The Librarian: Quest for the Job Part I

So you've read the last two entries (presumably) and wondered "Who the hell is this person?" The next series of posts will attempt to set your troubled mind at ease.

It all starts a few years ago. I was a young and naive undergrad studying International Studies. My counselors and professors had all told me "No problem! You can do whatever you want with whatever major you want! Want to be a doctor? All you need to know is the quadratic formula and Keats." That sounded good to me for awhile because... well, I wanted to believe it. Then I started talking to people outside the academic would and they had a different response to my enthusiastic optimism. They laughed.

My face grew cold. I started shaking. I couldn't sleep at night. I mean, what does one do with a degree in International Studies? I had staked my entire future on the possibility that there would suddenly be a huge demand for professional travellers in 2006. I didn't like law, I couldn't see myself teaching and I didn't want to get any closer to politics than my local polling booth. So, after several sleepless nights, knowing that the decision I made now, as a 20-year-old college student would irrevocably change my life, I knocked on the door of the career counselor. She was polite and happy and just as optimistic as everyone else at first, but then she noticed my trembling hands and surmised that I had seen through her glamour.

I sat perched on the edge of my seat like a baboon on heroin. "Well, what do you like to do?" she asked, politely.
"Um, read?" I asked. She nodded, politely encouraging me. "And knit. And watch movies. I like knowing random trivia and writing. Oh, and throwing theme parties that my friends all pretend they like."
She opened her book o' jobs and flipped it so it faced me. I expected it to glow as her perfectly manicured hand pointed to the title.

"Grant Writer"

Oh, I thought. I had expected something perfect and glamorous. Something that clicked in my head and made me shout "Hallelujah! I've found my calling!" This didn't do it, but then again we were being realistic here and I was pretty sure she kept the "Professional Traveller" guide sheet with "Actress," "Rich Folk-rock Singer" and "Unicorn Trainer." Well, I figured, I'd have to toughen up and accept the real world.

The next week I met with a real-life grant writer. She was very nice and described her job in detail while I nodded and tried to keep my eyes from glazing over. The interview went pretty badly. I even forgot to send her a card so professional humiliation was added to the list of reasons to avoid grant writing.

That night, I went home and sadly flipped through the career books I'd taken out. I was sure that my only other option was garbage person or politician. I was depressed. Then, I notice a faint shimmering between the pages. I turned back a few and there it was. Red lights surrounded the title and big sign said "ARE YOU STUPID?!" An arrow pointed from the sign to the title. "Librarian." Oh, I thought. Oh. That makes a lot of sense. I like to read and write. I enjoy researching, but not writing research papers. I like programming. I'm always suggesting books to people. I also, unbelievable, like working in retail.

I couldn't understand how I didn't think of it before. I mean, I spent hours every week in a library since I could remember. I saw librarians on a daily basis. One of my aunts had been a librarian and I'd been accused by my cousin just last Christmas of looking like a librarian. A wave of relief spilled over me. I wasn't going to have to change my major or spend extra time at my uber-expensive undergraduate school. Everything was going to be great. And for the first night, I slept well.

Exorcising my Personal Demons

My first week of library school (which I insist to prosepective students, is exactly like Hogwarts) I noticed something strange about Watchers. They speak an entirely different language and they don't even seem to notice it. Most notably, they pronounce everything. When I began, I innocently thought that the School of Library and Information Science was pronounced S-L-I-S. How silly of me. No, the Watchers (and the Watchers-to-be) around the joint call it"slis." Okay, I can see that. It's even kind of cute. Same with a Marc record or YALSA. It saves time and it flows, more or less. The interesting part is when they start trying to pronounce the unpronounceable. For example, OLC. Isn't it easier to just say O-L-C than to struggle with something that sounds like ohelk. I've heard it done. I promise. Or NOTSL. Ts and Ss were not meant to be pronounced in that order. One would presume, as Watchers, they know the rules of language. Apparently one would be mistaken.

Soon after joining the SLIS, I found myself sputtering along to the most common acronyms. I passed over the more difficult ones. I suppose I am not that librarian enough yet. I refuse to admit I ever would, but give it time. Eventually I will forget how normal people speak. Still, when I speak of librarianship those acronyms pepper my speech and confound the muggles. Generally, though, I do not speak of these things in proper company and so the threat was limited.

Then, I took a YA services course.

The acronyms here are not the problem. Really, there is not much extra offending vocabulary. Except for one word.

The E word.

Edgy.

I didn't even notice it at first. My professor started speaking about "edgy" literature and "edgy" clothing. I didn't recognize it as anything other than that professor's own peculiarity. But then I started reading YA blogs and publications. It is everywhere. Whenever anyone wants to push YA material. And the weird thing is, only YA Watchers use this word. Ever. I tried to explain the phenomenon to a coworker on the reference desk. "Edgy?" she pondered. "Does that mean it's sharp? Poignant?" Even she, a fellow acronym-pronouncer, didn't understand the meaning of the word. Now, try using the word with teens. Tell that girl that her purple and black striped wristwarmers are totally edgy. Or let that teen know that he just performed an edgie ollie on his skateboard. Chances are, they will back away slowly from the frighteningly unhip adult.

Unlike the acronyms, this word has edged its way into my everyday speech. I'm looking for clothing and I think, "Kaufmanns is so boring. I'm looking for something edgy." I flip through a few more shirts before I realized what I just thought. My blood runs cold. Have I actually integrated this word into mundane, non-Watcher, speech?

I propose a ban on the word "edgy" in all professional YA literature.

Why? Well, I suppose the use of it just makes me ... edgy.

A bit of make-believe, if you will.

It wasn't long after I decided to be a librarian that I started noticing how cultishly cool the profession is. Take Noah Wyle, for example. It wasn't enough for him to be a roguishly handsome doctor on E.R. Nor, it seems, could he remain in that immortally cool classic, Donnie Darko. No, there were better things for his career. He moved on to representing true librarians everywhere in the TNT presentation "Librarian: Quest for the Spear." Doesn't is just send tingles up your spine? And that's not the end of it for Mr. Wyle. Oh, no. He knows a good thing when he sees it. Why, just today I was notified that there will be a sequel to "Librarian" airing this week. Can you imagine my excitement? And the excitement of librarians everywhere?
But I digress.
Mr. Wyle is not the only librarian to grace pop culture with his presence.
Batgirl, aka Barbara Gordon, has her MLIS. She's been helping the Bat out behind the scenes ever since she became wheelchair-bound. And that's not a bad thing, because she kicks just as much ass as a librarian as she ever did swinging around Gotham City. She doesn't even have to wear latex.
The aforementioned librarians are not the true cause of my joy, though, as you may have noticed when you read the subtitle to my blog. No, the most prestigious of this fine group of librarians is none other than Rupert Giles, Buffy's (of vampire slayer fame) Watcher. What does a Watcher do? He goes to an academy to train, then follows around the chosen vampire slayer, training her and guiding her. He pores through old tomes, wears sensible shoes and, it would reason, gives tutorials on how to use electronic databases (he is a school library media specialist after all). Giles is the epitomy of all that is cool in librarianship and I hope to follow in his steps. I don't expect to kill many vampires in my travels, although there is always hope. I am working in teen services so perhaps, like Giles, one day I may come across a young girl looking for help as she stalks the undead and I too may serve as her Watcher.