When I was around the age of 10 or 11, my family went on a summer vacation camping trip to Maine. We were a camping family and ventured a number of summers to Maine and the Maritimes of Canada. On this particular trip, we were staying somewhere near Millinocket, outside of Baxter State Park. My dad wanted to hike to the top of Mt. Katahdin, the highest peak in Maine and the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. My mom was not a hiker and my brother wasn’t up for it, so the two of them stayed and explored the Park while my dad and I set off to conquer the peak – me in my blue suede Adidas tennis shoes, shorts, and a “hang ten” short-sleeved sweatshirt. (Funny the things you remember.)
My dad was an avid backpacker and I’d been on many hikes with him before, so this wasn’t an unusual outing. But Mt. Katahdin is not an easy climb. It’s steep and it’s rocky AND in order to reach the summit, you have to cross a passage known as “Knife Edge”. It’s less than a mile, but it’s completely exposed and very narrow, with some points where there’s more than a 2,000 foot drop on either side. In a word, it’s scary. But I don’t ever remember being scared that day. I remember being focused, being in awe, and being exhilarated when we reached the other side – and eventually the summit. (I also remember crying on the way down as we were inundated with black flies!)
I think about this adventure and how accomplished I felt at taking it on. And I also wonder if I’d ever have the nerve to do it again, today, as a much more seasoned human being. But I did it then and I’ll always have that.
I’ve been thinking about taking on challenges lately. More accurately, I’ve been thinking about how I seem to keep encountering situations and attitudes and societal trends that leave me believing we’re living more in a time when we seek comfort over everything else. We do not wish to feel uncomfortable – worse, to be made to feel uncomfortable, by any circumstances. It angers and frustrates me, too, when the push to comfort is couched in the ideas of protecting children or paying attention to mental health or ensuring inclusivity or promoting equity. It angers me because these are really important matters – equity, inclusivity, mental health, children – and to hijack them for the sake of simply making sure one doesn’t feel uncomfortable lessens their importance. I believe.
I put together course materials and am advised not to make anything too long – not videos, not readings, not assignments. I’m told that I can’t have any live components because it’s an online class and you can’t ask everyone to tune in at the same time because they may have other things to do. Teachers can’t require their students to read material that may force them to think about things they disagree with. Students can’t be made to give class presentations because they can cause anxiety. Librarians can’t make book displays that upset anyone. In the course of history, the pendulum always swings from one extreme to another and it sure seems we’ve swung way over to the “shelter me” side right now.
During my time at Harvard’s Leadership Institute for Academic Librarians a few weeks back, we did a number of exercises to practice dealing with difficult things – uncomfortable things. I learned about taking small steps, breaking things down, practicing scary things in safe spaces. For instance, if I need to have a difficult conversation with someone I can run my script by a trusted source first for feedback. If talking to strangers is hard, I can just begin by making eye contact and saying “hello” to people I pass in the hall. If I disagree with someone, I can work through the issue with them, listening and sharing thoughts and arguments instead of sniping and hunkering in among everyone who thinks like I think. People can actually disagree and it not be some terribly bad thing.
I had the pleasure of speaking to some early career librarians yesterday about professional networking and I shared some thoughts I have on our need to be uncomfortable, at times, in order to be effective in our work. It comes with the territory. I cannot do my job hidden in my office. There are surely LOTS of stereotypes for librarians – shy, introverted, always reading books (glasses, cardigans, knitting, too). But I’m here to say that my work, and the work of the overwhelming majority of academic and health sciences librarians that I know, involves building relationships, reaching out to strangers, speaking in front of people, being political, advocating for your place at the table. In other words, things that may or may not be comfortable. And personally, I think this describes most of life. At least life as I’ve known it.
One of my favorite books to pick up when I’m feeling a little hopeless and/or out of touch (or more and more these days, old – as in “back in the day…” old), is Eleanor Roosevelt’s collection of essays, You Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life. My copy is dog-eared and highlighted, with notes in the margins. You need to read it within the context of the time it was written and the world in which Mrs. Roosevelt lived, but that doesn’t take away from the deep wisdom she offers. I’ve written before about my admiration for this book and Mrs. Roosevelt’s call to never stop being curious about life, to never stop learning. But I also treasure her reminder to never let fear of something keep us from trying. “You must do the thing you cannot do,” she reminds us. I believe that you must at least try.
A Librarian by Any Other Name 