Library Essay

Shreya Sakar (she/her)

Editorial Team Member

Not literally in the center of our town, the Basking Ridge Public Library is the heart of our community, especially for teenagers. If you visited my town, this would be the place I’d show you—not because of what it objectively has to offer, but because of the memories I’ve made there, the friendships I’ve strengthened, and the countless hours I’ve spent finding solace in its familiar walls.

You can’t go to the library and expect to be alone. This place was first introduced to me as the venue for weekend Mock Trial meetings. At 10 a.m. on February Saturdays, my teammates and I gathered in the conference room, preparing tirelessly for our county tournament until the librarians kicked us out because it was closing time or because they’d grown tired of our endless legal debates. We’d shuffle out, still engrossed in discussions about cross-examinations and case precedents, only to continue them outside in hushed, determined tones.

At the time, spending extensive hours at the library wasn’t particularly appealing. It was crowded with upperclassmen tackling a workload I hadn’t yet experienced, their heads buried in SAT prep books or AP Biology notes. But because it was a meeting point, I had to be there. Over time, I began to explore beyond the conference rooms and study cubicles. I discovered different sections of the library that weren’t solely meant for productivity: the quiet conversation section (where I rarely go since my conversations seldom stay quiet), the designated quiet section (where I retreat when I’m behind on assignments), and finally, the teen room, where the noise limit is nonexistent.

The teen room is unlike any other part of the library. Equipped with board games, couches, and a more relaxed atmosphere, it’s a space where studying often takes a backseat to impromptu debates, laughter, and the occasional competitive round of chess. Losing track of time here is easy, and some of my favorite afternoons have been spent on those couches, surrounded by friends, talking about everything from our latest school stressors to philosophical questions that had no definitive answers.

Taking breaks from work is just as much a part of my library routine as studying itself. On particularly long days, I’ll step outside for fresh air, often finding myself strolling through town with friends. More often than not, this results in a trip to Barrister’s, our town’s beloved coffee shop. Something about returning to the library with a warm coffee in hand makes the hours ahead feel less daunting. Occasionally, our library breaks turn into something more—an impromptu lunch at Bella’s Burgers or an aimless walk through town, stretching what should have been a thirty-minute reprieve into an entire afternoon of making memories.

The Basking Ridge Public Library is more than just a place to check out books or cram for finals—it’s a space where friendships have deepened, where my high school experience has unfolded, and where I’ve learned that studying doesn’t have to be isolating. It’s where I’ve shared whispered jokes in the aisles, debated everything from classic literature to Supreme Court cases, and found a sense of belonging in the quiet companionship of others who, like me, have made the library their second home.

Every corner of this library echoes with laughter, anxiety, frustration, and triumph. The library has witnessed late-night cramming sessions before AP exams, the nervous anticipation before receiving test scores, and the triumphant high-fives after finishing a particularly grueling assignment. It has also been the backdrop to some of the most cherished moments of my teenage years—ones filled with inside jokes, shared secrets, and a sense of community that makes our small town feel even smaller, in the best way possible.

So if you visited my hometown, this is the first place I’d take you. Not because of the books or the resources—though they are plentiful—but because of the life that fills the space, the stories that unfold between its shelves, and the memories that make it feel like home.