Finally!

Just in case you didn't hear me screaming yesterday afternoon, I am thrilled to announce that I have a new position for next year -- School Library Media Specialist at Frank Allis Elementary school! Like many of the best things in life, this is bittersweet. I've had this as a goal for over a decade, I am very ready for a change from classroom teaching, it is a position that will fit me well … but as it turns out, it means I have to leave my community at Emerson Elementary School, something that I have really resisted. After my initial elation, I sat down in my classroom and wept. Leaving my friends, the families with whom I've bonded, the children I've nurtured -- that's a big big deal. Emerson holds a large chunk of my heart.

I don't have a crystal ball to see how this adventure will turn out. My dear family and friends tell me that I will be a swell LMS. I'm a little daunted by the learning curve, but I think I am going to love it. I feel like I've finally been granted membership into a prestigious club, decoder ring, secret handshake, and all.

I've long declared that when I got a job I would buy myself a Bunny Rabbit puppet, like the one on Captain Kangaroo. I found a nice vintage one on Etsy today, and it's on its way. I also subscribed to School Library Journal. I think I might have to buy an iPad as well, so I can preview all the cool new learning apps. I'm so excited! (Ridiculous big grin on my face as I write this.)

Stay tuned.

HOORAY!

Today in the mail I received verification that my application for a school librarian's license has been approved. It took 7 years, but here I am. Now I just need a job ...

Here is a great essay, entitled "Why You Should Fall To Your Knees and Worship a Librarian." Oh, and SHHH!

I'm certified!

Nuts? Yes.
A school library media specialist? Yes again!
Woo hoo!

More Library Tales

I was shelving nonfiction books today and came across a book called The Lemming Migration. Ah yes, The Lemming Migration. I mentioned in the comments for my previous post that my school librarian -- we'll call her Miss McCarthy, shall we? -- was crabby crabby crabby. Maybe it's because my friends and I would take every chance we got to watch the Walt Disney movie of The Lemming Migration. We had these Super-8 viewers and film cartidges. The films were only about 5 minutes long, but you could watch them forwards and backwards. So we would watch the lemmings go of the cliff and plunge to their deaths in the icy water, and then we'd watch them all miraculously fly up out of the water and quickly back away from the cliff's edge, only to repeat it all over again. It was endlessly amusing to us. Not to Miss McCarthy though. Maybe it's because she suspected this about the movie.

As a former student of mine once said when she brought the severed duck feet in for Show & Tell: "Thome people might think thith ith kind of groth."

The Grumpy Librarian

While weeding the fiction section of the library today I came upon a book written by someone I knew: Keys For Signe, written by Marion Fuller Archer and published in 1965! Marion and her husband Leonard were long-time members of the Madison Monthly Meeting. They were both librarians. Leonard exuded Old World grace, while Marion always had a Puckish twinkle about her. As the convener of our meeting's library committee, she would periodically stand up after meeting for worship, and with a completely deadpan demeanor, identify herself as "the grumpy librarian" before giving a forthright scolding about overdue books checked out from the meetinghouse library. When I first began attending Quaker meeting I was a little intimidated by her (as well I should be -- I am a terrible offender when it comes to overdue library books.) Over time, I became aware of what a lovely person she was.

She was the consummate librarian. They don't make them like her anymore (one reason that I am so frustrated with the master's program that I'm in.) I had no idea that she was also an author. I showed the book to the librarian who is mentoring me, and then I got another surprise. He said, "Oh, she's the founder of the Golden Archer Award." Unlike other awards given for children's literature -- like the Newbery and Caldecott Awards -- which are selected by committees of adults, the Golden Archer Award, and its picture book counterpart, the Little Archer, is given each year to a book that is selected by schoolchildren all across Wisconsin. That's a pretty special kind of recognition.

Marion Archer died last year. Her husband preceded her in death by several years. I am sad that I didn't know them better. I feel as if I found a little buried treasure today.

Library Conversation #3

This is with the same child as conversation #2.

"What are you doing?"

"Same thing I was doing yesterday."

"I could help you stamp the books."

"Okay."

[We set up shop at a table, me with my Sharpie in hand and her with the "DiscardeD" stamp.]

"So," she says. "Do you like working here?" [She asked me at least 5 variations of that question in about an hour. I think she was making polite conversation.]

"Yes, I do."

