Subtle Reflections

Another afternoon filled with rowdy, disrespectful kids. They do not care for books or matters of physical form, it is all about videos and music. I see their attention span decay with each generation. They say children are getting smarter because they know more and can comprehend more at earlier ages, but these same children are ignorant towards precious artifacts of our past. Swear words echo through the bookshelves reaching the ears of even younger more impressionable kids. The sounds of books falling to the carpet and slamming against the shelves reach my ears. I walk to the source and find a group of teenage boys making fun of the cover of a historical book. Asking them to be more mindful of their language and volume only prompts an empty “sorry miss” followed by snickers and mockery of each other.

Other younger kids are here with their parents. The parents are using the computer for something while the children wander aimlessly. They are bored and would rather be at home. When the children complain, the parents simply scold them and command quietness while they are concentrating. The children wander off to mess up the bookshelves and race through the library.

Another parent has put her baby down on a table while she browses the books. I hope the baby does not wriggle itself off the edge while it's left unattended. It starts to wail as its mother disappears behind the bookshelf, which only prompts hushing from the other side. It bellows and the entire library shudders. The mother rolls her eyes and walks back over the to baby, “Why can’t you just be quiet?”

Between my observations, I return books to their rightful places. People appear bothered by my presence and move away when I approach with my book trolley. They must suspect I am judging the genre of book they are browsing, but in truth, I am distracted by the behaviour of the other patrons. Despite all the low-quality people I see, there are still some who inspire hope for future generations. Though, I worry that the bad outweighs the good.

One lady is sitting with her two girls, reading them a story with splendid enthusiasm. She even bothers to move her hand like an aeroplane as she describes their favourite character zooming through the clouds. The girl’s eyes are locked onto their mother. They listen eagerly with big grins on their faces. They laugh at the silly sound effects their mother makes.

On the other side of the library, a father sits with his son and helps him with his homework. They are doing long division which is proving even difficult for the father. I hear them laugh when the father gets the wrong answer too. They decide to look up the answer and work backwards to see where they went wrong.

Two teenage boys are working intensely on a speech, reading each other’s scripts and giving feedback. One of them asks for clarification about a certain statement. The other responds with an explanation that prompts a grand realisation from the first boy. They agree on a better way to word it and begin scribbling down changes.

A young family passes through the sliding doors. The mother looks exhausted. Her two little girls bolt towards the children’s fiction section, “No running!” she calls after them. The girls walk at a fastened pace instead. The husband trails in behind them, tucking his phone into his back pocket and placing a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder before helping her down the stairs. She is heavily pregnant and clings to him with deep gratitude.

A large group of teenage girls enter. They are chatting loudly and giggling but lower their voices as they walk down the entry stairs. One of them is profoundly excited about the library and showcases them to their respective subject areas. She knows the library well.

“You want a hand putting these back? It’s pretty quiet at the desk,” my co-worker says, picking up a pile off the trolley.

“That’d be great, thanks, Anne.”

She smiles warmly before trekking off on her own journey around the library. Anne was graduating from high school at the end of the year and I was disgruntled by the thought of losing such a bubbly and kind co-worker, even if she only worked part-time after school. She was blissfully unaware of all the rude patrons and treated them all as close friends. Such ignorance or forgiveness was beyond my capabilities. I would die a bitter old woman. I heard her laugh quietly as she chatted with a patron amongst the shelves. It was wonderful to see how easily she could connect with people and make them feel comfortable. I was certain she would make a positive shift in the world, but there weren’t enough Anne’s to counter all the negativity. It all comes down to the rearing of children, and even if Anne has kids and they are amazing there will be many more who have kids who are not.

A child’s behaviour is rarely a result of something other than a lack of good parenting, not impossible, but rare. I have seen it over and over in my time working here. Generations of blasé attitudes and disregard for strict discipline had snowballed into a world of disrespectful people who mock and shame anyone who isn’t simply cool with everything. The argument now is that children are so smart that they can think for themselves, but the truth is, they are under the protection of a legal guardian until adulthood. If no one ever tells a child no, then why would they listen to no as an adult? If parents do not listen to children, then why would those children listen as an adult? If parents do not have interest in their children, then why would that child value themselves as an adult?

I am quickly brought back into the present as Anne reapproaches the cart for more books.

“Are you alright?” she asks, with a well-meaning look.

“Yes, just another afternoon,” I chuckle, glazing over the truth.