Diversity: the latest buzzword in the library world

by Mary Jo Venetis (shown left in a photo taken when she was 3 years old)

Diversity is not just a word, it is a philosophy ­ one that is critical to the library community. Why?, you ask. Simply put, in order to represent and serve a democratic society, libraries must reflect the communities that both sustain and rely on them. The relationship is organic. To reflect their communities, libraries must have a varied group of library professionals who are representative of that diversity.

I, for one, have a vested interest in seeing more people with disabilities join the library and information sciences profession. According to the American Association of People with Disabilities' web site, "there are forty-nine million people ­ one out of every five Americans ­ who have a disability." I happen to be one of them. Although I am hearing impaired, I do not consider myself disabled. There is only one thing that I cannot do ­ that is to hear. I can do anything else, however, once I set my mind to the task.

I come from a hearing impaired and hearing family. My mother is hearing impaired, as were my maternal grandparents. They were the only hearing impaired children in their families. It was the opposite for my aunt (my mother's sister) who has no hearing impairments and was born into a hearing impaired family. Consequently, my upbringing offered the best of both worlds: insights from individuals who understood my specific needs and acclimation into the broader hearing world. During my childhood, my mother and aunt taught me never to allow my hearing impairment to become an obstacle or to use it as an excuse. I still live by that philosophy.

My schooling began in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, at the DePaul Institute for the Deaf, one of 26 schools that "prepare students for success in a hearing and speaking world by using the oral/aural method of communication. Students are taught to speak and to read speech on the lips of others." When I arrived, I used a mixture of speech and sign language, which was discouraged. I did not help matters when I took it upon myself to teach other students sign language. I was inquisitive, eager to advance, and ­ dare I say ­ a "rabble-rouser." Interpreting what the teachers said during classes and helping other students by explaining what needed to be done, I quickly earned the reputation as a "disruptive" presence. The Institute declared that I was too advanced for my class and suggested to my mother a new concept ­ "mainstreaming," or placing me into regular classes with hearing peers. (Between you and me, I still believe interpreting and helping students was not a disruption but, rather, a duty to share information ­ the early efforts of a future librarian!)

After a successful trial period, I transferred to a private hearing school, St. Pius X. Although my family reminded me that I could return to the Institute, I was determined to succeed. I would not return to the Institute ­ and I never did. After graduating from St. Pius X, I attended John A. Brashear High School (also a hearing school) and enrolled in its scholarship program. When I look back, I'm amazed that I did not rely on interpreters during my years at St. Pius X and used them only a few times during high school classes. Even without that assistance, I did well. I owe thanks to the DePaul Institute for enhancing my speech and lipreading skills and to my aunt who, to this day, continues to help me.

After graduation, my mother, grandmother, and I moved to Houston, Texas, joining my aunt and her family. I attended North Harris County College and embarked on a career in computer programming, since it was the rage back then. I also began to use interpreters on a full-time basis during classes ­ those Southern accents! After taking several computer programming courses, I rebelled. Computers were not for me, I declared. I met with the counselors at North Harris County College and took a battery of tests to decide my future. Fortunately, a counselor noted my love of books, reading, and writing. She suggested that I check out library science as a profession. Interesting, I thought, but it required an MLIS ­ a long way from where I was at the time. I settled on journalism and obtained a degree from Sam Houston State University. Ultimately, I decided to become an editor for a publishing house.

Soon after, my family and I moved to Dallas where I started my job search in journalism. It was a blow to realize that my hearing impairment would prove to be an obstacle. At that time, in 1987, the Texas Relay Service which enables the hearing impaired to communicate by telephone did not exist. That occasion probably marked the first time in my life that I regretted being hearing impaired. I was disheartened to realize the importance of verbal communication in the journalism/publishing field. And there was no way to get around it. I wound up applying for a part-time job at Dallas Public Library as a library page in interlibrary loan. Thank goodness I did!

I learned that shelving books and answering reference questions represented only one facet of the many opportunities in the library field. Of course, I immediately saw the catch ­ the MLIS requirement. Then I remembered my original plan to become a librarian. I took a bold step and enrolled in classes at the University of North Texas, School of Library and Information Sciences, while working in interlibrary loan, then in the catalog division. Then I met my mentor, Richard "Dick" Miller, technical services administrator and acquisitions manager. He took an interest in my career and was instrumental in letting me know about a Texas Woman's University School of Library and Information Studies' scholarship. Dick strongly encouraged me to apply for the scholarship and told me that I would make a wonderful librarian.

