The Spirit of our School

If you had to try to capture the culture or spirit of a school in a single place, what would you choose? It’s a difficult and unfair task, to be sure; after all, what interesting institution can really be described by one venue? But if compelled to choose, at Browning, I would probably start with our library, for I’m not sure any area in our building—or any area’s occupants—so readily communicate what our school embodies.

The most obvious virtue of our library, of course, is intellectual. Schools are, first and foremost, places where academic inquiry, knowledge acquisition, and fondness for discovery should thrive—and no school space is more emblematic of this mission than the library. Here, books and periodicals are both freely available and subject to student preference and offer not just a standing invitation to the life of the mind, but also a reminder that we can read not only for purpose but also for pleasure. A learning culture cannot be as healthy and successful as it could be without a sense of intrinsic motivation among students, and our library gives boys a laboratory for exploring their intellectual passions.

But it is important to recognize that our library is not just a room full of books, winsome as that is. It is also a deeply pedagogical place, one where our librarians offer significant and wide-ranging guidance to students and colleagues alike; indeed, Ms. Louis, Mr. Giordano, and Ms. Gill have skills that transcend read-alouds and the Dewey Decimal System. In an era where we are told ad infinitum that we can “just look it up on the Internet,” Browning’s librarians use their room to impart essential and developmentally-appropriate digital and informational literacy—how to evaluate content found in research, use information responsibly, determine the credibility of sources, utilize advanced research tools, and so on. And for our faculty, the library is not just a place for their students; rather, it’s a site of deep collaboration and support where our librarians help teachers identify sources that meet varied student needs, assist research and passion projects, and introduce new instructional strategies. To be sure, the books are not the only sources of learning in our library.

Finally, our library is a relational spot. Some libraries take on the feel of cultural mausoleums, where books are largely ornamental and personal interactions are muted. The Browning library, on the other hand, is a lively place, a social and spiritual crossroads where connection and companionship are as much a part of the experience as thumbing through a newly-arrived book or finding a vital piece of research. Boys come for affinity group and club meetings, to play chess, to debrief on the latest test or game or concert, or—weather permitting—to eat lunch on the reading deck. They meet with peers and with teachers, and their warm socialization offers a winning complement to the intellectual play and inquiry that characterize other library activity. At the same time, students who visit also learn the importance of caring responsibly for a community space. Libraries require that respect for quiet concentration be freely given by all library-goers, and Browning boys thus receive indirect tutelage on the importance of empathy and reciprocity in all relationships, as library denizens model a commendable balance between the energetic pursuit of personal interests and the necessary respect for collective study.  

I sometimes encounter contrarian “think pieces” which mark the concept of the school library as an anachronism, a decadent relic that has no place in the brave new world of online learning and e-books and supercharged databases. Such critiques misunderstand libraries in general and certainly fail to recognize the intellectual, pedagogical, and relational necessity of the library at Browning. Far from being a luxury, this space—and the leaders who staff it—are essential to our mission, culture, and identity, and I cannot think of a space around which I would rather build our school.