One Special Librarian

My elementary school library smelled of aging books and furniture polish. Shelves lined the walls, wooden tables filled the floorspace, and at the center of the room sat the desk of our school librarian, Mrs. Daniels.

Although Mrs. Daniels’ library was a place of rigid structure and meticulous organization, her voice was always soft, her demeanor was always calm, and her admonitions never exhibited judgment. In her library, children felt safe.

When I was in third grade, Mrs. Daniels asked me if I would be her library assistant, a position I ended up holding for the duration of my elementary school years. After lunch each day, when my classmates went out to the field for recess, I reported to the library. For me, a crowded field full of unstructured activity generated anxiety, but in the library, I found peace.

Under the watchful eye of Mrs. Daniels, I shelved returned books, neatly lining up the spines the way she had taught me to do. After about 20 minutes of working undisturbed in the quiet of the library, I would return to class, recharged and calm. What good fortune for me that my librarian needed an assistant.

Once each year, Mrs. Daniels would prune her collection and discard books that were starting to fall apart. The great thing about Discard Day was that she always let me pick a book to keep. I still remember The Shy Stegosaurus of Cricket Creek by Evelyn Sibley Lampman. It was missing its jacket, and the front cover had detached from the interior spine. But I loved that book. Not only because the story was whimsical and fun, but because it was probably the first discard I had been allowed to select.

The discard I still own and cherish is a very old copy of Where the Red Fern Grows. Truly, I think it’s decomposing before my eyes, but I can't get rid of it. This story completely captivated me. It took me on an emotional journey of desire, persistence, joy, and devastation. Okay, it wrecked me by the end. But it left me thinking Wow – look what a book can do. And that powerful realization made me want to be a writer.

The funny thing is, these warm memories were made during a turbulent time. A large portion of our student population had recently fled from Cuba with their families. They were assimilating into a new reality and processing life experiences that were beyond my comprehension. The Vietnam War raged throughout my elementary years and beyond, and protests were commonplace. When I was in first grade, as my big brother became part of that war, my school was integrated. Mrs. Daniels was among the first Black teachers to join the faculty. 

And yet, despite the turbulence of the times, Mrs. Daniels resides in the part of my memory where soft things collect. I have no idea what struggles she faced in her personal life or if she had even wanted to come to our school. She never told me why she asked me to be her library assistant, and I never asked. All I knew was that in her presence, I was given the gift of complete acceptance. And reflecting on her gives me hope.

Today's children are experiencing turbulent times. In addition to political chaos, economic uncertainty, and the threat of gun violence, schools have become targets for those who want to control which books can be made available to young readers. All too often, school librarians are caught in the crosshairs. And yet, they show up each day and create safe spaces for their students.

The week of April 7-13 is National Library Week, and the American Library Association (ALA) offers a list of ways you can support libraries and librarians. You can celebrate Right to Read Day and lift your voice in advocacy. Or on a more personal level, you can visit a library and offer kindness to a local librarian. And if you were fortunate enough to have one special librarian in your life, maybe you can reach out and say Thank you.

Unfortunately, I waited too long to thank Mrs. Daniels. A brief internet search informed me that she passed away in 2018. There were no details listed about her life or death, but there was a photo of an aging woman whose warm eyes I remembered well. 

I wish I had reached out sooner. I wish I had thanked Mrs. Daniels for asking me to be her library assistant. I wish I had let her know that she brought peace and calm to the heart of an anxious child in a turbulent world. I wish I had told her…but I’m guessing she probably knew.