During 9th grade orientation, I always like to get the kids talking about all of their former librarians. It gets them talking and reminiscing, and reminds them that no, this is not the first library that they have stepped in to and yes, I love to hear all of the stories about their librarians, who are my friends and colleagues. I hear some great memories, all about songs they learned, books they enjoyed, antics from some of our amazing librarians, and stories of inclusiveness and a feeling of belonging.

I always heard about Mrs. Dickman, Mrs. Becker, Mrs. Britton, Mrs. Aitken, Mrs. Jenkins, and Mrs. Albanese,  but only over the past few years did I start to hear about Mrs. Haar. You see, we started working at Northport at the same time, and were hired only one month apart. We got to share that “new librarian in town” bond. We would often joke about how she didn’t want my job at the high school (kids were too big and scary for her),  and I didn’t want hers at the elementary school (too little, and the germs!). We shared laughs, looks across meetings (y’all know the ones, you share them with your friends, too) and nervousness about being librarians in a world that doesn’t value us.

From her former students, Mrs. Haar was “so nice,” “always had great books” and one kid even said, “She told me that I’m going to be the president someday.”  It was evident that Mrs. Haar had made her mark on her little ones; she loved them,and they loved her back. Students, remember this: yes, your teachers love you; you know that. But others love you, too. Your teacher aides love you. Your school counselors love you. Your administrators love you. And yes, your librarians love you. We see you and think about you, worry about you, and cheer you on. We are your silent (shhh) champions.

My heart breaks because, at some point, I will stop hearing stories about my librarian friend through her former students. I won’t get to give her “raised eyebrows” to make her laugh, or have little chats on the phone.  Cancer came and took our friend and colleague, and a great librarian, and took her too soon. Cancer took a mother from her kids. There’s always that solace that someone who suffers from this disease is no longer in pain, but I sure do wish that pain would stop coming for those we love.

Rest in peace, Mrs. Terry Haar.  If there’s a heaven, I know you’re there. I hope you are surrounded by great books, even better coffee, and you are comfortable and free of pain. You will live on in the hearts of those you encountered at Ocean Avenue School, Elwood Public Library, and many others.