How long have you been a teacher? Forty years. What do you teach? I teach history. Why did you start? I love history and I love children. Do you teach every day? Yes, I do. What do you like about teaching? I like the questions children ask.
Our community newsletter is doing a series of short profiles of long-serving local people. Mrs Singh has been running the small bakery on Mill Street for thirty-five years. She is sixty-eight. I went to meet her early one morning before the bakery opened.
ME: Mrs Singh, how long have you had the bakery?
MRS SINGH: Thirty-five years this autumn.
ME: Why did you start?
MRS SINGH: My mother was a baker. I learned from her, and I wanted my own shop.
ME: What is the hardest part of the work?
MRS SINGH: Getting up at four o'clock every morning. Even after thirty-five years, it is hard.
ME: What advice would you give to a young baker starting now?
MRS SINGH: Be patient. Bread does not hurry, and you cannot make it hurry.
ME: Thank you for talking to me, Mrs Singh.
MRS SINGH: Take a small loaf home. It is fresh.
Our community paper is doing a small series of profiles of long-serving local figures. Mr Diallo has been the caretaker of our community hall for twenty-eight years. I went to meet him on a Tuesday afternoon while he was working on the building's old wooden floor.
When I arrived, he was on his hands and knees, sanding a small section of the floor by the stage. He stood up, brushed off his apron, and shook my hand warmly.
ME: Mr Diallo, thank you for meeting me. How long have you been the caretaker here?
MR DIALLO: Twenty-eight years next month.
ME: How did you start?
MR DIALLO: I came to clean for one week, when the regular man was ill. After that week, they asked me to stay.
ME: What is the hardest part of the work?
MR DIALLO: The roof in winter, when there are leaks. And telling people they cannot have the hall on a date that is already booked.
ME: What do you like best?
MR DIALLO: When weddings happen here. I see the families come back, year after year, sometimes for three generations.
ME: What advice would you give someone starting a job like yours?
MR DIALLO: Get to know the building. It will tell you what it needs.
I left him to his sanding. The wood, in the small bright section he had worked on, looked already different from the rest.
Our community paper is running a small series on long-serving figures at the Hill Street Library. (For readers new to the area: the Hill Street Library has been on its current site since 1958, and is run with the help of about a dozen long-time volunteers.) Mrs Rosa Mendez has been a volunteer librarian at Hill Street for twenty-six years. She is seventy-three. I went to see her on a Wednesday afternoon, when she was on duty at the front desk.
The library was quiet — three young people working at the back tables, an older man reading the newspaper. Mrs Mendez was at the front desk, putting cards back into a small wooden tray. She is a small woman in her early seventies, with neat grey hair and what I can only describe as the most attentive eyes I have seen in some time. She gestured to the chair next to the desk and asked if I had time for tea.
ME: Mrs Mendez, how long have you been a volunteer here?
MRS MENDEZ: Twenty-six years next September. I started after my husband died.
ME: How did it begin?
MRS MENDEZ: My friend Anna was a volunteer. She said it would help. She was right.
ME: What do you do here?
MRS MENDEZ: A bit of everything. I help people find books. I show new readers how the system works. I run a small reading group on Thursday afternoons. I make tea for the staff.
ME: What is the most rewarding part?
MRS MENDEZ: Watching children become readers. Some of the children who came here twenty years ago bring their own children now. I remember most of them.
ME: What advice would you give to someone wanting to volunteer?
MRS MENDEZ: Do not start by trying to be useful. Start by being here. The being-useful comes later, by itself, if you are patient.
ME: Thank you, Mrs Mendez.
MRS MENDEZ: Take a book home. Bring it back when you have finished.
I left her sorting the cards, in the slow careful way of someone for whom such tasks are no longer interruptions but the work itself.
Our community paper is running a small series on long-serving figures at the Hill Street Library. (For readers new to the area: the Hill Street Library has been on its current site since 1958 and is run, alongside its small paid staff, with the help of about a dozen long-time volunteers.) Mrs Rosa Mendez has been a volunteer librarian at Hill Street for twenty-six years. She is seventy-three. I went to see her on a quiet Wednesday afternoon, when she was on duty at the front desk.
She was at the desk when I arrived, sorting small white cards into a wooden tray with the practised care of someone who has done this many thousands of times. The library was quiet — three young people working at the back, an older man reading the newspaper near the window. Mrs Mendez gestured to the chair next to the desk and offered me tea before I had asked anything.
