Why Not-Quite-Real?

I’ve begun organizing my posts into four not-quite-real sections.  Why not-quite-real? I have a separate answer for each unreality:

The Pretend Librarian

I don’t work in a school library directly with students and teachers, I don’t have a masters degree in library or information science, and I don’t have a teaching license.  This means that I am not a “real” librarian, so therefore I must be a pretend librarian.

The Bogus Writer

I daydream about writing and talk bogus talk about writing and write about writing much more than I actually write.

The Embarrassed Reader

I see through a glass darkly, and I have not put away childish things.  I am apparently reading way below my suggested Lexile level.  (Also, I am only a pretend librarian and a bogus writer.)

The Not-Quite-Real Dad The Dad

Because I am an official, practicing father of two little children.  One of them even kind of looks like me, and the other one kind of acts like me. My cred is intact here.

Ironic and sincere at the same time.  Not-quite-real. See also: “How the Newbery Medal Leads Me to Hubris and Existential Crisis: A Quandary in Four Parts”

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