Another year, another (successful) conference.
The exhibits have been packed away and the presentations are slowly making their way to the websites of their sponsoring divisions. Program planning is largely complete for next year's Denver conference and "conference buddies" have exchanged hugs and vague promises to see each other next year. After a week of constant activity, fast and furious notetaking, and feet that cry out for a break, what's left to do?
Volunteer to help with next year's event, of course.
The call to help was a recurring theme at this year's conference; nary a presentation went by without a mention of the benefits, and joys, of playing a leadership role within SLA. But that's not why I'm posting.
After a year of frenzied phone calls, pleading emails and pulling my hair out, I'm pathetically grateful that the conference is over. I wore too many hats and tried to do too many things for too many people. Along the way, we lost volunteers -- a fundraiser here, a Chair-Elect there -- and felt like things were spiraling out of control more times than I can count. There are those who have taken potshots at my division for being "disorganized" -- and yet, disorganization wasn't the issue. Running a division, and putting on a full slate of programming under the guidance of two or three volunteers was the issue. We absolutely did the best that we could, given the circumstances. And I think we did a pretty dang good job.
My point -- and I do have one -- is that, despite the challenges inherent in holding a leadership role in a professional organization with committees staffed with volunteers, I've learned more in the last year than I even thought possible. I've planned events, created presentations, moderated a listserv, played at web design and coaxed volunteers. Okay, dragged them kicking and screaming. I spoke at six different events during this conference and attended more sessions than I even thought possible.
All of this from someone who, just a few years ago, had a paralyzing fear of public speaking. Who approached each conference with just a bit more than a bit of trepidation. Who knew a handful of people at every conference -- but nothing more than that.
Certainly, it's easy to have a reason why you cannot get involved. You already have countless demands on your time, after all, between work and family and church and life and sleeping. Within the Solo Division, a lack of time takes on a new meaning -- how many times have I heard "but I'm a SOLO. I don't have time to breathe, let alone..." What of those people who are members of -- and active volunteers for -- multiple divisions? Who are giving their spare time to the Engineering Division, for instance, and can't imagine that they could find the time to help SciTech or Solo, as well?
Each and every one of those reasons is valid. But, at the risk of sounding cliched, you have to look past the excuses and towards the benefits. Looking to move into a "techy" role at work? Perhaps you can enrich your skill set through a volunteer role. Nervous about your quarterly "State of the Library" presentation? Why not hone your public speaking skills in the supportive environment of SLA? For every reason not to get involved, there are two or three ways in which you could help your division, or chapter, while helping yourself. It's easy to stand on the sidelines and complain about the program offerings, or to criticize division (or chapter) leadership for making choices that you wouldn't have made. Get involved. Make changes. Have a voice. Lend a hand.
Why not give it a shot? Can't hurt.
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