People talk about how you need to develop a thick skin if you want to be a writer, but I think of it more as a kind of scarred callous: criticisms are blisters that heal and eventually make us stronger.
Is it worth it to put myself and my writing out there, to risk failure, exposure, ridicule? Am I being like the reckless climbing figure today, or am I the cowering spectators below today? Which should I be?
That said, and here’s my soapbox moment, the most important parts of library instruction, as far as I’m concerned, are: 1. getting students into the library for the first time and 2. giving students a compassionate, human face to connect with the library.
A lot of times students don’t believe the library is “for them” and it is important to give them an accommodating entry into a world that might be intimidating.
People talk about how you need to develop a thick skin if you want to be a writer, but I think of it more as a kind of callous: criticisms are blisters that heal and eventually make us stronger. But it hurts in the meantime.
I love the paradoxes of writing, the quiet chaos of writing, the energized calm of writing; I am silent and still and yet my mind is noisy and active.
“I’d wear a mustache if I were a dude.”
I had an “Ah-ha!” moment about this when I was working on the rough draft of my Community Reflection, which my students and I started last Friday. I decided I wanted to write about how coming home after my Dad’s surgery and then spending the week with him in the hospital gave me a new…