Firing School Librarians to Save Money Costly Decision

Aletter to the editor caught my eye the other day. It was from Glenn Spencer, complaining that his wife, Leslie, librarian at Nightingale Junior High School, was being fired “because there is no money for such things.”

At about the same time I received a letter from Maggie Crumrine, vice president of the Los Angeles School Librarians Assn., complaining that at least 70% of school librarians have received notices that they will be terminated or reassigned as of July 1.

“Eliminate school libraries?” she asked. “Unthinkable! Eliminate school librarians?” Unconscionable! The public must be aware of the imminent demise of school libraries as a means to save money in the school district. This is not the way to go! How can we support literacy without supporting school libraries?

“Children are often not exposed to the habit of reading,” she said. “School librarians can open up the whole world to students through the use of books. . . . We can help them develop interests so that they don’t want to spend thousands of hours watching mindless TV. . . .”

I called the Board of Education and talked to Tom Killeen. He said it was true. On March 15, 2,100 “reduction in force” letters went out to teachers and support personnel; 1,400 were notices of layoffs; 700 were notices of reassignment to other jobs. About half of school librarians were reassigned; the others were either laid off or retained. The reason for this “reduction in force,” he said, was a $300-million budget shortfall.

I asked him what would happen to school libraries. He said, “I don’t know.” Librarians laid off or reassigned are entitled to file appeals and to have hearings on which the board might act. The board might also rescind the orders.

I decided to drop by Nightingale Junior High School and talk to Leslie Spencer. My two sons had gone to Nightingale, so I had a special interest in it. Almost every day when I drive by it I see hundreds of its students, strung out in a great line, running around the block.

I called on the principal first. He is Jesse Bojorquez, a bright, intense, animated man--a graduate of Nightingale himself--who obviously cares about his school and his students.

He confirmed that his librarian had received a “reduction in force” letter. “It’s an excellent library,” he said. I asked him what would happen. He said, “I don’t know. You have to have a librarian.”

He led me to the library and introduced me to Leslie Spencer. She wore beige corduroy pants and an orange blouse. Black plastic-rimmed glasses rested above her forehead in her reddish long bob.

She confirmed that she had received the layoff notice. “As of June 30. No job. No medical benefits. Nothing. After 16 years.”

In 16 years she had built the library to its present 14,000 to 15,000 books. She had selected all of them. Purchased them. Processed them. Filed catalogue cards. She had no help but a teaching assistant two hours a day and one student each period. “I’m it,” she said. “There’s no clerical help.”

After college Mrs. Spencer took time out to have two daughters. Then she spent two years at UCLA obtaining her library science degree and a year obtaining a teaching credential. She worked one year at a high school in the Valley and has been at Nightingale ever since.

The library is a long narrow room, lined with books. Students’ paintings of flowers hang from the ceiling. There are racks of magazines and newspapers: Woman’s Day, the Smithsonian, Time, People, Popular Mechanics. Shelves of paperbacks are labeled Animals, Movies and TV, Fame, Fortune, Fantasy, Far-Away Places.

I asked Mrs. Spencer how big the library is. “I don’t know,” she said. “About the size of a bowling alley.”

That isn’t far off the mark. At the far end students sat at half a dozen large library tables. They had books open before them and seemed to be dividing their attention between the books and each other. But there was no disorder.

Mrs. Spencer said she checks out about 150 books a day. The library is popular with the students. “When I open the door, the hall is full of kids. They come swarming in. I’m almost afraid to open the door.”

She said the library has books in Spanish, Vietnamese and Chinese as well as English. Mr. Bojorquez had told me the population is about 60% Latino and 25% Asian. I asked Mrs. Spencer the same question I had asked Tom Killeen and Mr. Bojorquez. “What will happen?” Her answer was the same. “I don’t know.”

She added, “It’s a puzzlement, that this would be what they chose to close.”

Her eyes swept the long room. “It’s home.”