things i heard at the library: national indigenous people's day 2024: an occasional series # 41

Libraries across Canada celebrate National Indigenous People's Day, and at the Port Hardy Library, that celebration is especially meaningful. The local population is at least 40% Indigenous, and a huge portion of our regular customers identify as Indigenous. 

This year, the branch team collaborated to offer two very special events.

Partners in service

In the afternoon, we hosted a "healing circle," facilitated by someone from the Kwala'sta Healing Centre, part of Gwa'sala-Nakawaxda'xw Nations healthcare. We invited our "regulars" -- folks who are grieving, and struggling. They are coping with immense personal loss, the impacts of intergenerational trauma, and some with substance use and mental health issues.

This was part of my ongoing mission to bring service providers to the library, so people can access more community services in a space they are already comfortable in -- a literal take on the maxim "meeting people where they are". I also wanted a program that would welcome our regulars and focus on their needs, as opposed to special programming which -- almost without exception -- they do not feel comfortable attending.

The healing circle was the idea of a community member who, for National Indigenous People's Day 2023, taught a Kwak'wala language lesson. I was so pleased to make her suggestion a reality. 

The healing circle

A bowl of fresh bannock to boost attendance

We publicized this in advance, but many people in need can't plan too far ahead, or at all. So on the day, an outreach worker invited and encouraged people to attend, person to person, one at a time. Staff and I invited and encouraged people using our public computers to join. We also had a huge bowl of freshly baked bannock, which a member of our library family from G-N Nation made for this event. There is nothing like bannock to boost attendance!

Offering a sharing circle in the public library was risky. We really had no idea if anyone would participate, or how it would come off in a public setting. First one person sat, then another. Someone would watch from a distance, then tentatively sit. And gradually, the circle filled out. 

Some people spoke a lot, some said only a few words. Many people cried. Some got up and stood behind someone who was speaking or crying. The facilitators shared some of their own experiences. They share a common culture and history, and much lived experience, so their words were very meaningful. 

One of our neediest customers watched for a while, then took a seat. She didn't speak, but just sitting there was huge. Staff and I were thrilled. 

We are hoping to build on this success, and to offer this monthly, and then perhaps twice-monthly or weekly. There is food outreach daily, so we're arranging for that to happen outside the library, then folks can take their food to the circle and eat and share.

Button blankets

In the evening, we hosted an elder from Quatsino First Nation (the grandmother of one of our regulars) who led a group in making miniature button blankets. There were small squares of felt, and sequins (standing in for buttons), needles and thread. 

Button blankets are integral to Kwakwaka'wakw culture. (Kwakwaka'wakw -- pronounced kwa-wok-ya-wok -- means "Kwak'wala-speaking people".) We see the blankets at ceremonies and dance demonstrations; their creation is a pillar of cultural preservation.

A button blanket, no doubt
stolen from a Pacific Coastal nation,
on display in the Denver Art Museum

The elder talked about the significance of button blankets, how she learned to make them, the many blankets she has made. She talked about how the residential school experience impacted that knowledge, and how the children imprisoned there created forms of resistance. 

Typically, elders tell stories while they lead a creative session. This is very much an Indigenous way of knowledge-keeping and teaching.

A few years ago, I worked with a Kwakiutl (kwa-gi-ooth) elder to create a video and templates for making mini button blankets. Librarians from our system used this as a base for "take and make" kits, one for kids and one for adults. They were incredibly popular. What a privilege and joy it was to be part of that. 

That lovely elder has since passed away. And now, through the efforts of a staff member who has many ties to the community, I have a small connection with another elder. It's a special and wonderful thing.

"i'm afraid to leave the house, because i'll hear about another death": the ongoing crises and the toll on frontline workers

The branch supervisor of the Port Hardy Library
made these, on her own initiative. We have given
away more than 50 of these "crisis keychains" so far.
Front and back pictured here.

The Port Hardy community has been besieged with a series of untimely deaths, many of young people. This has been going on for several years, but last year it escalated sharply, and this year has been even worse.

In 2023, 21 people died from non-natural causes. This year so far, there have been 13 such deaths. This in a community of about 4,400 people. 

Almost all the victims have been Indigenous people.

These deaths are caused by toxic drug poisoning, by alcohol addiction, by car accidents in which alcohol was involved. There have been a substantial number of suicides. 

Many in the community are trapped in a cycle of trauma. Among people already using substances, in lives riddled with trauma, there is no healthy way to process these fresh wounds. The connections among intergenerational trauma, personal loss and grief, mental health, and substance use are an almost seamless web. 

It is heartbreaking.

This crisis hits frontline workers very hard, and library workers are part of that. Libraries are often the only public space left for the people most impacted by these multiple crises. Many of our customers have died. We have lost people that we used to see every day. Others that we see every day have lost sons, daughters, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles, aunts. They bring their grief and trauma to us daily.  

People within the community are intimately connected through extended family and Nation ties. As one of our beloved regulars said, "I'm afraid to leave the house in the morning, because I fear I'll hear about another death."

Two of our regulars, a couple, lost a child in an alcohol-related car accident. Before this, they were working hard at rehab. They were clean and sober for the longest time they had ever managed. Then this. 

One of them is the person I performed CPR on in 2019. He uses our public computers, watching videos of his son and sobbing. Imagine processing your grief in public. 

The other constantly gets into fights, hurling her anger and grief at everyone around her.

The woman whose dog I adopted -- Cookie's first mom -- died a few months ago. I saw her at the library every single day since starting work here five years ago. That was the only funeral I have attended so far. The room was full of elders, burying one young person after the next.

Library staff is constantly exposed to this grief and at the very same moment, must cheerily assist customers with their book searches, their holds, their checkouts, their tech questions. Must give a happy and upbeat storytime. Must simply move on with their day.

For many people, trauma combined with substance use equals aggressive and menacing behaviour, so we're always dealing with that, too. We call the ambulance. We (reluctantly) call the police. We call a mental health outreach worker, but they are overtaxed and can rarely respond. 

We're trained in Naloxone. One day each week, a harm-reduction nurse is available at the library to train anyone in the community. We have drug-testing strips. 

We've had training in crisis prevention and trauma-informed practice. We've had recognition and support from First Nations elders. We've discussed and debriefed and done way too much self-care. 

Some staff respond by going into overdrive, trying to help more. Some can't think straight. Some fold into themselves. Some pretend it doesn't hurt. I'm an expert at compartmentalizing. I'm expected to take care of my staff, but the demands of my job don't allow too much time for that.

This week, staff and I are attending a two-day workshop on suicide prevention: ASIST. It's being offered jointly by Island Health and the First Nations Health Authority. Demand was so great that many people couldn't get in, and a second round is being offered a bit later this year. It's wonderful that so many people are interested. It's devastating that the need is so great.

the secret pocket: children's books on residential schools, reading for reconciliation, and other library things

This post started as a standard "what i'm reading" post. But as I thought about it, I realized that it touches on several other themes that are important to me: history, Reconciliation, libraries, readers' advisory... and maybe some others I'm not seeing yet.

The Secret Pocket

In September, for National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, I was updating a list of children's books about residential schools, and found The Secret Pocket, by Peggy Janicki. It immediately became my favourite children's book about the residential school experience.

The Secret Pocket tells the story -- in the first person -- of a Dakelh girl who was taken away from her family when she was four years old. She is brought to a place far away from her home, where the children are always hungry and cold. The girls are forbidden to speak their own language, and are frequently punished -- often by the withholding of food.

