I recently got back from a week at the beach. It really is my happy place. Sun, sand, water sparkling, time on the boat, family meals, my child and his cousins playing in the surf, even dolphins playing not far off the shore one day.
One of my best friends lives near the beach, so I got to spend some time with her and see her new beautiful "beach" room. Part of the decor were shadow boxes with shells, shark teeth and coral she has collected over the years. Her kitchen is overrun with shells at the moment! We talked about the collection of shells and how our boys like to help, if by helping we mean pick up 10 shells/coral/rocks/trash to our one, and choosing the biggest things on the beach to add to the bucket.
I took my son shell gathering that afternoon, and sure enough, he picked up three or four times as many shells/coral/rocks as I did. Many of his choices were rocks (or maybe coral) or shells with holes in them. Not artistic, pretty holes that you could use to make the shell into jewelry or a Christmas ornament - no, big gaping holes with raggedy edges. But to him, they were the coolest shells on the beach. I found myself gravitating toward shells with lovely colors and stripes, shells that had been worn down until they were smooth and shiny. They weren't perfect shells, but ones that had a little personality!
I get a little introspective when walking on the beach looking at shells. It is peaceful (even with my sweet son talking up a storm beside me) to hear the waves and feel the sun on my skin. As I looked at the shells, I began to think about life. While we might choose to project an image of our lives as being perfect, we all are those broken shells. Life has shaped us, polished us, caused some holes, but also made us into the beautiful creatures we are.
My life certainly has changed this year. Last year when I was at the beach with my family, I had just interviewed for a position as a school library media coordinator (otherwise known as a school librarian). I found out at the beach that I got the job. I was SO anxious about taking the job - I hadn't even finished grad school yet, had no experience in education, and knew it was going to be a challenge. But I took the plunge and accepted the job.
And it was a challenge - I worked hard all year to develop lesson plans, and learn classroom management skills, and figure out how to manage a school library. While I have always respected teachers, I now know they are superheroes in disguise. Yet, I realized that this was not the job for me, and decided not to come back this year. Instead, I will finish my degree and spend some time in both public and academic libraries to see which type feels like a good fit for me. It was the right decision, but it was a hard one to make.
When I went to my 20-year high school reunion a few years ago, I was talking to a group of former classmates, and, as I normally do, was gesticulating with my hands and (probably) talking a little fast. One of them laughed and said that I hadn't changed a bit since high school - still hyper and talking too fast and waving my arms around. I choose to see that as my strength, that when I am passionate about something, you can tell, because I wear that passion on my sleeve.
While on the beach, looking for shells, that conversation at my reunion came to mind. What am I passionate about? Books, talking to people and helping them find what they need, teaching people how to use new technology, being a resource, and making a difference. Can I see myself doing those things in a public library? Definitely yes. In an academic library? Definitely yes.
One of the doors opened by the closing of the "school librarian" window is a chance to take a class on Community Informatics. Next semester, I will be learning about how public libraries serve as a hub for their communities and offer vital services, especially through information and communications technologies. Since my "first" career was in Communications/Public Relations and I worked mostly with non-profits, this feels like a natural fit for me. When I registered for classes this spring, I was excited about the opportunity to take this class, and the chance to volunteer (probably at my public library) as part of this course. I feel a bit like the baby bird in the classic children's book, Are You My Mother? Is the public library going to be the right fit for me? My guess is, yes, but I will have to see.
Then, as your mind does when you are being introspective, my mind jumped to another topic, how all of those life experiences shape how we view the world and how we interact with it. I thought about all of my friends, and what I would list as their defining characteristics. Strong, fighting for the underdog, kind, funny, dedicated to family, supportive, irreverent, silly, loyal, service-minded - those were the adjectives that applied to them all.
My friend making the shadow boxes has been through what I would imagine is one of the worst things that could happen to you, the loss of a child. She is an introvert, a lover of books and comfortable clothes and animals. But since her son's cancer diagnosis two years ago, she has gotten out of her comfort zone and spoken at fundraisers and on the radio, in hopes that children's cancer research can find a cure and keep another family from having to go through what she and her family did. Another good friend lost her father to early-onset dementia, and she, too, speaks and acts as an advocate for increased research funding for Alzheimer's and other dementia diagnoses. Both continue to be a positive force for change in this world, and I admire them for it.
Several of my friends are relentlessly fighting for public school funding both on the county level and the state level. They are not only fighting for their own kids, but for kids who do not have the advantages our kids have. They want every school to have the resources they need, classrooms and bathrooms that are clean and in working order, and teachers who feel supported and appreciated. It is easy to fight for your own school, and your own child or children, but to fight for every child takes dedication and a heart for serving others.
I have friends who wear their hearts on their sleeves, and others who have a harder exterior, but are softies inside. I have friends who foster animals, volunteer for political campaigns, raise money for nonprofits that are dear to their hearts, and give of themselves, even when it hurts. Are they perfect people? Of course not, but they are trying to give others a hand up in a world that values cut-throat behavior over being a good person.
And my friends make me laugh. They know the value of a hug, a smile, a night out without the responsibilities of jobs or families weighing on us. We support each other and love each other and I can't imagine what I would do without them.
Broken, worn smooth by life, but still shining. That is what my friends are. That is, I hope, what I am. Now, what to do with that grocery bag full of seashells in my garage...