"Working is good. You make money." [I didn't have the stamina to explain to her that, because I am in a practicum, I actually have to pay for the privilege of working there.]

"Yeah, making money is good."

"I lost 3 tooth-es. How many tooth-es did you lose when you were a kid?"

"I don't know. All of my baby teeth."

[This went on for over an hour. She was delightful. At the end I let her choose a bunch of the books to keep. I thanked her for the help and for being good company.]

"Yeah, 'cause you get lonely, right?"

[I told the librarian that tomorrow we'll put her to work cataloging.]

Update on child from conversation #1. She came in all smiles today and announced, "I loved Hank the Cowdog!" Then she went and got another book I had recommended: My Father's Dragon.

I love working in the library (even if I'm not making any money.)

Library Conversation #2

It's summer school, and some kids have to hang out in the library waiting for siblings, especially if the classes get out at different times. One girl -- going into first grade -- has to wait for a good hour and a half for her brother, and she comes up frequently to ask me "When is it going to be time?"

One of my projects has been weeding old, ugly, unpopular, or duplicate books from the collection. Then they get deleted from the system, and all of the identifying library stamps get crossed out with a magic marker. That's what I was doing today when the aforementioned bored little girl came up to me.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking old books out of the library, so there will be room for new books."

"Do you like writing in books?" [I could tell she was somewhat scandalized.]

"I'll bet it looks weird to see someone writing in a book, because you've probably always been told not to, right?"

"Yeah."

"You know what? It feels kind of weird to be writing in a book too, because I learned the same thing as you."

Library Conversation #1

I am spending 4 weeks this summer practice teaching in an elementary school library. The following is a real life conversation I had with a little girl today.

"Can I help you find something?"

"Well, do you have anything here that's interesting?"

"Interesting? Hmmm. What are you interested in?"

"Pretty much everything."

"Wow, everything. That should be easy to find something. Have you read any of the Geronimo Stilton books?"

"Yeah, my sister has a lot of them."

"What about Ramona?"

"Uh huh. Read it."

"Junie B. Jones?"

"Uh huh."

"Boxcar Children?"

"My sister has those, but I didn't really, you know, like them."

"The Littles?"

"My mom liked those, but I didn't really."

"How about Nancy Drew? She's a teenager who is a detective. [It would be more accurate for me to have said "sleuth", but she wouldn't have known what the heck I was talking about.]

I walk her over to show her the Nancy Drew books.

"Oh yeah, I've read those!"

"What about Catwings? It's about little cats with wings who have adventures." [Brilliant synopsis, eh?]

"Oh, the cats really do have wings!"

"Do you like cats?"

"No. I like dogs."

"O-kay. Dogs. [Lightbulb appears above my head.] Have you read Hank the Cowdog? He's a dog detective who thinks he's really smart but really he's pretty dumb.

"Ooh, these look good. I think I'll get these."

[Yay! Success at last.]

Deep Sigh ...

... of relief, that is. School ended for the summer today. It really is bittersweet. I become very attached to my students, and I don't care for the changes that come at the end of the school year: retirements, transfers, good-byes. The flip side is the fact that I love, love, love summer vacation! (What person in their right mind wouldn't?) So I was riding my bike home, singing to myself as I am wont to do, and suddenly I realized that I was singing Alice Cooper's School's Out for Summer. What was my first clue? When I got to the line, "School's been blown to pieces." Of course I don't want that to happen. I am extraordinarily lucky that I love my school so much. I'll be back one more time on Monday to finish cleaning up my room, then I kick into summer mode. Although this year it will be different, because in 2 weeks I start student teaching in a library in a nearby school district every morning. That means that in a scant 6 weeks I will be able to be certified as a school library media specialist. How cool is that? Pretty cool. It's only taken me 7 years! Not looking for a different job yet, however.

Read Banned Books!

This week was Banned Books Week. From the I Love Libraries web site,

Banned Books Week: Celebrating the Freedom to Read is observed during the last week of September each year. Observed since 1982, this initiative of the American Library Association reminds Americans not to take this precious democratic freedom for granted. This year, 2007, marks BBW's 26th anniversary (September 29 through October 6).

The ALA site has a list of the 100 most frequently banned or challenged books. Check it out and see how many of them you have read. I set a goal to read every book on the list a couple of years ago. An interesting, but not surprising, phenomenon is that some of the books were just not that good from a literary standpoint, but being challenged elevates these books to a different status. In other words, if the challengers would simply ignore them, some books would probably filter down to the lower stacks sooner rather than later.

