By Mark H.
I grew up in a library, literally. Not long after I was born, my mother got her degree in library sciences along with a teaching credential for elementary school. From as early as I can remember, I was at my mom’s side as she filed the card catalog, re-shelved books, and managed the rudimentary computer lab in the library of the elementary school I attended. When my class visited the school library regularly throughout the week, I called the librarian “Mrs. Martin” instead of “mom” so that the other students wouldn’t find out about our relation. This was partly to deter favoritism, but it helped me feel like less of a square by all my classmates knowing my mom was our librarian.