The older girls sew hidden pockets into their clothes. They secretly gather materials and sew at night, then use the pockets to hide pieces of apples, carrots, and bread to share with the younger girls, and the girls who are hungriest.

In the Dakelh culture before contact, sewing skills were passed down through generations of women. The girls who were a bit older when they were forcibly removed from their families already had this knowledge. So not only were they helping to feed each other, they were keeping a piece of their culture alive.  

The Secret Pocket records and preserves the stories that the author's mother told her about her own experience -- a story of courageous, creative, and collective resistance. I highly recommend it to all adult readers as well as children. 

How to talk to kids about...

Canadian schools now teach about Canada's colonization of Indigenous people, and about the Residential Schools, at every grade level. It's about time! My Canadian-born friends never learned about this when they were growing up. Many of them lived right near a Residential School but never knew about the genocidal system that they represented, let alone what went on behind the prison walls. 

Many people I know are particularly upset at learning that Duncan Campbell Scott was one of the principal architects of the system that vowed to "kill the Indian in the child". (Apparently this phrase is falsely attributed to Scott. Nevertheless, he created the system that tried to make it a reality.) In school, my Canadian friends and co-workers learned about Scott as a celebrated Canadian poet. They learned about his dark legacy as adults, through Reconciliation education through their workplaces. 

(Incidentally, those three names -- Duncan, Campbell, and Scott -- are found all over Vancouver Island place-names. I hope one day those names will be expunged, and places returned to their ancestral names.)

Reconciliation education stands in stark contrast to so many school districts in the United States that are no longer teaching about slavery. This choice is truly Orwellian, even surreal. And so indicative of the progress of the fascist state.

There are ways to talk with children about difficult topics, in age-appropriate ways. I'm no student of education, so I'm not well-versed in method and curricula, but I see it taking place all around me. 

Reading for Reconciliation

For non-Canadian readers, Reconciliation is the process of educating ourselves about the historical (and ongoing) colonization and oppression of the Indigenous people who live in what is now called Canada, and finding ways to create more equity and justice. 

This work is happening in workplaces, schools, unions, churches, and other organizations, and it is also happening on a personal level. Individual Canadians are taking responsibility for learning, and to the extent that we can, for decolonizing our lives. The 94 Calls to Action created by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission provide a framework for this. 

Obviously not every Canadian cares about this, and a certain percentage of the non-Indigenous population is blatantly hostile to the idea. But evidence also shows that huge numbers of non-Indigenous Canadians care deeply about this and are finding ways to participate in acts of Reconciliation.

One of the ways that Canadians further their own Reconciliation journeys is through reading. Books written by Indigenous authors, both fiction and nonfiction, for every age group and nearly every genre, are burgeoning in sales, libraries, and book clubs. I find this especially heartening when I consider that much of the subject matter in these books is disturbing -- and many people (unfortunately, in my view) avoid reading anything with disturbing content. 

I want to note that in Indigenous Relations: Insights, Tips & Suggestions to Make Reconciliation a Reality, author Bob Joseph lists reading work by Indigenous authors as a tangible act of Reconciliation.

If you have not already done so, I highly recommend reading Joseph's 21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act. It's a short, highly accessible book, and my number one pick for beginning Reconciliation awareness. Here's a very good interview with Bob Joseph in The Tyee.

We💓booklists

Many library systems, including mine, offer booklists -- lists curated by librarians, grouped by subgenre, age group, or subject matter, to highlight hidden gems and help customers choose titles.

Booklists are an important form of readers' advisory. Staffing levels -- in every library in North America -- are very low, and in many libraries, there may be no professional staff who have been trained in readers' advisory. Even if staff are available, many customers won't ask for reading recommendations, for various reasons. So most libraries offer various forms of passive readers' advisory. Booklists are a part of that. 

In our system, lists are created by any staff who have an interest. A call goes out, staff sign up for topics within an audience group (adult, youth, or children), or suggest creative list ideas. We put our annotated picks into a template, so the lists have a uniform look and feel. Our lists are always diverse and current, and many are really creative.

I love readers' advisory, and my position doesn't give me much opportunity to keep those skills alive, so when the call goes out, I always raise my hand. It's an opportunity "to librarian". Right now I'm working on two adult lists -- current travel memoirs, and memoirs and biographies. I almost always choose nonfiction lists, with one exception: I love the challenge of creating diverse lists of modern classics. I also sometimes contribute to lists of children's books, which is how I found The Secret Pocket.

five years on: reflections on the big life change

The Port Hardy skyline

Since starting this blog in 2004, I've experienced three Big Life Changes. 

The first, of course, was emigrating to Canada. 

The second was becoming a librarian. More than a career change, this was a huge shift in lifestyle and identity. 

The third Big Life Change was moving west, to a small, remote community on Vancouver Island.

So this feels significant: five years ago today, we arrived in Port Hardy.

27 November 2018

We started the day in Delta, took the ferry, then drove north, the final day of our seven-day road trip. We were driving our little Kia, our big boy Diego in the back seat. Behind us, my brother was driving the truck; my sister-in-law had joined us in Calgary. (They travelled from Oregon to do this with us!)

As we left Campbell River, it was dark, and it was raining, and it felt like we were driving forever. Every time we passed a sign showing kilometres to Port Hardy, we cheered. And then: the welcome sign, and some lights. And finally, our rental home, which we thought would be our permanent home for many years, and turned out to be a brief pitstop.

Professionally, a rocky start

Only days later, I drove down to Nanaimo, for two weeks in both Nanaimo, my employer's headquarters, and Campbell River. I always say, "I had a rocky start", but that's a euphemism. My first few days were a disaster. When I finally started working in Port Hardy, my confidence was in shreds.

My job was a newly-created position; I was (am) the only professional librarian in all five of my branches. Early on, I had many good experiences, but for every one of those, there were two or three (or five or ten) uncomfortable or disturbing ones. 

I had never seen such under-resourced libraries. The conditions that were accepted as normal were shocking to me. I had to fight the bureaucracy just to get basic supplies. Most of my tech didn't work. 

Managing people remotely, by phone and email, was a new challenge. Some of my staff were unaccustomed to being supervised. Some were suspicious of outsiders and sought to undermine me whenever possible. Much of my experience didn't translate easily, or at all. I made many wrong turns, hit many dead ends.

In addition, and unbeknownst to me, there was a systemic barrier between the library and the local Indigenous communities, and between the library and the public schools. Both had suffered dismal, disrespectful experiences with our library, and wanted nothing to do with us. 

There was much reason to be hopeful

Luckily for me, sprinkled amid all that frustration, there were lovely exchanges with customers, and some staff who welcomed me and were eager to work together. My professional colleagues, although geographically distant, were incredibly welcoming and supportive, and so engaged with our union -- far more so than I had experienced in Ontario. 

There was also an upside to things being in such bad shape: I was making improvements all the time. There was so much room for growth.

Personally, a magical beginning

While the professional situation was challenging and frustrating, the personal end was simply wonderful. We instantly loved the quiet, simple life. Allan loved working from home, and I loved my five-minute "commute".

There was so much natural beauty all around us. Down the street we could see the bay, fringed by distant snow-capped mountains. Driving anywhere meant winding "country roads" (known here as a highway) through the rainforest. We saw eagles every day. Ten minutes away, we could take the dogs to a magnificent beach, mountains on the horizon, eagles overhead.

Diego needed surgery, and was near the end of his life. That was as horrible as we knew it would be, but we very quickly found a whole new pack. Then we did something completely unexpected, another massive change: we bought our home. About ten minutes later, housing prices skyrocketed. Timing is everything!

