In Martyr!, Kaveh Akbar reflects on the shrinking timeline of grief. Seneca, he writes, believed grief should not last longer than seven years. Nâzım Hikmet imagined twentieth-century grief lasting at most a year. By the twenty-first century, Akbar suggests, grief may have been reduced to only a few hours before it is supplanted by necessity. As I reflected on one of our previous blog posts,The Permission to Stop (or at Least to Do Things Differently): Leading Libraries Throu

recently attended the ACRL President's Program at the American Library Association Annual Conference. The session was titled "Leading Academic Libraries through VUCA in Higher Education," and it left me thinking about a few things that have been lingering with me for a while. VUCA, for those unfamiliar with the framework, stands for Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, and Ambiguity. It originated in military strategy and has since found a comfortable home in leadership disco

We all make mistakes. If we have even a modicum of self-awareness, we acknowledge those mistakes and, ideally, learn from them. But there are times when we don't recognize or acknowledge the errors, and so real learning never has a chance to take root. And sometimes, we find ourselves working within genuinely challenging environments where the mistakes aren't even our fault. It is precisely in those moments when self-awareness becomes most critical. When someone calls you on

Being undervalued at work does not always arrive as one dramatic moment. More often, it accumulates quietly. It shows up when your ideas are ignored until someone else repeats them. It appears when your labor is expected but not acknowledged. It becomes visible when your expertise is treated as useful only when it solves an immediate problem, but not valuable enough to shape strategy, policy, budgets, contracts, curriculum, or institutional direction. For academic librarians,

In academic libraries and higher education, the words collaboration and cooperation are often used interchangeably. On the surface, both suggest that people are working together. But in toxic workplaces, especially those marked by siloed units, strained relationships, unclear authority, or uneven workloads, the difference between the two matters deeply. Cooperation is often transactional. One department provides information when asked. A colleague attends a meeting but does n

[Author's note: Although “university” is used throughout this post, the “heart” metaphor is used equally in all types of institutions of higher education, colleges, community colleges, and universities. “University” in this context, therefore, refers to all these institutions.] In my last post, I argued that if we are going to keep calling the library the heart of the university, we ought to treat it like one: with constancy, with care, and with the kind of long-term investme

Few metaphors in higher education have more staying power than this one: the library is the heart of the university. It appears in campaign literature, convocation speeches, and strategic plans. University presidents invoke it with evident sincerity. Donors respond to it. Students, at some level, believe it. And the people who work in libraries have heard it so many times that it has become both a source of pride and, if we are being candid, a quiet source of unease. Because

Why "coordinator" can mean real authority, accountability, and a pathway to leadership. There is persistent skepticism about the coordinator title in many professional environments, including libraries. The critique is usually that coordinators are given responsibility without authority. They are expected to lead, but with no real power to hold people accountable, shape expectations, or make consequential decisions. The title, in this reading, is a way of assigning labor with

In Holding Change, adrienne maree brown invites us to approach transformation not as a crisis to survive, but as an opportunity to deepen our values, relationships, and capacity for collective action. This perspective is crucial in academic libraries facing sustained budget reductions. Too often, budget cuts are treated as inevitable, technocratic events. But they are also political. They reflect institutional priorities, power dynamics, and whose labor and learning are deeme

There’s a unique frustration many academic library leaders know too well: you advocate for your department—student workers, temporary staff, frontline librarians—and the reply you get from senior leadership is a flat, dismissive, “Sorry to hear that.” No solution. No next steps. No recognition of the urgency or weight of what you’ve just shared. In that moment, a truth crystallizes: apologies are easy. Solutions are not.And in academic libraries—where we’re often expected to

It seems fitting to write a post about trust and honesty in leadership, especially as we are in the midst of the election cycle in the U.S., and we are bombarded with commercials and other material about the candidates for office in each state and nationally. In libraries and academic institutions, among the things we do is try to help our community members combat mis- and disinformation. In doing so, we hope to help them understand who is - or who is not telling the truth a

In academic libraries, much of the critical work happens behind the scenes. While librarians engage in highly visible activities like teaching, reference services, and public-facing events, a significant portion of their labor remains invisible. This hidden labor—essential for maintaining library services, digital collections, and academic resources—often goes unrecognized, leading to underappreciation and burnout among library staff. The Intersection of Visible and Hidden Wo

Libraries thrive on collaboration. Yet too often, our ability to work well together falters not because of skill gaps, but because of how we communicate. Words, tone, timing, and unspoken assumptions can create friction that undermines trust. To counter this, many library leaders are experimenting with tools and frameworks that put communication, empathy, and psychological safety at the center of workplace culture. Communication Agreements: Talking About How We Talk Kabel Nat

Mentoring is often imagined as a one-way relationship: a senior professional shares experience, institutional memory, and career advice with someone newer to the field. That model still matters. But academic libraries are changing quickly, and leadership development requires more than passing knowledge down. It also requires listening across generations, roles, identities, and experiences. Reverse mentoring offers a practical way to do that. In a reverse mentoring relationshi

In academic libraries and higher education, leadership goes beyond management—it involves fostering equity and inclusivity. The key to impactful leadership lies in finding what is authentic to you. Whether you're a directive, participative, or transformational leader, aligning with your true style will create lasting change. By integrating your authentic leadership style with the CALM framework—Communication, Adaptability, Learning, and Management—and regular feedback loops,

In many academic libraries and higher education institutions, colleagues are often referred to as “family” in an effort to foster a sense of belonging and support. On the surface, this language may seem well-intentioned, offering comfort in environments that value collaboration and community. However, framing the workplace as a family can have unintended negative consequences, particularly when it comes to trauma and the emotional impact it can have on employees. The question

In a seemingly unexpected pairing, the high-stakes drama of Suits offers valuable lessons for professionals working in academic libraries. While the world of corporate law depicted in the TV series may appear far removed from the calm stacks of an academic library, there is a common thread that ties these environments together: the necessity of emotional intelligence (EQ) in navigating workplace dynamics, fostering collaboration, and resolving conflicts. Academic libraries ar

Leaders often talk about inclusion, respect, and collaboration. Yet one of the most overlooked foundations of all three is the ability to set and honor boundaries. Boundaries are not walls that divide people. They are shared understandings that help define how we work together with clarity, respect, and care. When boundaries are clear, people know what is expected, what is appropriate, and where they stand. That kind of clarity is not limiting. It is what makes trust possible

Supervisors do not always realize how intimidating they can seem to their team. Even if you see yourself as open, supportive, and collaborative, your employees may still hesitate to share concerns, ideas, or honest feedback. That hesitation is not always about personality. Often, it is about power. The supervisory role itself carries authority, and authority creates distance. Your decisions affect workloads, schedules, opportunities, evaluations, and sometimes even whether so

At a recent panel discussion, a colleague observed that libraries, as a profession, tend to operate within a "politeness culture," one in which we avoid difficult conversations, sidestep conflict, and smooth over disagreements in the name of collegiality. She proposed that we aspire to something different: a "kindness culture," where we can disagree openly, challenge one another's thinking, and still treat one another with genuine care and respect. I was immediately reminded