It's been a tough year for libraries and librarians. Nationwide, it's been hard to miss headlines about budget cuts, staff reductions, library closures, as well as the questions surrounding the necessity of libraries, librarians—and books—in the digital age.

I've had my boots on the ground for the past five years as a children's librarian in a suburban community library, and I've experienced firsthand what it's like to come under fire on all these fronts, and how this can affect a librarian's work, life, and overall state of mind. What's it like to be a librarian today, when going to work means constantly trying to prove that your profession and skills are still relevant, and that your place of employment is worthy of being kept open? In a word: stressful.

Feeling the Pinch

Dealing with budget cuts is nothing new for librarians. Neither is the change that comes with new technologies in the library setting. And, yes, there have always been misperceptions about what a professional librarian really does. But at this moment in history, libraries and librarians are battening down the hatches against what feels like a perfect storm of threats.

According to the ALA's 2011 "State of America's Libraries Report," more than half the states report a decrease in funding over the past four years, "with cumulative cuts averaging greater than 10 percent." And the cuts don't stop at the state level, as local communities report decreases in local funding as well. My home state of Pennsylvania is one of the leaders when it comes to the number of libraries closed in the past year, with the ALA's survey reporting that as many as 10 Pennsylvania towns' libraries have closed or are prepared to shut their doors.

For many communities, library funding seems easy to cut precisely because of the widely accepted misperception that everything is now available online. Indeed, there are government officials and some constituents who truly believe that libraries are a quaint, outdated concept—a dusty repository for books—no longer necessary in the age of personal computers and Google.

At my own library, which serves a community of 33,000 people, recent budget cuts have been particularly painful. Like many libraries across the nation, we were forced to reduce staff in early 2011, including two full-time and one part-time librarian positions.

Rising Demand

But those cuts did not come because demand for library service has decreased. In fact, demand is stronger than ever. The economic downturn that has local governments slashing library funding is the same circumstance driving more and more customers to the library. Legions of people who have never used or perhaps underutilized their local library, have seen it anew during this recession, including patrons seeking help with a job search or school work, those taking advantage of free entertainment, and, in some cases, people who are just looking for a comfortable place to stay warm (or cool).

The combination of cuts in service and staff, and a spike in demand, has left librarians scrambling to somehow fill in the gaps. This means working additional shifts and assuming additional duties often learned on the fly. And this inevitably causes strain, not only on the job but outside the workplace, too, as accommodating time off or changes in anyone's schedule can require some serious juggling.

Our customers, meanwhile, expect the library to maintain high service levels. They expect the latest bestselling books and popular DVDs and CDs in the collection, which requires both staff time to stay on top of journal reviews and new product release schedules, as well as difficult decisions to be made with limited funds. Patrons also expect the library to be a technology hub, with ample computers, fast Internet service, free WiFi. And increasingly, they expect e-books and downloadable audiobooks, as e-readers and mobile devices explode in popularity.

Local librarians are also expected to know how to use—and be ready to instruct others how to use—e-readers and mobile devices; to recommend top programs and apps; to assist with browser, word-processing, and e-mail questions. In short, we are the help desk for the community.

Meanwhile, publishers are now presenting another challenge to libraries, as some major houses won't sell e-books to libraries, or otherwise restrict their use. When HarperCollins announced earlier this spring that it would limit the number of circulations it allows libraries for its e-book titles, librarians balked at the financial and logistical strain that arrangement portends. If other publishers follow suit, libraries could be severely hampered. We just don't have the money to buy additional e-book licenses. And how does a library manage a catalogue full of e-books programmed to self-destruct after 26 lends?

When someone comes to us looking to borrow a popular e-book for their new e-reader, taking home a print book will not substitute. And if we don't have the e-books our customers need, they won't care that this was the publisher's decision—they will care that the library was unable to meet their needs. And that will not play when it comes time to vote on that ballot measure for library funding.

Mutual Dedication

It may be a much less discussed aspect of this recession, but doing more with less is taking a toll on the professional and personal lives of librarians at the point of service. In addition to being IT specialists, librarians are now expected to be career counselors, social workers, reference experts, babysitters, teachers, and more, usually all during one shift, often in the evening or on weekends.

While stress and uncertainty in the library profession has always been there, it used to be somewhat cyclical. It now feels like the new normal. And I worry about the impact on the future of our profession as laid-off, underemployed, or fed-up librarians rethink their careers, and the best and brightest students reconsider the cost of attaining an M.L.S. or M.L.I.S. degree against their future prospects.

One Midwestern youth services librarian recently summed it up on Twitter: "I don't think I can ever really be happy doing a job that is constantly devalued, constantly attacked, and meaningless to the government," she tweeted. "It cost me $40K in student loans for my master's degree. I don't even MAKE near that much and frankly, I never will."

Still, optimists persist. Library Journal's annual budget survey revealed that 62% of librarians had a positive outlook for funding in the future, and only 18% saw negatives ahead. That's because librarians—even the overworked and burned-out ones—remain a fiercely devoted bunch.

We vent about the tough new realities we see on the job, because we are living them. But we do the job because we truly care about our communities. Let's face it, one does not choose a library career for a high salary. We choose the profession out of a dedication to the public library's most basic purpose—to provide free access to information for everyone, regardless of their economic circumstances.

Librarians exist to ensure that our democracy is not left to the vagaries of easily manipulated commercial search engines and Wikipedia. When it comes to retrieving the most credible information and presenting it to a patron in a helpful, accessible way, a professional librarian will run circles around Google. The Internet will never conduct a thorough reference interview, or reader's advisory (though many sites try). And a tablet or mobile device can't compare when it comes to helping children develop a love of reading and an appreciation for books.

In fact, the true dollar value of a library within its community is routinely underestimated. A study conducted by the University of Pennsylvania's Fels Institute of Government showed that for fiscal year 2010, the Free Library of Philadelphia created more than $30 million worth of economic value to the city—by any measure, a great return on investment. 
Yet I wonder how much longer we can expect librarians to remain committed to a profession that, despite its obvious value, has become so devalued. How much longer, when basic living expenses and student loan debts loom so large? How will we continue to entice new students of any age to enter the profession? And how can libraries maintain the high level of service expected of them when budget cuts force them to use underpaid, nonprofessional staff in place of librarians?

It doesn't help when publishers fail to recognize the money we spend on their products and the lifelong customers we create. Or when people like author and blogger Seth Godin publish hyperbolic blog posts suggesting Netflix is "a better librarian, with a better library, than any library in the country."

As librarians gather in New Orleans for the ALA annual conference, much of the talk will, rightly, center on how librarians can better serve their customers. But I hope we can also address the state of our professional health. Because working for an ideal, no matter how noble, may not be enough to sustain us. And somehow, we must convince the communities and partners librarians support with such dedication to show their dedication to librarians, before a decline in our professional ranks makes today's misperceptions of the library a reality.