseless as a reading room for adults. It is so unnatural for a roomful of healthy boys and girls to be absolutely quiet for long periods that if I found such a state of affairs I should be sure something was wrong—that all spontaneity was being repressed, that that freedom of the shelves which is a great educator was being denied because moving about makes too much noise, that the question and answer and comment which mark the friendly understanding between librarian and child, and which make a good book circulate because one boy tells another that it is good, were done away with in order that no slight noise might be heard. If there were such a thing as a meter to register sound to be hung in a children's room beside the thermometer, I should not be alarmed if it indicated a pretty high degree, provided I could look around the room and observe the following conditions: a large room, full of contented children, no one of whom was wilfully noisy or annoying, most of them being quietly reading, the ones who were moving about asking in low tones the children's librarian or each other, perfectly legitimate questions that were to help them choose the right thing. It is inevitable that heavy boots, young muscles that have not learned self-control, the joyous frankness of childhood that does not think to keep its eager happiness over a good "find" under decorous restraint, will result in more actual noise than obtains in the adults' reading room. And yet, while the "sound meter" of the children's room would register farther up, it might really be more orderly than the other room, for every child might be using his room as it was intended to be used, while the adult department might contain a couple of women who came in for the express purpose of visiting, and yet who knew how to whisper so softly as not to be invited to retire. We must remember that, if children make more noise, they do not mind each other's noise as adults do. The dropping of a book or overturning of a chair, the walking about do not disturb the young student's train of thought; and while I do not wish to be quoted as advocating a noisy room, but on the contrary would work for a quiet one, day in and day out, I do feel that allowances must be made for noises that are not intended to be annoying, and that we should not sacrifice to the ideal of deathly stillness the good we hope to do through the child's love for the room in which he feels free to express himself in a natural, friendly atmosphere.
PROBLEMS OF DISCIPLINE
The Wisconsin Library Bulletin for July-August, 1908, is given up to the presentation of widely varying experiences in regard to discipline, in a report by Mary Emogene Hazeltine and Harriet Price Sawyer, who sent a list of ten questions to 125 librarians, and incorporated the replies.
Mary Emogene Hazeltine was born in Jamestown, N. Y., in 1868, and was graduated from Wellesley College in 1891. She was librarian of the James Prendergast Free Library in Jamestown from 1893 to 1906, when she became Preceptor of the Library School of the University of Wisconsin, the position she now holds. She has given much help to small libraries.
Mrs. Harriet Price Sawyer was born in Kent, Ohio, received the
degree of B. L. from Oberlin College: was an assistant in the
Oberlin College Library 1902-1903; was graduated from the Pratt
Institute Library School in 1904; was librarian of the State
Normal School at New Paltz, N. Y., 1904-1905; a student in the
University of Berlin, Germany, 1905-1906; Library Visitor and
Instructor, Wisconsin Library Commission, 1906-1910. Since that
time she has been chief of the Instructional Department in the
St. Louis Public Library, including charge of the training class.
In 1917 this class was expanded into a library school, with Mrs.
Sawyer as principal.
In March, a list of questions concerning the problem of discipline in the library was sent out to 125 librarians. The answers show a most interesting variety of experiences and conditions. A few report that it is no longer a "vexed" problem, and one librarian thinks that it is "only a well-maintained tradition," but most of the writers agree with Miss Eastman of Cleveland, who says: "You will note that while conditions vary somewhat in the different branches, discipline is a question which we have always with us whenever we work with children. I do believe, however, that each year places the library on a little higher and more dignified plane in the minds of the children as well as the public generally; and that the question of discipline becomes more and more a question of dealing with individuals."
As to disturbance without the library, there is but one opinion, viz., to turn the matter over to the policemen, and this is reported in every instance to have put an end to the trouble.
Any serious misbehavior within the library has been treated by the suspension of library privileges, ranging in severity of sentence from one day to a month or, in a few cases, even longer. The variation, however, in the manner of carrying out the sentence forms an interesting study, from the lightest form reported, at Chippewa Falls, where the child may draw a book, but remains in the library only long enough to secure it, to the drastic measures taken at Sheboygan where the students were ordered out of the library en masse even in the midst of preparation for a test in history.