Welcome to the first post in my series about luring students into the library—with programming, not bribery. Though honestly, both can be effective.

This is my second year as Director of Library Services, and my focus for the year is building community. Last year was all about the logistics—reworking the collection, rearranging furniture, and figuring out which light switches controlled which parts of the library. This year, I’m leaning hard into the fun stuff: being everywhere, doing everything, and getting students to do all the library things.

Thanks to the AISL Vision to Reality Grant, I get to go big with that goal. My proposal centered around the idea that a little friendly competition can go a long way toward creating community—and filling the library. I’ve always believed libraries aren’t just quiet study spaces or shelves of decorative books. They’re safe, lively spaces where everyone should feel like they belong. And when programming makes the library approachable and fun, the books practically start walking off the shelves themselves.

Our school is a 6–12 boarding school, with about half our students local and half international. One thing they all share? A deep, abiding love of competition. Give them a ribbon, a pin, or even bragging rights, and they’re all in. And let’s be honest—sometimes the lower the stakes, the higher the bragging rights. So this fall, I kicked off our competitive programming with something delightfully old-school: a Pumpkin Carving Contest. Nostalgia meets rivalry—it’s the perfect recipe. In just three days, 35 students carved pumpkins. I call that a serious programming win.

How It All Came Together

Step one: confirm I was, in fact, allowed to give students sharp objects. (An underrated but essential step.)

Once I had the official thumbs-up, I started promoting the event about two weeks out. It’s hard to identify a sweet spot for programming —too early and they forget, too late and they’ve filled their schedule with other Very Important Teenage Things. But two weeks seemed to work out for this.

Promotion went out in the weekly student e-news, on the TVs around campus, by the library sign-in station, and via a community-wide email. Students signed up through a simple SignUpGenius—five slots per class block for upper schoolers, and a separate lunch option for middle schoolers. About two-thirds of our carvers signed up in advance, which, for a first run, felt like victory.

Then came the pumpkin hunt. I checked local farms and big box stores, but Walmart’s $3.97 pumpkins beat everyone else’s $10 price tags. Supporting local business is wonderful—but so is staying within budget. I enlisted my oldest child and my husband to help me and we relieved a few local Walmarts of their pumpkins purchasing 40 pumpkins overall and drawing a lot of attention from other shoppers.

Our activities department already had carving tools, so all I needed were blue ribbons for prizes and battery-powered tea lights from the dollar store—three for $1.25. Librarian math loves a bargain.

Our campus is spread across multiple buildings, with the library being its own building, so I was able to hold the event outside. Facilities set up tables, chairs, and a giant trash barrel, and I silently prayed to Mother Nature. Thankfully, she came through. I also pre-scooped all the pumpkins myself—partly to save students time, and partly because I didn’t want pumpkin guts decorating the front steps.

The Big Carve

When we returned from fall break, the library patio was ready for action. The first day started slow, so my library assistant and I began the old-fashioned way: walking up to kids and asking, “Hey, want to carve a pumpkin?” The secret? Never ask just one student. Ask a pair. Peer pressure for good, not evil. Also don’t limit yourself to the library. I asked kids at lunch, during class, whenever I saw them around campus. There was no escaping me!

By the end of day one, I’d gone from worrying about leftover pumpkins to wondering if we had enough. The windows along the library’s front made perfect viewing for the pumpkin action outside. We popped out to chat, admire designs, and offer the occasional pep talk. Most students proudly called us over to admire their finished masterpieces—because no one, no matter how cool, ever outgrows wanting praise.

On Friday afternoon, I placed tea lights inside all the finished pumpkins and lit them up. The whole display glowed through the weekend, and it looked amazing. We awarded ribbons in five categories: “Ms. Pratt’s Favorite,” “Ms. Stiefel’s Favorite,” “Spookiest,” “Cutest,” and “Most Traditional.” The students were thrilled to see either their or a friend’s pumpkin get chosen!

Lessons Learned

All in all, a smashing success! I’ll absolutely run it again next year. There’s something magical about recurring programs—they become little traditions students actually look forward to.

Next time, I’ll lean harder into the competition side. Bigger signage for categories, maybe display the ribbons ahead of time, and definitely turn the awards and lighting into a mini-event. I picture pumpkins glowing after dark, hot cocoa in hand, and everyone pretending to be serious judges.

Also, note to self: wipe tables daily. Dried pumpkin residue can rival super glue in strength. 

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How You Can Adapt It

I’m lucky to have outdoor space, supportive colleagues, and a schedule that allows time for carving chaos. But even without those things, you can absolutely do your own spin.

Try smaller sugar pumpkins with acrylic paint pens, or paper jack-o’-lanterns hung in the library windows. The key ingredients—creativity, friendly competition, and a dash of seasonal spirit—are free.If you have questions or want to trade programming ideas, feel free to reach out. And stay tuned—next up in my quest for programming domination: gingerbread houses.