Vessels

A few days ago, I was reading The Toll, book 3 of the Arc of the Scythe by Neal Schusterman. In addition to being unbelievably good and doing some of the best work of being a book three that ties up a trilogy, it is just a great great story.  

At one point, (I will try to be as non-spoiler as possible), two characters are discussing a third who has done some unbelievably horrific things.  parson A says the baddy is beyond forgiveness. Person B is unsure.  Pern A replies with a comment on just how horrible the baddy has been and then Person B says this: 

People are vessels.  They hold whatever is poured into them.

I actually went back to reread the passage.  

Then I wrote it down. 

Then I spent the next days thinking about it, this idea, and all it implies. 

I thought about it as a parent: my children hold what I pour into them. My love, my frustration, my effort and time, my criticism.  They are vessels. 

Then I thought about my other kids: my students. (Since they are my kids too). What is poured into them, for better or worse, is what they bring with them the next day. It is what shapes the decisions they make, the homework they do, the emotions they carry.  And it is entirely outside of their control.  Someone else is doing the pouring, the students are only the vessels. 

Which then made me think about the teachers.  We pour. We pour our hopes and help and knowledge into kids, but also our frustrations and fears and stress, no matter how hard we try not to.  

But we are also vessels. 
We get poured into by parents. 
And other teachers. 
And administrators.
And board members. 
And the media. 
And school shooters. 
And the department of education.
And the state board of education. 
And the public. 

So educators, are vessels that hold what is poured into us.  
The criticism. 
The contempt. 
The blame. 
The "summers off" comments. 
The implications of shirked duties and laziness. 
The being treated like incompetent fools instead of trained professionals. 
The micromanaging. 
The public comments. The private comments. The Facebook comments. 

And we have to take all of it, and set it aside and do our jobs anyway. And be conscious that we pour only the good into our students.

It is a good thing that teachers are kind, compassionate, and generous.  They are smart and highly trained.  They are dedicated, creative, and hardworking. They will go to any lengths to help their students learn, grow, and flourish. 

And we take all of that and pour it into our students.  

Because they hold whatever is poured into them. And the responsibility of that is too great to get wrong.

My Love-Hate Relationship with Book Fairs

We just finished up our fall book fair.  It was great.  Went off without a hitch.  

Can I be frank? 

I loathe school book fairs. 

No, that isn't entirely accurate. 

I really do love them.  

Setting it up is like Christmas morning. Opening each case to find the treasures inside. 

I love looking through the box of pens and erasers and junky stuff that kids love and parents roll their eyes at (me included). (Full disclosure: I once bought 15 of the invisible-ink-with-a-blacklight-to-send-secret-codes pens. Not as a child; I did this as an adult.)

I really love buying books at my children's book fairs.  I feel like there should be a secret handshake just for those who set up and run book fairs to keep ther libraries going. 

And there it is.  The loathing. 

I have a truly love-hate relationship with book fairs. 

I work in a district with a poverty level of over 50%.  My heart breaks for those kids who never get to buy anything. Or not the thing they want.  

I am thankful for the box of "vlue books" that are $2 or $3, but for some, that is still too much. 

And at the end of it all, when we cash out the fair, we get to choose 50% if we take stuff from the fair itself, 4o% if we take credit from the company, and 30% if we take cash. 

We always take credit (after getting all the books we can possibly use from the fair itself), because there is a huge difference between 30% and 40%, especially when that money is what will keep the library going, should grants fall through. 

And there it is, again.  

I am mad. Mad that the library is funded through the generosity of community members and the profits of sales from a book fair. I am mad that this is the system we have.  Books are important. Reading is important. Libraries are crucial.  Everyone agrees on this.  So let's fund the library? No? Oh, but hey! Book fair profits!

Our fair was very successful this year.  We sold over $3,000 worth of stuff. In the end, after taxes as all the rest, we got $150 in books from the fair and have a credit of $672. 

