May 1st will be my one-year anniversary in my current position. Before sitting down to write this post, I sent out a call to my fellow liaison librarians at my institution asking if they would be willing to share a strand of wisdom with their first-year librarian selves.
What follows are their reflections woven into my own experiential anecdotes.
Strand 1: Building relationships takes time—it doesn’t have to happen all at once.
I recently described by first-year librarian self as an overeager puppy. Being a liaison is so much about being relationally connected to your departments, and for me, this manifested as a sort of hyper-focus on immediacy. I envisioned myself sitting in on departmental meetings and attending guest lectures, working on dozens of systematic reviews and teaching every possible one-shot class I could. Success meant being plugged in and being productive. Success meant knowing everyone and knowing them Right. This. Minute.
Of course, it hasn’t gone like that. Instead, what’s unfolded has been a much more tempered, genuine, and slow process. Early on, the director of my department introduced me to the very small, but very fierce, faculty of our Medical Humanities Department. From that relationship, we ended up partnering to bring a health humanities scholar to campus to give two lectures and lead a multi-day workshop based on the intersection of artist books and autobiographical health narratives.
At the same time, I have three other departments that I’m a liaison to, and our relationship, while not stagnant, have been much slower going. I remind myself that departmental relationships are not boxes to check off a list, and that, with patience and genuine care, connections can and will emerge.
Strand 2: Be courageous and have the confidence to say yes. Present the projects that interest you at conferences, because they are good enough and people will be interested.
I was lucky enough to start work at the end of the spring semester, which left me with an easeful summer block of time to weather the transition into this job. Looking for projects to dive into, I began researching health-related zines. From there, I was introduced to the world of graphic medicine. I was hooked.
The two genres led to the creation of a LibGuide on self-representation and health, a conference lightning talk, and a collaboration with librarians at an institution on the other side of the country.
When I began, I didn’t know where the topic was going to lead me, but my genuine interest propelled me forward and inspired connections with other librarians over our mutual engagement with the topic.
Strand 3: Make 5-year plans that include professional development, scholarship, and service.
Following Strand 2, even if we don’t know exactly where our paths might lead us, having key goals and destinations in our sight can be grounding. For example, I know that I want to obtain my Academy of Health Information Professionals (AHIP) certification in the next five years, and there are concrete steps that I can take to do that.
I also know from my experience over these past few months that I need to continuously balance service in professional organizations with service that I can complete in person, in groups that aren’t directly connected to my university.
I have learned a tremendous amount this year by plugging myself into a community health coalition that allows me to work with social workers, public health experts, and social justice activists in the city that is now my home. Knowing that this work keeps me centered and exposes me to ideas and projects that I wouldn’t otherwise be connected to will help me to remain committed to it throughout my career.
Strand 4: Be flexible, adaptable and curious.
I recently assisted with a large, virtual interprofessional education event for our health sciences graduate students. Before the event began, the organizers acknowledged that things often go wrong during large events, but if we flowed like water, we would be okay.
When I think about flexibility, adaptability, and curiosity, my first images center around someone who is easygoing and relaxed. However, water is an incredibly strong elemental force. As we enter a season of uncertainty, information chaos, budget cuts, and DEI dismantling, what does it look like to flow like water while still maintaining a sense of urgency and strength?
I see collective action all around me exemplified in things like current data-rescue efforts, and I’m reminded of the flowing power that comes from solidarity and shared commitments.
Strand 5: Connect with another librarian for guidance and look for ways to honor your mentors as they guide you.
I loved reading this piece of advice, because it highlights the importance of reciprocity in our professional lives. I am lucky enough to have two mentors right now, and each of them have given me time, energy, and invaluable guidance during my first year here at Baylor.
Finding ways to celebrate them with things like institutional recognition awards and opportunities for collaborative projects that feel mutually exciting and beneficial are two ways to do this, but there are so many others.
Braiding the Strands Together:
How we show up for ourselves impacts how we show up for one another. For me, the reflection that comes from giving advice to an earlier version of yourself feels like a way to fold time onto itself, to reach through space and offer comfort to someone who needs it. But, perhaps more than anything, the comfort is offered for the self that exists in the present.
Recently, I’ve been reading a collection of essays on deep time called The Science of Last Things by Ellen Wayland-Smith. While the book feels like a balm in some ways—“Things will be fine, eventually, in thousands of years, for rocks,”—I’m challenging myself to stay present, to witness, to figure out how to act.
If we can hold one another in the intimate immediacy of the present with courage, confidence, and curiosity, then perhaps, in a few years, our future selves will be writing letters of encouragement to us now.