To the Guy Working on 5th floor of the Lee Library…Nine Years Ago

I’m sorry I don’t know your name. I barely remember that you had dark, curly hair. (I better not remember any other details or my husband might get jealous.) But I’m sitting here comfortably doing research for a graduate-level paper, and I suddenly remembered you.

Almost nine years ago, I was an 18-year-old in my first Honors-level Freshman writing class at BYU. We had to write four papers that semester. One of them was a personal narrative. Piece of cake. I don’t remember what the other two were, but the fourth and biggest paper was a Research Paper.

Confession: I had never done a Research Paper in high school.

I know. Crazy. But it’s the truth. During my Junior year of high school, our teacher had us do a “multi-genre research paper,” which was more or less the equivalent of a creating a diorama of our research subject. Not really. But it was soft research. We could use pictures as sources. Or songs. Or pieces of string, if they had anything to do with our subject. For an eleventh grader, it was a great project. And I did learn a thing or two about research. Still, nothing to prepare me for what was expected in college.

You see, the funny thing about college is, they throw you headlong into the sea of the body research and expect you to know how to swim. But 99.7% of Freshman have no idea how to move their arms and legs, much less which direction to swim. This was me, Guy. This was me. Even after the library instruction session we had to attend as a class, I only knew a very little more about navigating library databases than I did before.

So anyway, I went up to the Humanities Reference area of the library on campus one autumn day on blind faith. I knew I had to do Research, and I knew where to do it, but I didn’t know how. This is where you came in. I didn’t have a laptop back then, so I staked out one of your computers, logged in, and played around just long enough to convince myself that life, the universe, and everything was hopeless. 

I was shy. I didn’t like asking for help. And I didn’t want to disturb you. But I did because I was drowning. So, I explained my assignment and you listened with the patience and wisdom of a…I don’t know how old you were…23, 24?  At any rate, “OLD.”  You walked over with me to my computer and you showed me how to access JSTOR. You gave me one or two pointers how to search for things, and then told me to come back if I needed any more help.

Dude—wherever you are—I am ¾ of a librarian now. I will graduate with my MLIS on August 4 of this year. I have worked nearly 3 years in reference in libraries now, and all that being said, I now appreciate just exactly how much you did for me that day. You didn’t do my assignment for me; you didn’t show me every single database I could have used. You also didn’t brush me off as “another clueless freshman.” Above all, you were nice! That is the best thing a librarian can be for a struggling student.You made me feel like the library was not enemy territory and that Research was not something to be feared and loathed. (Well, actually, to be fair, that last part took a long time to overcome. Still, you helped.)

Just so you know, I’m very nearly a pro at research now.* I’m doing research acrobatics! My skillz ride circles around my Freshman self. I can navigate electronic databases like a boss and find a dozen GOOD sources in a matter of a couple hours now. But this is not about me.

I’m not saying that this moment in my life inspired me to become a librarian. But as I look back, with what I know now, I can see just how good at your job you were—especially for a student employee. You took your job seriously, and I guess I just want to say thank you on the off-chance you will ever read this. You probably won’t.

But thanks all the same.

Sincerely,  Erin

*Hyperbole, folks. Hyperbole.