This is not a picture of your average rose. But I’m sitting here in the Ocean State, after all. A rose ragosa, or “beach rose,” is an appropriate image. (We could all use a shot of summer right about now, anyway.) And, no, that is not a typo in the title of this post. I meant to write “role” instead of “rose.” Otherwise, I’d apologize for the purposely mangled reference to Shakespeare, except that I am trying to make a point:

Just what should the 21st century school-employed librarian be called?

Anyone who’s recently been through a library grad school program or who is working in the field knows that a common designation for the past several years has been School Library Media Specialist, or SLMS. I’d be curious to hear from any veterans who may remember when this title began to catch on.

My hunch is that more and more ’school librarians’ started to become ‘media specialists’ when it became increasingly important to attach greater degrees of relevance to the profession in order to stave off budget bombs and job eliminations. Yes, the rise and integration of the many forms of technological media significantly changed the profession, but this is true of librarianship in general. So why aren’t there “Public Library Media Specialists,” and so on?

Some SLMSs are more comfortable calling themselves ‘plain old’ school librarians. Full disclosure: I happen to be one of them. I almost never use the SLMS title. Too cumbersome. But neither do I want the full scope of our roles as instructional partner, information specialist, program administrator, and teacher (thank you, Information Power!) to be ignored or taken for granted.

Is it time to retire the SLMS moniker (which, after all, is now in the pot along with PBGR, GSE, GLE, IEP, SIT, NCLB, PLP, SALT, AP, ELL, and dozens of other mouth-soup ingredients) and use something that is at once instantly recognizable and instantly powerful? What do you call yourself? Is there an alternative title that should be considered? (Personally, I kind of enjoy Limedian, but that’s just me.)

I’ve heard that Canadians commonly use the title Teacher Librarian. Perhaps our neighbors are onto something. Keep in mind that it is imperative that we continue to move forward as a profession and (re)position ourselves as primary facilitators of student learning.

Speaking of primary facilitators, this is a good time to introduce Jackie, esteemed RIEMA President and the co-moderator of Circulation: The RIEMA Blog, to get her take on this debate. Take it away, Jackie!

Thanks, Zach.

My 27 year-old son told me this story recently. He was talking with Christine, a friend of his who is a substitute history teacher. He mentioned that his mother was a teacher, too. The conversation went back and forth about where I worked and what I taught. Finally, Christine said, “You know, technically your mother is a library media specialist.”

My son knew this, of course. He told me that he never tells people that I’m a library media specialist, because they don’t know what it means. He called me right away to tell me that Christine knew. It was a first! (Of course I responded that he should ask her out, she seems very intelligent.)

Why are we still insisting that we are library media specialists? To me, specialist implies a technical expertise in a specific skill rather than a professional. Look at a list of specialist job titles if you want to check this out. Our patrons and the general public know what a librarian does, because we demonstrate it each and every day. Doctors are still doctors even though they do not practice medicine the same way they did 50 or 100 years ago. The same is true of other professionals.

What’s in a title? To Nicholas, a kindergarten student who calls me Mrs. Librarian, it is my name. By the time he leaves my school he will know that it’s my job and that a librarian loves books and reading, can guide him to satisfy his information needs and can help him show what he knows.

Thanks, Jackie. Now let’s hear from our colleagues. What say you, readers? School Library Media Specialist, Teacher Librarian, or something else? What’s in a name? And how should that name define us, our workplaces, and our relationships with our patrons and co-workers?

Discuss. It’ll take your mind off of the cold.