Beyond the Library and Why Stories Belong Wherever Families Gather
- 5 days ago
- 9 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Written by Mona Liza Santos, Award-Winning Children's Author & Emotional Literacy Advocate Mona Liza Santos is an award-winning children’s author and founder of World Love Press. She has written more than 40 books focused on emotional literacy, kindness, confidence, and cultural identity, inspiring families, educators, and young readers worldwide through heartfelt storytelling and meaningful life lessons.
When we think about children’s books, we naturally picture libraries, classrooms, bookstores, or bedtime stories at home. Those places have introduced generations of children to the joy of reading, and I believe they always will. But over the past few years, one unexpected experience challenged the way I think about where stories truly belong.
As a children’s author, I’ve had the privilege of meeting children, parents, grandparents, educators, and librarians from many different backgrounds. Through those experiences, I’ve come to believe that children’s books do far more than teach children how to read. They help children understand themselves, encourage empathy, strengthen family connections, and create conversations that often continue long after the final page has been turned. In many ways, the story becomes the beginning, not the destination.
Eventually, those experiences led me to ask a question I had never really considered before: What if some of the most meaningful conversations a book can inspire happen in the everyday places where families naturally gather? That question changed the way I think about literacy, emotional connection, and the role stories can play in strengthening our communities.
Stories have always been about more than reading
When I first began writing during the pandemic, I wasn’t trying to become an author. Like many parents, I was simply thinking about the kind of world my son was growing up in. I wanted him to grow up believing that kindness mattered, that his emotions deserved to be understood rather than dismissed, and that who he was would always be enough.
Those thoughts slowly found their way onto paper. Looking back now, it’s incredible to think that those quiet moments eventually grew into more than 40 children’s books. What surprises me most, however, isn’t the number of books I’ve written. It’s the number of meaningful conversations those stories have inspired.
Over the years, parents have written to tell me that one of my books helped their child finally talk about emotions they had struggled to express. Teachers have shared that discussions about kindness, friendship, confidence, or belonging continued long after story time because students felt seen in the books I wrote. Experiences like these have reminded me that children’s books often become much more than stories.
As someone who writes stories centered on emotional literacy, I’ve learned that books often become one of the safest places for children to explore feelings. A child who doesn’t know how to explain disappointment, loneliness, fear, or anxiety will often recognize those same emotions in a character first. That recognition creates a bridge, making it easier for families to begin conversations that might otherwise feel difficult. In many ways, stories become a child’s first opportunity to realize that they are not alone in what they are feeling.
A community event changed my perspective
Earlier this year, on July 11, 2026, I had the privilege of participating in Kwento at Kulay, a family event held at Seafood City Chula Vista. Like many author events, I arrived expecting to read a story, meet children, and hopefully encourage a love of books. It was something I had done before, but it was my first time sharing one of my books inside a Filipino grocery store. I was curious to see how families would respond in a setting so different from a library, bookstore, or classroom.
Instead, I left with a completely different perspective. As story time began, I noticed something that caught my attention almost immediately. Grandparents sat beside their grandchildren. Parents joined the conversations instead of simply watching from a distance. Children proudly shared what they knew about Filipino culture after reading The Filipino in Me. Before long, grandparents were adding stories from their own childhoods, parents were sharing memories with their children, and conversations continued long after the final page had been turned.
Driving home that afternoon, I realized the lesson wasn’t really about where the event had taken place. It wasn’t about being inside a grocery store or even about the event itself. It was about what happened because families were already together. The story simply became an invitation to pause, sit together, listen, and begin talking.
That experience reminded me that books don’t have to compete for people’s attention. Sometimes, they simply need to meet families where life is already happening. For years, I had naturally associated children’s books with libraries, classrooms, and bookstores because those were the places where we traditionally expected to find them. But that afternoon challenged my own thinking. I realized that stories have the ability to create meaningful moments almost anywhere. If anything, they often become even more personal because they unfold naturally within everyday family life.
Looking back, I don’t think the most important part of that afternoon was the story time itself. It was watching families experience the story together. Children listened with curiosity, parents listened with intention, and grandparents smiled as memories from their own childhoods resurfaced. Although everyone heard the same story, each generation connected with it in their own way. That was the moment I realized my books were doing something much bigger than I had imagined. They weren’t simply telling stories. They were creating opportunities for families to slow down, reconnect, share memories, and begin conversations that might never have happened otherwise.
Stories become bridges between generations
One of the greatest gifts children’s books offer is their ability to bring different generations into the same conversation. Although everyone may be listening to the very same story, each person experiences it through the lens of their own life. A child may see an exciting adventure or recognize a character who reminds them of themselves. A parent may hear a reminder to slow down, be more present, or appreciate the little moments that often pass too quickly. A grandparent may remember traditions, family stories, or experiences they have not thought about in years.
That is one of the quiet strengths of children’s literature. A single story can speak to everyone differently while still bringing them together through one shared experience. Children begin asking questions. Parents begin listening a little more carefully. Grandparents find opportunities to pass along memories that might otherwise remain untold. In many ways, the story simply becomes the starting point, while the conversations that follow become the lasting memory.
As an author, I have come to believe that some of the most meaningful moments do not happen while children are reading the book itself. They happen afterward, when the book is closed and families continue talking. Those conversations help children better understand themselves, strengthen relationships across generations, and remind all of us that every family has stories worth preserving and sharing.
In today’s busy world, where schedules are full and technology often competes for our attention, those shared conversations have become more valuable than ever. Children may not remember every sentence they read, but they often remember who was sitting beside them, who answered
their questions, and how they felt during those moments. Sometimes, that feeling of connection becomes the greatest lesson a story has to offer.
