Supervisors often carry an air of authority that can make them seem unapproachable. Employees may hesitate to knock on their door, send a message, or share a concern, even when it would be helpful. But why do supervisors look this way?

Libraries thrive on collaboration. Yet too often, our ability to work well together falters not because of skill gaps, but because of how we communicate. Words, tone, timing, and unspoken assumptions can create friction that undermines trust. To counter this, many library leaders are experimenting with tools and frameworks that put communication, empathy, and psychological safety at the center of workplace culture.

Supervisors don’t always realize how intimidating they look to their team. Even if you see yourself as open and collaborative, your employees may hesitate to share concerns, ideas, or feedback. Why? Because the role itself carries power, and power creates distance. The good news: supervisors can actively close that gap. Here’s how.

In today’s academic workplaces, leaders often talk about inclusion, respect, and collaboration. But one of the most overlooked foundations of all three is the ability to set and honor boundaries. Boundaries are not walls that divide us; they are commitments that define how we work together with clarity, respect, and care.

You’ve asked for more help—more staff, more resources, more time—again and again. You’ve presented data, shared reports, explained trade-offs, and documented the risks. Yet the answer often comes back the same: a sympathetic nod, maybe even an “I’m sorry,” but no real relief, no action, no remedy, nor a solution. If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Many employees live in this cycle, where overwork becomes normalized and requests for support fade into background noise.

In many academic libraries and workplaces, “niceness” is a celebrated trait. We want to be approachable, collaborative, and supportive of colleagues. But there’s a shadow side to this cultural value: when the desire to be liked outweighs the need to lead effectively. In toxic dynamics, niceness can mask conflict, stifle honest communication, and leave teams without the guidance they need.

When you work in a library—especially a smaller one—it’s easy to feel like you’re talking to yourself. Ideas swirl around in your head, problems are mulled over on repeat, and solutions echo back without fresh perspective. Over time, that echo chamber can become isolating. Without input from others, it’s harder to grow, harder to adapt, and harder to feel connected to the larger profession we are all a part of.

In academic libraries, communication is more than just information-sharing—it is the foundation for belonging. For librarians who balance multiple priorities and often work in hybrid or dispersed teams, digital tools and platforms are not simply conveniences; they are lifelines for connection, collaboration, and inclusion.

As a library administrator—associate university librarian, associate dean, department head—you’ve probably experienced this: you send an email about a difficult decision, such as reorganizing desk schedules or shifting budgets, and… silence. No one replies. Or, you notice that some staff avoid initiating emails on sensitive topics altogether.

Every organizational survey seems to tell the same story: employees want more communication. Yet when leaders respond with regular updates, open-door policies, and multiple channels for information sharing, the complaints persist. Staff members continue to feel left in the dark, suspicious of hidden agendas, and frustrated by what they perceive as a lack of transparency.

Leaders in academic libraries and higher education often emphasize the importance of “listening” to employees. Staff surveys, open office hours, and town halls are all designed to create the sense that leadership is paying attention. Yet many employees report a gap between being heard and being truly understood. The difference lies not in the act of listening itself, but in how leaders respond.

On some days, leading a library feels like living several professional lives at once. Some days, balance feels impossible.

Toxic workplaces in academic libraries often share the same roots: lack of communication, absence of trust, and exclusion. The consequences are predictable—burnout, disengagement, and diminished scholarly output. Yet, the opposite is also true. When trust, inclusion, and even laughter are present, library teams thrive. Scholarly productivity grows, relationships deepen, and the workplace feels lighter.

Setting the StageAcademic library administrators often carry the weight of two jobs: managing their own heavy workload while supporting the well-being of their staff. The irony is hard to miss—leaders are expected to shield their teams from burnout while quietly experiencing it themselves. The result? Exhaustion, disconnection, and a creeping sense that no one is winning.

As a library director, I see firsthand the toll that toxic culture and burnout can take on academic librarians. The signs are often subtle at first—a colleague skipping breaks, staying late too many nights in a row, or withdrawing from discussions they once led with energy. Over time, those small signals accumulate into disengagement, frustration, and, eventually, burnout.

The beginning of a new academic year often feels like a sprint—orientation sessions, library instruction, committee meetings, and the rush of new responsibilities. But the truth is that the academic year is a marathon, not a sprint. Without mindful pacing and care, librarians can find themselves exhausted, disillusioned, and burned out before midterms arrive.

Healthy organizations thrive when leadership is not concentrated at the top but shared across all levels. Senior leaders set the tone through vision, trust, and empowerment. Middle leaders bring that vision to life by connecting strategy to practice, fostering collaboration, and guiding teams through change. Together, these roles create an environment where innovation and resilience flourish.

In a healthy organization, a new leader acknowledges the past, then focuses on building the future. Criticism may surface during a transition, but it should fade as trust and direction take root.