Library bound books (that will last and have guarantees) for the K-3 age group run around $20 each.  That means we can get about 33 books.   

That isn't a typo.  

33 books. 

So, yeah, I am mad.  And I am jealous. 

I am jealous that we don't bat an eye at new football uniforms and shell out tens of thousands of dollars for the new science curriculum. 

But we need a science curriculum!  Yes, yes we do.  Do you know what else we need?  A library. And books. 

Can I get Nike to sponsor the library? 

Can I sell advertising on the shelves to Coke? 

No, that's absurd.  As it should be.  

What else is absurd?  Expecting a library in a high-poverty district to fund itself solely on the profits of a book fair and the generosity of strangers.  

Reading to Children and Other Life Changing Exercises

I don't mean to brag, but, on a regular basis, I get to read to children. 

Recently I had a colleague minimize reading in classes. He dismissed it as an unimportant aspect of my day that could be summarized as "Ms. Crisp read to a class." 

Yes, I get to walk into a classroom where students cheer or wave or squeal.  Sometimes the hug me.  (This is not the reaction I get in the high school).  They run over to get a primo spot on the carpet and sit at my feet as I read to them.  

But it isn't just reading.  

Sometimes, we talk about the physical parts of the book.  In This Book Just Ate My Dog, any character who crosses the center of the book disappears, which gave us a hilarious chance to talk about how books are bound, what a gutter is, and why an author might use a double-page spread. 

Sometimes we talk about the way illustrators use images.  A few weeks ago, we read The Rabbit Listened and talked about what "disappointment" is, how we react to it, how an illustrator might show disappointment in a picture, and how those pictures can show what our internal struggles are.  The Rabbit Listened is beautiful and powerful.  More than once I choked back tears as I read it. It is the kind of book that you could give an adult.  And we talked about that, too.  How the ideas in a picture book apply to everyone. 

Often I have kids ask, "How can you read that without looking at the words?" and we talk about re-reading (since I read the same book to all classes K-5 in two buildings).  We talked about how re-reading can build fluency and how it also brings a unique perspective since you notice different things the 14th time through. 

When we read The Day You Begin, students talk about times they felt different or weird.  In one class a student--I swear I am not making this up--said, "This book could really help me because I feel like that all the time." 

In The Last Stop on Market Street, the main character volunteers in a soup kitchen, and, as we discussed what that is and why it was needed, a student, with absolute pride, was able to talk about the fact that she knew what that was. And also a food pantry!   Her lived experience, that could have been a source of shame, was, instead one of power and being able to inform others, who politely listened and nodded along. 

I say "we" read, because that is the case. I might be saying the words, but the students are reading the pictures and listening to the words (older students are often also reading with their eyes). They are interpreting, understanding, thinking. They are developing their listening comprehension skills at the same time that they are making text-to-self connections and often text-to-text connections when there is some other book that relates. So, in the deepest sense, I am deliberate when I say "we read".   

When a scheduling conflict comes up and I am not able to read in classes, kids are genuinely sad.  Some even walk up and sneakily suggest I could just slip into their room and read.   

So, yes, at times a description of my day is that I "read to a class". 

But I also taught. 
I used words that might have been new or used in a new way. 
I listened and responded.  
I valued the stories of the writers and the stories of the students. 

I taught. 

I modeled. 

I explained. 

I facilitated.

I analyzed. 
I shared.

Then

I helped kids analyze. 

I helped kids explain.  

I helped kids interpret.

And suggest,

And contrast. 

And relate.

And categorize. 

And validate. 

And express.

And consider.   

I get to go into classrooms and model the behavior of being an adult who loves, values, and shares the experience of reading. 

On a fairly regular basis, I have kids see me in Wal-Mart and in a not-so-hushed whisper exclaim, "That's the lady who reads to us!"

OK, I guess I do mean to brag.  