Five years on

Fully understanding my new library role and the organization I work for took longer than I expected. It's been extremely rewarding. It's never boring -- which is fortunate, since I intend to stay in this job until I retire.

Becoming part of the community of service providers took much longer. When I share this observation with other professionals in our town, everyone remembers the same experience. Working in the North Island region is often a career stepping-stone; people come for two or three years, then move on. Because of this, whether consciously or no, locals are reluctant to invest. People are waiting to see if you mean business. It took the better part of three years to get past this. 

It's wonderful to feel at home, both personally and professionally.

Of course there are limitations and annoyances of living in a remote region, but everything's a trade-off. There are plenty of annoyances about living in New York City, but I wouldn't have traded my years there for the world. It's great to feel that way again.

_________

My moving to BC post are here. Allan was sharing his reflections and observations in comments on those posts -- now lost.

maya'xala: things i heard in the library, an occasional series # 40

In my ongoing efforts to make the Port Hardy Library a safer workplace, and a more comfortable space for customers, I was invited to a elders' luncheon at the Gwa'sala-'Nakwaxda'xw Nations. 

Addressing the elders, I tried to convey how we have worked hard to make our library a welcoming space to everyone in the community, no matter what their status or condition. But while I was concerned with the elders understanding their community is welcome at our library, the elders told me that our staff was too welcoming, too "soft," and we needed stricter boundaries. They expressed genuine concern for the safety of our staff.

I learned that people cannot access services on the reserve when they are intoxicated or otherwise under the influence. They are not allowed in the administrative offices or health care offices. There are many treatment options available, but there's a zero-tolerance policy on intoxicated people wandering into offices or meeting spaces. 

* * * *

This lovely luncheon experience led to a visit to the library by two local elders. 

They expressed similar concerns that we are too soft. They were concerned for our safety and the safety of all our customers -- as they put it, grandmas with their grandbabies. They advised us to stop people at the door, and if they're intoxicated, tell them to turn around and leave. 

The elders also advised us to pay no attention when intoxicated people accuse us of racism. When we ask an intoxicated and disruptive person to leave the library, we are called racists. The same person, when sober, knows full well that's not why they're being asked to leave. It's just something to say -- a way to get a rise out of us. I'm always reminding staff to let it roll right off them. The affirmation from the elders was extremely useful! 

The elders asked for our permission to pray for us. We held hands in a circle and bent our heads while the more senior person prayed. While this was happening, an intoxicated person interrupted, trying to ask a question. The elder in prayer held up her hand in front of his face and prayed harder. The man apologized and shrank away.

Now, I couldn't tell them that what works for them will not necessarily work for us. We cannot refuse admission to the library based on the appearance of intoxication or our judgement of someone's condition. I can't put staff in a position of assessing customers' fitness for entry. We can only ask customers to leave based on their behaviour. There's a difference. 

In addition, an elder can address community members in a way we cannot. If our staff spoke spoke that way, they would be escalating -- and putting themselves at risk. The person who brought me to the luncheon put it this way: The elders can put a person in their place, because no one's going to punch them. 

* * * *

During this visit, my staff and I received a beautiful affirmation. The elders knew that our library was a welcoming place for members of their Nation, knew that we have created a space of caring and respect. Their concern for our safety meant so much to us. 

The elders gave us a word: a Kwak'wala word to use in the library. Receiving a word is not a simple translation. It's a gift. The elders were saying that we are connected to their community. 

The word is maya'xala. Here is Pewi Alfred of the 'Namgis nation in Alert Bay demonstrating the pronunciation.

The Alfreds are a well-known Alert Bay family who are deeply involved in cultural preservation. I recently learned that someone in our library community is Pewi Alfred's granddaughter, something she revealed to me with great pride.

* * * *

On a personal note, at the luncheon, I tasted t'lina. T'lina (pronounced gleet-na) in oil harvested from eulachon. This oil has great cultural significance, which I have learned about at the U'mista Cultural Centre. The process of rendering oil from these tiny fish takes many weeks and is a painstaking, meticulous process. T'lina is also tremendously healthy, with many healing properties. 

A short film by the late Barb Cranmer, 'Namgis knowledge-keeper and filmmaker who passed away in 2019, is available to National Film Board of Canada subscribers, and on DVD from the U'mista Centre: The Rendering of Wealth. Even if you can't watch the movie, the blurb is worth reading. 

T'lina is the fishiest food I have ever tasted. We were eating a simple halibut soup -- big chunks of halibut, along with potatoes and other vegetables, in broth -- and the cooks came around with a pitcher and ladle, asking if we wanted oil in the soup. Several people laughingly waved them away. The cook asked me if I wanted to try it, and I would never say no. In addition to possibly being insulting, I always say yes to trying new things. Wow! Fishy!

Before the soup, we were served herring roe on pieces of kelp. This was tasty, although rubbery. It would have been great fried (called kazunoko in Japanese cuisine). One of the elders sitting nearby, when offered some, joked, "Get away with that, I don't eat rubber!" I ate a bit of everything, and the cooks insisted I take leftovers with me.

I am always so humbled by the graciousness of First Nations hosts. 

* * * *

This experience was also personally gratifying for me, as it affirmed my connections in the community, and the trust I have earned. 

After a week where we called 911 fifteen times in five days, including five times in one single day, I reached out to the manager of Foundry Port Hardy. They in turned reached out to many other people, including a nurse who works in mental health and addiction services. They in turn reached out to several more people, and invited me to the elders' luncheon. The nurse worked on the reserve for many years, and has deep connections in the community, and I attended as their guest. 

These connections took much longer to form that I thought they would. When I moved to Port Hardy, I imagined a transition period of six or eight months. It took three years. 

This town is plagued by a lack of continuity. Many professionals move here as a stepping stone in their career, and move on after a year or two. I think, whether consciously or no, people were waiting to see if I proved myself by remaining in the community. Finally, in my fifth year here, I feel I've passed the test.

"can you see the head?" : things i heard at the library: an occasional series, # 39

At the Port Hardy library, we serve many marginalized people. They are poor, street-involved, struggling with the intertwined impacts of intergenerational trauma, mental illness, and addiction. The most common impact we see is alcohol addiction. The reasons are no mystery: alcohol is cheap, legal, and readily available. 

I have no doubt that many other people in our community -- people we don't see at the library -- also struggle with alcoholism. The difference is they are able to do that behind closed doors. When you're unhoused, your struggles become public. (We also see many unhoused people who are sober.)

Our staff call the police or ambulance at least three times each week, and we are only open five days. A week with five or six calls is not unknown. A week without any calls is unusual. Often people fall asleep and become unresponsive. Often people become abusive. Often... all kinds of things.

I personally am very calm and accepting of these occurrences, but many people find them triggering and extremely stressful. We document every incident, and I use that documentation to advocate for our staff.

It's in this context that I share this story, one both horrifying and amusing.

On this particular day, staff at the desk alerted me that there was a customer in the public washroom in obvious distress. We grabbed the phone and went together to the washroom; we could hear wails and moans coming from inside. 

I knocked on the door, "Are you OK in there? Do you need help?"

"Yes, yes, please!"

"Do you need medical attention?"

"Yes, help me!"

My co-worker called 911 and we went off to find the spare washroom key, since the public key was in the washroom with the wailing customer. Co-worker called 911 while I opened the bathroom door a bit. The customer was on the toilet with her pants around her ankles, moaning and crying. She said, "I have a kidney stone!"

