Melinda Schroeder

I never wanted to be a librarian

when I grew up. It never even occurred to me. In my hometown of 900 people in western New York, there was (and is) no library. In my elementary school there was a library of sorts, but no librarian. In high school the library was an austere place, and no one went there when they could help it. We went to the public library in the town where the high school was located, but the librarian never helped me with anything.

I didn't want to be a secretary either, but it seemed inevitable since I was a woman. So I took a Vocational Stenograph course and went to work in a bank. I found the work and the salary pointless, and began to feel my sanity ebbing as I looked forward to a future that would simply be a continuation of the present.

One of my sisters suggested that I go to the State Teachers College. I could live at home and commute, and there was no tuition. I never wanted to be a teacher either, but it sounded better than going to a sanitarium. I began saving as much of my salary as I could and applied for admission. Fortunately there were no language, science or math requirements, and I was accepted. To my surprise and delight, I loved college and have always regretted that I finished in 3 years.

So never having wanted to be a teacher, I became a teacher and taught elementary school for 6 years in various places. One year was very good, one was all right, and the others were down hill all the way. I discovered that children are wonderful, but public schools do not do them justice. After 6 years I was exhausted from trying to do a good job in a bad situation. So I began plotting my escape.

Somewhere I heard that one could get an MLS in one year. By this time I liked books and had discovered some happy libraries, so it seemed to be my fate to become a librarian next. Now a California resident, I applied for admission to the UC Berkeley Library School. To meet the entrance requirement of two foreign languages, I began taking French two evenings a week. This, of course, added to my fatigue, but I told myself it was for a worthy cause. If only I could survive, better days would come, and I would heal in the balm of a peaceful library somewhere.

I took the Graduate Record Exam and was worried because although I was in the 98th percentile on the verbal section, I was in the 35th percentile on the quantitative section. When I went in for my interview, I was told that my contrasting scores were interesting, but luckily they considered only the verbal score to be a reliable indicator of one's aptitude for librarianship.

That summer I sold my car, moved to a $40 apartment, and began Library School. One of the first things that happened was a tour conducted by the librarian of the Library School Library. She had a weak voice and I heard very little of what she said, but I did hear her parting statement. She said that many people do not enjoy Library School, but most librarians like being librarians.

That assurance helped to keep me going through the long and wearying months that followed. 1964-65 was the year of the Free Speech Movement, which also helped to make up for the lack of excitement and stimulation in Library School. One of my courses was enjoyable, informative and not unnecessarily padded: Children's Literature. We actually read and discussed children's literature! I once tried to find out if anyone really like Library School that year at Berkeley. I found one person who did. She had been a housewife in the suburbs for the past 15 years.

At length, I found myself a full-fledged MLS. A bad situation with a man had been fermenting in my personal life for the last few years, so I decided to go back East. I thought I remembered my life as having been "simpler" there. I heard that people who liked San Francisco often liked Boston, so I chose to go there.

At least 5 jobs awaited each of us who graduated in 1965. Thus, the problem was to select the right one for me. Since I didn't want anything to do with public schools, and special libraries didn't strike my fancy, I interviewed for college and public library positions. I liked children and had 6 years' experience working with them, but the instructor from whom I had taken Children's Literature had made being a children's librarian sound as all-consuming as teaching. I always remember her saying that in order to be a good children's librarian, one would have to read a minimum of 500 children's books a year. Now some children's books are pretty long, and naturally I wanted to be a "good" children's librarian if I were one at all, so literal-minded as I was, I ruled out that possibility.

I had no idea whether I would prefer college or adult public library work. After each interview, I wandered about the library and surreptitiously asked one or two of the more friendly-looking librarians how they liked their jobs. Most seemed to feel they were "all right," but few were enthusiastic. The consensus seemed to be that if I had a chance for a 9-5, Mon.-Fri. job, I should take it.

Thus, I accepted a position as reference and interlibrary loan librarian at MIT. Often people were impressed when I said I was working there. They thought it sounded "glamorous," but I didn't find it so. The students were under tremendous pressure, and were mostly uptight and humorless. They used the library to get what they had to get for their courses; seldom did they come for information or books that they themselves really wanted.

Therefore, helping them was not really satisfying. One day, however, I suddenly realized that I was really digging my spell at the reference desk, and began to think that my job was fun after all. Then I recalled I had taken some diet pills a friend had given me that morning....

Interlibrary loan was better. Tracking down esoteric works in all those dusty tomes was a game I could get rather involved in, and when I found the answer, I felt as if I had won a prize. Also, the people who were lucky enough to get this service - graduate students and faculty - often did express their appreciation.

