Everyone Deserves a Place in the Library

Like all librarians, I believe that everyone deserves a place in the library. It's one of the things I love most about this profession: our commitment to treat all of our users equally and with respect. That said, I sometimes feel defensive about the path I've taken in my career. I decided about halfway through my MLS coursework that I wanted to be a young adult librarian. And, more specifically, I wanted to work with "at-risk" teens ... whatever that myopic catch-all phrase means. I was asked to interview at a few large urban library systems, where I'd sent my resume right around graduation. But an opportunity came up close to home, and I took it, because it was a pretty amazing job for a 27 year old right out of grad school. I became the director of a small boarding school library, and since then, my jobs have all been similar: teen librarian at a well-funded library in a wealthy community; librarian and academic technologist at a private day school; and currently, library administrator at a girls' boarding school. When I was a public librarian, I began to struggle with my professional identity and purpose. In a community where it appeared (emphasis on appeared) that every kid had private tutors, an iPhone, their own car, and a huge house, I couldn't quite figure out how to enrich my patrons' lives. I was trying too hard to impress them with fancy programs and not trying hard enough to be a good librarian. I had a hard time talking with the teens, even the ones who served on my advisory board. Their manners were amazing, they were much better at event planning than I was, and certainly they were better dressed. Before I go any further, I need to be clear about something: this article is not intended to directly compare working in private schools and public schools, or communities with different socioeconomic demographics. After all, I've never worked in a public school, or in an economically challenged community. (My own personal background is another story for another day.) This article is only about my own experiences, and about my belief that all teens, no matter what their socioeconomic or social status is, deserve high-quality library services, trusted adults in their lives, and a safe space in their community. Is it easier to work in a privileged community because of the users? I don't know for sure. As I said before, I've never experienced anything else, so I don't feel comfortable drawing comparisons. Instead, I'd like to focus on why it's important for us to meet the needs of those who appear not to have any. And, if you have found yourself in a similar environment and are struggling with how to connect with your users, I have some ideas for you. When we picture ourselves working with teens in a library, we often forget about those who don't appear as needy: the popular kids, the athletes, the class presidents. Those teens, we might think, have enough people providing them with resources, support, and learning opportunities. Or maybe they don't need anyone looking out for them, since they seem to have everything under control. Often, we have a harder time connecting with these teens. They are usually very good at presenting themselves to others, especially adults. In addition, our own adolescent insecurities can sometimes come out when we work with teens; we're reminded of how hard it was to talk to the soccer captain when we were 15. I am sometimes intimidated by the popular kids, as embarrassing as that is to admit as a 35 year old. Maybe this is the dirty secret of teen and school librarianship: when you work with teens, sometimes you feel like a teen. After my stint in public libraries, I returned to a school library and in my first year, when all the students were nice to me, I actually thought they were playing a trick on me. When I finally trusted them, I discovered that they were loving, and kind, and funny. It was those students who made me realize I'd been wrong in how I'd judged, and immature and selfish in how I'd incorrectly viewed myself through their eyes. …