I Geek My Library

The little branch library where I work has embarked on this amazing initiative: Geek the Library.  It’s a fantastic publicity push for library awareness created by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.  The gist of the campaign is to expand people’s views of the library’s function, to encourage anyone interested in anything that the library has your back (with books, online resources, hands-on help, and more).  Seriously, we’ve got you.

But I’m guessing a touching story is WAY more moving than a mini-sermon on books, so I’ll tell you my very own library tale.

My second job after college was in the children’s department of our local library.  I didn’t have a lot on my resume, thus I assume unrelenting spunkiness is what ultimately won me the position.  When my new boss called with the job offer and my yearly salary, I was green enough to ask how that figure translated to per hour pay.  Per. Hour.  Bless my baby employee heart.  I had to trade in my previous work wardrobe of oversized little boy tee-shirts and jeans for “big girl” professional clothes.  Of course, my mother was thrilled to take me shopping.  The first day on the job was overwhelming.  In fact, I felt so underqualified that I donned my fake plastic glasses for the first week of work, just to trick the other library employees into thinking I belonged.

A library associate’s (my fancy new title) basic job responsibilities were to help customers find what they need in the children’s area, do a few story times a week, and assist with general responsibilities.  For a rudderless English major, this sounded like a dream come true.  A dream I hoped to slip into as easily as Cinderella with her slipper, but it didn’t quite happen that way (Does it ever?).  My visions of silent, spell-bound children held captive by my miraculous storytelling (not unlike Meg Ryan’s adorable character in “You’ve Got Mail”) were pretty much crushed by week one.  And they were crushed under unwieldy toddler feet and in between their sticky fists.  As often as I brought picture books home and practiced with my family acting as (a mostly willing) audience, it never seemed to make a difference during the story hour press.  Those toddlers remained impervious to my freshly borne librarian “skills,” causing my Meg Ryan aspirations to fly out the window.

It took awhile to get the hang of things.  Perhaps I’d set my standards a little high in the beginning (particularly with the munchkins), especially since trial and error proved to be ideal teachers for the long run.  Their fundamental lesson: Give up trying to be the best story teller.  Because 1- It’s never going to happen.  And 2- The frustration/energy spent striving for perfection will burn you out faster than a falling star.  When the truth of that statement finally soaked in, everything got easier.  I could glance around at the story time parents and see -instead of critics- a group of people who needed an excuse to GET OUTTA THE HOUSE!  The library programs weren’t a showcase for my abilities (or lack thereof), they were about giving people a place and opportunity to connect.  I was just a facilitator….and a distributor of shaker eggs.  That really took the pressure off.  I loosened up and started to be my fun self again.  Or as one of the grandparents aptly described my transformation: Like Eric Carle’s very hungry caterpillar becoming a butterfly.  That sweet comparison not only made me laugh (and be more discreet about my at work snacking), but also made me really appreciate the personal connections forged simply through library interactions.  It’s why I hate tablets for reading (in addition to them making us one step closer to robots ruling the world), often they eliminate the middle man.  The personal element of physically going to a library -getting face-to-face book recommendations, walking the rows, touching spines of books until you find the right one- is gone.  Call me old fashioned (some of you already are), but I’ll be a paper book girl for life.  I cherish my time in the stacks, seeing familiar faces, breathing in the smell of all those word-filled pages.  I’m a bit of a nerd about it, actually.

Another thing: Despite the assumptions driving my first work week wardrobe choices, I’ve NEVER worked with a stereotypical librarian.  You know what I’m talking about.  Tight bun, weird glasses, stern demeanor, fond of shushing (My favorite example of this: In the alternative reality of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” when the now uglified, “old maid” Mary works at the -where else?- LIBRARY!  Dum, dum, duuuum!).  Quite the opposite is true.  On the “Give a Crap-o-Meter,” these folks are scoring ridiculously high.  For a semi-benevolent, mildly competitive firstborn (ahem, me), it’s almost intimidating how much my co-workers care.  Like REALLY care.  About what you’re reading, how to improve our services, encouraging literacy in young readers, drawing interest to local culture by highlighting budding authors, town history, young artists.  These people want you to be satisfied, to succeed.  Librarians can be some of your greatest cheerleaders, period.  Case and point: Not even 2 weeks after becoming our new branch manager, my co-worker Tammy volunteered to come out and be one of the chili cookoff chefs for our adoption fundraiser.  A pretty significant time commitment from an already busy lady.  But this is the level of goodness I’m talking about.  Ashley, Peggy, Angie, Chris, Louise, Tammy, Cat, Carrie, Julie, Nicole.  I am truly a better person for having worked with you.