Mrs Mendez came to the area in her twenties, originally from a small town in southern Spain. She married, raised two children, and worked for many years at the local primary school. She started volunteering at the library in her late forties, after her husband died. The library, she told me later, had been part of how she had come back to herself in those first hard years.
ME: How long have you been a volunteer here?
MRS MENDEZ: Twenty-six years next September.
ME: How did you start?
MRS MENDEZ: My friend Anna brought me. She said it would help. She was right.
ME: What do you do here?
MRS MENDEZ: A bit of everything. I help people find books. I show new readers how the system works. I run a small reading group on Thursday afternoons.
ME: What is the most rewarding part?
MRS MENDEZ: Watching children become readers. Some of the children who came here twenty years ago bring their own children now. I remember most of them.
ME: Has the library changed in twenty-six years?
MRS MENDEZ: A great deal. We have computers now, which most of the older readers still ask me to help them with. We have many more readers in languages other than English than we used to. The biggest change is that the library now does many things — not just lending books. We are a quiet space for people who need one. Some afternoons that is the most important thing we do.
ME: Has the council been a good landlord?
MRS MENDEZ: Mostly. They tried to reduce our hours four years ago, and the community wrote to them. The hours were not reduced. We are aware that the building exists partly because we have, twice now, organised against being smaller.
ME: What advice would you give to someone wanting to volunteer?
MRS MENDEZ: Do not start by trying to be useful. Start by being here. The being-useful comes later, by itself, if you are patient.
ME: Thank you, Mrs Mendez.
MRS MENDEZ: Take a book home. Bring it back when you have finished.
I left her sorting the cards in the slow careful way of someone for whom such tasks are not interruptions but the work itself.
Our community paper is running a series of profiles of long-serving figures at the Hill Street Library. (For readers new to the area: the Hill Street Library has been on its current site since 1958, and is run, alongside its small paid staff, with the help of about a dozen long-time volunteers, several of whom have been there for over twenty years.) Mrs Rosa Mendez has been a volunteer librarian at Hill Street for twenty-six years. She is seventy-three. I went to see her on a quiet Wednesday afternoon, when she was on duty at the front desk.
She was at the desk when I arrived, sorting small white cards into a wooden tray with the practised care of someone who has done this many thousands of times. The library was quiet — three young people working at the back tables, an older man reading the newspaper near the window. Mrs Mendez gestured to the chair next to the desk and offered me tea before I had asked anything.
Some biographical context, briefly. Rosa Mendez came to the area in her early twenties, from a small town in southern Spain, originally to learn English for two years. She stayed; she married a local man in 1978; raised two children in a small flat half a mile from the library; worked for many years at the local primary school. Her husband died of a sudden heart attack in 1996. She started volunteering at the library a year later, in her late forties. The library, she told me later, had been part of how she had come back to herself in those first hard years.
Most of the conversation that follows took place at the front desk, in the slow afternoon rhythm of a small library. She kept sorting the cards while we talked, and when occasional readers came to the desk, she paused to help them with the practised quietness she has clearly developed over decades.
ME: How long have you been a volunteer here?
MRS MENDEZ: Twenty-six years next September.
ME: How did you start?
MRS MENDEZ: My friend Anna brought me. She said it would help. She was right.
ME: What do you do here?
MRS MENDEZ: A bit of everything. I help people find books. I show new readers how the system works. I run a small reading group on Thursday afternoons, mostly for older readers, but lately a few younger people have started coming. I make tea for the staff in the back room.
ME: Has the library changed in twenty-six years?
MRS MENDEZ: A great deal. We have computers now, which most of the older readers still ask me to help them with. We have many more readers in languages other than English. The biggest change is that the library now does many things that are not exactly about books — quiet space for people who need one, a warm room in winter for people who don't have one at home, a place where children come after school. Some afternoons that is the most important thing we do.
ME: What is the most rewarding part?
MRS MENDEZ: Watching children become readers. Some of the children who came here twenty years ago bring their own children now. I remember most of them.
She paused for a moment, and looked across the room at the older man with the newspaper.
MRS MENDEZ: That is something I had not, actually, put together until just now. The children who came here when I was new are bringing their children. I have been here long enough for that.
ME: What advice would you give to someone wanting to volunteer?
MRS MENDEZ: Do not start by trying to be useful. Start by being here. The being-useful comes later, by itself, if you are patient.
ME: Thank you, Mrs Mendez.
MRS MENDEZ: Take a book home. Bring it back when you have finished.
I left her sorting the cards in the slow careful way of someone for whom such tasks are no longer interruptions but the work itself.
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