But the real point is, there are people in every community, including yours, who would suppress public access to reading materials. And that is a scary thought.

Challenging children's materials strikes me as more insidious, because it can be cloaked in "concern" for children's wellbeing. I've taken a lot of online classes for school library media specialist certification (a different process than getting a Master's in Library Science.) I have been shocked and dismayed at the number of fellow students who think that censorship in collection development and at the circulation desk is A-OK. That's one of the reasons I decided to get into a master's program at an ALA accredited school, where intellectual freedom is valued.

What do you think about all of this?

Note: And Tango Makes Three -- a true story, coauthored by respected children's science writer Peter Parnell, about 2 male penguins at the Central Park Zoo who were given an egg to hatch and raise -- was the most frequently challenged book of 2006.

Have You Hugged Your Librarian Today?

This is the trailer from a new documentary, Ann Seidl's The Hollywood Librarian. I posted this trailer last winter, in my early blogging days. I'm posting it again because I just got to see the film, and I highly recommend it.

The film juxtaposes popular film images of librarians with real librarians talking about their work, and it underscores the importance of free public libraries in a democratic society. Did I say important? Let me amend that: Essential. Libraries are essential.

The Hollywood Librarian made me want to stand up and cheer! And then cry, because the scope of the assault we are under and the magnitude of what we are losing -- what our children are losing -- at the hands of this administration, Congress, and festering ignorance of so many people, is so great.

I don't think this film has been released commercially, not yet. It premiered at the ALA convention this past summer (where else?) and is being screened in libraries and on college campuses across the country this week in recognition of Banned Books Week. Unfortunately, the web site doesn't list any other screenings after this week. Contact your local library or the filmmakers directly, to find out future plans for the movie.

No Shushing!

One secret I only infrequently reveal about my past life is that I used to perform with an international folkdance group. Several, in fact. And I went to dance workshops with a renowned Polish dance teacher, who would frequently cry out, "NO SHUSHING!" meaning, "Don't drag your feet!" But that's not the kind of shushing I'm writing about today. It's the other kind, the kind depicted in the cartoon below.
As a graduate student in Library and Information Studies, I have suddenly found my inbox filled everyday with notices from my department: job notices, house sitting opportunities, announcements of lectures and social events, kittens free to a good home, piano for sale -- U-haul ... this could really become my life, if only I didn't have a pretty full life already. I delete the bulk of it.

Today I got a link to an archived, out-of-print publication from 1972, called Revolting Librarians. It's an entire book of essays and poetry about librarianship, available online. I'm going to have to read it in stages as I find reading from the computer screen arduous, but I read this essay by Arthur Plotnik, and found it quite enjoyable. (How could I not enjoy the sentence, "Has any non-librarian ever portrayed us in any way except with that goddamn finger vibrating like an oboe reed in the force of an enormous SHHHHH?") The essay has to do with silence in libraries and the bold step that Mr. Plotnik took when he published a neon pink sign -- a special pull-out feature in the Wilson Library Bulletin -- with the subversive words "No Silence." The sign came with a note printed on the back:

A CHALLENGE TO BRAVE LIBRARIANS
Printed on the reverse is a sign of the times. Librarians with the courage to hang it in their library will be those who know that, to the new generation, silence is no longer golden. At least not when information and communication are wanted. Of course, a library can be both a place of reflective, inner solitude, and of overt, human and electronic communication, although not usually at the same time and place. To a few youngsters, the sign may be no more than an invitation to raise hell. That's the risk. But think of this: perhaps nothing has ever hurt the image of librarianship and libraries so badly as those grim signs demanding SILENCE. Who's willing to start making amends?

I was interested in Mr. Plotkin's musings on the nature of silence. It seems to me that there is dead silence and then there's living silence. As a Quaker, I practice silent worship, and I can tell you that that silence is anything but dead. Sometimes it positively hums with energy. And the silence in the wee hours of morning, when I get up before anyone else, holds the promise of all the daytime sounds into which it will wake -- the birds stirring, the cicadas, the occasional car going by in the dark. It is my favorite time of day.

But I know the dead silence too. Sadly, that's the current state of affairs in my school's library, and I'm not quite sure what to do about it. I worry that some school district mucky-muck will come to visit and decide to axe our full-time librarian because of it.

