Using personal privilege as an lisnews contributor, I offer this good-bye tribute to our outgoing children\’s librarian Phyllis Wallace. I know some of you loathe human interest and stuff like this, so consider this your final warning.
July 10, 2003–Today, after 55 years of service as a children’s librarian, Phyllis Wallace is retiring from the Bloomington (IL) Public Library.
We all know people who overstay their welcome, but Mrs. Phyllis Wallace has been a vital presence in the Children’s Room since she was 18 years old and heading for a career as a secretary. When a friend asked her if she would consider helping out at the library, the then-Miss Rodman made a decision that would affect not only her life, but the lives of countless thousands who would visit the old, overstuffed Withers Library, then a newer Bloomington Public Library. I would venture to say that Mrs. Wallace is one of the most recognized, most loved, most appreciated, most effective people in this community. She’s received numerous public acknowledgments of her Good Work and Importance—Youth Services Librarian of the Year, a city-wide Phyllis Wallace Day, nomination for a Woman of Distinction award—but none of that can begin to measure her true worth to the community she has served.
Using personal privilege as an lisnews contributor, I offer this good-bye tribute to our outgoing children\’s librarian Phyllis Wallace. I know some of you loathe human interest and stuff like this, so consider this your final warning.
July 10, 2003–Today, after 55 years of service as a children’s librarian, Phyllis Wallace is retiring from the Bloomington (IL) Public Library.
We all know people who overstay their welcome, but Mrs. Phyllis Wallace has been a vital presence in the Children’s Room since she was 18 years old and heading for a career as a secretary. When a friend asked her if she would consider helping out at the library, the then-Miss Rodman made a decision that would affect not only her life, but the lives of countless thousands who would visit the old, overstuffed Withers Library, then a newer Bloomington Public Library. I would venture to say that Mrs. Wallace is one of the most recognized, most loved, most appreciated, most effective people in this community. She’s received numerous public acknowledgments of her Good Work and Importance—Youth Services Librarian of the Year, a city-wide Phyllis Wallace Day, nomination for a Woman of Distinction award—but none of that can begin to measure her true worth to the community she has served.
Her worth is measured by the inch, in the stacks of cards and letters she’s received since announcing her retirement. Her worth is measured in the number of stars that cover the walls of the children’s room—each bearing the name of one of the more than 3000 kids who have signed up for this year’s summer reading program. Her worth is measured in footsteps, those of children, parents, teachers and others who crossed and re-crossed the threshold into the Children’s Room, looking for a good book, some homework help or parenting advice. Her worth is measured in the heaviness of the hearts of her colleagues who will miss her enthusiasm, feistiness, and caring, but unsentimental approach to the job.
For those of us in public libraries, we know that the children’s room is where it all starts, where lifelong library users are born. It takes engaged parents to bring their kids to the library in the first place, but if those squirmy, book-chewing toddlers don’t find something utterly compelling in their first few years as library users, we won’t see them until they are 36 years old and rushing into the library on April 14 because they just heard that the library is the only place to get a tax form after 5 p.m. Those of us who work at the library have heard numerous unsolicited testimonies about Mrs. Wallace—at service desks, in grocery stores, in line at the bank. She’s had a long line of staff members, more like extended family, who have helped her along the way, but it’s Mrs. Wallace who has set the tone and fostered a community of life-long readers and library users.
Mrs. Wallace is no Romper Room lady, speaking softly and believing that all children are sweetness and light. She knows that all kids are different—shy, rambunctious, self-directed, manipulative, challenged and challenging. She speaks directly and respectfully to the kids who use the Children’s Room, not afraid to demand appropriate behavior. Nor is she the nightmare librarian of stereotype, shushing and squashing enthusiasm. Her Children’s room was lively and used hard. Aside from welcoming the kids whose parents brought them in, she has given tremendous consideration to the neighborhood kids who wander in unsupervised, to the latchkey kids who come after school until their parents pick them up, and to the rowdier kids who challenge everyone’s patience, while looking for structure and affirmation.
Mrs. Wallace believes in books. She was not enthusiastic about computers being installed in the Children’s Room, but understood that it was something that needed to be done. As we have all seen the myth of the magic of computers in action–chat, on-line poker, book-sized downloaded game cheats, and all the crud which make up a good chunk of public use—we now better understand her hesitation. There are days when the rest of us wish we could put all the machines on the curb and get back to the business of books and homework help, but like Mrs. Wallace, we roll with the changes. It’s not our library. It’s the community’s library. Mrs. Wallace understands that change goes with the territory.
On her last day, Mrs. Wallace came into work like she always does—full of enthusiasm and carrying her sack lunch. When I jokingly wondered if someone wouldn’t buy lunch for her on her last day, she looked as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind and said she’d just as soon sit down and watch her soap like she always did. And she meant it. (I have it on good authority that she’ll be missing her soap today.) Her reception is two hours away, and she’s still in command, doing her job like she has every other day of the past 55 years.
Knowing full well that her departure could easily turn into a big day of hoopla, grandstanding, speechifying and tears, Mrs. Wallace demanded nothing more than a modest reception of cake and punch in the Story Room. We all know that our big meeting room, which holds a much larger crowd, would be the better place to accommodate all those folks that will stop by and say good-bye this afternoon. But Mrs. Wallace wants to end her career where she began it—and that’s good enough for us.
Rochelle Hartman
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