Upon receiving the scholarship, I contacted the Texas Rehabilitation Commission, the agency that had provided interpreters for me during college. I learned that they could not provide interpreters for graduate studies, and I once again called on my aunt. She generously volunteered her time as an interpreter, so we ended up attending library school together! I even dragged her to the graduation ceremony. Unlike other ceremonies in which "disabled" individuals are sidelined, at my SLIS graduation, one dream came true: I got to sit right with my group and walk across the stage to receive my hard-earned sheepskin.

These days I am happy to report that my career in librarianship has proven to be as exciting and dynamic as I had hoped. After graduation, I returned to Dallas Public Library as a cataloger and then rapidly advanced to the position of assistant manager in interlibrary loan. Later, I became the serials section head within acquisitions and served as the interim supervisor of selection services while continuing my duties in serials in 1999. (Talk about going a full circle! I now use computers ­ and love them ­ and deal with publishers, this time as vendors!) Beyond my daily duties, I have also assumed an active role in the profession. Being one of the 1999 TALL Texans is just the beginning of a new phase enabling me to be more involved with TLA and library issues.

As I review my own narrative here, I realize that my experiences may be somewhat misleading ­ that it is not difficult being hearing impaired. Clearly, this is not true as I know from the experiences of my family who struggled and had to accept the limits imposed on them by society. My grandfather and mother held menial jobs because there was no alternative at that time. For a long time ­ until the advent of closed captioning ­ my family and I did not enjoy television programs. Even today we do not attend movies with a lot of dialogue. We prefer to view them on videotapes with closed captioning.

Remember that those of us with a hearing impairment have an invisible disability ­ you do not discover it until we speak. Our speech texture is different, almost a monotone, because we do not have pitches and tones. In professional settings I depend mainly on my speech and lipreading skills to communicate with colleagues and supervisors. I even taught my staff and colleagues some silly gestures in sign language. I do not deny that my speech can be inaudible on occasions, especially with those "big words" that I have trouble pronouncing, such as acquisitions, or when I talk too fast or am overly tired. In a group I sometimes cannot follow conversations. Then I depend on others to keep me abreast so I am not hopelessly lost; and if I do not understand someone, I ask that person to write it down. I use interpreters only when I attend meetings.

In general, the hearing impaired population has benefited from the remarkable technological advances of the last decade. We now have closed captioning (as mentioned above) and other conveniences that make it easier for us to function in the hearing world. When I started out in the library, fax machines were new instruments. Now they are commonplace ­ and much easier to use than the telephone. During the early 1990s the Texas Relay Service was developed to enable the hearing impaired to contact hearing callers and vice versa. The service created a means for three-way conversations involving the hearing impaired who has a Telecommunication Device for the Deaf (TDD), the agent who has that equipment and a telephone, and the hearing caller with a phone. This service continues to be a valuable tool, allowing me to maintain frequent and reliable contact with vendors. And today, of course, we also have email. Wow ­ we can talk without a telephone! What a concept, especially for the hearing impaired who can now communicate directly with the hearing without the use of a telephone.

There are many other basic technologies and considerations that make such a difference for people with disabilities. Elevator buttons, for example, need to be within the reach of a person in a wheelchair. Administrators of public institutions need to ask basic questions. Are the elevator numbers in Braille for the blind? Are there TDDs available next to the pay telephones? These simple but important considerations remain ignored for the most part.

Fortunately, in libraries, the tide of awareness is changing, largely because library professionals with disabilities are making their experiences heard. According to Lisa Scholl, the American Library Association (ALA) Century Scholarship chair, "This is where library professionals, who are knowledgeable about these needs, become vital." In order to understand users and meet their needs, librarians must be able to relate to them. Libraries must take the lead and endeavor to meet the special needs of their users. The foundation for this effort rests on recruiting people with disabilities into the library profession. The efforts of ALSCA should be applauded.

For my own part, I have always believed in the value of diversity ­ diversity of choice, ability, and contribution. However challenging, I have endeavored to pave a road toward my goals. Along the way I have come to realize how fortunate I am to have advanced as far as I have in spite of my hearing impairment. I have been blessed with a wonderful family, especially my mother and aunt who did not allow society to limit my potential. I am also indebted to my mentors who took an interest in my career and inspired me to succeed in the library field ­ a profession that holds, I believe, a fundamental responsibility to incorporate the rich textures of the communities it serves.

Mary Jo Venetis is a Dallas Public Library Serials Librarian.

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