SLJ Montage: Getty Images; photo courtesy of Erica Sikma

When I tell people that I’m working on my Master’s in Library and Information Science (MLIS), the responses range from, “Wow, that’s great” to “You won’t have a job.” So why did I, an Oregon Trail Millennial, decide to spend what little money I have to go back to school in this current climate? Let me back up a little.

I stopped my higher education journey just shy of my bachelor’s degree when I got married and had a child. Being a mom filled every second of the day, and as my child grew, so did the opportunities to volunteer at their school. I’ve always liked books, and volunteering in the library seemed like an easy choice when faced with the multitude of options at the back-to-school open house.

My child attends a charter school that places a high value on the school-family partnership. While that has its positives, it also comes with some downsides. In the library, parents are running the day-to-day circulation activities and building relationships with the students. The library is unsupported by administration, and staff are underqualified and stretched thin, taking on multiple roles throughout the district (i.e., library coordinator–cum–athletic secretary–cum–choir substitute). The library has been left in chaos year after year.

The more I volunteered, the more I realized where the school was failing our students. I could see different ways to engage the kids, organize the collection to increase library use, and make the space more than just a room to show off during parent tours. Even with the wheels in my brain spinning to figure out how I, as a volunteer, could help make our library a success, I didn’t see myself going back to school to finish a bachelor’s and get a master’s. I thought volunteering was enough.

But all I could do was roll my eyes and grumble with the other volunteers when an administrator removed Logan Likes Mary Anne! or took titles out of our book fair based on the cover art.

The turning point for me came when I learned that our curriculum director refused to allow any books with LGBTQIA+ characters at the school.

I’m the mom of a queer teen. You’re really going to tell me that my child and their friends can’t see themselves on the shelf at their own school?

The fire was lit in me to return to school—a place I considered to be Dante’s tenth circle—to join the fight against book bans and support our students despite our superintendent telling me “school librarians are obsolete.”

After six years as a volunteer, I am now the library coordinator for the elementary and middle school in the district. As I take classes toward my MLIS, I want to learn and am arming myself with knowledge to create a safe place where students can find themselves reflected in the stories on the shelves, and find a window into new experiences.

Supportive adults make a difference in our kids’ lives. In 2019, the Trevor Project reported that LGBTQIA+ teens were 40 percent less likely to attempt suicide when they had at least one accepting adult in their lives than those who did not. For teens who spend so much time at school, it’s essential they see themselves in the stories on their classroom and school library shelves.

A whole-child approach to education—one that strives to teach empathy, emphasizes an inclusive learning environment, and prepares students for a culturally diverse world after graduation—should not treat some students as something to hide away and erase, whose stories shouldn’t be told. All readers need to experience a variety of perspectives. That access to books with multiple perspectives is also critical in the current political landscape.

Knowledge is obviously power; otherwise the current administration and its supporters wouldn’t work so hard to suppress any and all programs that support the arts, books, media, and education itself.

It’s absolutely vital that I continue reading, learning, and earning my MLIS degree. Doing so is the way I can stand up and seek change, support our teachers, and be that accepting adult for our students. It is the way I can counter the disinformation epidemic and ensure that the next generation thinks critically, independently, and with empathy as they enter the world.

Like Lily Tomlin said, “I always wondered why somebody doesn’t do something about that. Then I realized I was somebody.”

Erica Sikma is an MLIS student and K–8 library coordinator at a Michigan charter school.