While we waited for the ambulance, remaining on the phone with the dispatcher, the customer asked if she can speak to the 911 person. I gave her the phone. They were on the phone for what seemed like a very long time, maybe 5-7 minutes. 

The customer then hung up, and pushed past me, saying, "I'm having a baby right now. The baby is coming!" 

What the---?

I try to get the woman to stay in the washroom, but she won't go back, pushing both me and co-worker out of the way -- on her way out of the library. It is raining outside, she is half-dressed, and she says she's having a baby. 

I say, "Please stay inside where we can help you," but she swatted me out of the way. 

She walked outside, her clothes dragging behind her, walked to the parking area, and lay down on the asphalt, on her back, in the rain. 

As this was happening, the phone rings, and it's the 911 operator calling back. I tell her, "She's outside now. She says she's having a baby?"

The operator says, "Yes, she may be going into labour. Can you see the head?"

Can I see the head??? 

Do not tell me that a woman is actually going to have a baby in the parking lot in the rain. Co-worker and I looked at each other like, What the actual fuck?!

I went over to the woman, my heart pounding, thinking I would hold her hand or I don't know what. 

Meanwhile some community members who know the woman tell us that she is not pregnant, that she believes she is pregnant and often believes she is about to give birth. Clearly this is part of some mental illness. 

I could exhale.

As this was happening, the ambulance arrived. They took over and my staff and I went back inside to write our reports.

I am usually pretty cool about these incidents, but this one got me going.

Can you see the head??? That's one for the books.

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: # 38

I was covering the desk while staff was on break. A customer asked where he could find books on sex.

I asked whether this was for a young person or an adult. He said an adult.

I asked if was he looking for anything specific, such as safer sex, sexual health...?

He said he was looking for instructions and explanations. Basic information on what happens during sex.

I took his library card and put several books on hold. Most of the titles are aimed at young adults, but I think they will be appropriate for his needs.

The customer wasn't clear on the holds process, so I explained how he will be notified when the holds come in, where he'll find them, how he can check them out. 

He thanked me and was on his way.

I was impressed that this dude came to the library and was able to ask for help. Of course no one should be embarrassed about wanting books about sex, but many people would be, especially in a small community where anonymity is almost impossible.

I was also extremely glad I happened to be at the desk, rather than any of the frontline staff. I think they would have been all right, but I was able to give the customer privacy and to assess the titles quickly and likely more accurately. 

I don't do a lot of direct customer service anymore, but when I do, I get a great buzz.

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: # 37

I have an update on R, the customer who was the subject of the previous two TIHATL posts: #35, a customer who refuses to be helped, and #36, a customer who needs so much more than a library can provide. As a friend said on Facebook, librarians, like teachers, are left to deal with the results of failed social and economic policies.

Staff and I were all worried about R. The December holiday season was days away, which meant social services and health care would be more difficult to access. Many people living marginal existences die during that time of year. 

I visited an agency in town, one that serves as an umbrella organization for many services. They were very sympathetic and supportive, and directed me to the general mental health services for our region.

The mental health worker gave me two important suggestions. 

One, I learned that the local mental health centre has a two-hour drop-in time every day. They said the slots fill up quickly, so folks are advised to get there early. I confirmed the (unmarked) location and noted the times. 

Two, I learned that we can call the RCMP (i.e. the local police) and request an assessment. They will escort the person to the hospital, and speak to hospital staff to ensure that an appropriate assessment is done.

I don't know why I wasn't already aware of these options, but I was happy to add these new tools to my toolkit. My staff were so relieved, they were in tears. We agreed that one of us would walk R to mental health services (it's very nearby) and we would explain about the RCMP call.

I also learned that a doctor's prescription is required for the hospital or another agency to provide free adult diapers. One of our staff happened to have some that were purchased for a relative, but the wrong size, and they were happy to donate them. We put the package in a plain brown bag and determined that we would give it to R the next time we saw him.

Then we didn't see R again. 

Days and then weeks passed, and he didn't come in. We speculated that the workers in the Salvation Army, who runs the overnight shelter, connected R with help. But we couldn't know, and we couldn't ask (confidentiality). So we kept an eye out for him, and we worried.

Then, in mid-February, R appeared. He was clean, clean-shaven, and had gained some weight. He told us he had spent a month in the hospital in the neighbouring town. One of our staff discreetly gave him the brown bag containing the adult diapers and he was grateful and appreciative. 

Another customer brought in a warm winter jacket that he found in the thrift shop to give to R. 

R is still without housing. He still lacks a hearing aid. He is still frustrated and upset by technology. But he's alive. He's eating, he's bathing, he has medication. He says hello to us, and to other people he knows who are also in the library. I think he has hope.

things i heard (and smelled) at the library: an occasional series: # 36

The subject of this TIHATL is R, the same man I wrote about in the previous TIHATL post. Things have gone from bad to worse. He is pale, unshaven, and unsteady on his feet. And he is incontinent. When he stands up, the seat he's been sitting on is soaked. Yesterday the whole library smelled of urine. Other customers commented on it and left.

I need to speak with R. But it's complicated: how do you have a private conversation on an extremely sensitive topic with someone who is severely hearing impaired, and doesn't use a hearing aid? To speak with him, you have to shout. Clearly I can't shout about this.

Further complicating the situation, it is very cold here, and many people are coming into the library to keep warm. We've heard R tell other customers that he lost all his belongings in a fire. So clearly he is experiencing homelessness.

I collected some tips from other library managers. I didn't learn anything too surprising, but their experiences and support helped me feel capable of doing what needs to be done. My staff have watched all the relevant training videos, especially the ones created by Ryan Dowd. Dowd is a social worker-turned-educator who has made a name for himself on this topic. 

Yesterday I sat down facing R and asked how he is doing. He said he has been to the hospital but was not admitted. I asked if anyone is working with him, like a caseworker. I looked directly at him, in case he can lip-read. But I didn't shout, as there were other customers in the branch. I don't know whether he understood me or not.

R said, "Last night I nearly froze to death," and wanted to wait in the library until the shelter opens. At least the shelter is opening two hours early, at 3:00 pm, because of the frigid weather. We called a taxi for R and made sure he got in. 

Then staff and I put on gloves, found some disinfectant and odor neutralizer in the janitor's closet, and got to work. (Then, predictably, I had a coughing fit, triggered by the cleaning spray.) We also left a note for the janitor to disinfect all seating surfaces.

Today I'm going to the social service agency to see if anyone can connect with R and get him some help. He needs a shower, some clean clothes, and adult diapers. He needs a place to live, but that's probably out of the question. But like so many of our customers, he needs so much more than the library can give him. 

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: #35

This TIHATL is a hybrid of two well-trod library tropes: The Customer Who Refuses To Be Helped and Left Behind By Technology. It makes for sad, frustrating interactions and irate customers.

R needs to do something on the internet. He hates the library's computers. He hates Windows 10. He is convinced that our public computers and Windows 10 are the causes of his problems.

He marches triumphantly into the library with a used laptop that he purchased, announcing that, at last, he has a copy of Windows XP. He also has a newly purchased ethernet cable. And he's convinced that this combination -- both, unbeknownst to him, outdated -- will solve his problems.

I explain that we have no way to use the cable, that we can only connect to the internet wirelessly. This infuriates him. "Why not? What kind of crap operation are you running here? What is wrong with this library?"

I try everything I know to get his laptop to pick up the library's free wifi, but it will not. This also infuriates him. Fortunately -- and a bit surprisingly -- he does not blame me. 

