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I’m at the end of my first full week at a new role in Chicago. I had been in California at a public law library for just over 2 years and it was time to move on. There were a lot of reasons, mostly personal, and I had come to the realization that I was not going to be able to make the commitment that the library needed. Sometimes you need to know when it’s time to leave.
Let me start by saying that, professionally, the 2+ years I spent at the San Diego County Public Law Library were among my happiest, if also the most stressful, of my career. When I left Canada for California, it was not a simple choice. California was uncharted territory for anyone in my family. I was entering the U.S. as an immigrant—again—and that brought with it a lot of challenges. There was a lot of uncertainty before I ever walked in the door of the law library.
For one thing, my family remained in Canada. I had made a promise to our kids that we would not move them until they’d left high school. And California was not high on my partner’s list of destinations. San Diego was really too good a job to miss, though. If someone wants to work on legal information problems, a public law library is a great place to be. Our family have lived a lot of places and enjoyed something about each one, and we felt that California deserved a chance as well. I had also always wanted to live by an ocean and so we thought we’d give it a few years. By that time, our youngest would be heading off to their post-high school life and we could make a decision.
This may sound unworkable but I had two colleagues who had already walked down this path. They had found work in a new location but their partner had work where they were. As we hear more and more about super commuters (and not just eedjit CEOs), it is not hard to find people who have greater distances between home and work. And who live in two places. I think, also, that there is a sense of being able to do anything if you know that it’s for a limited period of time.
Make a Commitment
Anyone who looks at my resume will see that I have moved around. When I was interviewing for a law school role, a dean raised this as a negative aspect. I think this reflects their bias more than reality. I would encourage people to move roles if they can and, where possible, even into different contexts (academic, firm, public, judiciary, non-profit) for personal growth and satisfaction. I have learned a lot of unusual operational functions and political challenges by experiencing different types of organizations.
I only have anecdotes and comments from others but there seems to be greater mobility now than there was when I started. In those days, your choice of silo (public services, technical services, technology) was seen as career limiting for senior roles, let alone for traversing work contexts. There seems to be a healthy openness to more cross pollination now. Needs must, I suppose.
One of the biggest challenges personally and professionally in San Diego was that I knew that there was this commitment issue on the horizon. We were not going to move our family from Canada to California only to stay for a short period of time. Not that I could afford to have bought a house in California, but we determined that my footprint in San Diego would be as small and affordable as I could manage. This meant that I was in a 200 sq. ft. studio for the time I was in California. I often joked that my office was larger than my apartment.
When you are in a role and there is a questionable end date, there is the risk of being unwilling to make commitments that you yourself will be unable to see through. I think this is particularly true for a law library director but it is probably true for any role. It is one thing to spin up a new resource, using skills that only you have in your organization, and another for that to become a sustainable resource or service after your departure. You will obviously create strategic changes that will outlast you, no matter how long you are there.
I tend to look for silver linings. One was that, in light of this uncertainty, I was determined to build in resiliency wherever I could. Whatever else I achieved, when I left, the leaving would hopefully be as smooth as possible. When the law library exists within a larger organization, this can be less critical. But in a stand alone library, a single person’s departure can mean that a whole line of business—reference, technical services, HR, finance, facilities—comes to a crashing halt. When our CFO died, it only underscored that this needed to be one of my top priorities.
At the same time, I don’t think many people come into a new job with their departure date already in mind. I knew I would have a decision point in a few years and would do the best work I could until I had to make that choice. This is important in any role but, again, as director, it is critical to commit to the organization even if you can’t commit to your entire environment.
It was something I’d never overtly considered but have now added to my list of things to contemplate when making a decision. No matter what role you are in, you are a steward of that role. The role may have been created for you and may disappear when you leave, but most of us are merely holding a role that will continue, and existed before we arrived. This idea of stewardship is critical and, I think, serves as a through line to ensure you are focused on doing your best work for the organization.
It’s … Well, Actually It IS You
San Diego was not growing on me though. While I enjoyed the things that I did there—seeing the symphony and opera, visiting the zoos, lots of hiking and beaches, working in the canyons—the family distance was much harder than I expected it to be. This may have been exacerbated by things going on in my personal life. You can perhaps imagine what it is like to go 2 or 3 months without physical touch from another person or a pet, especially in these post-lockdown, post-handshake times. Regular virtual calls did little to patch the isolation. I never really found my community, despite putting myself in the way of others at music concerts and D&D games. I also haven’t had a car in about 20 years so my mobility was limited despite having a California driver’s license.
I remarked to my partner that going to Canada had made me realize that I value my American-ness. I am not (yet) American but it’s the nationality I feel most aligned with. I still remember, in my first weeks in Toronto, being told that “Canadians work to live but Americans like you live to work.” Not American but perceived as one and, perhaps, acting like one. Also, yes, work is a primary part of who I am and how I identify myself.
