One of library staff was stopped in the parking lot on his way back from lunch and informed if he didn’t turn his music down, he was headed for a ticket. I was glad of the heads up, because I too have a tendency to play my music loud on the way in to work; singing is kind of preemptive strike against any stressful things that might be hovering at the door of my office.

At the same time my colleague was receiving a warning,  I was sitting at the reference desk, trying to get a word processing application to work on my iPad. I’m still not sure what key was the culprit, but whenever I hit it, suddenly Snow Patrol was serenading the entire library. Loudly. I would run back to my office, turn it off, and then come out and try again. Only to have the same result. No students complained. Maybe they have the good taste to like Snow Patrol. Or maybe they simply have become immune to noise. But they reminded me that libraries are not the places they used to be.

Even a decade ago, when I started work here, there was still quite a bit of shushing going on. Students were expected to turn off their cell phones, not talk to each other, and make as little noise as possible. A former colleague from the English department said that every employee looked unhappy. I found that not to be true, but I have to admit that when you spend time reprimanding people, it’s hard to keep a happy expression on your face.

Now, though, things have shifted. There are students who still want a quiet  place to work, and we work hard to maintain places that allow for that. But we also make the library a friendly place where people want to visit. So as long as cell phones discussions are quiet, we don’t forbid them. (After all, it was pointed out that we made more noise telling students to get off their cell phones than the actual call ever did.)  We  have an ongoing student/staff chess match going on. And students often come by just to chat to let us know how their classes and lives are going. And I think of all this has made the library a friendlier place to be.

As I sit here typing, I can hear a student giggling over something a staff member has said. A staff member has bellowed (Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit) for another to come over and help him fix the copier. Students are helping each other with some homework. And one of my colleagues is bemoaning a weight problem to anyone who will listen as she munches on vinegar and salt potato chips at the back table.

We may not be an ideal library. We don’t pretend to be. Our structure probably won’t work everywhere. But, somehow, our imperfect, noisy selves mesh and work quite well here.