After a while I convince him to move to one of our public computers. This also involves getting him to pack up his laptop, his jacket, and all the papers he has strewn across the table. It's like dealing with a 5-year-old, with none of the cute factor.

He sits at the computer for about five seconds before he starts complaining. "Where's the search box on this crappy thing?"

Incidentally, R is hearing-impaired, so we're both shouting. He also has very bad body odour, and I am highly sensitive to smells. He looks disheveled and unkempt. 

I show him how to open a browser and find Google. He tells me what he's looking for, and waits for me. I explain that I won't be doing this for him. He angrily types in his search, bashing the keyboard, then clicks on the first link without looking at it. "What am I supposed to do now? These damn computers! Windows 10 garbage! What kind of library is this, anyway? Why can't I use my laptop! What kind of garbage is this!" and so on.

At one point in his rant R says, "I ran my own business for 40 years! I never had these problems!". This gives some insight into what he may be experiencing. Presumably, he's been competent and independent in the past, and now finds himself helpless and frustrated in a world that has left him behind. Unfortunately, my empathy for him cannot help him. I also wonder if this is actually true.

Also while ranting, R says he wants to buy a typewriter and use Canada Post. He has said this several times at the library. It must be an expression of frustration and a longing for something simpler. He hasn't actually tried to buy a typewriter, or asked us how he might go about that.

When I last saw R, he was using Google and writing down whatever he found, with pen and paper. His handwriting is illegible and his grasp of written English is marginal.

Based on his searches, I think he may be sending some kind of promo or advertising to various companies -- which is even sadder, as I can't imagine what this would look like. 

I really want to help this man. But he is so invested in being right, and so frustrated that he cannot navigate the world, which now feels so foreign to him, that he refuses to be helped. Instead, he wastes money on an outdated laptop, and ends up feeling more aggrieved than when he started.

* * * *

Before writing this post, I checked the things i heard at the library label, to see when I last wrote about this issue. I came up with this similar story, written in March 2020. 

community meetings: what we heard about the library

As I mentioned some weeks ago, our library system is in the midst of the strategic planning process, crafting a roadmap for the next five years. Part of the process is community engagement -- hearing directly from library users and local partners about the library's mission, its place in the community, and what kind of library services they want.

Through quirks of geography and staffing models, I ended up doing the most engagement sessions of any librarian in the system, as a team with one of my staff. We facilitated five public meetings, one in each of the communities we serve, plus we conducted one in-depth interview, and I co-facilitated a focus group on literacy.

All the materials were provided to us, and there was extensive training in the process. And thank dog for that, because even with all the support, it was a huge amount of work. 

In these sessions, we presented a set of guided questions and activities, intended to elicit input on the library's values, mission, and direction. 

In each community, between five and ten people spent an evening with us. This turnout seemed reasonable to us, given the size of our communities -- until we learned that even in much larger branches, participation was usually fewer than ten people. Seen as a percentage of population, participation was actually higher in our towns than in larger, more populous areas. This reflects what I already know: small communities love and cherish their libraries.

*  *  *  * 

In the past few years, open hours and staffing has greatly expanded at two of the five branches that I manage. One was the result of a new branch for a tiny (population under 200), isolated community -- promised for many years, and finally delivered at the end of 2019. The other is in Port Hardy, the largest community I serve (2021 population approximately 4,000). That, I am proud to say, is the result of my advocacy. These changes have had a huge impact on the communities.

That leaves three other communities in our region still stuck with very limited staffing and open hours, and in two of those, also grossly inadequate physical space. I have a proposal for how to remedy this -- a simple and affordable plan, and a bargain in light of the impact it would have on these communities. I believe this will happen eventually; the question is how long communities will have to wait.

When it comes to providing service to rural and remote communities, the approach of most library systems is backwards. It's thought that these little towns don't need many open hours; after all, there aren't many people. But in remote communities, there is such a dearth of resources, so few options, that people depend heavily on the library -- more so than people do in populous areas where there are more options. 

Thus, in our community engagement sessions, it was no surprise that the two things we heard the most was more hours and more space. Our staff works very hard, and partnerships with local agencies extend our reach, but despite heroic efforts, the towns are under-served.

* * * *

This feedback was not at all surprising; it was what I expected. What I didn't expect was the outpouring of ideas. 

The upcoming strategic plan will have four pillars: Reconciliation (relationships with Indigenous communities), accessibility, services to communities without a physical library, and increased access to technology and tech learning. Meeting participants were interested in all four, and offered a wealth of ideas. 

And every idea was built on one idea: the library as community hub. On a list of phrases for a new mission statement, the phrases that resonated the most were the heart of the community, lifelong learning, knowledge sharing, and sparking curiosity and imagination. 

north island book tour and community meetings: what i'm up to at the library

Inside the Port Hardy Library

September and October have been a whirlwind for me at the library. 

In September, we hosted a locally famous author. Yvonne Maximchuk lives on a remote island in the Broughton Archipelago, and writes about the people who live in these tiny coastal communities. She has friends all over the North Island, and there's a lot of local interest in her work. 

I needed a special event for Port Hardy (my largest branch) in September, and at the same time was planning Customer Appreciation Days at two smaller branches -- and the whole thing just came together. 

I ended up organizing a five-community book tour. In two of those stops, Maximchuk was the featured guest at a big party. For the kids, there was face-paining, balloon animals, music, and games. For the adults, there was food from local bakers, and many prize draws -- an autographed copy of the book, original art by local artists, gift cards for local businesses.

Our smallest branches rarely host special programs like this -- and of course there was no in-person programming for a long time, because of covid -- so both the staff and the communities were thrilled. The author also had a wonderful experience, and she was a joy to work with. Attendance at the parties exceeded all our expectations.

Here's a story about one event from a local newspaper.

In October, I'm facilitating public meetings in each of the five communities my branches serve. 

Our library system is currently creating a new strategic plan for the next five years. Part of that process is gathering ideas and priorities from the community. In addition to the in-person community meetings, there are interviews, surveys, online meetings, and focus groups. 

So far we've hosted two meetings, with three more planned. We had special training in the facilitation process, and it's an interesting challenge. We're there to capture what is said, but not to discuss or debate -- or even agree or disagree. We also have to adhere to a fairly strict format and timeline. One staff member is working with me for all five meetings. We're enjoying the process, and we'll be glad when it's over.

in which i observe education, job creation, and community building in progress

For the last couple of weeks, it's been my privilege to witness some exciting progress for our community, plus have a really interesting experience.

Literacy first

As a librarian and library manager in a remote region, I work closely with the local literacy society, and I sit on its board of directors. Before becoming a libarian, I didn't know anything about literacy societies or what they do. 

Our local literacy society provides some services that, to my mind, the library should provide, such as storytimes -- but cannot, because we lack adequate resources. But it also provides services that are beyond our scope, like in-school tutoring, adult computer training, book giveaways, family literacy days, and other important literacy-focused programs.

LLS is a small but mighty collection of dedicated, focused, community-minded activists who know how to get things done. Recently the LLS coordinator asked board members to help interview candidates for a post-secondary educational opportunity. The same call went out last year, but I was too busy to participate. This year the ask came at the perfect time, and I jumped on the opportunity. 

Grant wizards

What drives the success of our LLS -- and many other excellent local organizations -- is people who are always alert for opportunities, and know how to respond quickly and effectively. In this case, they applied for and received funding for ten students to attend the local college for a one-year course to become an educational assistant (EA) or community support worker (CSW). [For US readers, a college is a post-secondary institution distinct from a university.] 

