In academic libraries, lean staffing has long been portrayed as efficient, necessary, and even virtuous—something to endure quietly, even as we're taught to continue advocating for more support, more staffing, and more recognition. But what if this austerity model is quietly eroding the very foundation of our impact? What if the cost of lean staffing isn't just current stress—but future lost sales?

We often celebrate the idea of transformation in academic libraries—rebranding leaders as innovators, change agents, or visionaries. But not all transformation leads to healthy outcomes. What happens when a transformative leader enters an academic library, only to find that their vision doesn’t fit the institutional culture? Or worse, when transformation becomes disruption without direction?

In academic libraries, overwork is often described in terms of hours logged, tasks juggled, or meetings survived. But these symptoms distract from the deeper cause: power inequities and systemic unfairness. As Brigid Schulte argues in Overwhelmed, work stress flourishes in cultures that mistake busyness for worth and devalue care, rest, and equity.

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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 deemed valuable.

In an era of increasing consortial collaboration, strategic partnerships, and shared service models, academic libraries are leaning on each other more than ever. From resource-sharing initiatives to cooperative digital preservation, the language of partnership abounds. But behind the rhetoric lies an uncomfortable truth: many so-called “partnerships” are structurally inequitable.

In academic libraries and across higher education institutions, we often say our doors are open to feedback. But is that enough? A compelling study by James R. Detert and Ethan R. Burris, "Leadership Behavior and Employee Voice: Is the Door Really Open?" challenges us to consider whether openness is truly being practiced—or merely proclaimed.

In the workplace, communication is everything. But too often, the tone of a conversation—especially the volume of someone’s voice—is used to distract from the content of what’s being said.

In academic libraries, strong leadership is not about shielding employees from challenges or gatekeeping opportunities — it’s about equipping them to meet challenges head-on, grow, and lead in their own right. Yet too often, librarians encounter supervisory mindsets that, even with good intentions, stifle professional development instead of nurturing it.

Academic libraries are often seen as inclusive spaces—committed to access, equity, and lifelong learning. But even in mission-driven environments, bias can quietly shape hiring practices, team dynamics, and advancement opportunities. While we may not be able to change institutional culture overnight, academic librarians in leadership roles can make a powerful difference by intentionally interrupting bias in everyday decisions.

In the world of academic librarianship, visibility is often mistaken for prestige—and prestige, in turn, is confused with legitimacy. For those of us working in small colleges or under-resourced institutions, contributing to the broader professional discourse through writing, presenting, or publishing is sometimes viewed as “punching above our weight.”

Advocacy from supervisors is one of the most valuable currencies in the workplace—especially in academic libraries, where hierarchical structures, tenure processes, and institutional politics can shape the trajectory of a librarian’s career. But what happens when that support isn’t there? Whether it’s intentional or simply a symptom of competing priorities, lack of advocacy can leave you feeling stuck, unseen, and professionally vulnerable.

In every academic library, what we choose to reward—and what we choose to ignore—tells a story. Incentives are not just operational levers; they’re messages. They communicate what is truly valued, often louder than any mission statement or strategic plan. And when incentives contradict stated values, they don’t just send mixed signals—they produce noise.

When morale tanks and teams disengage, leaders often rush to fix the problem by swapping out people—quietly nudging out the “negative ones” or restructuring entire departments. But toxicity doesn’t originate with a few individuals. It spreads when the environment rewards silence, isolates feedback, ignores emotional labor, and favors productivity at any cost.

In academic libraries, we often encourage curiosity in our users—students, faculty, and researchers—but the most transformative environments are built when leaders foster curiosity in themselves and across their teams. As highlighted in the Harvard Business Review article "What Makes an Inclusive Leader?", curiosity is not a “nice-to-have”—it’s a critical capability of inclusive leadership.

You’ve been in the meetings. You’ve seen the whiteboards, the slide decks, the draft org charts. You’ve participated in committee discussions, advocated for clearer alignment, and supported the idea that structure should reflect strategy.

In academic librarianship, we talk a lot about technology, access, and outcomes—but not enough about the health of the relationships that make those things possible. When a vendor relationship begins to falter, it often doesn’t happen all at once. The silence creeps in. A response takes a little longer. Updates stop coming. Negotiations stall. Eventually, what once felt like a partnership begins to feel transactional—something to chase rather than build.

