Schools May Need Interventionists. They Need Full-Time Librarians, Too
For whatever reason, this was the week when a lot of ah-has hit providing me with clarity regarding why I am dissatisfied with my current role as my school's librarian.
So there's no misunderstanding: I LOVE librarianship, and I love the time every day that I spend being a librarian. My frustration has nothing to do with all of the responsibilities, focus, daily practices, and learning curve that come with a new job. After all, I sought out my Master's program, I chose library science, and I applied to become a librarian. My district even reimbursed me for some of my program's tuition. My unease has everything to do with how my district (like many others) has allowed a once robust library program to decay into the isolated, compartmentalized book room that, thanks to my extreme revitalization efforts, continues to shock and surprise colleagues and students as they "discover" its usefulness and experience its appeal.
I know what a library is for, and that it can be structured to support all kinds of learning experiences. I knew exactly what kind of librarian I wanted to be when I chose to leave the kindergarten classroom, and I felt strongly that my mission and prior teaching experience would be of benefit to not only students who are developing an appreciation and love of reading, inquiry, and self-determination, but all who were learning how to research topics of interest or need. I even knew the space and community I was going to move into, having taught in the building for fifteen years. I am invested in these people, these colleagues who once taught my youngest son, administrators, support staff, students, and their families. I intended (and intend) to do my job well.
Over fifteen years I watched librarians retire, move, and purposely choose to work elsewhere. I watched the librarian's assistant position disappear, and requests and suggestions for parent volunteers increase. A library club for students ceased to exist, and the room became merely a space full of books, where a teacher-librarian provided prep for teachers and a staff (and occasionally BOE) meeting space. Library funding was cut and librarians had to rely upon profits from bi-annual book fairs to purchase books, materials, furniture and equipment necessary for students and staff. Time to perform essential tasks for evaluating, maintaining, repairing and growing a diverse, inclusive, current, and factually correct collection, and the time to collaborate with and complete materials requests by teachers were cleaved, rather than whittled away. A librarian acting as a tutor implementing interventions identified by teachers for often less than a handful of students became more valuable than a librarian supporting an entire building of learners with daily (often spontaneous) instructional opportunities fostering research fluency, independent information-seeking, and a love of reading. There was no open library time for speedy readers or students who had been absent during their class' library day. Time to help ESOL students one on one, or any student learning to navigate all of the resources we have, library intervention if you will, was non-existent. Pre-K students have had no opportunities to visit the library for crucial pre-literacy introductions and experiences. Rehearsals for grade-level music productions eliminated three or four class visits to the library each week prior to the program, with no opportunities available for students and the librarian to make up the missed lessons or come and select books. Students missing library for any reason simply had to wait until their next assigned time the following week. The issue of equitable access was ignored (Even though you might not have books at home, no books for you this week, hope you make it next time!), all while touting "we're doing what's best for kids!" This reality has continued into the present with nary a complaint. There's always something more important and pressing, like a global pandemic, like a new school nearing completion with soaring costs thanks to the pandemic, like an entire staff not only unaware of the job requirements of a librarian or how essential they are but so emotionally and pedagogically drained that we're going to be lucky if a good third don't quit or retire at the end of this year.
With three-quarters of my inaugural year almost complete, I am having teachers and staff asking me questions such as:
"Michaele, would it be possible for you to provide books for our guest readers for Read Across America? I'm sorry for the short notice."
Sure! (Knowing books, choosing books, and sharing books is part of my job.)
"Hi Mrs. Sommerville, I'm so sorry to bug you, but are you able to help me choose some books for our upcoming poetry lesson?"
Of course, and you're not bugging me. I'm happy to help (and it's my job).
"Mrs. Sommerville, is it okay if I check out some folk tales for this week's ELA theme? I don't know where to look for them though."
Absolutely! I can help you search for specific folk tales (walks towards the 300s) "Oh, no, no, I don't mean to interrupt you, you can just keep doing what you're..." Sigh.
"Michaele, am I allowed to borrow some books because I don't have any by...."
