The kids had career day at their preschool last week. One of the
boys decided he wanted to be a librarian like daddy. (To which I almost
said: “No, son. Do not follow in daddy’s hippy idealistic
footsteps. Go be a scientist or a doctor or something that’s valued by
society and makes money.”) So mommy dressed him as the stereotype:
big glasses and a backpack full of books. And of course he was told the standard
role of the librarian was someone who helps other people find books.
After mommy was done I tried to… uh, “update” the description of a
librarian to the twenty-first century. The boy listened politely as I stumbled
with how to explain exactly what I do. I don’t work in a physical library
and I don’t really use books much anymore when it comes to research. But
he doesn’t get “research” anyway. Nor does he get what it means to help
people find “information” (regardless of format) or why that’s important.
All week I’ve been struggling with how to describe what I do to my
kids.
At this point you’re probably saying: “He’s four. What the hell does it matter?! Give him the
basic concept and move on.” So I’ve also been struggling with why I
care. And I suppose it comes back to showing value because I love what I
do. Organizing books isn’t valuable to society and it’s not what I
do. (Or at least it’s only a very, very small part.) No, I don’t
need to prove my worth to my son, but I want him to have an appreciation and
respect for what I do and love.
So I decided to make it kind of sexy and say: “A librarian is kind of
like a detective. He helps other people by finding things for them
whether that’s books or artifacts or words that help them be better people.”
My four year old nodded politely and then asked “Daddy, what’s a
detective?” *facepalm*