After 8 months at MIT, I left to go back to San Francisco, which I had sorely missed since the day I left. Besides, I wanted to return to the man I fled, "womanly" masochism having become a firmly established aspect of my life.

By this time, I longed to work with children again. I was disappointed with library work as I had found it at MIT. But I was still reluctant to become a children's librarian, because I didn't want to be consumed by my job. So there followed a semester substituting in Child Care and pre-kindergartens in the public schools, then a semester working part-time at a nursery school. My supervisor there thought children should learn to read at age 3; she did not like Mother Goose; and composed songs for the children with lyrics such as, "I brush my teeth every day," to tunes that sounded like commercials. By the end of the term I was ready to take another stab at library work.

Determined to have a go in public libraries now, I took the Civil Service Exam for Senior Librarian at the Oakland Public Library, since it happened to be given around this time.

While I waited for my name to come up on the Civil Service list, I took a summer position as reference and interlibrary loan librarian at the University of S.F. This job was very similar to the one at MIT. Again, I found librarians to be much more interesting as a group than teachers, but the students at this Jesuit school were, in a word, dull. They weren't driven, as the students at MIT had been; on the contrary, they were apathetic. I was asked to stay on permanently, but I declined the invitation.

Thus I was installed as a Senior Librarian, running my own tiny storefront branch in East Oakland. For the first time, I was "in charge!" That turned out to be the best thing about the job. The branch staff consisted of a full-time junior librarian, who had worked in the system for a number of years, but who had never completed her MLS, a half-time cleaning woman, and a page 15 hours/week. When we circulated 100 books, it was a big day at the branch.

With no clerical help except what could be scrapped out of the page after she had finished shelving and shelf-reading, that left you-know-who to do it. Scrupulous records of unpaid fines and unreturned books were written up and kept for years, along with confiscated library cards. Cataloging was done separately for the Main Library and for the branches, so that most books were cataloged twice. On top of everything else, I was instructed by my supervisor to make phone calls and home visits to try to recover unreturned books, a task the more massive, since my predecessor had done little or nothing of the kind for the previous 3 years. The procedures appeared to have been designed as a joke by a stoned time-study expert: amassing as many unnecessary details to be attended to as often as possible, and making everything generally inefficient, unreasonable and absurd. Actually I'm sure it took years to encrust silliness upon silliness, until the library's original purpose was all but lost. I found myself often chained to the desk, unable to properly assist the few people who did wander into the library. They needed a great deal of help in this "disadvantaged" (poor) neighborhood, especially to ferret anything out of the inadequate and decrepit collection.

Conscientious and obedient as I was, I didn't try to figure out exactly how much I had to do of what I was told in order to avoid being fired, thus leaving myself time to do the things that I thought were of real importance. Instead, in my monthly report I wrote of the imperative need for clerical assistance, even if that meant losing the other librarian. It seemed futile to suggest that all clerical procedures be revamped, and most of them eliminated. There was no response until my first evaluation.

I received good ratings in everything except "judgment" and "cooperation" or some such term. I was considered enterprising and enthusiastic, but hasty and over-critical. Perhaps when I had worked there a year or two I would see the reasons for everything.... My supervisor said the Head Librarian would be calling me in to discuss my criticisms, but I never heard a word from him. I had gone to college in order to avoid a lifetime of clerical work. Now I was making more money than I ever had before, and spending 3/4 of my time doing such chores.

I quit and went to work for the San Francisco Public Library. SFPL was a definite improvement over Oakland PL, but still left much to be desired. My general feeling was that whereas Oakland PL was 200 years behind the times, SFPL was a mere 100 years behind. Now I spent less than half my time on clerical tasks, which was a considerable improvement. (All things are relative, I've discovered!) I was assigned to a branch, where I was to assist the adult librarian, and the children's only in terms of dire need. I had been told that I would be doing both, which sounded like a nice idea, but it seemed I must be either/or. There was a good deal of friction among the staff members. I also found supervising 4 reluctant pages somewhat less than pleasant. Someone should look into why pages generally loathe their jobs.

After I had been at the branch awhile, a staff bulletin announced 2 openings at the main library in the Bay Area Reference Center (BARC). Although someone had referred to the BARC people as "a bit otherworldly," they looked like just my cup of tea. So I applied, and Oh Happy Day! I was transferred to BARC. Home at last!