In defense of librarians

A couple of days ago, I saw an article titled "School libraries hit by the loss of a dying breed as teacher librarians enter 'survival mode'".  Now, this article was from Australia but it hit on some of the same issues present in the United States. The article stated the following: 

"Researchers have reported an 'alarming' loss in the number of qualified teacher librarians in schools, warning student literacy will continue to suffer if the trend is not reversed. Once a staple of schools, the roles have been branded a dying breed with many principals opting to replace them with cheaper 'library officers' and 'library assistants', often with no qualifications or educational training. Literary researcher Margaret Merga said while teacher librarian numbers had been in decline for some time, they appeared to have hit a critical low, which she warned would have serious implications for students, particularly struggling readers." (emphasis added)

The article talks about how there are fewer school librarians, and has a three bullet-point standout section toward the beginning of the article:

There are concerns the number of teacher librarians has fallen to a critical low

Experts say they are vital to school literacy outcomes and should be mandatory

Education officials say library staffing in government schools is up to principals

For me, the first two points really summarize the entire dilemma. 

All of the data, and I do mean all of it, says that schools suffer when they don't have a certified librarian. This doesn't mean paras or aides.  

A Word on Paras/Aides as Library Clerks

Paras and aides are essential to the work of the library. Period. I am constantly advocating for a more consistent level of staffing in the libraries in my district.  I wish my paras were in there all day, every day. Don't pull them to cover lunch duty. Don't pull them when you need a sub. Don't close the library because you want the library para to do another job within the school.  I know with the realities of schools today that is never going to happen.  It just isn't.  

Well, not in a district that doesn't have money. 

When I was working on my MSLIS (the graduate degree required to be a school librarian) (Yes, school librarianship requires a masters degree), I got an email from a professor.  I was attending the University of Illinois, which is ranked first in the nation in the field of librarianship preparation.  A wealthy, highly-competitive public high school (which shall remain nameless) had a library clerk going on maternity leave.  This was not the director or librarian, but a clerk, meaning someone who did check-in, check-out, shelving, and the other day in day out visible work of the library. It is the stuff that people often presume that I do, though I rarely do.  That clerk was going on leave, and the school was looking to hire a substitute.  They were wondering if anyone in the UofI MSLIS program would be willing to do it to gain valuable library experience. 

Why is this an issue at all?  This was a wealthy school where the parents would never tolerate the library being closed. They would never tolerate NOT having a fully certified librarian. The clerk went on maternity leave, and the level of expectation included perhaps hiring someone working on a masters degree to be a substitute.    

Because libraries matter. 
Library staffing levels matter. 
Librarians matter. 

And the educated, wealthy parents at this school knew that. They knew that if the library staffing was reduced, their child's education would suffer.  

Don't think for even a fleeting second that the children of Bill Gates or President Trump go to a school without a full-time certified librarian.  It isn't a luxury; this is because certified librarians are crucial to strong educations. They are essential.   

That isn't an assumption; it is a fact supported by study after study. 

It is because a librarian is a trained, skilled professional who works, often behind the scenes to curate a collection of books, find access to resources, promote reading and literacy, conduct outreach and networking, and in all ways encourage and build a culture of literacy and reading within a school. 

All of that is time consuming.  It is also, often, unseen.  Books are chosen for reasons. Because they are current and deal with important issues.  Because they are award winning. Because they are compelling. Because they bring diversity and inclusively to a school.  Locating books includes reading journals like The Horn Book, School Library Journal, and others to find those starred reviews that support the needs and interests of the students in your school.  It also means combing through things like the longlist for the Man Booker Prize, the National Book Award, the PEN literary Awards, the HUGO nominees, the Eisner Awards, and countless others.  Creating a collection that is both timely and timeless is a constant and time consuming task.  

But without it, you risk the loss of literacy that comes with entering a library that is just a "room full of books".  Book Fairs and Goodwill are staples of the struggling library.  But if that is where the collection is being fed, then it is the students and their literacy that starves.  

The librarian also helps students locate references and navigate research databases.  The librarian promotes the library and reading and the many programs a library can support.  They also make sure the systems in place work, the workflows are streamlined, communication is effective, and tasks are completed.  Librarians, in many ways, are managers.  When they are allowed to manage, libraries run smoothly.  

