I Have No Shelf Control

Of course.

Somewhere among the thousands of books in the library, our missing book has been lovingly returned to a shelf. Not necessarily its shelf, mind you. But a shelf nonetheless. And so begins a librarian's favourite game: hide and seek, without the seeking being particularly voluntary.

The Annual Treasure Hunt

Inventory used to be one of those tasks that could swallow days, sometimes weeks. Scanning, checking, reconciling and looking for books that weren't where they belonged. Books that had mysteriously disappeared, books that had been returned but never registered, and books that were technically present but had somehow wandered off into entirely the wrong section.

And all the while, the rest of the library work was waiting. “I wish we could do inventory several times a year!” said no librarian. Ever. Yet knowing what you actually have is the foundation of managing a collection well. This is one of the things I particularly appreciate about what we're building at Ossus. Instead of painstakingly scanning every book, you can use your phone to photograph the shelves. AI helps identify which books are in their proper places, which have been misplaced and which might need a little TLC.

It's a rather satisfying use of technology. Not because inventory suddenly becomes the highlight of anyone's week, but because it no longer has to consume quite so much of it. And once you know what's actually on your shelves, you can begin asking the more interesting questions.

Aging With Grace

Weeding. A word that can make even experienced librarians shift uncomfortably in their chairs. But a collection needs tending. Without it, shelves become crowded, information becomes outdated and books that could delight their readers disappear behind those that have long since served their purpose. A book that hasn't circulated in years isn't automatically a book nobody wants. Perhaps it's part of the reference collection, never intended to leave the library in the first place. Perhaps it's been misplaced, quietly gathering dust in the wrong section. Or perhaps it appeals to a small group of readers whose interests are no less deserving of a place on the shelves simply because they're shared by fewer people.

Circulation figures can tell us plenty, but they can't make the decisions for us.

And then we have the books that time forgot. The Soviet Union is still on the map, Pluto is happily a planet, and the president has apparently been enjoying an extraordinarily long term in office. Perfectly respectable information once upon a time, but time has a rather inconvenient habit of moving on. Some of these books are worth keeping. An outdated atlas, for example, can be a wonderful starting point for a lesson in history or media literacy. What did we know then? What do we know now? And how do we decide whether the information in front of us is trustworthy?

Others haven't aged quite so gracefully.

A science book presenting long-discredited theories as fact, or a reference book offering yesterday's answers to today's questions, may do more harm than good when students reach for it expecting reliable information. Not every outdated book deserves a second life as a teaching resource. Sometimes it's simply time to send it off to greener pastures.

Then there are the simply bad books. Old ones, new ones, books that were a questionable purchase to begin with. Those are easy enough to part with. The popular ones that have been read to pieces? Also fairly straightforward. If they're still in demand and readily available, replace them. One, two, three. Done!

More Than the Sum of Its Books

The best school libraries I've encountered have rarely been the biggest. They've been the ones where the collection feels almost perfectly attuned to the school it serves.A collection that mirrors the curriculum and supports the school's pedagogical mission, but doesn't stop there. It quietly broadens horizons, opens unexpected doors and encourages students to venture beyond what's expected of them. There should be no ceiling for the student ready to tackle more advanced literature, but neither should anyone be left behind. The collection must make room for different abilities, interests, languages and ambitions.

I think of it as a Newton's cradle of reading. Reading for pleasure and reading to learn, each setting the other in motion. The newest releases and the classics. The rhythm and the blues. Books that nurture our inner worlds and others that help us make sense of the world around us. A school library should never aspire to be a pale imitation of a public library. It has its own purpose, its own audience and its own responsibilities. It should be a place where students encounter ideas beyond their textbooks, find perspectives different from their own and develop the confidence to question what they're told. A little barricade of student democracy, if you will. A place for future free thinkers.

And that kind of collection doesn't happen by accident.

It takes knowledge of the students, close collaboration with teachers, professional judgement and the willingness to keep looking critically at what's on the shelves.

Making Space

There's a practical side to all this, of course. A shelf packed so tightly that you have to wrestle a book free isn't particularly inviting. Neither is a collection where outdated, irrelevant or poorly placed titles obscure the ones readers might actually enjoy. Giving books a little breathing room makes browsing easier. Covers become visible, interesting titles catch the eye, and a student can explore without having to know exactly what they're looking for.

There's a difference between a library that contains a great many books and one where readers can actually find something they want to read.Weeding helps us see the collection afresh. What's being read? What's being overlooked? What's missing? Which books have earned another chance, perhaps with a better location or a little promotion? The aim isn't necessarily to make the collection smaller. It's to make it more useful, more approachable and better suited to the people walking through the doors.

The Weeding Box 

All very sensible, isn't it? Know your collection. Keep it relevant. Make room for new books and new readers. Exercise your professional judgement. I could probably give you a rather convincing lecture on the subject.

And yet.

I once had a box of books that I simply couldn't bring myself to throw away. They had been loved by generations of students. Bruised, battered, taped together, repaired and repaired again. Their covers were falling off, their pages were coming loose, and the books themselves had long since gone out of print. I couldn't replace them, and I couldn't honestly justify putting them back on the shelves either. So there they sat. In a box.

I knew perfectly well what needed to be done. I just couldn't quite do it. Eventually, I phased them out, one by one. Not exactly a shining example of efficient collection management, but there you have it. 

I have no shelf control.