Mrs. Nancy Van Eck: The Librarian Who Worked Magic

The 54th person on my list of 55 people who have impacted my life is someone very special—Mrs. Van Eck, my junior high school librarian. Unlike the first person in this series, who didn’t even have a name, Mrs. Van Eck’s presence in my life was undeniable.

As a teenager, I loved her for her personality and knowledge. She was savvy and snarky, with a sharp wit that made interactions with her both interesting and fun. She didn’t engage in unnecessary small talk or, worse, that condescending baby talk that many educators use when speaking to teens or someone with a disability. She treated me like anyone else, which, ironically, was a rare and precious thing.

I also respected her as an educator. She was a unique librarian who truly understood what kids were interested in, and she ran a well-organized, engaging library. She had a way of knowing exactly what I liked to read. Somehow, she just knew. As a wheelchair user, I never had a problem asking for help when I needed to reach something, and even at a young age, I understood that it was okay to ask. But with Mrs. Van Eck, she made sure I never had to ask. Instead, she placed books where she knew I would see them, making it feel like I had discovered them on my own.

I still remember the day my friend asked, “How did you find that book? I was looking for it in that section!” I just smiled, thinking I had stumbled upon a hidden gem. But deep down, I knew—Mrs. Van Eck had subtly placed it there, making sure I’d find it. She had that kind of magic.

Of course, her influence wasn’t just about what I should read, but also about what I maybe shouldn’t be reading. When I picked up Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews, she simply gave me a disapproving tsk tsk look. That was all. And I didn’t mind. Because I also knew that if she had really thought it was that inappropriate, she would have done more than just tsk tsk. Her quiet guidance shaped my reading habits in a way that I only fully appreciated later in life.

She also had the key to the elevator. Every time I needed to go downstairs, I had to ask her. But what stood out was how she never made me feel like I was asking for a favor. It was just part of our routine, another moment of unspoken understanding.

I always thought of her when I moved on to high school. There, I was flying solo in the library, and unfortunately, I didn’t spend much time there. Later, when I became a teacher, I found myself comparing school librarians to Mrs. Van Eck. Only one ever came close to measuring up.

Now, as an adult and educator, I love and appreciate her for the many ways she made reading enjoyable and accessible to me. That’s her magic. She made sure books weren’t just within reach physically but also emotionally and intellectually. She knew what I needed before I did, and she created an environment where reading felt like an adventure rather than an assignment.

One book she “placed” for me was P.S. I Love You: The P.S. is Paul Strobe. I “discovered” it during my well-known teen romance with SS, and looking back, I can see how Mrs. Van Eck worked her magic.

Lucky for me, I found her on Facebook! And guess what? Even now, she still sends me sarcastic memes and book articles. We still discuss books, just like we did back then. Without even realizing it, we’ve joined similar groups dedicated to British shows, novels, and dry humor. It’s like she’s still guiding me, just in a different way.

I credit a huge part of my love for reading to her.

I’m a better person for having been under her spell.

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