"Speaking gives us a voice to tell our own story, but reading gives us the keys to every other story ever told. It’s the bridge between where you are and everywhere you want to be." — Pamela Morrison
They say that life doesn't always give you what you want, but it gives you what you need. When the Teacher-Librarian position opened up at my school, I was already doing things I loved—immersed in teaching Career Life Ed and sharing the beauty of Gitxsan language and culture. I am always ready to change and grow so when I was approached about the library, something clicked.
I knew that if I was going to apply for the position, I was going to do it right. To show my dedication to the school and the role, I applied for my Teacher-Librarian certification immediately. I wanted to prove that I wasn't just "filling a seat"—I was stepping into a responsibility.
The Weight of the Journey
What most people didn't see during those first semester courses was the weight I was carrying. Only three months before teacher-librarian classes began, I lost my dad to cancer.
My dad was a Language and Culture teacher for many years before he retired, and he was the one who taught me that even the smallest gesture can be a lesson. I keep thinking back to an activity he did with all his youngest beaders. He didn't start them with glass or bone; he started them with paper.
He would cut them long, thin triangles out of old magazines—pages full of bright, chaotic colors. He’d show them how to roll the paper tightly around a delicate toothpick, keeping it steady and even. Then, with the patience of a true teacher, he’d have them use a paintbrush to spread a bit of glue on the very last "tail" of the paper to seal the bead. He taught them how to take something as simple as a page and turn it into something meaningful.
Determined to Finish
Anyone who has walked through grief knows that it doesn't leave much room for anything else. There were nights filled with more tears than I can count and moments where the coursework felt like a mountain I couldn't climb.
But I thought about those paper beads. I thought about my dad’s patience, the toothpick, and the paintbrush. I realized that, in a way, I was doing exactly what he taught: I was taking the "pages" of a new career and carefully rolling them into a new life. Through sheer determination, I kept going. I beaded my way through the grief, one assignment at a time.
Finding the Passion
What started as a leap of faith turned into the discovery of a lifelong passion. The library isn't just a room full of books; it’s the heart of the school. It’s where literacy meets decolonization, and where every student can find a "key" to a story that makes them feel seen.
I didn't just complete the course; I found my calling. I am so proud to be a Gitxsan educator and librarian, helping our students find their own bridges to "everywhere they want to be."
Connecting the Strands
When those beads were finished, they were beautiful—vibrant, glossy little spirals of color, each one unique. As they are placed on a string, one by one, they become a lifeline. They connect my memories of my father to the work I do today; they connect our vibrant and rich culture to the printed text on the shelves.
Every time I help a student find a book, I feel like I am adding another bead to that string. We are connecting our stories to the world, making sure that no thread is ever truly lost.
Welcome to Beading Between the Lines. I’m so glad you’re here for the journey.
Add comment
Comments