You want me to do what?!

I'm an introvert by nature; being assertive and stepping up into positions of leadership doesn't often come easily to me, so it's fairly safe to say that I approached with trepidation the several times in my life when I was pushed into a greater supervisory role than I would have personally taken the initiative for in my profession. I can think of three such times in my life and, somewhat to my surprise, they were all instances of significant growth and, for the most part, times that I look back on fondly... now. The most recent, and perhaps most formative, of these has been in my current job where I run libraries in a state correctional facility.

When I first started in my position, after a month of intensive training, I was quite content to settle into my team of library folk to learn and observe. I intentionally didn't take the lead much at first so I could better gauge some of the nuances the environment where I work as well as that of both the staff and offenders. I learned a lot and, within a couple of months of working more behind the scenes, found myself being pushed to step up and take a more active roll running one of the libraries in our facility. What I walked into was a bit of a disaster. The area had previously been left to some rather incompetent staff and things had rapidly devolved into a true mess. Getting things back in order, evaluating work structures and processes and making them much more efficient and effective was simple enough for me, but the new task that I was most apprehensive about was taking lead with the hiring, training, and supervising of the offender library workers. 

You see, I had no problems interacting with the offenders in general, much less helping them get the best possible library services. The thing that had me anxious was the fact that I was being thrown into a greater supervisory roll yet again without having had so much as a chance to observe and learn its dynamics. Being also acutely aware of how much of a difference staff interactions (positive and negative) can make in the life and behavior of an offender, this was a position that I did not want to take lightly and most definitely didn't want to mess up - something that made me rather more nervous. 

It didn't take me long, however, to settle into the new role. Making the position my own and finding my own pace helped me ease into things and handle the logistical part of the job efficiently. What surprised me though was the new opportunities for connection and even mentorship that I gained as a result. Unlike many of my previous positions where I felt as though I had to fight to even be heard against big personalities and colleagues stuck in their ways of doing things, I found a crew that, though they mostly hid it well, had many insecurities and traumas, and had never really experienced a positive, constructive work environment. 

This new perspective was foundational for me, as I began to work to improve things in the library - not just our processes and policies, but how we interacted with people. People - these offenders are people, human beings with wants and needs, trials and joys, just like any others. I became greatly aware of how much negativity was being constantly driven at these humans, from the courts to officers determined to "punish", to unhappy work supervisors who never took the time to set clear expectations or train them for the tasks required. I vowed to be different. Just as I was working to make the library an inviting, welcoming, and positive space, I wanted my leadership style to reflect positivity and provide ample opportunities for learning and growth. 

Now don't get me wrong, there are absolutely still offenders who have no interest in learning and engaging in a productive, positive way and are only out to try to use the system to their advantage, but I don't much see how that's any different than any other work environment or community. The key has been to be firm, fair, and consistent - setting expectations and then holding the offenders to them, providing all with opportunities for positive behavioral change and then allowing them to succeed or fail on their own merits and try again the next day, and avoiding all double standards and preferential treatment. 

Today I smile fondly as I think back to the day my supervisor told me he was throwing me in the deep end - it was one of the greatest things that could have happened for me in this job. I've had the incredibly rewarding opportunity to teach, motivate, inspire, challenge, reward, show tough love, and most of all engage. That day though, I could only shake my head stunned and ask, "You want me to do what?!"

Rainbow Fish

I've always been a bookworm (though these days I prefer the term "Book Dragon" 😎), so I suppose it comes as no surprise that one of my most prized possessions as a young child was a book. My biological parents (bios) didn't much believe in giving their children gifts, so I was delighted when, on my 6th birthday, I received a beautiful, brand new book. The book was Rainbow Fish, a story about how a gorgeous, colorful fish with sparkly scales made friends by giving his special scales to other jealous fish around him instead of being selfish and keeping them all to himself. If the concept of the book already sounds a bit off to you, you're not alone.

I remember how, as a kid, my parents told me all about how the message of the book was the joy of sharing and how the rainbow fish with the sparkly scales brought happiness to the other fish by giving freely instead of being selfish. Now however, as I look back on my childhood and so many of the ideas my bios worked so hard to ingrain in me, I can't help but grimace as I think about that book. The author presents the character of the rainbow fish as a haughty but lonely figure who received guidance from an old octopus to give away all his sparkly scales in order to find true happiness. I can relate. As a child, I was rarely allowed even a few birthday gifts and was expected to give away anything special or perceived as excessive to the more needy around me. This mentality was also foundational in bigger ideologies, like how a missionary should "sell all they own and give the proceeds to the poor", even above providing basic care of their family first, and how one couldn't truly have any sort of "positive testimony" without adhering to such a lifestyle. I remember my bios also often using these ideas as excuses to get out of things they didn't want to deal with, where I was concerned, which for me included everything from simple hobbies to pretty major medical care. To make matters worse, while I was expected to give freely of everything I had to the children around me regardless of my own wants or needs, I was actively discouraged from connecting with my peers, as they were often seen as bad influences. This left me even more confused and frustrated as a young person wondering what the point was of having to release anything of any value to me simply in order to support my parents in their attempts to connect with those around them enough to try to impress change and sway them to their particular way of thinking and ideologies. Since I left home, my bios have also significantly changed their lifestyle in a way so as to provide more for their personal whims and indulgences (and those of my younger sisters) first and as they feel like it, something that leaves me feeling even further singled out and put down. I was also taught some really bad habits of self care from this type of message, that I should give to others not just my excess, but even to my detriment, like why invest in basic medical or mental health care if you can use that same resource to essentially manipulate another into coming around to your point of view? Granted my bios saw it as engaging people with a vital message that would bring about their eternal salvation, not manipulation, but I can no longer see it that way myself. 

I wonder now, Why did the rainbow fish have to let go of his special, unique characteristic in order to be happy? What does it say about a friendship if one has to give away or let go of their prized possessions simply to connect? Why couldn't the story have been about interpersonal relationships and communication instead of that kind of "selfless sacrifice"? Can't we find a better middle ground between haughty arrogance and selfishness and complete forfeit? Is such an utter sacrifice really even useful, much less healthy? Isn't there a way we can share what's unique and special about ourselves (and each other) without having to give it up?  

Earlier today I happened across a Facebook post on a group for librarians from around the country about how an author is rewriting a "cringy" children's book in order to address some of the more concerning elements in the story. I was blown away when I read in the comments that the book Rainbow Fish was also being revisited and taken back to the drawing board. It broke my heart when a fellow librarian shared how, after reading the book to a group, as requested by one child, a very shy little boy approached her and asked how he could give away something of great value to him in order to make friends like the rainbow fish did in that story. It broke my heart because I get it.