False Flags of Censorship: Why School Library Standards Matter
Selecting books for a school library is an assertion of mission, a deliberate act of intellectual formation that serves the overarching aim of education itself. It is not censorship!
Somewhere between the ideological skirmishes of so-called “cancel culture” and the commercial calculations of bestseller lists, the act of selecting books for a school library becomes more than mere logistics. It becomes an assertion of mission, a deliberate act of intellectual formation that serves the overarching aim of education itself. For those who cry “censorship” at the exclusion of a title, let us be clear: aligning a library’s collection with a school’s mission is no more an act of repression than a chef curating ingredients to craft a coherent dish or a composer arranging notes into harmony. It is discernment, not dogma, and it is essential.
Forming the Imagination, Preserving Innocence
At the heart of this approach lies a foundational truth: not all books are created equal. To assert otherwise—to excuse the banal or the bad by murmuring “at least they’re reading”—is to abandon our role as guides in the intellectual and moral formation of children. Allowing indiscriminate consumption of subpar literature is akin to shrugging at a diet of junk food, saying, “At least they’re eating,” or lauding graffiti on a vandalized wall as “at least they’re playing outside.”
Children’s literature shapes the imagination, which in turn influences how they perceive the world, wrestle with its complexities, and strive for its beauties. It is therefore not only permissible but necessary to discern good from bad, and good from great, in the books we place in their hands.
Discernment as a Prudential Practice
Discernment is neither innate nor instantaneous. Like any virtue, it is cultivated incrementally, beginning with the clearest cases and maturing toward finer distinctions. When curating a library collection, we begin by eliminating the obvious offenders: books with cartoonish illustrations that insult their readers’ intelligence, formulaic series churned out for profit, or works designed to propagandize rather than inspire.
Tens of thousands of children’s books are published each year, most destined for obscurity. Amid this glut, only a few will endure beyond a first printing, let alone a generation. This ephemerality justifies a universal preference for works that have stood the test of time. Books that have persisted—whether decades-old or centuries—have already proven their capacity to captivate, instruct, and endure.
Principles of Selection
As C.S. Lewis astutely observed, “No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally—and often far more—worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond.” This maxim guides this approach. A book that cannot transcend its immediate utility, that lacks the depth to reward rereading, is unlikely to nourish a young reader’s intellect or soul.
Our criteria, then, favor the beautiful and the timeless, eschewing the ephemeral and the ugly. We avoid books with overt moralism disguised as storytelling, those whose illustrations insult rather than delight, and formulaic series designed to entrap rather than enlighten. Disneyfied fairy tales? Out. Offer the originals. Political polemics masquerading as literature? Not here. And yes, works that would make an adult cringe to read aloud—or worse, dread rereading—have no place.
Mission-Driven Curation Is Not Censorship
It is here I must address the inevitable objections. To curate a collection in alignment with a school’s mission is not an act of censorship. It is, rather, a commitment to excellence, a refusal to settle for the mediocre or the merely sufficient when the great and the sublime are available.
Critics might claim we are eliminating unorthodox works or enforcing a narrow worldview. This is not so. The books we exclude are not banned for their ideas but for their failings: their lack of craft, their ugliness, their inability to challenge or inspire. By removing the subpar, we elevate the standard and enrich the intellectual life of our students.
The Danger of Too Many Choices
Paradoxically, in an age of abundance, we risk impoverishment. Overwhelmed by a flood of mediocre titles, students can easily become discouraged, unsure where to turn or what to trust. A carefully curated library not only alleviates this paralysis of choice but ensures that every book a student selects will meet a standard of excellence.
The task of discernment also extends to the educators themselves. As stewards of this intellectual treasury, we must form our own judgments as we guide those in our care. This means not only evaluating the books we offer but also recognizing the responsibility we bear in shaping the imaginations of future generations.
Practical Guidance
How, then, do we choose? Start with Lewis’s insight: prefer books that reward rereading, that hold their value beyond the immediate and the childish. Seek out works of beauty—whether in prose, illustration, or theme. Avoid the transient, the polemical, and the formulaic. Trust the test of time over the allure of the new.
And when in doubt, ask: Would I, as an adult, willingly read this book? Would I reread it? If the answer is no, why place it in the hands of a child?
Final Thoughts
The task of curating a library is not merely logistical; it is profoundly moral. It is about more than shelving books; it is about shaping minds. In aligning a collection with a school’s mission, we affirm the value of beauty, truth, and excellence.
This is not censorship. It is a commitment—to the imagination of the child, to the preservation of innocence, and to the cultivation of intellect. A well-curated library does not close doors; it opens them. Not to the transient and the trivial, but to the enduring, the enlightening, and the great.
Michael S. Rose, a leader in the classical education movement, is author of The Art of Being Human , Ugly As Sin and other books. His articles have appeared in dozens of publications including The Wall Street Journal, Epoch Times, New York Newsday, National Review, and The Dallas Morning News.