But only when they are allowed to manage.  

In the current school funding climate of cost reduction and cost savings, if the chopping block requires a certified staff member,  it is far easier to cut art, music, and libraries than it is core classes. (For the record, I don't think any of those should be cut, and I am absolutely opposed to the Teacher Hunger Games climate we have devolved into).

So let's cut a teacher.  

Art?  Well, the art teacher does something, right?  I mean, kids paint and make things and we hang stuff in the hall. They develop art skills and we know art skills are important. 

OK Music?  That teacher is doing something.  Kids can sing and know how to read music and can play a recorder. We know the connections between music and success in math and science. 

Library?  Why do we need that person?  We already have a room full of books. The library has been made, so now it is done. Any idiot can buy a bunch of books. 

Plus, I don't see that person up and about. Researching collection development and getting grants and building a culture of literacy?  What does that even mean? Those aren't real things.  We just need someone to check-in, check-out, and shelve, right?  

A few years ago, Chicago Public School parents were outraged when the union stood up and said that no, they could not replace their certified librarians with a rotating list of volunteers.  

As a librarian myself, I can't even grasp why this is an option.  

Never, ever, in their wildest dreams would a public school district consider replacing an AP chem teacher (a position that typically requires a masters degree) with a volunteer.  

What parent would stand for their child to be taught Spanish or physics or history by a rotating list of volunteers?  None. It is absurd! 

And yet, it is par for the course for librarians.  I mean, they don't even do anything.  Or all they do is shelve. 

Data compiled by the American Library Association directly refutes this idea.  

"When comparing schools with and without librarians, the study indicates that the presence of a qualified school librarian can make a tremendous difference in readingachievement. This difference ranges from eight percent for high schools to 35 percent for elementary schools. For instance, schools with librarians have 35 percent more fourth graders who score proficient or above than schoolswithout librarians." (emphasis added)Rodney, Marcia J., Keith Curry Lance, and Christine Hamilton-Pennell. 2003.The Impact of Michigan School Libraries on Academic Achievement:Kids Who Have Libraries Succeed. Lansing, MI: Library of Michigan.<http://www.michigan.gov/documents/hal_lm_schllibstudy03_76626_7.pdf> (accessed December 15, 2010). Source

OK, but what about test scores?  Because schools have to be all in on test scores these days, right? We all want to raise our SAT scores, so we need to cut librarians in order to fund other SAT-ish stuff, right? 

"In an Iowa study, in all three grade levels surveyed, the students’ test scores tend to rise with the increased incrementally as [library] staffing and library usage increased." (emphasis added)
Rodney, Marcia J., Keith Curry Lance, and Christine Hamilton-Pennell. 2002. Make the Connection: Quality School Library Media Programs ImpacAcademic Achievement in Iowa. Bettendorf, IA: Iowa Area Education Agencies.<http://www.iowaaeaonline.org/pages/uploaded_files/Make TheConnection.pdf> (accessed December 15, 2010). Source

Wait, so that means, if we care about SAT scores, we need more access to libraries and more staffing, not less.

OK, but we don't need a librarian though.  Just check-in, check-out, and shelve. 

“The most important thing a strong library program can have is a full-time certified librarian with support staff.” (emphasis added)
PA School Library Project, et. al. 2012. Creating 21st-Centry Learners: A
Report on Pennsylvania’s Public School Libraries. <http://www.elcpa.org/Creating21stCenturyLearners_LibraryDataReport.10.17.12.pdf> (accessed March 18, 2013). Source

Maybe that is an outlier. 

Full-time school librarians linked to higher student reading scores (2012)Barack, L. (2012, March). Full-time school librarians linked to higher student reading scores. School Library Journal. Retrieved from http://www.slj.com/2011/09/industry-news/something-to-shout-about-new-research-shows-that-more-librarians-means-higher-reading-scores/
http://www.slj.com/2011/09/industry-news/something-to-shout-about-new-research-shows-that-more-librarians-means-higher-reading-scores/

 OK, maybe that is an outlier too. 