In times of transformation, academic library leaders are asked to be both builders and bridge-makers—carefully managing details while cultivating trust, shared purpose, and community. Drawing on Albert O. Hirschman's distinction between skill and charisma, we can better understand what inclusive leadership demands of us—and how DEI-centered programming can serve as a proving ground for both.

Gossip has a bad reputation—and often for good reason. In academic libraries, as in any workplace, gossip can fracture teams, erode trust, and perpetuate bias. As we explored in our earlier blog post, Gossip in Organizations: How Bad Is It?, informal communication isn’t inherently negative—it becomes harmful when driven by exclusion, power struggles, or poor communication structures. And as Fear as a Powerful Motivator for Gossip in Academic Libraries: Insights from Corey Robin points out, gossip often thrives where fear silences more direct conversations. But that’s not the whole story.

Academic libraries are no strangers to disruption. We’ve been navigating technological change, constrained budgets, and shifting institutional priorities for decades. But the rise of artificial intelligence—particularly generative AI—calls for a different kind of leadership: one that is innovative, inclusive, and scalable.

Check out Trevor A. Dawes and Russell Michalak's Toxic Dynamics podcast with Michael LaMagna and Erica Swenson Danowitz, Ed.D.

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.”

Check out Trevor A. Dawes, and Russell Michalak's Toxic Dynamics podcast with Jennifer Gunter King.

Change doesn’t happen by sitting at your desk. It happens in conversation. In discomfort. In collaboration.

Recent executive actions from the White House have sparked serious concerns about the integrity of American historical education. The Executive Action, “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” raises alarming questions about whose truth is being centered and whose continues to be marginalized.

In the world of academic libraries, communication is everything. As library professionals, we write countless emails—whether responding to faculty requests, guiding students through research, or collaborating with colleagues on initiatives. Every word we choose shapes perceptions, even down to how we sign off.

In today’s rapidly shifting higher education landscape, libraries play a crucial role in fostering student success through inclusive and accessible design. While institutions may navigate changing policies around diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), the commitment to ensuring equitable access to information and resources remains foundational to librarianship.

Universities have long been revered as bastions of intellectual exploration—spaces where minds encounter unfamiliar ideas, assumptions are challenged, and perspectives broaden through spirited debate. Yet in recent years, many have observed a troubling shift away from this ideal. The marketplace of ideas seems increasingly segmented into ideological enclaves where confirmation bias reigns and viewpoint diversity withers. This transformation raises critical questions about the future of higher education and its role in nurturing engaged citizens capable of navigating a complex, pluralistic society.

Trevor A. Dawes and Russell "Rusty" Michalak recently interviewed Amanda Koziura and Stephanie Becker. To listen to the podcast please click play below. 

You tell yourself you can handle it. That if you just keep your head down, do your work, and stay professional, the tension will pass. But it doesn’t. Every day in your toxic academic library feels like a slow burn—emails laced with condescension, meetings where you’re ignored or undermined, the constant weight of working in a system that devalues you.

The recent wave of terminations within the federal workforce has sent shockwaves through countless households across the nation. Employees, many with years of dedicated service, have been dismissed abruptly—without cause, without notice, and without the due process traditionally afforded to civil servants. This isn't a debate about the necessity of organizational efficiency or the merits of a lean government structure; rather, it's a profound concern about the erosion of fundamental procedural safeguards and the devastating personal toll on those affected.

Leadership in academic libraries is evolving. Traditional top-down models are giving way to more inclusive, problem-led approaches that emphasize collaboration, adaptability, and shared expertise. This shift aligns with the needs of today’s academic librarians, who must navigate complex institutional structures, advocate for resources, and innovate in response to emerging challenges.

The question of whether libraries can effectively teach AI literacy and ethics, despite internal organizational challenges, reflects a broader misunderstanding of the distinction between institutional culture and professional expertise. While some libraries—like many organizations—grapple with workplace dynamics that can be less than ideal, this does not diminish the knowledge, dedication, and ethical commitment of library professionals. In fact, it is precisely in these challenging environments that AI literacy and ethics become even more crucial.

The recent rollback of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs in higher education, as detailed by The Chronicle of Higher Education (link), has left many librarians and educators grappling with how to continue this vital work. As Ruha Benjamin reminds us in Viral Justice, progress is often found in small, intentional acts that ripple outward, shaping a more just and equitable world. Even without formal DEI programs, academic libraries can serve as catalysts for change by embracing incremental, sustainable actions that uphold diversity, equity, and inclusion.

