I don't know Dave, the man who said the text above, but I feel him. I know my colleagues feel him as well. 

My knowledge of the five love languages is pretty normal. I read the original book for marriages plus the one for teens. I think the main challenge in the workplace one is isolation. It takes a lot to figure out your co-workers' love languages unless your whole workplace does the inventory and shares the results (which, honestly, my personality prefers BIG TIME). The authors do give you signs to start working out the love language of those around you, but I don't know. I prefer it directly from them. 

While I found some nuggets that were worth the read, I didn't really LEARN all that much from this book. I loved the initial chapters where all of the data was. (Surprise!) Once speculation began, I didn't feel it was as valuable. I liked a few of the examples - even highlighted 2 of them to share with a specific co-worker. Framing compliments as "One of the things I admire about you is...", "I wish I were more... (like them)", and being detailed and specific were all great pieces of advice. 

I would recommend this to any supervisor of any kind in any field. Appreciation only means so much coming from a coworker. It tends to mean more the higher up the ladder that it comes from. However, if you're like me and searching for ways to show your colleagues that you appreciate them, it's worth a flip through - even if you have to resist the urge to make all of them take the inventory so you just know their language.

Who knew Jane Austen would be the one to credit with one of my favorite library activities this school year? You see, her birthday was on Sunday, December 16. Ms. Austen's been around our school a lot this year - our One Act team did "Darcy & Elizabeth" as their show. When I found out that one of our classes was finishing up "Pride & Prejudice" and getting ready to take a final over the book during the last week of school before Christmas break, a light bulb went on above my head.

Fortunately, the teacher is quick to collaborate and tries new things all of the time. He loved the idea of having a tea party, and the date was quickly decided upon. I stalked Amazon, dollar stores, and begged for cups and saucers. I designed name cards on Canva using one of my favorite Jane Austen quotes:

All of the preparation was well worth it! ​Everything pulled through - from the linens arriving on time, to beautiful "silver" serving trays at the dollar store, and finally the cups and saucers being provided from a variety of folks.

However, nothing could have been better than when the students were physically here. I taught nineteen high schoolers how to brew a cup of tea. They experimented with three different kinds of tea: English Breakfast, Earl Grey, and Candy Cane. They added lemon and sugar. They snacked on dainty biscuits as conversation flowed about anything and everything - mostly just questions about tea and how their friends were preparing it. A student played harpsichord music on his phone to complete the atmosphere. Everyone was calm and enjoying each other's company. Snapchat was BUSY! 

"Born a Crime" had me laughing out loud, pausing to wonder, and voraciously listening - until I only had 90 minutes left. Then, I slowed down. I didn't want the book to end. I feel this is unique to the audiobook - this desire to savor what little storytelling is left. Some of the subject matter was really hard to listen to, not because it was graphic, but because I've never really experienced inequality. Trevor helped me understand a bit more what it's like to be "on the other side" of the issue by letting me hear about apartheid. These first hand accounts are irreplaceable. Soon enough, fiction will paint its magical dust over them. Readers will experience the events with a veil over their eyes.

The resounding message of perseverance - doing what it takes and not forgetting who you are - intermingled with a setting just similar enough to be relatable yet with intriguing differences make this a sure winner for people who enjoy autobiographies, Trevor Noah's performances, or are just interested in what it is like to grow up in another part of the world.

This week in a training, the group of teachers I was with were asked a simple question:

Then, a room of hard-working, still passionate folks went around the room telling their tales. P.E. teachers, weights trainers, Special Education teachers, classroom teachers, English as a Second Language teachers - a whole mix of wonderful and weary teachers whose eyes lit up as they explained their purpose.
​
When it got to me, the facilitator said,

But...is it? Is it really? That different? 

So I prepared to give my elevator speech.

​Elevator speech = a 30 seconds or less explanation of why you do what you do. They vary in purpose, direction, etc, but they are passionate and educated responses. They are common in the library world. We have many versions prepared in our heads. When I told some friends about elevator speeches over dinner, they were shocked. None of them had ever had to have one. They weren't librarians.

We're asked to defend ourselves a lot. Prove our worth.

I took a deep breath. I explained that I echoed some of the sentiments of the teachers who had responded before me. Then I added:

I wish I could honestly say that the room cheered. 

They didn't.

However, I do think that my colleagues - even those who have worked with me for the past five years - got to see something a little different in my response. I hope they saw pride, passion, and a pretty dang enticing career. I hope they were proud to have me as their librarian - at least as proud as I am to have them as teachers in my school - because we're united. We're building what we hope will become fully functional humans in our global society together. We have the same purpose, just dressed up a little differently. 

My purpose is your purpose; yours is mine. We're a village because it takes one.