Want better reading scores? Hire a full-time librarian (2012)"This article briefly addresses findings by the Library Research Service that 45 percent of students in grades three through ten increased their CSAP test scores over the course of a year, compared with just 29 percent of students who did not have a school librarian at their school. The resource also asserts that library aides and volunteers cannot substitute for school librarians, since they likely do not possess the time or the requisite skills for the role."
Klenke, A. (2012). Want better reading scores? Hire a full-time librarian. Retrieved from Care 2 Make a Difference website: http://www.care2.com/causes/want-better-reading-scores-hire-a-full-time librarian.html# ixzz1pCrjvfnThttp://www.care2.com/causes/want-better-reading-scores-hire-a-full-time librarian.html# ixzz1pCrjvfnT

It isn't an outlier. It is reality.  

Certified librarians are essential to schools.  They are essential to their libraries and the programs it runs.  

Even with the internet.

They help students achieve. 

Their time spent on advocacy and outreach is important.

They are important in helping schools prepare students with 21st century skills. 

And because the current trend is all test scores, all the time, librarians lead to higher test scores. 

Cutting library positions puts student learning at risk. 

Also, test scores. 

And test scores!

Oh, and did I mention test scores? 

You know, with all of this data (each word is a separate link, if you enjoy lots of data), it is almost as if school librarians are important to schools and students. Even if people don't understand what librarians do or why they are important to the library, they are. 

No school would ever dream of getting rid of the football coach because we have an established team. Heck, we only see the coach do anything for a couple of hours on a Friday night!  

Oh, wait, that's absurd.   

And it is. 

Just as it is absurd to think that a room full of books without a librarian is a library.  Or that any idiot could order books, so why do we even need to pay someone to do that?  

But if none of that matters, there is always the issue of test scores. 

   

Giving Away Pencils

I saw this picture on Facebook and was struck deeply by it.  But then I realized: this is it. Right here. This is why I (and every teacher I know) have given kids hundreds of pencils that would never be returned. This is why I (and every teacher I know) have given kids countless notebooks that would never be returned. And snacks. And loose leaf paper. And lunch. And index cards. And on and on.

I can't do everything, but I can do something.

Every teacher I know does the same thing. As the school year starts, if there were one thing I wish non-educators knew, it would be this: the issues facing education in America are enormous. This poem from this student is the tip of the iceberg.

But teachers become teachers so they can *do something*. Not for pensions or pay raises or summers off or glory.

My own children have pencils and notebooks and index cards, but many don't. And those who don't are still important. They will be our neighbors and fellow citizens.

They matter.
Their lives matter.
Their poverty matters.
Their education matters.

And that is worth the cost of a case of pencils.

"Reader" as Identity

As the summer winds down and the school year appears on the horizon, part of my checklist for Back to School time involves the entire family getting updated glasses. I was included in this and went for what I presumed would be bifocals and instead had some semi-scary weirdness. In the process of dealing with that, I found myself going back, again and again, to the same question: Who am I if I am not able to read? 

Yes, I know I tend toward hyperbole. 
Yes, I know about audiobooks (and love them!).
But also, let's be honest, a big part of my identity is wrapped up in reading. 

I am a reader. 
I am a librarian.
I try to get others to read. 
I select books to facilitate reading in others. 
I promote reading. 
I study literacy. 
I am passionate about access to reading. 
I defend against censorship because choosing what to read is essential. 
When I drive alone in my car, I listen to audiobooks rather than the radio. 
My Facebook feed is littered with comments about reading, discussions regarding reading, comments by authors. 
I am a reader, and I want others to be readers. 

Who am I if I can't read? 

Now, again, that is hyperbole. My eye is, at the moment, just fine. 

But as I thought of it, I was ashamed at the depth of privilege my self-pity had been wallowing in. 

