Things I Learned Last Weekend

• Purple frosting is harder to make than you might think.

• You can't expect a bunch of kids to sit still for more than thirty seconds. Just leave the movie playing and accept the chaos.

• When putting sprinkles on five dozen cupcakes, put the cupcakes in the sink first. Sprinkles have amazing and mysterious aerodynamic properties that cause them to end up everywhere if not carefully contained. (See picture above for the results of sprinkles properly contained.)
  

• The color pink has a sneaking fascination for every girl everywhere.

• There is absolutely nothing that should not be in a librarian's job description. Give "pony rides" to shrieking little girls? Check. Simultaneously keep an eye on ten preteens with bottles of colored sand and ponder the question of what on earth makes Patrick Dempsey so popular? Check. Bake and frost five dozen cupcakes? Check.

• There is a princess for everyone. (We had a Mulan, a Belle, a Cinderella, a Sleeping Beauty, two Jasmines, a Tinkerbell (we'll leave aside the question of whether she is actually a princess), and three generic princesses in attendance on Saturday.)

• Everyone should have a tiara. (Mine is purple - thanks G!)

• If you're going to bake and frost five dozen cupcakes, you really ought to do it more than twelve hours before Passover begins. And not schedule a Princess Party between the baking and sunset.
  

The Librarian's Workout

D and I have decided to write an exercise book. We're going to call it the Librarian's Workout. Among other things, it will include:

• Hauling boxes of books from one end of a building to another.
• When that gets boring, hauling piles of books without the boxes. Preferable large and awkward piles.
  
• Moving shelf-loads of books from the bottom of an eight-foot shelf to the very top, and then moving the books from a top shelf to the very bottom.
  
• Running up and down aisles with an armload of books, looking for the spot they belong while trying not to be away from the desk for more than thirty seconds.
• Escorting demanding patrons from one section to another, and then another, and another...
• Nodding and smiling at the demanding patrons while escorting them (this move for advanced librarians only).
• Beating one's head against the wall. Hard.

I realize that this job isn't as physically demanding as, say, construction work. But anyone who thinks that librarians just sit around and read all day is sadly deluded. By the time we were done setting up for the book sale last Friday, every one of us had aching muscles and assorted bruises and bumps. Weeding can give me sore legs and shoulders for days. And I burn more calories nodding and smiling at idiots than I would if I went out and bought a treadmill.

Which is probably a good thing, since some days the only way we can get through it without screaming is by the judicious application of chocolate. Sometimes in alarmingly large quantities.

What are we?

What are librarians? Especially library directors. Are we politicians, in this to get all the glory (and the funding) we possibly can for our library - and incidentally for the other libraries in the state? Or are we public servants, trying our best to meet the information and technology needs of our communities however the heck we can?

I know that I can't be just a public servant. I have to worry about the realities of things like the (utterly pitiful) library budget and how short-staffed we are. But I, personally, refuse to buy into the notion that my purpose is to analyze everything we do in order to extract political and financial gain.

Does this make me a bad director? A poor advocate for my library and for public libraries in general? Am I missing part of what it takes to be a great librarian?

I've been wondering about this in the wake of a meeting last week in which, after discussing the possibility of introducing a new statewide service, the other directors in the room jumped straight to the question of whether this would boost the image and "brand recognition" of public libraries in the state. My brain was still working on the question of how I was going to provide this service to the children in my county whose only access to the internet is for brief periods during the school day. The question of how this service could be used as a means of prodding legislators (and the public) into recognizing the good we do in libraries simply never occurred to me. All that I was thinking was how to get to patrons.

So I have to ask: am I missing a piece of the puzzle? Does focusing solely on the services we provide and on the things we can do for our patrons, without worrying about how we market ourselves and what the people in the state capitol think of us, mean that I am losing a chance to help people?

Reading over this post, I realize that it sounds as though I am criticizing the other directors at that meeting. I'm not. They're all fiercely dedicated to their libraries and to improving the services they offer. They're good librarians, as I define that. But somehow they are operating on a completely different wavelength than I am. Maybe after twenty years of directing a public library I will think like they do. Or maybe not. Which might be better. Someone has to speak up for the raving idealists, after all, and some of us have to be in a position to put our ideals into action.

I just wonder if I am not missing a chance to do more good for libraries, and thus for our communities, because I lack the political viewfinder that so many of my colleagues seem to have.