Dear SOS,
I didn't anticipate spending much time in the library upon arriving at Tufts, but living in an all-freshman dorm has put a damper on my ability to study in my room. Since moving in, I have actually spent a great deal of time at Tisch, but have observed some peculiar habits amidst my co-studiers.
What exactly is the proper library etiquette?
Sincerely, Library Illiterate
Dear Library Illiterate,
First of all, I applaud you for having the motivation to frequent the actual library this early in the year - unlike many of us who have convinced ourselves that the Res Quad, paired with an economy textbook and tanning oil, can somehow suffice as a surrogate study place.
But in response to your query, I can see why you're concerned. When the situation requires that an individual accomplish personal tasks in a den of silence, especially in the close presence of others, guidelines invariably must be set.
If that's the case, feel free to print out the following list as keep it nestled in the pages of your Pachyderm. I won't object:
1. Maybe you've yet to notice the freshly laminated signs dispersed throughout Tisch, but the other day I found myself staring at a sign decorated with the jarring image of a large cockroach, reminding me not to eat on premises beyond the Tower Caf?©.
Students inevitably tend to rebel against Tisch's no-food rule in the form of iced coffees or chocolate chip muffins. Although I do not blatantly endorse the consumption of food in the library, I do understand the need for occasional nourishment during a late-night study session.
Beverages, yogurt and fruit salad all suffice as appropriate snacks for the said decibel level; whereas tin-foiled Hodgdon wraps and Tower Caf?© pita chips (both of which I have actually witnessed being eaten) are entirely too loud for the given environment. Smell is also of concern - a fact that I learned upon opening a pre-packaged seaweed salad in a starved frenzy last March.
2. Another pastime, which still marks me with surprise each time I see it, is sleeping. I have witnessed almost every sleeping position in my library days - the comfy chair sprawler, the book-over-face-er, and my all-time favorite, the hunched-over cubby-dweller.
If it really must be done, I cite the basement as the place most conducive to mid-problem set catnaps. That way, you avoid a great deal of publicity, and can still maintain a state of hibernation in a semi-cavernous setting.
3. Along with the anti-snacking signs this year are the small laminated posters deeming certain sections of the library as "quiet" and "social" areas. Although a physical distinction has been made, a method to enforce such segregation is fundamentally lacking.
Cell phones pose the biggest threat to the said "quiet" areas, and are often the cause of many a dirty stare on a tense Sunday night.
I actually applaud the people who have full-decibel-level cell-phone conversations, because they don't beat around the bush with their obnoxiousness. Whispering whilst on the cell phone is almost more annoying, partially because the people on the other end of the phone either a) cannot hear you, which causes you to repeat the phrase in a louder whisper or b) start whispering themselves and sound like an utter fool in whatever loud, compromising social situation they're in.
4. Facebook + Library = judgmental stares. Simple math.
5. Club Tisch: Some people like to refer to it as late-night study at the Hirsch Reading room, but I prefer the former.
Maybe you've even gotten a chance to go inside (unlike most clubs, it's a little more self-selective). Regardless, Club Tisch requires a whole set of rules unto itself - but I'll attempt to keep it brief.
Club Tisch is bangin' between the hours of 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. and even later during finals. The scene starts off with the smooth vocal recordings of DJ Library Loudspeaker Voice, warning you to prepare for the after-party in the Hirsch Reading Room (aka Club Tisch).
After you gather all your belongings and pull yourself together, you will be asked to congregate either outside the library (in a mob of smokers and cell-phone users), or, if especially eager, you will find yourself inside the doors, in a huddled mass reminiscent of the DU basement. Make sure to bring proper ID; the bouncer (i.e. security guard) will not let you get in with a fake (i.e. fob).
And once those glass doors finally open to let the clubbin' begin, I have only one word of advice to you: run. Outlets, my friend, are the VIP's.
