Just a thought

If we want people to know what a librarian does, and we want people to be aware of our profession (and we're not ashamed of the word "librarian," which I know some of us are), why don't we include it in our titles? Most senior managers are just "Manager;" why not, "Managing librarian" or "Librarian Manager"?

Food for thought

LISNews: "The Master's Degree Misperception":
"It is a disservice to the education, to the degree, and to the profession when the bulk of a librarian’s daily tasks could be performed by someone with a GED. It does not take a master’s degree to place a hold on a book, clear a copier, push in chairs, tell people they are being loud, shelve items, or other similar tasks. When librarians are seen doing this and then told there is an advanced degree requirement, there is a reasoning dissonance that occurs in the outside observer.

Publishers and librarians

I often wonder why we aren't better connected; God knows we are working towards the same general goals (although often very different bottom lines!)

Now, here is a great, thoughtful article (accompanied by storybook-style profiles of your average publisher and librarian) from Library Journal, by librarian and mystery writer Barbara Finter. And I quote:

"Though publishing and librarianship may have different cultures, we have a common goal. S.R. Ranganathan put it in a nutshell with two of his famous rules: every reader his book; every book its reader. In an era when publishing opportunities have proliferated and the number of titles being published has skyrocketed, libraries rely on professionals who can do the painstaking work of developing quality books. In turn, publishers need librarians, who help spark a love of reading among children, sustain it through the stages of life, and know what's important to readers.

Though book sales have slumped in recent months, library circulation is soaring. If publishers didn't get the importance of libraries before, now's the time to get the message, because it's in libraries that book culture will be sustained through these hard times."

Communities

Munster branch, Ottawa Public Library, housed in the heritage building of the former St. Stephen's Anglican Church, 1886.

In the beginning, was the word....

I grew up the daughter of two Anglican priests. For much of my childhood (9 up), I was raised by my mother, who served in parishes suburban and rural. It's only recently that I've gained enough perspective on those times, from a "professional" point of view, to think concretely about how much I learned, and why I work the way I do, based on what I observed during that time in my life.

I'm not going to get into what else I observed, besides work culture and professional attitudes, because, um, that's a whole other story. I will say that I certainly saw the best and the worst of human nature and human behaviour. The rest is for another day, my pretties.

Recently, however, I was thinking about the similarities between the profession my parents chose and the profession I have chosen. My mother organised a Fall Speakers' Series at her parish (scroll down to Wednesday here) and it reminded me so distinctly of some ideas I have had for Rideau Branch that it sparked a whole train of thought in my head. Sometimes, whether calling on local experts to give public talks on a subject, or unplugging the toilet because no one else is there to do it, I have to blink to remind myself we're not in the same profession.

Granted, some initial observations are obvious. The priesthood, and librarianship, can both be considered to be vocations. Both are "trusted" and - in most cases!- non-partisan voices. Both are service professions that work under a shared set of values and principles, rather than under the banner of commercialism or profit (um, ideally, anyway). Both think the written word is pretty much paramount (click here for reasons why church is like a book club). Both like rules a lot (you know I'm only half joking!) This has been discussed elsewhere, most notably in Sacred Stacks (see also the May 2006 issue of American Libraries).

I was struck, however, by the extent to which, at least if you narrow my field to public librarianship, our organisational structures are often similar, and how our organisations work on a very similar grassroots community level. I think a lot of what I seem to know intuitively about this work comes from observing my mother do similar work during my childhood and youth.

Both the diocese and the library have "central control" units (a diocese, a director, a governing board), with different departments branching out from there. Some of these departments are in individual communities, outposts where things might work a little differently than the norm, or things have worked a certain way for years. These outposts are staffed by people who may rotate (Markham Public is rotating staff on a 3-year basis! Priests are called to different parishes every few years! Compare and contrast that with your library....). Those professionals staffing those departments in individual communities may also serve on central committees, allowing them to socialise and share ideas with colleagues working for the same organisation but separated by sometimes a great geographical distance. This is something I never underestimated, watching my mum traipse in from Bedford to attend council and Synod. The conversations, and resolutions passed, may be to your liking or not, but the benefits (sharing with colleagues, lunching with friends, trading ideas and supporting each other) outweigh the drawbacks (the cost, the commute, dealing with the difficult people). I'm so glad I learned that, and the lesson has served me well when working in smaller libraries, or in new communities, when you need that professional connection as a touchstone to ward off becoming stale, and desperate.

Back in the outposts, within individual communities, is where the real work gets done, of course, by the community librarian and the parish priest. The organisation often survives on "word of mouth" recommendations in the commmunity (I have seen people leave a parish or a library branch when a new priest or librarian comes along!). The day-to-day small battles, on the ground, in the community, help win the war and foster a positive impression of the profession as a whole.

Each community has its own subset of values, and may feel differently about aspects of the service that "make or break" an individual's experience in the environment. This can be crucial: professionals might not last too long in an environment that isn't a good fit for them. In churches, some of these values might include strong opinions about architectural space ("I can't worship in that modern monstrosity!" or "Ugh, that old Gothic building is cold!"), types of music, appropriate places for children, volunteer spirit and involvement, use of formal or informal language; in libraries, some of the same stand: people are certainly drawn to a certain library because of architecture, some even going out of their way to keep the same home branch after their -actual- home has moved. What is the appropriate place for children? How much do you rely on your staff and incorporate volunteers? Music may not be a factor in libraries, but noise and how you deal with it certainly is!

There is also a significant importance placed on involvement in community life and development of partnerships in both organisations. I grew up accompanying my mother on various "outreach" visits: to homes, seniors' residences, community groups, picnics, schools and so on. I certainly don't do home visits, but I did spend a summer responsible for shut-in service, which is comparable. Outreach (however you interpret it) is key in both professions: it shows respect for and willingness to value input from marginalised populations and groups, spreads the word about services, and, as an added bonus, it raises your street cred (see? Now, you must admit, neither librarians or priests are known for that, usually!)

Some of the more problematic characteristics that both professions share include a certain sense of comfort dealing with the under 6s and the over 50s. The flip side of this, of course, is that neither of us have done a very good job of relating to, or being relevant to, youth, young professionals and families, and those in their 40s. Yes, yes, you could argue for the evangelicals, or for the libraries that seem to espouse that evangelical zeal (I am not naming names. I'm not here to criticise what might be over-the-top, selling-your-soul-to-Satan, marketing). Overall, though, both groups are, frankly, somewhat wary of these populations and have a tough time meeting their needs under the confines of what they consider service to the community.

Maybe what we consider service has to change a little bit, or, at the very least, we need to start hiring people who actually care about the needs of these groups. Our own professional demographics could also stand to be tipped in the same direction (what's that # again? 50% of librarians are over 50? Seen many younger priests around in positions of authority, either? Didn't think so).

While we're on the topic of hiring for our community's needs, let's talk public speaking. