In my library-blog enthusiasm, I started writing about Albert Campbell branch before I even left my vehicle. It was fun to prop my notebook on the Ontario Provincial Road Atlas, which in turn rested on the steering wheel, and write as the rain pelted the roof of the car and the six trees in front of it. A mesh fence was behind the trees, marking the boundary of a local school’s softball pitch and grassy field. I noticed a natural dirt path had been created by the feet of neighbours and schoolkids, marking a passage from the playground to the library. The footpath continued between the fence and the trees.
I listened to the rain for several more minutes and enjoyed the empty field bordered by trees, but I could no longer put off the mad wet scurry into the library. After I dashed through the lot to the lower back entrance, I briefly investigated the basement level. I discovered an auditorium humming in dimly-lit calm, where a yoga teacher was leading his group in a series of shoulder stretches.
Lowering my shoulders in sympathy, I returned to the lobby, which was papered with community information. Services included a team of Library Settlement Workers sponsored by CICS, with assistance offered in Bengali, Chinese, Tamil, and Urdu. These four languages were also represented in the multilingual collection, in addition to Greek, Italian, Kurdish, Persian, Spanish, Hindi, and Tagalog.
When I walked upstairs to the main lobby, a treasure trove of used books greeted me on two tables. By the time I finished my eager rummaging, I’d scored fourteen ESL and Adult Literacy books to give to my students. What a jackpot! Toting my selections, I spent about ten minutes admiring them on a wonderfully fuzzy window bench. I liked how my latest reading perch was covered in tan carpet and enlivened by four potted plants.
As I further reacquainted myself with this branch, I remembered why I had been so taken with it the first time. Albert Campbell is like a giant educational 1970′s rumpus room with plenty of barrel and square shapes to add interest. I didn’t feel as if I had to be on my most proper behaviour here; I could even take part in a wild rumpus like the characters in Where the Wild Things Are. With so many carpeted surfaces and such wide aisles, nobody would get hurt when the rumpus escalated.
Increasing the playfulness, a lego platform effect was created by two sets of exposed staircases leading to the children’s section on the second level. The east and west sides of the platform had rounded tan carpeted ledges from which to observe the activity on the main floor. Too bad there weren’t any massive carpeted slides!
Unable to slide down to the main level, I contented myself with looking over the left side of the platform. From this vantage point, I beheld a pod of silent study carrels, tall shelves, and the crowns of patrons working at a double row of computers. I couldn’t see the Learning Centre, but I knew it was there directly below the platform. Then I crossed to the right side and noted the coat-hooks considerately placed at child-height on the inner side of the ledge. As I leaned against it, the check-out desk and newspaper lounge with its carpeted window perch came into view.
I found the decorations at Albert Campbell folksy and fun, from a small stone sculpture to the fanciful paper and cloth creations in the kid’s section. Four characters from The Wizard of Oz stood tall on top of a long bookshelf. On the north wall hung an enormous zodiac tapestry with paper images of scorpions, crabs, twins and so forth. (The bull looked somewhat dusty, but he was quite high up and difficult to reach). Not far from the Oz foursome, someone had propped four paper masks on top of individual high shelves. Their stern expressions seemed to say, “You better read your book or I’ll rustle my papery beak at you!”
After taking a few photos of the masks and a funky paper owl, I trotted down the east stairs. Then I settled into a private study carrel and constructed a pleasing study island with my bag of books, DVD’s, phone, and bottle of correction fluid. As I wrote in my journal, I could hear the tapping of keyboards, pages rustling, and the patient voice of a nearby math tutor three carrels to my right. It was the perfect place to spend a rainy Saturday morning.
When I finally left Albert Campbell, the rain had stopped. The sloping garden outside the main entrance looked especially fresh and rejuvenated, and I returned to my car with visions of irises dancing in my head.