I grew up in a school where I was taught to read. 
I had access to books as a child. 
I had access to academic support. 
I have not suffered a disability to interfere with my ability to read or learn. 
I pretty much always had adequate transportation to get me to school, the bookstore, the library.
I currently have access to books. 
I currently have access to technology that can assist me if I am ever low-vision.  

And I see on the news, students suing because they were utterly failed by their school system. Followed by the court saying they don't have a right to literacy. Disgraceful! 

I know the data. 
36 million American adults can't read above a third-grade level. 
85% of juveniles in the criminal justice system are low-literacy. 
If a student can't read at grade level by the end of 4th grade, that student has a 75% chance of ending up in jail or on public aid. 

This is just in the United States. 

There are a lot of people who can't read, and I am not one of them.  

The fear that came with the possibility of losing what I have is just a glimpse of what it is to live in a literate society without access to literacy. What of those who never had it? Or don't believe they have a hope of getting it? 

Literacy should not be something reserved for the few, the wealthy, the privileged.

But it is. And there has to be a way to fix that.  Systems designed to repair it on a macro-scale have failed.  And that, in large part, is why they have failed. 

Literacy is personal.  Some can work within the systems that are created; many can't.  And for those many, it has to be an individualized approach.  

And that brings it back to me.  

While I was grousing about my eye, some student in my district is not able to read at grade level and could use my help. Many, actually. That is where my energies need to be turned.  

I am taking this as an opportunity to redouble my efforts to bring books and literacy to the most students possible in the most customized way I can. 

I am a person who helps others read. 
I am a person who helps teachers get the tools they need to teach their kids to read. 
I am an advocate who does whatever necessary to provide the services my students need. 
I am an ally who provides a safe place for my marginalized students to be able to develop their own educational selves. 

Yes, I am a reader, but I am more than that. I am someone who helps others add that label to their own identities.  

Reading is a part of my identity, but I want it to be a part of everyone's identity.  And I do have the ability to facilitate that. 
One teacher at a time. 
One student at a time. 
One decision at a time. 
One book at a time.

I am a reader who helps others read. I like that identity much more. 

Long and Rambling is Sometimes the Only Way Through

Content warning: abuse

A reckoning is coming in the publishing world, and it has been on the horizon for a long time. How to deal with it is another story entirely.

And it breaks my heart. In so many ways and on so many levels.  It is specifically difficult because of the way it intersects with libraries and their most vulnerable patrons. 

By way of background. I grew up reading the traditional canon of dead white guys.  It is just the way things were.

But I was very fortunate not to be trapped in that.  I read everything Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote and loved her dearly (Yes, I had long braids and a sleeping cap like Laura.  Yes, I lobbied my parents to change my middle name to "Elizabeth."  They refused) Then, at some point, I stumbled across A Wrinkle in Time and saw that girls could write and break boundaries. 

I also had a vast collection of Tasha Tudor books and even met her once. I would spend hours reading the poems and tales, staring at the detailed drawings, trying to drink in every last detail.

I was lucky. I could read stories by women. I could read stories about girls. I could read books where girls were traditional and ones where girls broke boundaries.  I could see the wider world with myself as a part of it. 

But this is because I was not only a girl but a middle-class white girl.  

I honestly don't remember the first time I read a book with a character who was a person of color and was not a criminal, poor, a slave, or an object of pity.  

So when I came to reading young adult books, especially ones with diverse characters, it was new and different. How would I  have felt if I had never ever read a book about a character that looked like me?

But I did have that experience, in a sense.  I am not just a middle-class white woman, but a middle-class fat white woman. (I was a fat kid too.) And that really does change everything.  

When was the last time you read a book and there was a female character who was fat?  Let's say there is one (which is rare).  There is a very good chance that this character is one or more of the following: pathetic, stupid, lovelorn, lazy, abused, dirty, the butt of jokes, self-deprecatingly funny, ugly, unwanted. Oh, and she is always dieting. Her entire existence is defined by her desire to be less

Go ahead, give it a thought. Think of one who isn't. 

