9.1 Safer than most places

Public libraries are much safer than most other high-traffic facilities. Particularly for children, libraries contain fewer threats than malls, parks, and beaches. The roadway outside the library is far more dangerous to children—and everyone else—than the reference room, stacks, and storytime area. We tend, however, to exaggerate the likelihood of certain risks and ignore others. For example, librarians fear sexual predators who prowl through children’s departments in search of victims. According to popular wisdom, these monsters loiter around washrooms or in secluded stack areas, waiting for the young and innocent to fall into their clutches.

Certainly predators exist, and many of them rely on libraries, but rarely for their prey. Libraries are too busy for a predator’s comfort. One never knows when a patron or a librarian will appear and make trouble. Washrooms are potential hunting grounds, but these days they can be as crowded as the checkout queue. Predators usually try to avoid detection, and shy away from confrontation. They may visit the library, but they’re more inclined to find victims in other places. Some have come to depend on the Internet for contacts and entertainment; others remain on the edge of the schoolyard or near the play area of a local park.

9.2 “We all fall down”

Worrying about the monsters in our midst distracts us from the real risks for young patrons. Running down a Toronto Public Library aisle, 7-year-old Brian trips, falls, and gashes his lip on the side of a carrel. Eleven-year-old Stephanie trips over her new shoes and falls down a flight of Vancouver Public Library steps. Meanwhile Ryan, aged 9, scales the heights of fiction by crawling up the side of a shelf in Winnipeg. Alas, his reach exceeds his grasp. He hits the floor and scrapes his knee. His father complains that the library’s shelves are unsafe for climbing. The librarian bites her tongue.

Propelling themselves in all directions at high speed, children fall frequently in libraries. Outside on the public concourse or in the parking lot, their older siblings perform astonishing stunts on skateboards. In some cases, libraries could be held liable for any injuries that children sustain while toppling at their sites. Commonly called “slip-and-falls,” these accidents usually lead to nothing more than minor injuries. But they can disrupt library activities and raise the noise level, which is already higher than many patrons would like. And at some point a slip-and-fall could lead to a lawsuit that might force onerous changes to the ways that we manage public areas.

Still, we focus on the predators swarming around the felt board and puppet theater. What we need is a balanced perspective on child safety in the library, with an appropriate amount of attention to real risks.

9.3 Assessing the risks

The risks that prevail at your library affect everyone on site, including young patrons. It’s wise to consider the different ways in which these risks could threaten children, their parents, and other adults. In emergencies such as fires, bomb threats, power outages, and severe weather, most people will cooperate with library staff members to take appropriate action: to evacuate the premises, not to loiter in parking lots, to assist injured persons as required. But what about children unaccompanied by parents, teachers, or caregivers? Are librarians responsible for them if they refuse to follow instructions?

Unfortunately, some parents put their children at risk by failing to supervise them properly. They will allow even the youngest child to roam freely through the library and to treat the furniture as if it were gymnasium equipment. If a child has difficulty negotiating an escalator, elevator, or turnstile, the parent will sometimes be inclined to hold the library responsible.

Some adults use libraries as babysitting facilities. They tell their child to look at some books or attend a storytime session, then disappear for a couple of hours. Eventually the child might become frightened or feel abandoned. Librarians at the reference desk are familiar with the boy or girl who wants to know where Daddy is, because he said he’d be back soon but he’s been gone a long time. Dealing with such situations under normal circumstances can be frustrating, but during an evacuation or emergency closure, an abandoned child can be an unnerving responsibility.

9.4 A Code of Patron Conduct

To enhance child safety, librarians should develop a Code of Patron Conduct that demands good behavior not only from children, but also from their parents and caregivers. In clear and concise language, this Code should require all patrons to avoid bad behavior: running, shouting, skating and skateboarding, vandalism, spitting, and rudeness to staff members. The Code should also forbid parents and caregivers from using the library as a child-storage depot.

To inform patrons of the Code, libraries should post signs to discourage those activities that are common at specific sites. Some branch entrances are particularly inviting to young sprinters, and skateboarders love wheelchair ramps, concrete ledges, and parking lots. Signage in these areas would be intended not only for children, but also for their parents. At some libraries, signage must be brutally conspicuous, but respect for the Code will compensate for a few large signs.

9.5 The librarian as enforcer

Since the mid-1960s, librarians have noticed a decline in patrons’ compliance with library regulations. The bodies of literature on library security and on the treatment of problematic patrons have grown in parallel. Questions regarding child safety are a natural outgrowth of the current library environment, and codes of library security, safety, patron conduct, and facilities use have become much more common. Nevertheless, the key to improving all aspects of safety is the librarian.

Fifty years ago, the librarian ruled the library without question. The stereotypical librarian held a vertical finger to her lips and told the world to maintain respectful silence. In fact, the librarian used more than that finger to enforce the rules. She could suspend borrowing privileges, demand that unruly patrons leave the premises, report miscreants to their parents, school principals or the police, even confiscate property such as knives, food, and makeup. There were few concerns about child safety, since young patrons could rarely put themselves in jeopardy while using the library. The opportunities for havoc were almost nonexistent.

In these more liberal times, librarians tend to tolerate bad behavior and to treat obstreperous patrons with what some might consider misplaced respect. We don’t want to reprove a child for climbing on furniture or practicing sprints in the stacks, and we don’t feel comfortable in rebuking parents and caregivers for poor supervision. But our Code of Patron Conduct will be useless if we are unwilling to enforce it. We must remember that the Code will not necessarily return us to the old days of monastic silence and discipline, but it could be an effective tool to decrease inappropriate behavior and enhance safety for all patrons.

As for Tanya, she’ll survive the librarian’s demand that she stop playing with that electric door. The Mother Goose program beckons, as does storytime and the summer crafts club. The latter will allow her to put her fingers to much better—and safer—use.