What Do Librarians Look Like?

Hair scraped into a tight bun; reading glasses on a chain; sensible shoes; sour expression. Any other stereotypes you want to share?

You know the school year has begun when certain people begin commenting daily on your appearance. Adults, of course, if they say anything at all, compliment an article of clothing. We are trained not to say "I love your facelift." Some of my favorites:

Max, age 5 (now in high school), listened eagerly to me read aloud a story and guffawed at the funny parts. When the story was over, I was basking in that afterglow, that moment when we all heave a collective sigh of pleasure at a shared story. Max's hand shot up just as I closed the book. "Yes, Max?" I asked. And Max exclaimed, "I was watching you read and I noticed one of your teeth is crooked. It's really really crooked. It's really funny looking." And he started laughing again.

Some years ago, I was reading a story to our half-day students who were gathered on the floor about my feet. One of them kept touching my foot, which was in a sandal, during the story. I noticed but kept on going. But then he interrupted the story, loudly, to ask, "What is this big bump on your foot?" Turns out it was a bunion. I had a bunionectomy that summer -- ouch -- but I couldn't afford to distract any more students with my misshapen foot. I hope to learn that he has become a podiatrist.

Last year I read aloud an inspiring Civil Rights story to a group of 8 and 9 year olds. It always makes me teary. As I swallowed hard before turning the final page, a girl raised her hand. I should have ignored the hand but I assumed she need to clarify something about this troubling history. She then says, "I love your necklace. It looks like a grape Jolly Rancher [candy]. Makes me hungry."

A mother told me her children had seen me walking home from work yesterday afternoon. She had commented on my striped pants, and her 7 year old son declared, "Natalie is really cute." I haven't felt "cute" for a few decades at least but I'll take what I can get. Even from a little boy.

As I introduce myself to the children during their first library visit, I use the image of the Lipstick Librarian, by Linda Absher. I tell them it is a photo of me in my younger days as I dance around, waving books, urging children to read. An eight year old boy looked at the photo and announced, his voice dripping with contempt: "That isn't you. You couldn't even AFFORD a dress like that." Skeptical minds. Gotta love it.