Not just books, but TV.  Everyone loses their mind about how amazing This is Us is, but what in the world goes on in the one fat lady's life other than dieting?  Everything centers around it. Same with Mike & Molly. And Roseanne.  Heck, Empire broke ground because its fat female character actually had a love life.

And just like that, we have run out of shows with fat female main characters. And TV is just a mirror of books.  The lessons are the same.  

When Eleanor & Park came out, it was hailed as a groundbreaking take on teen life, at least in part, because Eleanor is fat. She is strong and powerful in her own way, and she finds the most beautiful young love that is so raw and real. And her fatness doesn't prevent that. Yet while she is a wonderful character who is beautifully written, without getting into spoilers, she fits into several of the above categories.  But she is pretty much the best option.

If I as a fat woman were to watch TV or read books, then use those to form ideas about myself, what would I believe?  Nothing good, that's for sure.  

So it is a powerful thing to see someone who could be you doing great things, being amazing and strong and smart and successful.  For kids, it is hard to push back against an unending wave of negative messages to see the possibility of something better in the future, that you can be more than what the world tells you that you are doomed to be. 

Several years ago, I read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.  It is a work of art.  It really is breathtaking in its scope. The story. The words. The characters.  Everything about it.  In it, the author Junot Diaz says, “[I]f you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves.”  

Let that sink in. 

It is dead on. 

Junot Diaz won the Pulitzer for Oscar Wao and has been a celebrity writer ever since. His books are astonishing.  They are fierce in their portrayal of the truth. They have strong, powerful, diverse characters and speak so much truth it is hard to comprehend at times.  

He has a newly released children's book, Islandborn. What a beautiful book! And with a Dominican girl as the central character, talking about her heritage, showing the strength of immigrants, and filled with richly written and drawn diverse characters.  What a treasure for a young child to open a book like this and see images of herself!   

Full disclosure, if it were not clear already, I adore Dias.  I love what he writes, what he says, the way he says it. His unapologetic support for those things that are important to him.  

That's what makes this so difficult.  

In mid-April, Diaz wrote a piece for the New Yorker detailing his childhood abuse at the hands of a trusted adult.  The essay is excruciating.  The trauma.  The residual damage to Daiz.  The ways his life has been warped and shaped.  It is painful and powerful and horrible. 

I grieved for Diaz.  I still do. Even now, writing this, my heart hurts, and I have to struggle not to cry. Thinking of how many people have a story like Diaz's.  How many kids have faced similar abuse and not survived?  The horror is too great sometimes.  

Then, just a few days ago, allegations surfaced of Diaz's abuse of women.  

And there it is.  

Now, in the last 24 hours, MIT has started an investigation into allegations against Daiz.  He has resigned from the Pulitzer committee and faces investigation there. 

Diaz, to his credit, acknowledges the voices and testimony of the accusers. He says that he accepts responsibility for his actions. What that means, in the long run, is anyone's guess. 

The fall of Junot Diaz, really, is just one rock in an avalanche of those who stand accused. When these powerful men fall, with them go the written works they have created, many of which are, quite frankly irreplaceable.  They fill a hole in the literary world.  With writers of color being marginalized and overlooked for so long, each and every work by one who did make it onto the shelves is essential.  

But when those writers have done despicable things, what happens to their works? 

• Bill Cosby's Little Bill series is groundbreaking for young kids, especially young African American boys.   
• Sherman Alexie's works are canon now.  What library worth its salt doesn't have The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian? 
• Jay Asher of 13 Reasons Why  brought important attention to mental health issues
• James Dashner's The Maze Runner books are important texts for boys who often find reading inaccessible or uninteresting.
• Heck, the Nobel committee announced that in the face of sexual abuse allegations there would be no 2018 Nobel in Literature. For the first time since 1949.      

And it is only May. 

