Scarred for Life

I have moments in my job of children's librarian of genuine and furious anger. The parent who insists their child not read graphic novels, because they're not "real books", the teen who seem to think that telling me to f**k myself is somehow ok and warranted, the people who say they don't see the point of the library as an institution, because you "can find everything with Google". And I will say, that in the public sphere I am PHE-NO-ME-NAL at hiding this; remaining calm and professional when I really want to stare in disbelief and just say "No". What truly makes me mad though, is when I realize how the librarians in my own childhood failed me.  

Unsurprisingly, I read a lot as a kid. I haunted my local library on weekends. Spent at least one night a week there, from after school until my parents came to get me when they got home around 7, participating in summer reading yearly, and generally being a face the librarians and staff knew. In the 1990s and early 2000s when I was a tween and teen, I will admit there wasn't much in the way of Tween or Teen Literature. Beyond Goosebumps, Babysitters Club, and  "issues" books, there weren't many standout
 books that were appropriate for my age and reading level. Meaning that once I raced through Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine and Catherine, Called Birdy by Karen Cushman, there wasn't much else for me to fall in love with. So I moved onto adult books, with sometimes very little understanding of what I was actually reading and without the deep enjoyment that can come from reading about characters that you can relate to. Or so I thought.

Now that I'm a children's librarian I of course know about the amazing series and books that were available at that time, including the Alice books by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, the Song of the Lioness series by Tamora Pierce, The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright, anything by E. Nesbit, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith, or any other of a multitude of books that I found on my own or though friends and colleagues as an adult or older teen. And I ask myself why weren't any of these books put into my hands? I can honestly say that I can only recall one time that one of my school librarians put a book into my hands (The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, which I love to this day) and can never remember one of my public librarians suggesting anything to me.

And I'm sure I didn't ask, and that's ok. I was a shy kid, who was often teased and who was such a voracious reader, in part, because I didn't feel comfortable in my own world.  I've thankfully out grown that and see kids everyday who fit the same description. Which is why I approach those kids when I see them wandering in the stacks and ask if they've read this, that, or the other.  I take a note of who checks out a stack of books every week, and grab something and say that I thought they might want to give this a shot. I do this, because I recognize that such an important part of my job is to reach the reader. Especially the reader who wants desperately to be reached, but is too scared to ask.

Program Anxiety

I haven't been working in library very long. Just over 6 months in fact and although there are parts of my job I feel fairly comfortable with and confident that my response will be the right one, I am still struggling with nerves in regards to other responsibilities. The number one part of my job that is causing me stress is program planning.

Now for anyone familiar with current library philosophy you know that the library is no longer the temple of scholarship and silence it once was. In fact the library of today is downright noisy with singing from story time, questions from patrons about job searches and computers, and applause from lecture series. Part of my job is to provide the impetus for this noise in the form of programming. The nice thing is that a program can be almost anything and that my direct manager is all for trying new things. The point being that you never know what will work and will thus bring people to the library as a community center, but also that the worst you can do is fail.

And there's where I get caught- the possibility of failure. I really can think of nothing I fear more than the possibility of failure. I've done a few programs so far and most have been ok. At least one has been great (A Hunger Games Trivia Tournament). But my most recent one can be described as nothing but as failure, as no one came. Not one. single. person. It seemed like such a slam dunk too! It was Wii! For teens! I had chips and dip! Honestly, I would have gone, you know if it wasn't my program and further more deeply creepy for an adult woman to attend a library program aimed at teens. There were reasons the normal crowd of kids I get at my programs weren't there, including choir practice, first week back from spring break attributed lethargy, and a heavier than normal homework load,  but the fact remains not one kid played.

Now I feel shaky. I have another program this week that I know won't be popular (book spine poetry). I've questioned whether I should cancel or just do something like Wii, that I think will be more popular.  Maybe that's the smart thing to do. Truthfully, I've never been accused of being smart all the time, so I'm going to stick with my book spine poetry. In part because I think it will be so much fun to do, but further because although the library is a community  center, and a place for lectures, and games, and even the occasional game of Wii with some chips and dip on the side, at its core I do believe the library is still a place of scholarship and even more important than that a place where literacy and awareness of the larger world can be fostered. Even if my book spine poetry goes over like a lead balloon and if the book clubs for teens and college age students I'm thinking of starting have similar fate in the future, I'll keep trying the literacy based programs, because one is bound to work sometime. Until then I have trivia tournaments, Wii, and crafts to sustain me.