The Bay Area Reference Center is a federally-funded reference project, whereby smaller libraries are given reference assistance. The questions which reached us were often difficult and interesting, and tracking down the answers was sometimes quite an exciting process. We also planned and participated in workshops on topics of current interest for the librarians in the whole network. We spent some of our time writing articles and reviewing for Synergy, the "underground" librarians' periodical. And we could dream up projects that we thought were worthwhile or appropriate to BARC's function. In short, there was a good deal of room for creativity.

The best thing about working for BARC was the people. They were hip and alive and excited about what they were doing most of the time. With a marvellous director, things flowed and thrived. These people were otherworldly after all. I found them as wonderful as children.

Not that we didn't have any problems. The volcano on which we danced with such unorthodoxy exploded with reaction once. A poster of Eldridge Cleaver was forcibly removed from the BARC office because the Grand Jury (in S.F., traditionally, notoriously WASP) was traipsing through. This year, one member was avowedly "racist." And far be it from the Administration to provoke displeasure.

We were shocked. The Administration cannily negotiated with us on the condition of submitting the contretemps to a "Poster Committee." It resides there to this day. So does the giant poster of a pig we put up on the wall during the fray. And we flower-power librarians got somewhat radicalized.

By now I had a new man who was in New York. I didn't want to leave San Francisco, and I didn't want to leave SFPL and all those beautiful BARC spirits. But, prior to Women's Liberation, it was the irrational custom for women to "cheerfully" follow their men anywhere. So I headed for NYC, possibly the last place I would have chosen.

I thought it would be nice if I could work at a branch of the New York Public Library near my own neighborhood in downtown Manhattan. Hah! To my dismay I found my chances for a "reasonable" commute would be better if I worked for the Brooklyn Public Library. I had completed 3 years of psychotherapy, and now I realized I could handle being a children's librarian without reading 500 children's books a year. So I interviewed and was hired as a children's librarian at BPL. I loved my work there. Most of my duties were professional. I had good collections to work with, with helpful and sometimes inspiring meetings and workshops to attend, interesting committees to work on, and many lively and concerned people as colleagues. From what I heard later, I was lucky to have stumbled into Brooklyn. NYPL is much more rigid than the relatively freewheeling BPL, where imagination and experimentation are encouraged.

My only bad experience in Brooklyn was a stint working at a branch under a super-authoritarian, oppressive librarian. When I asked for a transfer and gave my reasons, I was given a new assignment almost immediately. This time I was sent to a "district", as opposed to a branch, library. Within BPL's "dual" system, perhaps half the libraries give full service, with 3 or more professionals on the staff. These branches are generally located in neighborhoods where people demand and get good service. But in many poor neighborhoods, the libraries are organized into districts, with full professional staff available only at the district headquarters. At each district library only a children's librarian is assigned. Adults and high school students are assisted by the clerks, who are instructed to call headquarters whenever they get an unanswerable reference question, or when materials are requested which the library does not have. However, it is impractical to have perhaps 4 libraries calling the district headquarters as frequently as these situations arise. The fact that there are no extra telephone lines for this purpose and the abysmal state of telephone service in NYC make the idea little more than a joke.

Hence, the young adult and adult patrons simply received inadequate service. Yet these district libraries were often the ones which most needed exciting, relevant programs to stimulate the community. This plan, initiated to save money, resulted virtually in first and second-class libraries: a typical case of those who have, getting more and those who have not, getting less. I have since heard there is a plan afoot to gradually change the entire system to the district (second-class) plan.

After 1 1/2 years I quit BPL in order to return to California, since my man and I were splitting up. But before I left, we reached an "understanding." However, I felt I couldn't bear to commute and live in the city anymore. We planned that I would leave the city, but live nearby so we could get together at least on week-ends.

But in the spring of 1971, the demand for librarians had all but disappeared. Furthermore, I felt I had found my destiny as a children's librarian, so that limited my possibilities even more. Often there were 20-25 applicants for each one. Some of my interview experiences were rather interesting, to put it politely.

For example, in Bronxville, an affluent "bedroom" community north of NYC, I was interviewed by the Librarian and the Library Board. I was told, in answer to a question I asked concerning censorship, that it is no problem because Bronxville is a homogeneous community, and the library simply doesn't buy things the community wouldn't want! Somehow we got into a discussion of Maurice Sendak's In the Night Kitchen. The Library and the one female Board member couldn't stand it. The men apparently didn't know about it. I had loved it, and said so. The women saw "no point to it." I said I thought it was a birth fantasy. The Librarian was incredulous. "For children?" she demanded. I replied calmly, "Well, they were born." Thus ended that topic. Next I asked if there were any Black or Puerto Rican children in the community. The Librarian answered, "Oh no, our children are all Americans!" I found the whole happening rather far-fetched.