EAs work one-on-one with students with special needs, helping them succeed in school. CSWs play a similar role with adults in the community, helping them live independently. Those are both important community jobs, but this diploma goes much further. It opens a huge array of employment possibilities, and can also be used as a building block towards other degrees in education or social work. 

Education + jobs + support workers = win-win-win

The purpose of the interviews was to find ten applicants who would be most likely to succeed in the program. Of the ten grant recipients from last year, eight are working full-time, and two went on for further education: an unqualified success.

In our small, remote communities, resources are scarce, and jobs are practically nonexistent. Most available jobs are precarious -- casual, on-call, very limited. Many folks juggle several jobs in order to survive. Of course, small towns aren't the only place this happens. But here, this is (almost) all that's available.

Most of the people in the program are already working as EAs or CSWs, but without a diploma, they earn less and are only eligible for casual and on-call work. The diploma course leads directly to permanent employment and an opportunity to advance through a salary grid. 

As it creates jobs in the community, it also creates more trained workers to assist children and adults who need support. The value of this cannot be overstated.

In keeping with the college's and province's mandates, the course has a special focus on the needs of Indigenous children and adults in care. Also hugely important for our community.

+10

Over the course of three days, we listened to candidates' stories -- why they wanted to be part of the program, their career goals, how the program would advance their goals. Each applicant was a caring, dedicated public worker who wants to serve their community. And each was hard-working, striving person, juggling work, family, and their own education.

The funding (a combination of federal and provincial money) will pay for tuition and textbooks for the EA/CSW degree, and includes some supports to eliminate other obstacles, such as tech, transportation, or work attire. I've heard so many stories of students who received tuition assistance, yet were still unable to attend school because they couldn't afford textbooks or other expenses. This program is designed to work.

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: #34

A customer said this.

I tell my daughter I love her every day. I told my mother on her death bed, I'm not going to do what you did. I'm going to raise my daughter with love. 

My mother told me she hated me. She told me I ruined her life. She told me I was worthless and stupid. This is what they told her in the residential school. This was all she knew.

She would make me clean. She would force me down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor with my bare hands. She would push my face in the bucket with detergent and yell that it wasn't clean enough yet, push my face into the floor, and shout, look what you did, look what you did, you worthless slob.

To this day the smell of Pinesol turns my stomach. It can trigger my PTSD. My house is very dirty! I don't care. My daughter and I clean it together once in a while. We try to make it fun.

It took a lot of therapy and reading and hard work to find my way past that. But I am determined not to pass this to my daughter. I raised her with love.

things i heard at the library: an occasional series: #33

As I sat down to write this, I searched for the last "things i heard at the library" post, to get the number. Amazingly, today's post turns out to be a follow-up to the previous TIH! That was a surprise! And it makes writing this much easier.

July 2020:

I just heard a heartbreaking lament from one of our regular customers, who was here for curbside.

She told us that most people she knows do not have internet access or any TV service, and many do not have phones. They rely on library staff to suggest and order materials for them.

We assured her that we can still do that. We asked her to encourage folks to show up during curbside hours and we will find books and DVDs for them.

Then she said, "It's not just the boredom. It's the isolation. It's the friendship. We are a poor community, and this library is our lifeline. I would work on the jigsaw puzzle or read a magazine, but that was just an excuse to be among people, to see friendly faces, to connect. The other place we would hang out is the Salvation Army – also closed. Many people go to church for that reason only, to connect with people – also closed. We've been cut adrift. People are depressed and they're suffering."

She understands why we can't open our doors yet. She just wants us to know how much the library space is missed.

I share this [with library management] as a reminder, both of the great need for physical materials – a need not likely to go away, and of the service we provide that cannot fit through the takeout window.

July 2022:

I hadn't seen that customer again -- until yesterday. I hustled over to her, and greeted her warmly. We chatted a bit, and when it seemed appropriate, I reminded her of that conversation.

LK: Last time I saw you, you mentioned how difficult it was not to have the library and other places to hang out. All during the lockdown, I thought about you, wondered how you were doing. How did you end up getting through covid?

Customer: Do you know what I did? I adapted. I started watching Kanopy, I used all the stuff you can use at home. I started learning Spanish on Mango, looked for crafts in Creativebug, watched The Knowledge Network. I just started doing all the at-home library things I could find. It's still really hard. People have died. Our old routines are gone. But keeping my brain active -- that has really helped a lot. 

I could scarcely express how happy that made me! 

I knew that many library customers turned to online services and e-resources during covid. But although that occured throughout our regional system, I've always wondered if customers in our remote locations shared that experience. (I do see statistics, but that can't account for individual customers.) While our most vulnerable customers -- people without internet at home, and people without homes -- couldn't, this woman is not among the affluent and well-connected. And somehow, she did this. Our library helped her get through. So, so, so wonderful.

I told her we have in-person programming again, and invited her to stop by on a Wednesday night, when we always have something for adults -- a movie, or board games, puzzles, sometimes a special event. She was skeptical, unsure if she was ready for that -- which was also good information for me to have -- as we struggle with low turnout. But wow, did this ever make my day!

so many left behind: the ever-widening digital divide

Last year, while attempting to get a parking pass during our vacation -- without a phone, my phone having been fried by an update -- I got caught in circuitous and frustrating encounter with information and technology gaps.

About a year later, navigating the brave new world of do-it-yourself airport screening, I used quite a few resources -- skills, devices, time, and patience -- to find, navigate, and complete the covid requirements for both US and Canada cross-border travel.

I deal with technology every day, and I'm about as confident a tech user as you will find. Yet each of these experiences was complicated, time-consuming, and frustrating.

The digital divide is an abyss

How do people without digital skills get by? What happens to folks who can't navigate these mazes?

There are some analog workarounds, required by accessibility laws, but can you find them? How do you find them if you aren't online?

There are people you can hire to expedite these steps for you. But if you're not digitally literate, you probably can't find them and you almost certainly can't afford them.

There may be someone in your life who can ask for help. But what if everyone in your life is from a similar background and social standing, and also lack these skills?

If you're lucky, someone will suggest you go to the public library. You can try that, and hope that resources haven't been slashed to such an extent that no one has the time and focus to help you. (Remember the scene in "I, Daniel Blake", where other library users help Daniel get online?)

These not-really-options don't factor in the shame and embarrassment that, for so many people, comes with asking for help, and they certainly don't factor in anxiety, mental confusion, and the exhaustion of poverty.

The digital divide is not about age

In library school, we talked a lot about the "digital divide" -- the gap between those who have access to technology and those who don't. As time goes on, this gap has become a canyon, and it's getting wider and deeper all the time.

There's a mistaken impression that the digital divide is one of age, with seniors on the have-not side. This is an ageist assumption that should have been retired a long time ago. Baby boomers are in their late 60s and 70s now!

Research (in a US context) shows the percentage of tech users over 65 is still slightly lower than that of other age groups, but the gap is shrinking all the time. In Canada, the percentage of people over the age of 65 using the internet doubled between 2007 and 2016. Stats Can notes (emphasis mine):

The findings suggest that age is a primary determinant of Internet use among seniors, but that differences in educational attainment and other demographic characteristics are also important. . . .

Among young seniors with more advantaged characteristics, Internet use is presently at near-saturation levels and is comparatively high among their counterparts in older age groups as well. Among disadvantaged seniors, Internet use is far lower among younger seniors and sharply declines among older groups.