Yes, these allegations and crimes are horrific. Not just Diaz but many many men in the writing and publishing world.  And for many of them, the situation has been whispered about and ignored.  It is a good thing that these are being brought to light. It is the only way to bring healing.  At a minimum, it is the first step. 

But then what in the world do we do with the books?

When Sherman Alexie's books are the best, most accessible, beloved representation of Native American characters?

When Bill Cosby's Little Bill books are beloved, beautifully illustrated, wonderfully written, and representative of positively written young black boys?

What about Junot Diaz's books?

Far better people than me have thought about this and written about it. 

Kara Yorio writing for School Library Journal 
Aya de Leon's blog post Reconciling Rage and Compassion
is the best I have read regarding Diaz and what happens next. (full disclosure: it has some strong language).

Watching the media circus around the #MeToo movement is, in many ways an abstraction. But when it comes to the shelves of my library, what happens?

Junot Diaz's words still hover over the entire discussion: “[I]f you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves.” How much damage would it cause to remove all the books by all the authors who turn out to be despicable or those who have done despicable things?

And for that reason, I can't look at a book without considering those kids who would benefit from reading it. Or those who will get a glimpse into a life and world they don't know and grow from it.

I am not pulling a book simply because the author is despicable.

This is especially true when those are influential texts or ones that are representative of diverse characters.

I can't justify taking down a book that can play an important role in allowing a student to see themselves and their world in a broader, deeper way with a true depiction of themselves. I can't. And I won't.

I strongly believe in access and the power of self-censorship. If you don't like a book, don't read it. If an author is reprehensible to you, don't read it. I follow this in my own life (Woody Allen, I'm looking directly at you), so I am going to give my students that same courtesy.

These long and rambling thoughts, while a glimpse of the chaotic pathways my mind takes, are really the only way for me to tackle a mess like this. Nothing happens in isolation. No single issue is without connection to a dozen others.

It is hard to separate the art from the artist.

And it is impossible for me to separate the art from those who will benefit from it.

Books are essential as mirrors and windows and doorways. Who am I to close them?

Stacks and Basements and the River Styx

When I was rather young, I would go to my public library (having been dropped off) and wander through the stacks; that's the term for the shelves upon shelves of books, typically not on the main floor or main area. No displays. Just very functional shelving. Shelves and shelves of books. There was rarely anyone there, certainly never any other kids. 

I liked to wander up and down the aisles, running my hand across the cool spines and gold-embossed letters. I rarely checked-out a book from that section. In fact, I don't recall ever doing so since this was basically overstock of adult fiction and non-fiction. But every trip to the library, I always climbed the stairs to the stacks.  It is amazing how being the only person amidst thousands of books is actually not lonely, but comforting.  The solitude and quiet, surrounded by this cloud of stories. Unknown. Unread. But still present.    

When I was a teenager, I used to go to that same public library (having driven myself there), check out books, and sneak down to the basement. There were large, typically unused meeting rooms where I would lie on the floor for hours in the cool and dark, and read. I doubt this could happen today with security alarms and cameras and such. But at that time, all one had to do was know which door led that way and open the door with purpose. 

Those were days when I had no place to be, no people to be with, and a desperate need to exist somewhere safe. I could have gone to the park, I suppose (full disclosure: I am not a big fan of nature), but when seeking a sanctuary, the public library was my go-to place.  

Yes, libraries are often rooms full of books, but they are a lot more than that for a lot of people. 

It is National Library Week, and that always makes me a bit maudlin.  I can't really fathom where I would be without the libraries that have dotted my path.  

At those several crucial times in my life, they have been essential as places of sanctuary.  

When I think of libraries, it is always with a sense of reverence.  
A sacredness.  
These places that serve the public good. 
Storehouses of knowledge.  

Places of refuge. 

I think back to my much younger selves and doubt that either of those versions of me could know how long-lasting the impact would be. It is as if I was being dipped repeatedly in the River Styx, strengthened, readied, prepared for life and the larger world.