Old-School Learning

Books and bikes, side by side.

by Bruce Schimmel

Inside the store, the roar of the street gives way to the buzzing of kids reading — with nary a beep nor a tweet. The nonprofit store is a digital-free zone, where cells are switched off at the door. Its walls are lined with books, and there's a reading loft in the back.

As I sit down at a table, a boy about 8 years old arrives with a book. "Can we read, please?" he asks. Reading with him, I remember growing up in bookstores and libraries, where people read, chatted and shared together. And still do today, in kindlier places.

But here, the closest library is more than a mile away. Churches and barbershops are closing, and stores push food through Plexiglas.

In this neighborhood, fear trumps civility. Which is why, five years ago, a couple of academics, a community advocate and real estate developer Jonathan Weiss opened what Weiss calls "a community center posing as a bookstore."

Its official mission is to "grow and sustain a community of readers, writers and thinkers." But it does more than that. By sharing books, it fosters the person-to-person interactions that make the store an oasis of civility. "Where people are valued, really valued," says executive director Darcy Sebright.

Today, its literacy programs are packed, its parents are present and its kids have created some of the best magazines I've seen.

Here's a poem called "I Am From" by 8-year-old Rasheed Jennings: "I am from basketballs under my grandmom's wheelchair/ I am from sneakers on the cable wires/ I am from Dunkin' Donuts, where I get my glazed doughnuts/ I am from my mom's stomach/ I am from, 'I shouldn't have to tell you more than once!'/ I am from corn bread, chicken and ribs during celebrations."

An estimated 300 children and adults are now involved. Temple student volunteers mentor one on one; drama students produce storefront theater. And last week, the empty beauty parlor next door became home to Neighborhood Bike Works, which teaches kids to fix up old bikes. Books and bikes, side by side.

You can't say for sure, but some thanks would seem to be due to Tree House Books for a neighborhood on the mend, and for reaffirming that literacy is the foundation of civility.

To bolster literacy, funders like the Knight Foundation are pumping funds into programs that feature digital learning. But despite millions spent, reading scores continue to decline, leaving some to wonder if digital media is to blame. In a series about children's literacy, The New York Times asked, "Online, R U Really Reading?" (tr.im/rureading). According to the article, U R not.

Love of learning doesn't come from touching a screen; it comes from being together, in a safe space, reader to reader.

Now, you might expect that such learning isn't cheap. But, in fact, Tree House Books is a bargain. With one full-time employee (and free rent; its storefront was donated by Weiss), its annual budget is less than $75,000. With this success, says Sebright, the program is hoping to propagate in other needy neighborhoods — and let a thousand Tree Houses bloom.

(bruce@schimmel.com)

For information on volunteer opportunities, visit treehousebooks.org.