YES, YOU MAY BORROW BOOKS! YOU MAY BROWSE AND BORROW BOOKS FOR YOUR CLASS, YOURSELF, YOUR FAMILY, YOUR GRADE LEVEL TEAM, AND (oh Lord, I'm shouting) WHICH BOOKS WOULD YOU LIKE? LET ME SHOW YOU! DO YOU HAVE A LIST? I'M HAPPY TO PULL THEM FOR YOU AND BRING THEM DOWN TO YOUR ROOM! OH! ARE ANY OF YOUR STUDENTS INTO __________ BECAUSE IF THEY ARE, THIS BOOK/AUTHOR WOULD BE GREAT FOR THEM TOO!
My colleagues are apologizing for asking me, their librarian, to BE A LIBRARIAN. Thankfully, teachers are finally beginning to acknowledge (realize?) their access to so many wonderful and essential resources, but I am finding myself having to scramble to provide them during my five minutes between classes to help them, often jogging to their classrooms, because I have no periods available to work on teacher requests, topic research, collaboration, and delivery. While paced curriculum guides instruction, a lot of learning opportunities appear spontaneously, and these moments have to be accommodated in an extremely timely fashion. Having to tell teachers and students that I'll try to get to their requests and needs before I clock out at the end of the day is not something I want to have to communicate. I arrive at work by 6:30 a.m. daily (an hour earlier than my contract requires) to repair books, prep books for reshelving, answer staff email requests, straighten shelves, evaluate the collection, and of course, clean and vacuum the space. I've given up ten to fifteen minutes of my daily prep to provide open library for students who need to return and check out books, but they don't get much time to browse. My one extra prep per week should be spent planning lessons, preparing instructional materials and designing book and reading promotions, but often that work comes home with me because I can't carry the bulk of what actually needs to be done with books themselves in my teacher's bag. I give up at least one weekend per month to rework centers, bulletin board displays, etc. because our space and collection must be engaging, instructional (I too, have standards to teach), and supportive of learning.
Imagine all of the benefits that could occur if I continued to provide prep for every teacher while supporting their instructional needs, inquiries, and requests throughout the day. And if students can't spontaneously come to the library with a request because I'm alone and teaching a class (and some teachers are sending students without warning anyway) without the help of an aide, couldn't there be a block of time daily that's considered valuable when I am available, rather than being perceived as "free" or "unfair to other specialists" or better spent monitoring students retaking STAR tests? I am trained to perform and complete tasks essential to the effectiveness of a library program and the development of student literacy. Just because many people don't want to know what those tasks are or imagine them as frivolous or mundane doesn't make them any less essential as contributors to student and staff success. Frankly, I should be exhausted from the buzz of activity taking place IN THE LIBRARY, rather than emotionally drained, anxious, and overwhelmed because I know everything that needs to be done isn't getting done day after day which is resulting in a very unorganized and aged mess. I have an eleven-thousand-dollar book wish list. I have two-thousand dollars' worth of lost books, many of which should be replaced. I am donating new and needed books to our collection using my own money. Books appear as "available" in our catalog but don't actually exist on shelves. Too many damaged books remain on shelves, as do outdated, rarely if ever circulated items. A library requires constant tending, even when community members have no interest in learning how the space is maintained.
Do some students need an interventionist for reading and math? Of course. But every student and teacher needs a readily and regularly available librarian and library, and that's a truth that has either been ignored, downplayed or purposely twisted with superficial glibs such as "just Google it" and "students have computers, they don't need books." Thinking that teachers always have the time to do their own research when there's a specialist in the building who can do it for them and collaborate with them results in scripted instruction as teachers read from the rigid and often limited materials and resources in curriculum kits (I know, there are a lot of folks who find such a scenario very appealing). Libraries and librarians aren't perks. We're not bonuses. We're not extras, and what we do can't be just as easily done by a well-intentioned volunteer. We're trained and highly educated, and our responsibilities, purpose and mission have often required more bodies, not fewer, to get the job done. Me sitting on a rolling chair or the floor while squinting at book spines looks unimpressive and unnecessary to you, simply because you're not the student given five minutes by their teacher to find and check out a specific book needed for an assignment or to answer a question. A book must be where it is supposed to be for the system to work for every patron and for every need, and more often than not, volunteers shelve incorrectly and students pull books and plop them wherever they find convenient, which is rarely, if ever (despite shelf marker instruction) in the correct location.