In the words of Peter Drucker, "Culture eats strategy for breakfast." This succinct yet profound observation highlights a truth that is often overlooked: no matter how well-designed your strategy is, it will falter in the face of a toxic or misaligned organizational culture. Strategy provides the roadmap to success, but culture propels the organization forward. Without a healthy culture, employees are unlikely to feel connected to the mission and vision, and the organization’s potential will remain unrealized. 

In academic librarianship, we wear many hats—leaders, collaborators, advocates, and sometimes mediators. How we navigate these roles often determines our success and the success of our libraries. But the question remains: how do we balance strength and warmth? How do we advocate for ourselves, our teams, and our libraries without alienating those we need to influence?

Academic libraries have always been at the forefront of addressing the inequities that exist within education. For me, this responsibility became personal when a student told me they were skipping meals to afford textbooks. Over the years, I’d heard similar stories from others—students sharing books, delaying purchases, or going without altogether. These choices weren’t just inconveniences; they were barriers to success.

Picture this: It’s a Tuesday morning, and your inbox is already overflowing. A faculty member has emailed to express frustration over the availability of library resources, a student has asked for last-minute research help, and a partner organization is waiting for a project update. Each of these interactions demands not just a response but thoughtful communication. But how do you manage this when your day is already packed? Enter AI, not as a replacement for your expertise, but as a partner in helping you communicate more intentionally.

For many professionals, holiday parties are an opportunity to celebrate the season, connect with colleagues, and reflect on the year. But in some workplaces—especially those with toxic dynamics—these gatherings can feel more like a chore than a celebration. This is particularly true in environments where the workplace culture leans heavily on the narrative of being a “family.”

Trust is a cornerstone of effective collaboration, particularly in academic libraries where relationships underpin the institution’s ability to support teaching, learning, and research. Walter Gmelch, a renowned scholar on academic leadership, emphasizes that trust is not merely an abstract ideal—it’s an essential component of relational leadership and organizational success. Christopher Cox, in Compassionate Leadership: An Essential Approach Post-COVID, highlights how balancing empathy with accountability strengthens relationships and creates resilient workplace cultures. Together, these perspectives offer valuable guidance for navigating trust challenges.

When I first became director of the library, I quickly learned that managing a team with diverse needs and schedules was no small feat. Communication was everything—especially with our team of student workers, paraprofessionals, and professional librarians on varying contracts. I assumed that more information was better, so I packed every email and memo with detail, thinking it would empower the team. Instead, I was met with questions that reflected confusion, not clarity. Some staff felt overwhelmed; others weren’t sure what applied to them specifically.

Academic libraries are unique spaces—centers of learning that prioritize steady, thoughtful support for students and faculty. While the work may not always be fast-paced, it’s certainly purposeful, with staff investing time and care to ensure resources are accessible, knowledge is shared, and community needs are met. However, in environments where the spotlight is often on users, the contributions of library staff can sometimes go unrecognized. Building a culture of appreciation, where team members feel valued for their work, is essential to creating a positive and inclusive library environment.

Many universities and colleges across the United States are facing budget challenges. In times of financial strain, leaders are faced with tough decisions. Unfortunately, some managers exploit budget crises to eliminate or demote employees they don’t prefer working with, using financial challenges as a convenient cover. This behavior, while perhaps disguised as “cost-saving” or “streamlining,” is unscrupulous and unprofessional, damaging morale, creating resentment, and ultimately hurting the organization.

Leaders who practice favoritism in the workplace have no chance to build a culture of trust.” – Robert Whipple

As academic librarians, we wear many hats—mentors, researchers, resource managers, and advocates for student success. But what happens when we start questioning whether our current role or institution is still the right fit? It’s a tough decision, one that requires not only personal reflection but also a careful evaluation of the support our institution provides.

It is not uncommon for us to bemoan the curious phenomenon known as "failing up." This term describes a situation in which individuals, despite being unsuccessful or ineffective in their current roles, continue to receive promotions and are entrusted with increasing levels of responsibility. It’s disconcerting but not uncommon, and it can have profound consequences for the organizations these individuals lead.

As a new manager, you’re stepping into a leadership role where you not only oversee your team’s work but also ensure that each member feels valued and supported. It’s essential to recognize when an employee may be underperforming because they feel undervalued. Drawing on ideas from Viral Justice by Ruha Benjamin, which emphasizes how small, often-overlooked actions contribute to systemic change, this post offers guidance on identifying when a team member feels undervalued—and, more importantly, what you can do about it to foster a more inclusive and engaged environment.