Oh, I realize I'm rambling here. It's late Friday afternoon and my brain is a little fried at the end of a teaching week that saw me receive 4 new kindergartners in one day! I'll draw this post to a close with a silly story. My eldest daughter liked to visit my classroom on her days off from high school. One day she was there when I was lining up my students to go somewhere. They were particularly boisterous. (Walking in quiet lines is not my natural m.o. I sometimes think that while the words "Quiet line please!" are coming out of my mouth, there is a little invisible demon sitting on my shoulder saying, "It's OK, kids. She went to an alternative hippy dippy high school in the seventies, and she doesn't really mean it." Guess who the kids listen to.)

So I was becoming slightly exasperated, and I said in my best voice of authority, "All I want to hear right now is the sound of silence!" I looked up and caught my daughter's eye, just as she was opening her mouth to break into that maudlin, sappy Simon & Garfunkel song. (We read each other's minds.) "DON'T EVEN THINK OF IT!" I think I said.

Anyway, good weekend to everyone.

One step closer ...

This afternoon, after finishing work, but before making myself available as mosquito fodder (see previous post) I had a meeting with the middle school library media specialist with whom I'll be doing some required student teaching this semester. I still don't know how the timing is going to work out -- I am teaching full time -- but I left feeling really excited about working with her. And the other cool thing? I'll be working at my daughter's middle school.

After this I will be 140 hours of student teaching (in an elementary school library) away from my certification!

Back to School, part 2

My brain is fried (about as fried as the motor on our fancy-schmancy German vacuum cleaner, because someone - - umm, that would be me -- left the car windows open in a rainstorm, and then someone -- um, me again -- accidentally vacuumed up a bunch of water while cleaning the car -- which I do once a decade, whether it needs it or not. So while I was frying my brain at library school orientation, Mr. Ether had to take the vacuum to the lonesome Hoover fixer sucker guy. I hope it's not permanently fried.)

Impressions of graduate school in Library Science?

Almost all the students were significantly younger than me. I was one of just a few who actually has a full time profession that involves going to a job every day.

We were encouraged to sign up for student organizations and GET INVOLVED in student life, make friends, etc. It all sounded kind of appealing to me until I realized that I have lots of friends already whom I hardly have time to see more than once or twice a year, even though we live in the same town. I have a spouse, children, colleagues, a faith community ... In short, I don't need to get involved in student organizations. I need a Master's Degree.

I am tempted to volunteer for a program where you go into jails and help incarcerated moms record storybooks on tape, that are then sent to their children. That's a pretty cool project.

But overall, it seemed like a pretty tight knit community up there, and the grown-ups were all very friendly and helpful. I believe I'm on the right path, and that's a good thing.

The Librarian

Yesterday I went to the School of Library and Information Studies at the University of Wisconsin and signed my life away; I officially enrolled as a Masters candidate! It was the next step in a journey that started way back when I was very young, walking to our old "downtown library", holding my dad's hand, and giving Dr. Seuss' Happy Birthday To You and Where the Wild Things Are to the elderly lavender-haired youth services librarian for check out.

It continued through elementary school with Miss McCarthy, the librarian at Randall School, who was really grumpy, but nevertheless allowed multiple serial check-outs of The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes, Pippi Longstocking, and Little House in the Big Woods. (Miss McCarthy just didn't like us 6th graders using the 8mm film viewer to watch Walt Disney's The Lemming Migration over and over, forwards and backwards -- but it was so life-affirming to watch the lemmings jump back UP onto the top of the cliff!)

And so on. I've been taking classes for the last 5 years to become a school library media specialist , and last summer decided I would go for the gold ring: the MLS. (angels descend, celestial harps play) But in any good quest, there are adversaries ("Here there be dragons.") My first test yesterday was to get the crabcake secretary to authorize me to register for the seminar I plan to take. She informed me "You have to take these 5 basic courses before I'll authorize you for THIS one!"

But I have a fairy godmother -- an advisor with whom I've been in communication for the last year, who seems to like me because a) I've got lots of teaching experience already, and b) she was my husband's 6th grade English teacher and he was such a good, sweet and creative child. (She said something like that.) So SHE authorized me for the course I want and I'm on my way.

But what all this is leading up to is that I wanted to link to this fantastic essay by Garrison Keillor, which appeared in a lot of papers today. It's a sign that the omnipotent lavender-haired library goddess is smiling on my journey.