This is a small part of the story of A. She was older than me and had more hairs on her chin then I do. Her eyes were sharp blue and when she focused her attention on a topic she did not let it go until satisfied. Some days we could only find time for a greeting, or her head would be down in concentration and we didn't even say hello. Once a month we would sit down around a table together for hours talking about our projects. A. often found fault and never praised my work without qualification, but her criticisms were valid and she was always interested in what I was doing. I wasn't her only mentee; she taught many people informally and was active in the community.
One day A. wasn't in; she'd been taken to the hospital as the result of a fall. Friends who visited said that when they brought grapes and apples to her bedside she asked "Why not oranges?" She didn't return to the library but died months later.
After A. died, I redefined our relationship. Before she had been a customer, a patron, a library user, but my feelings around her death and the ways in which I missed her made me realize that she had been my secret mentor. The last thing A. taught me was that listening, helping and providing information is never one way - the connections we build through library work flow in both directions. "Customer-based services" is the intellectual concept, but the emotional reality is richer.
cpd23, Thing 11
2 comments:
That is so true. We constantly belittle people like this, but in actual fact, we learn so much from them and when they're gone miss them so much.
This is an interesting and original perspective on what 'mentoring' is. If we viewed all our so-called 'difficult' library customers as 'mentors' we could gain a lot more from our exchange with them.
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