Since this is my last editorial as School Library Journal’s editor-in-chief—I’m leaving the magazine to return to my first love, public libraries—forgive me for engaging in a little reflection.

Back when I joined SLJ, in August 2005, the world was gripped by Harry Potter fever, the Patriot Act was the hottest topic in library land, and a young Illinois Senator, Barack Obama, had captivated audiences at the American Library Association’s annual conference in Chicago. When Ohio’s State Library began offering ebooks through OverDrive, it warranted a minor news story.

At the time, our website was nascent, with just one blogger, the trailblazing Amy Bowllan. None of our online traffic came from Facebook (adults didn’t use it yet) or Twitter (which wouldn’t exist for another year). Discussions had just begun on creating our first digital newsletter, “Extra Helping.”

In some ways, it seems more like 60 years ago than six.

Nevertheless, there are some truths I’ve learned along the way about this magazine and its readers that are, for the most part, timeless. For one thing, I think there’s tremendous value in a publication that speaks to all librarians who work with children and teens—librarians in schools and public libraries.

I remember when I first started this job, readers would regularly accost me when I attended conferences, demanding that SLJ focus “more on the challenges facing school libraries.” Others would grumble that “SLJ now serves only the school folk.” In fact, I often heard both comments in the same day! This used to send me into a tailspin, driving me to pore over the last few issues, divvying up our content into “school,” “public,” and “both.”

Fortunately, the complaints have subsided. I don’t think we’ve changed—editorially we’ve always thought about all of our readers. But nowadays, there’s a lot less of the “us vs. them” mentality. In a world in which people regularly decry that professions are isolated from each other in separate silos, unable to communicate, don’t we need a publication in which all librarians that work with youth can come together and learn from one another?

If SLJ didn’t exist, someone would have to invent it.

The second thing I’ve learned, and relearned again and again, is an old saw that seems pretty darn obvious: librarians will go to any lengths to find the right content for the right reader. There’s no new author or format they won’t consider, no genre left unexplored. I’ve always known this, but I would’ve never guessed how intrepid our readers really are. I remember fielding queries from subscribers looking for the best apps for emerging readers—before (I can admit this now) I even knew what an app was. By their own admission, these readers didn’t know how they’d use apps with kids, but they were ready to give them a shot. That’s the definition of an SLJ subscriber: someone ready to raise a nation of readers, by any means necessary.

The final thing I’ve learned is that SLJ’s editors are more conduits than creators. Yes, we determine the content, find the writers, and whip their copy into the best possible shape. But we’re lucky to work in a profession that values sharing more than any other group I know. And sometimes the best thing we can do is stand aside and let that happen.

Watching the blossoming of social networking among librarians has been a case in point. I’m delighted to see how our news and features, reviews and blog posts spur discussions on Twitter and Facebook. In the months ahead, you’ll see an SLJ emerge that’ll support even better community building and conversations.

SLJ is fortunate. It’s led by a terrific editorial team. It’s supported by publishers and vendors who know, in helping librarians succeed, they’re part of an important endeavor. And, most significantly, it’s read by loyal subscribers who aren’t afraid to express their opinions about “their SLJ.”

The best, no doubt, is yet to come. I’ll be reading.