Hail to Tammy and Paul, the chili chefs!!

However because we are a champion of ALL types, libraries get a bad rap for letting weirdos in the door.  I must admit to this resting on my brain’s back burner upon taking the job.  Let me tell you though, that perception ranks right up there with the stereotypical librarian.  More often than not, it just isn’t true.  Sure we get the occasional odd ball (obviously, as I work there), but that’s real life.  Why impose limitations (outside of legal and safety reasons) on anyone’s ability to have access to the PUBLIC library’s resources?  It’s not going to happen and that’s that.  But here’s one thing I’ve learned about our patrons throughout the years.  As much as librarians are active supporters of them, the customers are even bigger enthusiasts of us.  Seriously, the loyalty runs deep.  My first two months of story time, the toddlers skeptically regarded me like a shoddy fill-in act for Miss Angie (my predecessor).  And later on when I got a part-time position at my current location, customers would skip over me in favor of having Ashley or Louise check out their books.  Listen, not to repeat myself, but the personal connection is a THING.  It’s important.  The rapport built between client and staff is invaluable, precious to both parties alike.  The exchanges we have with our littlest customers are especially dear to my heart.  One recent interaction made it into my top ten.  Outside our children’s room, I noticed a young girl clutching our copy of the "Frozen" picture book:

Me: Aren't you lucky? I just put that book back on the shelf.

Girl: I told my mom I was hoping a "Frozen" book would be here.

Me: Well, I am SO glad you found a copy!

Girl: Yes, it's like a dream come true.

And boom.  I don’t think I could summarize the value of local libraries and their amazing patrons any better than that.

The last part of my library story is probably my favorite.  Because, well, it involves me getting knocked up.  While David and I were beyond excited to welcome Elijah, first time parenting is no joke.  I was better at being a librarian than a Mama at that point.  So when Elijah was born, we did what came naturally.  Which was reading.  LOTS of reading with the kid, even from infancy.  I could go on about this ad infinitum, but (for your sake) I decided to share a visual timeline of my boy with books instead.  Please try and keep your Oohs and Aaahs to a minimum.

    

    

 

Oh my buddy and his books.  He’s kinda obsessed.  His expression in the last picture always makes me laugh, as it is becoming more and more common in our house.  I call it the “I’m reading, Woman.  Leave me alone!” face.  Let me tell you about Elijah: He is bright, imaginative, and many levels of crazy smart.  And while I’d love to give my parenting and genes 100% credit for all of the above, I’m not fooling anybody with that nonsense (although, admittedly, having a spectacular, intelligent Daddy like David could overcome a multitude of my shortcomings).  The complexities of nature, heredity, and nurturing aside, Elijah grew up with a book in his hand.  He learned to love reading, to soak up information like a sponge.  None of this is because I’m the parent of the year (FAR from it), but because working at the library taught me it was valuable.  I’m so grateful.  Once in awhile, Elijah will express his gratitude too, in his distinct, 7 year old way.  Like one morning when he lost yet another tooth:

Elijah: I pretty much already got a gift for losing my tooth.

Me: Oh yeah?

Elijah: Yes. It's that books are real, they exist. I would be sad otherwise.

As you can imagine, it took everything within this librarian Mom to not start weeping tears of joy.

So yes, I absolutely geek adoption as my poster says below.  Adoption is my passion, my life and heart.  But reading is all those things to my son.  Books have opened up a whole world to him, creating realities and uncovering information with the most incredible magic -the turn of a page.  Thank you libraries and librarians for helping unlock that potential within my child, it’s a tremendous gift and kindness this Mama won't ever be able to fully repay.

Photo courtesy of Imagery by Andrea

P.S. I would be remiss if I didn’t also thank Imagery By Andrea for freely offering her services in capturing these images and designing personalized geek portraits for our library.  In my humble and unbiased opinion (Haha), her artistic eye made our posters just as good -if not better- than the original Geek the Library promotional materials. Brava!