When we were children we played hide and seek. Sometimes we liked the hiding, sometimes the seeking. Although the latter required public fluency with counting, it also rewarded the Designated One with that great sense of power when It found and anointed the other players. On the other hand, hiders enjoyed small, quiet respite from the summer's heat, and, except for John Still that one time in the summer of 1956, the security that someone wanted to find them. While fun for children, the game is disastrous for librarians serving them.
Hiding is the problem.
When we lament our lack of respect from the community or larger institution within which we work, we're hiding behind our inabilities to communicate our contributions. When we bow to administrative practices that deny children access to the collections, we're hiding behind our need to conform. When we refuse to challenge repeated budget cuts, or to seek multiple funding opportunities, we're hiding in that most secret place of all, the one of bypassed opportunity. And the crime is, we stay hidden. One of our colleagues, Viki Ash-Geisler, frequently says that children's librarianship isn't a profession, it's a calling.