DAMN, WE'RE GOOD: LIBRARIANS ON THEIR FINEST MOMENTS
by Marylaine Block
Last week I invited readers to send me accounts of their proudest moments on the job, those times when you knew for a fact that librarians change lives. Here are some of the answers I've gotten so far.
First, my own most memorable incident: a faculty member needed to get his hands on a new book he'd just heard about that he thought he might be asked about in his dissertation defense on the following day. When the book wasn't available at any of our local libraries, he was nearly rending his garments and asking if by chance any library that did have it would be willing to scan it and fax it to us. He did seem to realize that was both unlikely and illegal, but the man was desperate. Then, when I looked at the publication information he'd given me, I said, "Tom, that's a recent National Academies Press publication, and all their newer stuff is available online." I went to their web site, <http://www.nap.edu/>, found the book, and left him happily printing it out.
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from Sarah Houghton, e-Services Librarian at the Marin County Free Library [aka the Librarian in Black, <http://www.librarianinblack.net/>]:
At my first librarian position, in a small town library in Washington State, I was working at the reference desk on a particularly slow summer day. A geeky pre-teen boy of the prime sort, complete with awkward movements, tousled hair, & thick glasses approached the desk. He mumbled that he wanted to read something interesting, and could I please help him find something he would like. Per reference interview 101, I asked him what kinds of books he liked to read, kinds of plots he liked…the usual.
He took a deep breath, let out an even deeper sigh, and said "You know, I get pushed around a lot at school. I want to read about kids like me."
I smiled inwardly as a kindred soul revealed itself as standing right in front of me. I too had been picked on as a child-pushed into the dirt because my clothes were not cool enough, called names because I liked reading and hated kickball, and taunted mercilessly for being skinny, tall, and a girl.
"I have just the thing for you," I replied. I took him on a whirlwind tour of the teen and adult fiction sections, grabbing books that had inspired the geek in me when I was young, and giving 3 sentence summaries of each, to make sure it sounded good to him. We tromped up to the circulation desk twenty minutes later with a dozen books in tow, and he left with a smile.
Two weeks he returned to the library-having read all the books we had found together. He had particularly liked Ender's Game, and wanted to read everything in that series. He had read the entire series by the following week.
By the end of the summer, geeky pre-teen boy was seeming a bit more smiley, a healthy measure more confident, and a great deal more interested in the library. The day before school started he stopped by the desk again, which was a usual occurrence by this time, and said with the sincerest look on his face: "Thank you. You have shown me such good books, and you're an awesome librarian. I'm starting to think it's okay to be a dork, and it's all thanks to you."
I hold onto that experience each time I get frustrated with my job, or tired of answering questions about how to use the photocopier. Every now and again, an unexpected experience like this occurs and I am reminded of why I love my job.
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John Royce, Library Director at the Robert College of Istanbul, offers this:
It was early in my career, a teacher-librarian, in the British sense: mainly teacher but with a reduced teaching load, running the library in the rest of my time. As a teacher of English, I made sure that once a week each of my classes would have a reading session in the library. I would talk about two or three books, and then the rest of the lesson would be spent in silent reading, each student reading a book of his or her own choice. Usually the books I talked about would "sell", they would get borrowed, but sometimes they fell flat. Never mind, the kids were doing free voluntary reading and I know that some of these students became lifelong readers. It would be nice to think I had something to do with that, but I daresay many of them were already committed readers. I know I was different to the other English teachers who brought classes to the library for reading sessions. They would sit and mark exercise books while the kids read; I always made sure to sit and read with them. I was role modeling, long before I ever discovered the term!
But the biggest book-talk success I ever had was one in which I did not say a word. I'd done my sales talk, and I know it was shorter than usual because I was just 30 pages short of finishing the book I was currently reading, and I wanted to get on and finish it. So we all settled down to reading books of our own choice, and I picked up where I had left off. The book was "I am David" by Anne Holm, and as I got into the last few pages the tears were streaming down my face. I finished the book, managed to stop the tears, and became aware of a hush in the room. I realized that every child was looking at me. Not a word was said, until one girl said, very quietly, "Sir, was it really that good?" And suddenly I was having to make a list of those wanting to read it next, boys as well as girls once I explained the story line, and I had to go to the book store the next evening to buy a few more copies.
As I say, I don't know that that book or the incident itself changed anyone's life, but it certainly made a lasting impression on me, one I am proud to share.
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This is a continuing invitation to send me your own stories and anecdotes, as I hope to publish more articles like this from time to time.
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COOL QUOTE:
I have asked Mr Bernstein,
who is an excellent blesser
to bless you all and say
that in a country where Illiteracy is on the rise
and the economy is sinking low
and Chastity is out the window
it is comforting to know
that though the frost is on the pumpkin
and civilization is on the skids
you guys are ferociously working underground
smuggling books into the hands of kids.
Theodor Geisel. "A Rather Short Epic Poem (size 6 and 7/8)," delivered by his friend Robert Bernstein at the American Booksellers Association meeting in 1988.
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Ex Libris: an E-Zine for Librarians and Other Information Junkies.
http://marylaine.com/exlibris/
Copyright, Marylaine Block, 1999-2004.
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