There's also an assumption that "young people" are somehow born knowing how to use technology. This assumption is even less valid than the one about seniors. Ask anyone who teaches in a low-income area.

Knowing how to use a smartphone and check Facebook does not constitute digital literacy.

None of us are born with skills. If you grow up in a home without internet access and computers -- or you don't even have a home to grow up in -- how would you become digitally literate?

The American Library Association defines digital literacy as "the ability to use information and communication technologies to find, evaluate, create, and communicate information, requiring both cognitive and technical skills." This includes:

How to type on a keyboard

How to use a basic word-processing program

How to save a document and how to find it later

How to search the internet – not Facebook. Indeed, understanding the difference between the internet and Facebook requires digital literacy. Facebook has capitalized on the general lack of digital skills by creating an environment that requires skills to leave

It's all the same divide

The digital divide is the same divide that plagues all aspects of our capitalist society. It all comes down to money.

For a time I worked in a library in one of the lowest-income areas of Ontario. Families would rush to the library after work -- because the children's homework was only available online.

Every day, I would watch in horror and frustration as children and teens would lose their work because they didn't know how to save a document, or didn't remember that their work wouldn't be saved on a public computer. Of course library staff tried to help, but there are many customers, not many staff.

Analog shouldn't be dead, but it is

Obviously, services of every kind have moved online. This has many positive impacts, as the internet has expanded our reach in ways unimaginable only decades earlier. But at the same time, analog options have disappeared, and this trend continues to accelerate and expand. Some more recent developments include:

Two-step verification, requiring internet access and a mobile phone. These are both expensive propositions, out of reach of many.

Needing an email address to open an email account. What do first-time emailers do? Librarians have collected some solutions, but most people don't have that information.

In Canada, printed tax forms are no longer available publicly. They are available by special request only.

To enter Canada from another country (including if you are Canadian), you must use an app. Not can use an app; you must use it. Using the app requires a truckload of embedded competencies: you have to scan your passport and upload your covid passport, among other things. Like most apps, there are recursive pieces, opaque bits, decisions to be made -- and frustration, including for the most adept users.

The analog tax: making a flight reservation or booking a rental car by phone costs more than booking it yourself online.

Pay-for-tech-help. Have you bought a TV lately? You can't just plug it in and watch TV. You need an app, an account, and -- if you're not careful and savvy -- you are giving a tech giant access to all your data. Without digital skills, chances are you can't even navigate the landing page, and think you have access only through the tech company's portal.

And of course, covid. As public schools went online, what happened to students without home internet access? Mostly, they disappeared.

This is a safety issue, as people without digital skills are infinitely more vulnerable to phishing and other fraud.

This is a poverty issue, as children from less advantaged families will fall ever-farther behind, until the gap is simply insurmountable to all but the extremely gifted. This is the creation of a new kind of underclass.

This is a labour issue, as companies find ever more ways to hire fewer people and force consumers to do unpaid work. You may be so accustomed to this that you don't even realize it's happened.

People used to answer the phone and ask "How may I direct your call?".

Self-checkout would have been unthinkable. Who wants to work as an unpaid cashier?

But more than anything, this is an issue of social exclusion. Those without digital skills are increasingly confined to a smaller range of options, and that sphere only continues to shrink.

I am not anti technology. I'm anti exclusion and anti poverty.

Those of us who use computers as part of our jobs, and are privileged to have leisure time, have picked up our digital skills over time, often barely registering that it was happening.

People who don't encounter computer skills on a regular basis, and whose use is limited to time in a public library -- or not all -- don't get the sustained, daily repetition that builds solid competencies. These may be tradespeople, people who work outdoors, or people who grew up in homes where parents did not use technology.

In a society that valued all people equally, it would not be difficult to change this. It would be complex and multifaceted, but we could significantly shrink the gap.

We would need:

Public-utility internet access. In 2016, the United Nations declared that access to the internet is a human right. In North America, this could be more closely achieved if internet access was a public utility, rather than a for-profit commercial concern.

Double or triple or quadruple funding for the public library, and use most of it for high-speed internet and public-use computers.

Require governments and companies to always retain analog options, and provide disincentives to do otherwise.

Require businesses to maintain minimum staffing levels at touchpoints that currently assume that everyone is DIY.

As a librarian, I am aware of many programs, funded by sources such as the United Way or directly from the province, that address these issues. They are excellent and important programs, but they are short-term, and very limited in scope and reach. They are a tiny drop in an ocean of need.

it's all about respect: why the librarians of vancouver island are taking job action

I have at least five posts in the works, but zero time to write them, because I am once again involved in a job action for library workers. I have refrained from writing about it thus far, but I feel a deep need to capture some of this on wmtc. 

In some ways, the context is much different from the 2016 strike I led against the City of Mississauga. That local comprised 400 members, ranging from Pages to Senior Librarians, and members of CUPE run their own local. We first had to break away from a composite local to re-establish our independence, and then had to forge solidarity in a large unit with greatly disparate interests, and very little trust in their union. It was a monumental undertaking -- and a hugely successful one.

My present situation is very different. I belong to BCGEU. The 48 members of my bargaining unit are all librarians with a professional designation. I am a member of the bargaining committee, but not steering our course as I did in my former role.

The frontline library workers in the system belong to CUPE. Union members have cultivated deep solidarity between the unions -- which makes this job action possible.

The two contexts demand different strategies, and different skills and experience.

Yet in many ways, the two job actions are extremely similar -- because in so many ways, all strikes and all labour disputes come down to the same thing. Workers want respect. We want respect for our labour and for our skills. 

The principal ways employers can show workers respect is by paying a living wage, and providing safe and humane working conditions. When either of these factors are lacking, and workers are fortunate enough to belong to a union, a job action may ensue.

Although I love my job as a librarian and library manager, I do not love the actions and attitudes of my employer. This story from my earliest days on the job perfectly illustrates some of the issues. I was not able to share it here, for reasons which will be obvious, but as we are now in job action, I've decided to communicate more freely. 

Day 1: communications

On my very first day on my new job, I was not told where to report. I was staying in the proper city, but there is more than one library branch in that city and I was never told where to go. 

I was supposed to meet administrators at 9:00 a.m. I had to wait in my hotel room until someone reported to work at 9:00, who could then pick up my messages and give me the required information. Then I had to drive to an unfamiliar place, find parking, get access to a building, and so forth. I was almost an hour late on my very first day.

The person who neglected to give me the information did tell the others why I was late. This can be viewed as a simple oversight, which it was. But after more than three years with this employer, I can tell you it is a whopping big pattern that is constantly and consistently repeated. I'll exercise restraint and call it "internal communication problems".

Day 2: interpersonal

The following day I was meeting a high-level administrator at a different location. She gave me directions and told me how to access the staff entrance. I misunderstood her directions and waited at the wrong door. It was December and I was waiting outside for 45 minutes. My phone (still with an out-of-province provider) was going straight to voicemail so I wasn't getting her calls.

Eventually a call got through, and I hurried to her office, full of apologies. This was her greeting: I've been waiting for an hour! My whole morning is messed up! Where were you? I was so taken aback, I struggled to explain what I thought. She spat her answer through gritted teeth: You need to take better notes!

I was dumbstruck. I thought of how I would have handled such an occurrence, with a new employee who was also new to the area and the entire system. How any decent supervisor would respond. 

Day 7: trust, respect, priorities

The following week, my manager told me I was invited to a meeting with them, their own manager, and the top administrator (the person from Day 2). My manager was acting very strangely, not making eye contact, and left in a hurry. I had no idea why.

