Leaving this hasty and most unsatisfactory discussion on getting the place ready for opening, I would say a word about getting the books ready—not about buying a large quantity of new, and putting the old into the best possible condition of repair and cleanliness, for that will naturally be done. But from experience I know that the moment is golden for weeding out, never to return, authors you think objectionable.
Suppose a girl reads nothing but the Elsie books. Very likely one reason is that she knows little about any other kind. In a printed catalog with a scattering "j" between many titles of adult books it is easier to make lists of numbers from the long sets of prolific writers, and those excellent authors who have produced only a few books for children are oftenest overlooked. Suppose in the process of moving the Elsie books are left behind. The little girl comes into the beautiful new children's room. She sees the shining new furniture, the pictures, the comfortable tables and chairs and book cases so planned that any child can reach any book. She finds that there is perfect freedom for every child in this room—that no stern Olympian comes and says, "Don't do this," and "You can't have that," and "Those books aren't for you," but that among all these hundreds of fresh new covers she may take her pick, may sit anywhere, or stand or kneel as she chooses. Do you imagine that, as these unaccustomed delights sink into her mind, any child is going off in a huff when she finds one author is lacking, if the children's librarian uses any tact in introducing her to others adapted to her tastes? I have been asked for Alger and Optic and Elsie, of course, though much less often than I anticipated, but I am perfectly certain that I have never lost a "customer" because I did not display these wares. One little girl exclaimed in doleful tones, "Oh, haven't you the Elsie books? Oh, I'm terribly disappointed! I think those are grand books!" But in spite of this tragic appeal her curiosity and interest proved stronger than her disappointment, and I have the satisfaction of seeing a more wholesome taste develop in a child who must have been on the high road to softening of the brain and moral perversion from association with the insufferable Elsie. If you once put these books on the open shelves, however, and later attempted the weeding out process, a howl would arise which would not be silenced without consequences which I, for one, would not like to face.
Furniture and books are comparatively simple matters to make ready, but to prepare your assistant or assistants for opening day and the time that follows is harder. The external preparation for the rush of the first weeks consists in drill in the routine to be observed. Assigning a place and certain duties to each person, foreseeing as far as possible all questions that may arise and making sure that each attendant understands what to do in any case, having a place for everything, and everything in its place, and every person knowing what that place is, so that there will be no frantic search for an extra set of daters when a long line of people stands waiting—this also requires only foresight and firmness. But so deeply to imbue your chief assistant with your spirit and principles of management that she will not simply obey your directions, but be inwardly guided by your desires, and there may be no break in the steady march to a definite end—this demands that rare species of assistant who is born, not made, for the position, and a leader who possesses strength, tact, contagious enthusiasm, a likeable personality, and other qualities difficult to attain.
This brings us to the consideration of what the guiding principles of the new department are to be—a question which must be pondered and settled by the children's librarian before making the external preparations. If the senior members of the American Library Association, the librarians-in-chief, would consider the children's room of enough importance to give us their ideas of what it should stand for, what its scope should be, the result might be more uniformity of thought among members of the library profession in this regard, and a more sensible attitude toward the children's room in the library. Between those who, on the one hand, take themselves so very seriously, pondering with anxious care what probable effect on the child's future career as a reader the selection of a blue or a green mat for mounting the picture bulletin would have, and those who look upon the children's room merely as an interesting plaything, driving the big boys away in disgust by encouraging visitors who exclaim, "Oh, what cunning little chairs and tables! Why, you have a regular kindergarten here, haven't you?"—from either point of view, the discussions on children's rooms in libraries seem almost to lose sight of the very word library and all it carries with it.
The children's room is only one room in a great dignified library. As the newspaper room, the catalog room, and all the rest are fitted up with furnishings suited to their peculiar needs, so the children's room is furnished with tables and chairs and books suited to its constituents. Apart from this, all its management and spirit should correspond as closely as possible to that of the other departments. The same dignity, the same freedom, the same courteous attention to every want without fussy attentions which by grown people would be called intrusiveness should prevail. Make the selection of books what it should be, provide guides and catalogs, perfectly clear but not patronizingly written down, show the children that you are always willing to respond in every way to their [questions], and then—let them alone!
Some one has asked me to speak on the question of discipline. After the first two or three weeks, if one begins properly, there will be no such question. Allowing something for the noise of small feet which have not learned to control themselves as they will later on, and expecting more "talking over" an interesting "find" than is common with adults, one should aim for library order. Teach the children what a library reading room means. If in the first days there is a disposition on the part of any boy to be rough or unruly, or if a group of girls make a visiting-and-gum-chewing rendezvous of your tables, don't waste any time in Sunday-school methods of discipline, trying to keep a hold on the child at any cost to the library. A sentence in a report of Pratt Institute children's room is worth adopting as a guiding principle. "The work of the children's room should be educative, not reformatory." Give one decided warning and then if a child does not behave, send him out at once. Do not be afraid of seeming stern at first. The fascinations of the room are such that a child who has been turned away for disobedience comes back a subdued and chastened young person and your best friend forever after; then with your aim and your firmness early settled, you will have no more thought of discipline than the reference librarian with his tables full of studious adults. After the first a little care about the way a child enters the room will be all that is necessary. Your courteous manner, low tones, a little reminder about caps and clean hands while discharging his book, will give him the cue as to what is expected, and he will have a pride in living up to what is expected of him as a gentleman, not demanded of him as a child under authority.
Many other points will engage the thought of the children's librarian, for example, what shall be the attitude of the children's room toward the other departments—whether it is to encourage the children to make use of the adults' reference room, to take out cards in the main delivery department, and get into the way of reading standard works from suggestions of the children's librarian; or whether the line of separation is to be rigid and she will be jealous of their "graduating" from her care. How to prepare the public, especially the school-teaching public, for the opening, so as to secure their hearty co-operation from the beginning is worth constant effort. The question of blanks and forms for the children's room is a minor matter which is after all not a small thing. To make as few changes as possible in the forms already in use, so that any assistant from the main delivery room can in emergencies quickly take up the clerical work of the children's room without needing to learn a new routine may save much confusion should the children's staff all happen to be stricken with grippe at the same time!
Beginning early to plan, profiting by other people's mistakes, getting the routine of each department at one's finger tips, foreseeing every probable obstacle and removing each in imagination, beforehand, proceeding with calmness and common sense, thus the new machinery will move as smoothly during opening weeks as if it had been running for years, and, as "well begun is half done," every thought given to preparation while the room exists only on paper will have a far-reaching effect on the permanent influences of the children's room.