At the Port Jefferson Library on Long Island, I was apparently too enthusiastic. I said I thought the "summer reading club" (held religiously every year, invariably accompanied by a brand new, shiny "theme" - actually the same old "Read 10 Books From The List and Get a *" program) had out-lived its usefulness. I had other ideas of activities which I found children enjoyed more, such as creative dramatics, films, arts and crafts from books, writing their own stories, puppet shows, etc. The fact that I reviewed children's books for SLJ and wrote a "Children's Librarian" column for Synergy, was quite likely another deterrent, since I appeared to be a person who might "stir things up." The Librarian told me she thought I would be "wasted" in Port Jefferson. (This was one of several places I saw with "No Bare Feet in the Library" signs prominently displayed.) In her rejection letter she expressed the hope that I would soon find a position in which I could employ "all of my many talents." (But not here, please.)

There was a school library which wouldn't even interview me because I would be too advanced on the salary schedule, and they couldn't afford to pay that much for a librarian. I said I would be willing to take less, but the principal was adamant. "We don't like to do that unless we have to. We'll call you if we can't find someone with the proper [lesser] qualifications."

At my interview in a white working class (backlash) community, the Librarian said that I seemed to be avoiding the issue of censorship. For once I hadn't thought of it. It gradually became clear that this was a big issue in the library. He told me that the children's books on sex were locked up, and were not given to the children unless their parents came and asked for them. Extensive censorship was practiced in the case of young adults: "I know this kid's parents will/won't want her/him to have this book." Of course, the Librarian didn't agree with any of this, but since the community wasn't ready for change, and the library did belong to them, and he wanted to keep his job, bla bla bla.

I was finally offered a job in an unlikely N.J. suburb. One of the Library Board members was an open-minded person who really wanted a good, exciting program for her own and other children. However, from all appearances, she would have been virtually the only adult for miles around with whom I could have communicated.

Meanwhile I had taken a summer job evaluating Title I funded programs (including library programs) for public schools in Spanish Harlem. (I got this job through someone in my women's consciousness-raising group.) I was asked to stay on after the summer for $14,000/year. That's some fancy escape money, so I decided to do it. The job draws on all my work experience with children, both as a teacher and as a librarian, and also on my interest and experience in writing.

I determine if programs actually coincide with district proposals, and judge whether they are doing the children any good. Most of what I see is pretty bad. The aim seems to be to keep present staff employed regardless of competence or performance, and it often appears that schools exist for teachers rather than for the children. In many schools the children who are lucky enough to get to the library are allowed to check out only two books at a time, and frequently not books of their own choice, if the library teacher deems them too difficult, for example. In one surrealistic scene, the library teacher wouldn't permit any non-fiction books to be borrowed because she "hadn't gotten to non-fiction yet."(!)

Books are commonly received one or two years after being ordered. A/V materials are available in some libraries, but are generally used in very limited ways, and tend to be over-used because they serve to keep the children "entertained" with little expenditure of effort or imagination on the part of the teacher. On the few occasions when I have observed library skills being taught, they were presented in a rigid, unappealing manner, as isolated fragments, unrelated to work the children were doing in the classroom, or to their own interests and lives. Hopefully our frank reports, followed by ambitious recommendations, will result in positive change. However, the hope is rather slender.

I'm debating what to do next. I did enjoy much about being a children's librarian and am considering going back, assuming I can find a job. However, I do have major objections, mainly in the library's relationship to the schools. Too often I've found myself in the position of abetting the destructive practice of the schools, which constantly assign uninteresting and/or irrelevant work to children. The children come in with many assignments which they don't understand, which they are doing only because they must, for a grade. Or they must find a book from a list, which is likely to be, especially in the case of parochial schools, as much as 10 years old; the books on it are no better than other books in the library. Or the children want only "skinny" books because their teachers demand a book report every week. Being a reluctant part of this conspiracy, which ultimately turns many children against books and learning, is a super bummer.

The job I have may or may not end in June. I find myself occasionally calculating just how much more money I could save if I stayed "just a little longer." (Otherwise known as greed.) Having changed professions and specialties within professions with some frequency, although I have nearly 15 years of work experience as a "professional," I have managed to remain, with the exception of my present job, at the beginning levels in this over-specialized society.

Given all the "givens" I'm glad I became a librarian. I'm finding life extremely interesting these days, but I'd still like to come upon that ideal home, work-wise and personally, sung about by the Joy of Cooking:

Home's a place to keep yourself warm
And there's too much love for leaving
too much love for leaving