Curious George goes to the Library

So Gabe is ten, has a fifth grade social studies research project due in two weeks. In an effort to show by example that education is a high priority in our house, our whole family goes to the library at 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning. Jeff and I help Douwe and Karma put their books in the return slots and then discuss who will take the toddlers to the children's area, and who will encourage Gabe to pick a topic and help him find some books for his project.

Karma starts walking up the lobby's grand staircase and the circulation desk librarian tells us to get her to come down, even though we are standing at the bottom of the staircase right by her. I look at the librarian and tell him "she is fine, we're supervising her." He glares at me and shakes his head at my disobedience.

Gabe has a blue sheet of paper in his hand, the project assignment he took home on Thursday. At our house, his babysitter made him a cool paper airplane out of it and he was bummed on Friday when he found that blue paper all flattened out and magneted to the frig by me. He had said, "Why'd you flatten it, I'll never be able to fold it back right." And I said, "b/c it is important to know exactly what the assignment and list of topics is when you do your library research visit tomorrow." Poor kid, stuck with a foster mom who was once a fifth grade teacher.

Jeff takes Gabe to the juvenile non-fiction area and I take Douwe and Karma to say hello to all the stuffed animals by the baby books.

About twenty minutes later we all meet up by the grand staircase. Gabe has found a topic, the Vikings, and is explaining excitedly to me and showing me from a book what Viking artifacts he is going to make for his presentation. While I check out the books, Jeff takes Douwe outdoors and Gabe tries to refold his blue project sheet back into the airplane the way his babysitter had it. Karma, right next to me, lifts herself six inches to see what the librarian is doing on the counter. The librarian tells her, "Don't do that, I'm afraid you'll break all your teeth." A man comes down the staircase and sees Gabe and his blue sheet and says, "You better not throw that airplane. We have enough problems to deal with around here" and stomps past him into the conference room.

Why does it bother some adults so much that children are in the library? How discouraged does a lonely ten-year-old boy who is missing his home and family and friends feel when a stranger is hostile to him for showing up in a library to research a school project? Actually HE has enough problems to deal with without another adult snapping at him for no good reason. He wasn't all that thrilled about having to go the library in the first place, and right when he hits that rare and magical moment of eagerness to learn about something new, he gets deflated by a crabby man who assumes a 10 year old boy in the libary is nothing more than a rascal.

Gabe graciously just said, "Well that was awkward." I stood there for a minute to decide whether to follow that man into the conference room and give him a piece of my mind. I didn't, but it is a day later and I wish I had. Libraries should have people hired just to give fifth graders high fives for checking out a non-fiction book on the weekend. Or maybe that security guard sitting by used book sale rack all day could do it so she is not so bored in this huge beautiful library that rarely has any kids show up anymore. The place exists to welcome learners, doesn't it? Or is it just a shrine to silence and order, a secure receptacle to hold maps and microfiche?

It is experiences like these in public settings that add up and get discouraging. Curious George always does much more pesky things than my kids and yet by the end of the book he is always getting love and support from the community people he encounters. I can't be a foster mom without the broader community supporting these struggling children along with me. Or at least leaving them alone if they don't have something kind to say.

But even so, the encouraging parts always come, like this afternoon as I am writing this: Gabe has just walked in here to show off his homemade Viking spear. He hacked up a few chunks of flagstone from our yard this morning and then went to Home Depot with Jeff to get a piece of wood and string. He won't let me take a photo till he gets his shield constructed.

Children are amazing, taking more rebuffs and rebukes in a day (yes from me too) than I could tolerate and still they find motivation to pursue their important daily job of curiosity and exploration and questioning, and challenging the myriad rules that we care-full adults put in their path. Now I just have to make sure the principal doesn't suspend him for taking a "weapon" into class. There's probably a clear no-exceptions rule in the manual.