Out of Alignment

Crunch time. End of semester is approaching and everyone is a bit taut. The Library is filled with students seeking needed resources, laboring on papers, tracking down citations. I love the bustle of academic endeavor. Like the ebb and flow of the tide, the breathing of every semester takes on a life of its own.

Some semesters start out on a dead run and get faster. Other semesters start leisurely, winding tighter and tighter as the weeks fly by. Some semesters are content heavy, the topics serious, the potential for impact on daily life real. Other semesters are exploratory, delving into hidden mysteries, sleuthing for answers. How extraordinary to be invited to participate in whatever facet the current semester reveals.

This semester began with a bang. One day the students are relaxing at home on Christmas break, the next they are spending quality time with our databases and resources. No gradual ramping up, this spring. We are serious from the get go. Given the level of start up and constant uptick in activity, its no wonder that nerves are raw, meltdowns regular. One can only hang on and ride it out, hoping to steer clear of any protruding rocks.

Too late! We hit some bumps. Our G drive goes zonky on us, we have to back track to restore files. A flashdrive with important files goes belly up. Passwords get changed then changed again then again. Some accounts end up locked for security reasons. Work piles up. Backlogs. Boxes of returns. Students come in the middle of the confusion, frustrated because their predictable workflow is suddenly not cooperating.

Wouldn't it be grand if life changes were predictable? We could prepare for them, navigate the consequences with ease and maybe even enjoy the ride instead of careening recklessly down the whitewater rapids nearly out of control. Library jobs are supposed to be havens of quiet, peace and productivity, not dens of distress and change! But here we are, learning to handle these unexpected things with grace and understanding.

We remind ourselves that no one ever died because of an overflowing inbox. Ordering articles is not a life-or-death activity. The uproar will die away, and we will not remember the instigation, only the emotional trauma. Like water slopping over the side of the tank, we will only remember the event if we got soaked in the process. Let us hope we did not intentionally soak anyone, and that we did our best to protect bystanders from an unexpected deluge.

As fast as the trouble arose, it will die away leaving nary a ripple on the placid surface of the pond. The planets will realign. The stars will twinkle, and the semester will peacefully come to a satisfying close. Its all part of the cycle. Breathe in. Breathe out.