Going to the Library

In the late 1800s, Andrew Carnegie began funding public libraries worldwide. Over time, he invested more than $56 million, about several billion dollars today, to construct over 2,700 of them.

Reflecting on that thrilling act of philanthropy and generosity makes me think of the libraries that shaped my own life, first as a student and later as an educator. It all started with the Concord Public Library, a wonderful space in the center of my hometown. I can still vividly recall the children's section, where my love for reading truly took root. After my third-grade teacher challenged us to see who could read the most short biographies, I got hooked. Later on, my mother ran an antiquarian bookstore, and reading became ingrained in my soul.

Back then, the libraries were meant to be silent, and shushing was the norm. I learned to love the quiet, even if it made me squirm as a young kid. As the years went on, through middle and high school, the library remained a retreat. It was a place to work, but slowly and surely, it also became a social hub. In high school, "going to the library" was the ultimate excuse to meet up with friends. I wasn't brave or rebellious enough to skip out entirely, so I did go—though how much studying actually happened is debatable. 

Today, I look at our libraries at Poly and see how they’ve evolved into vibrant, welcoming spaces with an atmosphere more attuned to gathering than solitary work. They are quiet, sort of, and deeply social. Sitting at the academic center of the school, they teach students not only how to research, but how to be inspired, courageous, and still—all vital skills. 

While I appreciate online research tools and resources, I am glad physical books still line our shelves. In fact, Carnegie required open stacks, so patrons could browse books directly, rather than asking a librarian to fetch them. Algorithms have their place, but I have yet to find an online search engine that matches the simple joy of wandering the stacks and stumbling upon an unexpected discovery. 

Whether it’s a student diving into a thrilling rabbit hole of the card catalog or pulling an old text from the shelves, our libraries nourish the very human need to explore, and now more than ever, to be part of something bigger than ourselves. As we prepare our students for an ever-changing world, I hope they, too, always leave room to slow down, get lost in the stacks, and stumble upon something that captures their imagination and deepens their sense of wonder.

JWB