Literacy does not belong to one building
For generations, we have naturally associated literacy with schools, libraries, and bookstores because those spaces were intentionally created for learning. They remain essential, and I hope they always will. Libraries inspire curiosity, classrooms nurture lifelong learning, and bookstores introduce readers to stories that can shape their lives.
But children do not stop learning when they leave those buildings. They learn while visiting museums and asking questions about what they see. They learn while attending cultural festivals and discovering traditions different from their own. They learn while exploring parks, walking through grocery stores with their families, participating in neighborhood celebrations, and simply observing the conversations happening around them. Every one of those experiences quietly shapes the way children understand themselves, their relationships, and the world around them.
If children are constantly learning from the environments around them, perhaps stories deserve to become part of those experiences too.
Bringing books into community spaces is not about replacing libraries, classrooms, or bookstores. It is about expanding opportunities for literacy beyond traditional settings and making stories more accessible to families in the places where they already spend time together. When books become part of everyday community life, reading begins to feel less like another task and more like something that naturally belongs alongside family, culture, curiosity, and connection.
Community literacy begins where life happens
As I continued reflecting on that experience, I found myself thinking about what community literacy really means. To me, community literacy is about creating opportunities for children to discover stories wherever life naturally happens, not only inside educational spaces, but throughout the communities where they grow, explore, and build relationships.
Community literacy recognizes that children are constantly learning, not only inside classrooms, but everywhere they live, play, explore, and spend time with the people they love. Rather than limiting literacy to designated learning spaces, it embraces the idea that every neighborhood, gathering place, and shared experience has the potential to inspire curiosity, conversation, empathy, and a lifelong love of reading. Stories simply become another way those everyday experiences help shape who children become.
Children are constantly learning from the world around them. They learn by listening to conversations, observing how people treat one another, asking questions, and experiencing different cultures and traditions. Stories have the unique ability to become part of those everyday moments, helping children understand not only the words on a page but also the emotions, values, and relationships that shape who they become.
Perhaps community literacy begins the moment a story helps a child see themselves, understand someone else, or start a conversation they might never have had otherwise.
The future of literacy may be closer than we think
Since that afternoon, I have often imagined what our communities might look like if we intentionally created more opportunities for children to encounter books outside traditional educational spaces. Not because libraries or classrooms are lacking, but because families already gather in so many places where meaningful moments naturally happen.
Imagine museums pairing story times with exhibits so children can continue learning after leaving the gallery. Imagine cultural festivals inviting children’s authors to celebrate heritage through stories alongside music, dance, and art. Imagine grocery stores hosting family literacy events, farmers’ markets welcoming local authors, parks creating reading corners, or even airports offering quiet spaces where families can pause together over a book before beginning a journey.
None of these ideas requires enormous budgets or complicated programs. Sometimes, all it takes is one story, one author visit, one reading corner, or one meaningful conversation to spark a child’s curiosity.
The goal is not to turn every public space into a library. The goal is to recognize that every community already has places where families gather, and many of those places can also become opportunities for literacy, emotional growth, and human connection.
With that being said, sometimes the most meaningful reading experience a child has is not one they planned.
Why this matters more than ever
Today’s children are growing up in a world where technology constantly competes for their attention and where family schedules often leave little room to simply slow down together. While technology has created incredible opportunities, it has also made uninterrupted conversations increasingly rare.
Stories naturally create those moments. For a few minutes, children stop looking at screens. Parents pause their errands. Grandparents begin sharing memories. Families laugh, ask questions, and listen. What may appear to be an ordinary story time often becomes something much greater, a shared experience that reminds everyone of the importance of simply being present.
Looking beyond the page
Looking back, I realize the lesson I carried home that afternoon was much larger than the idea that children’s books belong outside libraries.
It was about community. Stories have always had the power to bring people together. They encourage us to slow down, listen more carefully, ask thoughtful questions, and appreciate experiences that may be different from our own. Whether those moments happen in a classroom, a library, around the dinner table, inside a museum, at a cultural festival, or in the middle of an ordinary shopping trip, every shared story has the potential to strengthen families and build more connected communities.
If one story can bring a family closer together during an ordinary afternoon, imagine what could happen if more communities intentionally created opportunities for moments like that. I truly believe the future of literacy is not found in one building alone. It is found wherever children laugh, explore, ask questions, and spend time with the people who matter most.
Join the conversation
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Where have you seen stories unexpectedly bring people together? Whether you are a parent, educator, librarian, homeschool family, business owner, museum professional, or community leader, I encourage you to think about how your own community might create more opportunities for children to encounter books in meaningful ways.
To learn more about my children’s books, educational resources, and initiatives centered on kindness, emotional literacy, belonging, and cultural identity, visit here. Together, perhaps we can help stories reach even more children, one community at a time.
This image is from the Kwento at Kulay family event referenced in the article. It illustrates the community experience that inspired the piece.
Read more from Mona Liza Santos
Mona Liza Santos, Award-Winning Children's Author & Emotional Literacy Advocate
Mona Liza Santos is an award-winning children's author, publisher, and founder of World Love Press. She is the author of more than 40 children's books focused on emotional literacy, kindness, confidence, resilience, and cultural identity. Her work has been recognized by the Mom's Choice Awards for its positive impact on children and families. Inspired by motherhood, global travel, and her Filipino heritage, Mona creates stories that encourage children to embrace who they are and recognize their worth. Mona is also the founder of National Intentional Kindness Day and Heritage and Heart Day, created to promote empathy, inclusion, cultural pride, and meaningful human connection within schools and communities.