Going to California made me realize I value my Midwestern experience (Iowa, Illinois, Michigan) more than I had considered. It’s not “Midwestern Nice” in my case. I missed the severity of the seasons, the sounds and smells that accompany a rain storm in a forest, a canopy of deciduous trees. I missed a quick trip to my parents or being less than a day from other family members.
Some of my staff moved to California for all the reasons I left. It’s a great place for some people. Don’t let anyone tell you there aren’t 4 seasons, even in San Diego. There are flowers, bird migrations, temperature fluctuations. They’re just different. There are few things as beautiful as a canyon in February. But when I crossed into Iowa from Nebraska, and a burst of damp earth smell came into the van, I breathed it in like I’d been crawling across a desert.
It also made me realize, professionally, I was at a crossroads. Even as arduous as those first months were in San Diego, I felt as though I was working in areas that I was strong. We had more staff separations and hiring in that first year than I had done in most of my career but we navigated them smoothly. I had never had someone die during their employment and have to figure out what it was they did. It may not have been pretty but I think I was effective. With hindsight, I’m comfortable that I left things better than I found them.
Yet I wasn’t finding the work challenging any longer once we started to hit smoother waters. As the dust settled, I was better able to assess my willingness to engage in external battles or to put up with mundane routines. I was realizing that I was getting to a point where I needed to more fully commit to be an operations expert, and becoming even more distant from the practical library work, or I would need to find a role that would reverse me out of a lot of the administrative work and back towards things that excited me, teaching and writing especially.
It has made me wonder how many directors remain in their roles for reasons that may not be healthy. I realize that I am able to leave but not everyone can. But if the director is not able to fully commit, it can be detrimental to the organization as well as inhibiting a new perspective with a new director. I don’t suggest this is a “greying of the profession” issue either. A director of any age may find that they are not a good match for the organization or the organization may not be right for them. It could be pre-existing but it also could be a change in circumstances, especially in leadership and who the director reports to. It then is up to the director to decide whether it will harm them or the organization if they stay.
I was also realizing that my failure, and that of my family, to connect and commit to California was going to be a growing problem at work.
Time to Move On
I am not suggesting my path is the right path. But a year or so ago, it became very clear to me that my contribution at work was going to become increasingly challenging. I had a growing resistance to creating long term strategic plans because of my own uncertainty. To be frank, I do not plan too many years out because I don’t think it’s very effective; the world changes and undoes your plan. My enthusiasm was waning, though, and that was a red flag for me.
I knew my path would take me back East. But the first decision point was whether to stay in law libraries or not. I am good at running organizations. There is always room for improvement but I think I have enough years under my belt to know that it’s a competency of mine. There is no particular reason that someone in my position would necessarily have to continue to do that kind of work in a law library. I looked at public libraries and also at state libraries that might blend legislative support with broader goals.
At the same time, it was a permanent commitment away from teaching and writing if I moved to a larger library or information center as an operational leader. Part of me was not willing to give that goal up quite yet. Also, there’s an understandable inertia to leaving a field you have been in—and have specialized education for—to enter one that is new. The reality is that, after so many years, the degrees themselves have little impact on what I do or what I know. Expertise has eclipsed credentials.
In the middle of this, in my “make lemonade from lemons” mindset, I pitched an article to AALL Spectrum about future career paths for directors. While I myself do not want to ever be a law school dean (and, increasingly, see myself as not an executive), I was curious about how people who had moved up beyond the director role to more senior roles outside the library did it.
I decided on the latter route and felt that academic law libraries would be the best place for me to be able to utilize my operational skills while also re-surfacing my teaching and writing. Although I blog a lot and have written books and articles, I have done most of that outside of my work place. It has been rare to be able to teach or create for my employers in the past nearly 20 years.
It was an inauspicious start. I will some day write about my job search. For now, let me say that I was rejected for an entry-level academic legal technology librarian role due to lack of academic experience. (You can judge for yourself) I actually had far more success with academic director searches, which surprised me. Since my approach involved range-finding, it may also have had to do with my re-calibrating after each foray.
So if you are on the job hunt in law libraries and are struggling to find your spot, don’t assume it’s you (also, if you want to chat, just email me and we can set up something). It has made me realize that a lot of my thinking about the law librarian pipeline has failed to take into account the very flawed HR processes that candidates may be encountering. How many candidates are getting ghosted and turning away from law libraries?
Eventually, the pieces fell into place. I packed up my 200 sq. ft. of belongings into a mini van and drove across the U.S. to Chicago. I moved in, unpacked, and then participated in some campus orientations for faculty. On a Friday, I finished my first full day in my new office.
The hardest part of leaving any library has always been leaving the people. San Diego is no different. Some director is going to be lucky enough to be able to work with an outstanding team with an engaged governance board. I am looking forward to working with a new outstanding team and experiencing all of the new challenges—working in a large public law school, seeking tenure—that this role offers. But I am glad that I left when I did, where I could leave the organization healthy and I could, myself, make a healthy and positive departure.