“Know your worth” is one of those phrases that sounds simple but can feel complicated in practice. As school librarians, I think many of us actually do know our worth. We see it every day in our libraries. We see it in the student who finally finds a book they connect with, in the teacher who comes to us for ideas, and in the small moments where learning clicks.

The harder part is when other people don’t see it.

School librarianship is full of work that doesn’t always show up in obvious ways. We plan lessons that look effortless when they’re happening. We build collections that quietly help students feel seen. We teach research skills in conversations that might not look like formal instruction to someone walking by. We fix tech issues, recommend books, collaborate with teachers, and create spaces where students feel safe and supported. A lot of that happens behind the scenes or in moments that are easy to miss if you’re not paying close attention.

Because of that, our work is easy to misunderstand or underestimate.

I’ve noticed that sometimes we contribute to that without meaning to. We say things like “I just helped a student find a book” or “I’m just supporting this lesson.” But what we’re really doing is teaching, guiding, curating, and designing learning experiences. The words we use matter. When we downplay our role, it becomes easier for others to do the same.

At the same time, even when we are clear about what we do, visibility doesn’t automatically follow. That’s where advocacy comes in, and not just the big, formal kind. Advocacy is also the everyday stuff. It’s how we talk about our work with teachers. It’s the way we share what students are learning. It’s the stories we tell about what’s happening in our libraries.

Sometimes it’s as simple as saying, “Here’s what we worked on today,” or sharing a quick example of a student making a connection or asking a deeper question. Sometimes it’s inviting an administrator into a lesson or sending a quick email to highlight a collaboration. None of those things is huge on its own, but over time, they help people see the bigger picture.

Even then, there will still be moments when it feels like what we do isn’t fully recognized.

Those are the moments that can get to you if you’re not careful. It’s easy to start wondering if what you’re doing really matters, especially when so much of our impact isn’t immediate or easy to measure. But if you’ve been in this profession for any length of time, you’ve seen the difference. You’ve seen students grow as readers, become more confident researchers, or simply feel like they belong somewhere in the school.

Those things matter, even if they don’t always show up in data or get called out in a meeting.

Knowing your worth means holding on to that truth. It means recognizing that the environment you create, the relationships you build, and the opportunities you provide are making a difference, even when it’s quiet and even when it takes time to show up.

But knowing your worth isn’t just about keeping it to yourself.

If we don’t talk about our work, people will fill in the gaps with their own assumptions, and those assumptions are often incomplete. School librarians sit at the intersection of literacy, technology, and inquiry, but if we’re not intentional about showing that, it’s easy for the role to be reduced to something much smaller.

That’s why advocacy has to be part of the job.

Not in an overwhelming, add-one-more-thing-to-your-plate way, but in a steady, consistent way. When we share what we’re doing, connect it to student learning, and make our thinking visible, we help others understand how the library fits into the bigger picture of the school.

And that understanding matters, not just for us, but for students. When the role of the school librarian is fully understood, there are more opportunities for collaboration, more support for the program, and ultimately more impact on student learning.

This kind of advocacy doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be intentional and ongoing.

There’s also something important about remembering that we’re not doing this alone. When we connect with other librarians, share ideas, and learn from each other, it reinforces what we already know: this work matters. Sometimes hearing how others are advocating for their programs can give us the language or the confidence to do the same in our own spaces.

At the end of the day, knowing your worth as a school librarian is both internal and external. It’s believing in the value of your work and being willing to speak to that value so others can see it too.

Because the reality is, our work has always mattered. The difference is whether or not we make that visible.

And when we do, it doesn’t just change how others see us. It changes what’s possible for our libraries and for the students we serve.