Nancy's Note (August 2026)

When I moved to Texas in early June 2025, hundreds of books came with me.  They also disappeared into nearly 40 boxes, and--for over a year now--I've worked without the library that has quietly shaped my scholarly life since the last century.  

Why so many books?  For the first half of my career, I was an English professor.  After I was promoted to Full Professor, I shifted more and more to the scholarship of teaching and learning (SoTL) and faculty development.  This means I have two careers' worth of books.  (And I still work in my home discipline by occasionally doing research on teaching literature.) 

Of course, I could still find articles and books online, especially given TWU's healthy online book holdings.  But it's not the same.

As of Monday, July 28, 2026, my offices shelves are finally full, if not yet fully organized. (See photos below.)  The Friday before, we started moving into our new space on the 8th floor of MCL, and I now have an office that's not just a temporary space.    

It turns out I wasn't just missing my books. I was missing a way of thinking. Books don't just give me answers:  they remind me of connections I hadn't seen, authors I meant to revisit, and conversations that have been waiting to continue. Having them back at my fingertips feels a little like getting part of my mind back.

There's something different about being able to glance across a shelf and notice a title that had slipped out of memory.  Or to reach for one book and, in the process, rediscover three others that belong to that same conversation.  Ideas emerge differently when they're surrounded by other ideas.

My office is still a work in progress, but it finally feels like a place where I can think.  My books aren't decoration. They're companions, collaborators, and reminders of the questions I've spent a career asking.

There are still shelves to straighten, labels to make, pictures to hang.  But I now have the heart and soul of my work.  After over a year of transition, it feels good to have these conversations—some old, some new—waiting for me every time I walk through the door.