Working Hard or Hardly Working

When I was a kid, the way that my mother would encourage my sister and I to actually clean our rooms was to dump all of our belongings into the middle of the floor and then force us to put everything back in its proper place. Looking back at that as an adult (albeit one who does not have children) that doesn’t seem like the most efficient strategy, particularly when you consider that one of your children (me) is going to spend the majority of her time sifting through the memories, thoughts, and emotions that are attached to all of the lovely objects now strewn about their living space rather than actually cleaning things. The other kid is going to shove everything into her closet in a truly unsustainable solution, but this isn’t my sister’s blog, so we’ll leave that where it is.

Naturally, the way that I decided to unpack and transition the office space that I have occupied since 2017 was basically a dump everything in the middle of the floor sort of strategy. You go with what you know, you know? That means that I’ve spent a good chunk of the past two days sifting through old documents and getting nostalgic. I wanted to share some of the things I’ve found, many of which I had completely forgotten about, because there was once a time when I was optimistic about this job and did lots of great work that I am proud of. That includes the following:

  • A 40 page business report and plan for how my little “department” would run. This was about a year before my boss let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I ran a team, not a department. I had some incredible ideas and preliminary plans laid out. I asked for a $39,000 operating budget to provide programs and services to kids and teens ages 5-18 and their families in a 1.5 million person service area, both through system-wide and outreach programming (including a major author visit with paid travel and a venue, a large regional book festival, staff training, and robust community outreach). I received $12,000 and had to re-submit a business plan every year just to keep that funding. I was later informed that the Director of Financial Services thought my business plan was “cute” but didn’t actually read it.
  • An updated internal staff manual with revisions that removed heteronormative language and updated its contents to provide information rooted in evidence-based best practices.
  • A 30 page written report of a year-long teen needs assessment and staff roadmap project.
  • A large poster for a contest for teens that I designed in Canva. It looks damn good for someone with zero graphic design training, I must say.
  • Multiple issues of a quarterly magazine for which I wrote almost all of the section content for teens and edited every piece in the section. Again with no training whatsoever in journalism, content creation, or editing.
  • Tons and tons and tons of professional development certificates and notes from workshops, Lynda courses, webinars, conferences, etc. I have taken it upon myself to learn and grow so much in this role and I am proud of how I have set myself up for the next step in my career.
  • Personnel files for all of the staff I have supervised while here. I had the privilege of working with 5 unique folks who brought amazing perspectives to our work–none with prior library experience and all who worked hard to build valuable community connections and to break down barriers to access.
  • More receipts than I can say. My team may have had a big dream and a small budget, but we stretched and skimped and got creative where we could. We made it work and our community is better for it.
  • Notes, documents, and memos from colleagues who have long since left the organization, some of whom are no longer living. Any job come with its fair share of colleagues who you don’t like (or who don’t like you), but I’ve gotten to work with some good people here over the years. This also reminds me that we so quickly forget our work contacts and not to stress too much–you will also soon fade into obscurity.
  • Countless meeting agendas for our larger department meetings. In 5 years in this job, I’ve hosted 20 large group meetings. I had no experience facilitating a meeting when I stepped into this role and I made a lot of mistakes along the way, but I’ve since developed a formula and a toolkit with various strategies that I can deploy as needed.
  • Lastly, a project spread covering absolutely everything that I do in a year. It’s incredible to see how this role has evolved. I was the first person to ever hold this position and I think I’ve built a great foundation and springboard for whoever comes next.

Looking back on half a decade of work brings up a lot of emotions for me–hope, disappointment, sadness, gratitude, but most of all–growth. It’s been one hell of a journey. I went to library school right after I wrapped up undergrad. My husband was deployed in Afghanistan and I was living somewhere totally new (where I didn’t know anyone) and working at a local bookstore chain. I had an English degree, lots of jobs experience in nonprofits, and absolutely no job prospects. A well-meaning professor advised me to choose something that combined what I liked to do and who I liked to do it with. I knew that I liked books/reading/literature and working with kids, so I got a Master’s in Youth Librarianship. Most of my time in libraries has been spent in teen services, and it has been the honor of my life getting to serve these thoughtful, hilarious, rebellious teens. I was only 24 when I got my first library job, so I wasn’t much of an adult yet either. I kind of grew up alongside the kids I worked with and I will be eternally grateful for that experience. Even though I am pivoting my career to something that aligns more with my values, skills, and interests, I will always have a special place in my heart for libraries and the positive impact that they can have on their communities, should they choose to do so.

As I begin my new role in youth prevention and return to school yet again for my Master’s in Social Work, I’m working to focus on the good things that came from my first career and accept all that it was, warts and all. It’s time to finally turn the page on libraries. I hope you’ll join me.

I’ll write to you again soon.

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