Additionally, finding me sitting at the circulation desk examining outdated picture books might give you the impression that I'm "just looking at books" while ignoring the needs of students who haven't yet internalized number sense, but I promise you, you and society are going to wish you'd given me the time to evaluate the collection with a trained, critical eye when you eventually get the phone call from parents demanding to know why their (and many other) kids are bringing home books depicting racial stereotypes or stating/depicting outdated and inaccurate information. The cleaning and repairing of books are best done by me (since I don't have a trained aide) so that they remain useable, attractive, and circulating among eager r-e-a-d-e-r-s. Students don't choose aged "classics" or any other books obviously damaged so careful repairs have to be prioritized over slapping some tape on spines and book jackets. There are many more examples of how a librarian's responsibilities and training are regarded as unnecessary thanks to the false assumption that if a librarian is working alone in a library, he/she/they aren't REALLY doing anything to help students or staff and would be put to better use elsewhere so that they can "do more" to help students and be witnessed doing it. Librarianship isn't showy, but it's responsible for supporting a foundational piece of literacy and learning: the learner's choice.
We don't feed students without the cafeteria and kitchen staff, we don't keep schools healthy without the custodial and medical staff, and we don't support literacy and learning goals without regular and when necessary, extra access to high-quality resources found in the library. A librarian IS one of those resources. The proposal of a part-time librarian/part-time interventionist was creative, I'll give you that, but it was sold to others who should have asked librarians themselves if the cost of attempting to provide effective interventions for the benefit of the few at the expense of services provided for the entire learning community was going to be worth it in the long run. I'm telling you that it's not. If you want your teachers armed with effective, current interventions, you should make sure I have the time to work with the instructional coach to build and grow hard copy and digital banks of resources that could be available in a well-used professional library. If you'd like to provide all students with essential literacy experiences then stop ignoring the developmental needs of young children and give me the time to work with them. If you want test scores to go up, realize that learners need not only to be taught the mechanics of reading and to use learning strategies but should have the time and multiple opportunities to practice and reinforce them with self-selected content supported by a knowledgeable and fluent reader... me. Challenging text is an incredible carrot of enticement readily provided by libraries everywhere, and hearing smooth phrasing, expression, and interpretations from a librarian is essential to sealing the deal of commitment that readers make. If you want to support teachers, then make sure an expert is available to answer their questions, fulfill their requests for resources and information, and suggest materials for use at a moment's notice. That's. What. Librarians. Do. And those are the things that I not only want to be doing but should be doing.
I'm a fifty-two-year-old librarian. It is not necessary to pull me from the library to become someone's surrogate grandparent.
I am a librarian and an excellent cookie baker. It is not necessary to pull me from the library to bake cookies in the cafeteria.
I am a librarian and a respectable house cleaner. It is not necessary to pull me from the library to clean other areas of the school.
I have twenty-five years of teaching experience and I am a librarian. It is not MORE necessary to pull me from the library to monitor how a kindergartener self-regulates, how a third-grader completes a worksheet, or to offer crowd control to sixth-graders practicing math skills (which I've never taught) via enrichment games. Those are tasks better suited to their classroom teachers and instructional assistants, trained in methods and familiar with grade-level curricula, and when necessary, special education staff. It is my job to maintain, weed and grow one of the costliest resource banks initially purchased by the district and to ensure all patrons, teachers and students, utilize it effectively and appropriately. It's my job as a CYbrarian to see that learners know how to stay safe in the digital world, and it's my job to help students love to read in support of their social-emotional skills and frankly, humanity.
This false narrative that a librarian who is "just" 1) sitting and reading books, 2) typing on a computer, 3) arranging books on a cart while muttering numbers out loud, 4) using tape, colored labels, polyester film and scissors 5) walking head-tilted along bookshelves reading spines or 6) wheeling carts of books throughout the building is indicative of the inefficient use of a staff member needs to be challenged at every turn.
Students and teachers may need tutors and interventionists. They need full-time librarians, too.
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