A union steward had been assigned to the meeting. Again, I had no idea what was going on. The steward also didn't know. 

The way the chairs were arranged in the meeting, I was sitting alone, facing four people. The union steward was not sitting beside me. (Note to stewards: don't do this.) The subject of the meeting? A blog post I had written praising my new job and new employer. I was read the riot act and received notice that I was to change or remove certain aspects of the post. (I removed the post completely.)

Note that the post was laudatory. Note, too, that I had no local contacts, so there was almost no chance that library users would read the post. No matter. I had mentioned the name of the library system, and for that, I was subjected to an inquisition.

The steward confirmed that the matter was not disciplinary because no policy regarding social media had been shown to me. My head was spinning. So this might have been disciplinary?? I documented a blow-by-blow account of a strike against my former employer, and I was never met with discipline.

Every day, all the days: autonomy, trust, respect, safety, cost of living

Like nurses and teachers, librarians struggle against a lack of professional autonomy. (Gee, what do these three professions have in common??) 

Our employers frequently limit our decision-making capacities. 

Deskilling and deprofessionalization are constant concerns. 

We are not consulted or included in decisions that impact us, our staff, and our branches. Decisions are made by people who don't understand the realities of frontline public service.

We struggle with workload, as staffing models are skeletal, but plans and goals are voluminous.

We are treated disrespectfully, and our working conditions are often unsafe and scary.

And then there is the cost of living. In 2021, the cost of living rose 4.8% in Canada. So far this year it's even worse. No wage increase can keep up, but more is needed to help us cope.

Some of these issues can be mitigated by provincial safety codes, when staff are vigilant and hold employers accountable. 

Some of these issues can be mitigated through collective agreements.

That's why we're on strike.

"at your library" in the north island eagle: goodbye for now, see you at the library

Goodbye for Now… See You at the Library

This is my final At Your Library column. I'm grateful to Kathy O’Reilly, indefatigable publisher of The Eagle, for giving me this opportunity. When I came to Port Hardy – exactly three years ago – I didn't know a soul, and now I feel so much a part of our community. This column has extended our library's reach into that community, and I hope you have enjoyed it.

To stay in touch with what's happening at the Vancouver Island Regional Library (VIRL), consider subscribing to Well Read, VIRL's monthly newsletter. It will keep you up to date on new services, special events, and highlights from our collection. To subscribe, go to virl.bc.ca > news > Well Read. You can read it online, or click on "Sign up for our e-Newsletter" to receive it by email every month.

Another great way to stay in touch is "Meet Me in the Stacks", a podcast presented by a group of VIRL librarians. You can find "Meet Me in the Stacks" wherever you subscribe to podcasts, or you can listen online through the VIRL website. Go to virl.bc.ca/podcast or to listen online, go to virl.bc.ca/podcast/listen-now/.

Your favourite VIRL branch is also on Facebook, and you can follow the branch page for news and updates. 

To review and sum up, here's everything you need to know.

* Reading is great. 

* Read to your kids and grandkids. Help them read on their own. It's super important to their healthy development.

* The library has so much more than books. Check out our e-resources!

* Everything at the library is free of charge.

* Everyone can have a library card.

* We are here to help you.

To stay in touch with me, email me at lkaminker@virl.bc.ca. Hope to see you soon!

"at your library" in the north island eagle: we heart your small or home-based business

Small or Home-Based Business? Your Library Can Help

So many people in our North Island communities have been opening new businesses lately! It seems like every edition of The Eagle features at least one story about a new business in one of our towns. Some are "bricks and "mortar" businesses that we can physically visit, while others are home-based operations that reach potential customers through Facebook and other social media. 

Everyone in our towns wants to support local businesses – including your library. If you've ever considered starting your own business, or if you're currently developing a fledging business of your own, your library can help. Check out our "e-resources" – powerful databases available to you, free of charge, with your library card.

Wherever you are in your business development, we have e-resources to support and assist you. Whether you're writing a business plan, researching the competition, launching a marketing plan, creating a logo, learning how to keep your books – and so much more – your library can help. 

* Business Plan Handbook is a huge collection of actual business plans created by entrepreneurs who were looking for funding for their small businesses. There are sample business plans from all sectors – manufacturing, retail, and service industries. You can learn what makes a successful business plan and begin to create your own.

* Business Source Premiere is a comprehensive collection of articles and guides on every area of business, including marketing, management, accounting, banking and finance. You can use this e-resource to research company profiles, research markets, conduct SWOT analyses, even read papers from world-class business schools. Another great plus: you can use Business Source Premiere to access trade publications in many fields. These publications are quite expensive to subscribe to, but our e-resource lets you browse and read them for free.

* LinkedIn Learning (formerly called Lynda.com) is an amazing platform for self-education. This e-resource contains thousands of video tutorials on hundreds of topics. All the videos are professionally made, very high quality, with no interruptions for ads or the questionable content that you'll find on YouTube. Learning how to use social media to grow your business, beyond just having a Facebook page? Need to learn about spreadsheets to track your marketing contacts? Designing a logo? Hiring an assistant for the first time? LinkedIn Learning can help you get there.

To find these free e-resources, go to virl.bc.ca > learn > all databases. The e-resources are listed in alphabetical order. What you'll find may surprise you.

* Books! The library has a huge selection of books on all these topics, too. We can help you find and request whatever you need.

It all starts with your library card. Stop by your local branch to get one today, or apply online at virl.bc.ca > get help > get a library card, or virl.bc.ca, then scroll to the very bottom, and click on "get a library card". 

"at your library" in the north island eagle: build early literacy with storytimes

Build Early Literacy with Storytimes – Every Day in Port Hardy

In a year when we desperately needed good news, the Port Hardy branch of the Vancouver Island Regional Library (VIRL) had the best news: a huge increase in hours. And one of the best things about those new hours is the daily storytime. 

At 10:00 every morning, Tuesday through Saturday, you can come to the Port Hardy Library and participate in a storytime. There’s no need to sign up in advance or even let us know you're coming. Just take your little one – your own child, a grandchild, or a group of little ones you take care of – and show up at the library. 

Storytimes are fun for kids, but the reason to attend goes way beyond entertainment. 

By the time a child starts kindergarten, we want them to have "reading readiness". Reading readiness is closely tied to early school success, and early school success is closely tied to increased life chances. This means when we help children build reading readiness, we are helping them succeed in life! And hearing stories read aloud is one of the best ways to build reading readiness.

When a child listens to a story, they learn a huge array of language skills. They build vocabulary and reading comprehension, learn how to pay attention and to follow a story, they learn the sounds and rhythms of language.

Storytimes engage children's imaginations, which is one of the most important ways they learn about the world. It introduces children to new ideas and new fun things, like dinosaurs, whales, and trains. 

Hearing stories help children cope with their feelings, and navigate scary things that all children go through, such as conflicts with siblings. It helps them learn about how other people feel, which builds empathy and compassion.

Stories teach about culture, from Halloween and Thanksgiving to cedar weaving and the Big House.

Attending a storytime at the library is an opportunity for your child to build social skills, to interact with other adults, and even to learn a little patience.

Plus, storytimes bring families to the library, where they can borrow books to read with their children at home. It helps children associate the library with a fun and happy activity, and you know we love that.

Thanks to our dedicated library staff, and to the Mount Waddington Family Literacy Society, we're able to offer this amazing opportunity, every day that the library is open, for free.

And all you have to do is show up.