I think I mentioned the other day that I've suddenly become the Interim Chief Librarian. This is startling for several reasons, most notably because 1) I'm not a librarian and never have been and 2) I'm not *that* high up the decision-making chain in this place and suddenly I'm spending lots of money and signing contracts. It's a little alarming.
In general, I'm working with a local, progressive non-profit to find some good library consultants to help us draft a job description, hire a librarian, and work with him/her to develop a state-of-the-art, beyond-basics, innovative collection. So far, so good.
Complicating things is the fact that we have a Big Event coming up, one that will Be on TV, and which involves a Big Important Person. This Big Event takes place in the spacious, light, open library of our shiny new building. The problem? Our library currently has no books in it. None. We didn't have space in our last location, we had no librarian, and the books that have been donated run the gamut of unsuitable and damaged. Filming the library during Big Event makes our ED very nervous. So I've been detailed to Get Some Books on the Shelves.
Right. First thing I do is call the book reps from Follett's Library Services. If anyone would have a clue, they would, right? So yesterday they come in here and absolutely blanch at the timeline. Pulling this off, it becomes clear, is going to take speed and a small miracle. They helpfully give me an electronic list of everything a new high school nearby ordered for its brand-new library. I scoured the list (111 screens of books, mind you) to choose the ones that seem, well, like no-brainers. I focused on reference books and obvious non-fiction, things that I couldn't imagine our students not using in our curriculum. I ran the list past several of the curriculum people, just to make sure nothing on the list was really stupid.
Choosing that list was interesting. The litigious and paternalistic attitude towards anyone under 18 is really strong, and my own attitude has been conditioned by years of "don't rock the boat" advice from well-meaning people concerned about my status as first a graduate student and then an untenured professor. (My students were usually over 18, but not by much, and their parents were still heavily involved.) Push them, I was told, but don't be too radical. So as I looked through this list, I found myself having reactions I didn't expect to have.
First, I was all about the liberal guilt. I put everything even remotely related to African Americans on the list, because all but 2 of our over 300 students are African American, but then I worried that I was marginalizing our students by focusing on books about African Americans. The librarian will of course order many, many other things, but I worried that I was replicating the white student I had once who asserted that of course his Black classmate listened to rap, no matter that she had already discussed her music preferences and they tended towards R&B. Of course they all want to read about African Americans! I struggled with this, but I left them all on there.
Second, I found myself falling prey to the idea that if you just don't talk about something, teenagers won't know about it. I had to remind myself sternly that teenagers know all about drug abuse and plastic surgery and eating disorders and AIDS and not providing them with good, sound information only leaves them vulnerable to all of the media crap.
And finally, I found myself assuming that teenagers can't handle emotionally-complex material. I think it was Bastard Out of Carolina I tripped over first, and I had to remind myself that I was reading books as complex and disturbing and more at their age. I'm no paragon of emotional maturity, and neither were my classmates, so that argument is just bunk.
It's a good thing I'm not ordering the whole collection. I'd work myself into quite a state if I had to contend with these struggles every day. Of course, I'd have a whole body of theory and knowledge about the reading habits and abilities of teenagers, and that would probably help.
It's so stimulating to encounter my own prejudices.
Today's annoyance is that, after I panicked the book reps and strained my eyes on the lists and chased everyone down for their opinion, my ED is second-guessing himself. It's not the pricetag that's stopping him; he's suddenly worried it's a bad idea, that we'll order books we'll never need or use. I tried to tell him these were the no-brainers, but he's "sleeping on it."
If he decides not to pursue this, I'm going to be very put out.
Thank you to everyone who left me questions! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and connected. So, without further ado, answers.
Me3 asks: Why were you living in Hawaii? Why did you leave Hawaii? Do you ever return to Hawaii?
I lived in Hawaii for five years, 8th grade to graduation. We were there because, in 1986, my father was offered three options for our next posting: Pearl Harbor, Washington DC, and Rekjavik. My mother duly informed him there was only one acceptable option and off we flew to Hawaii.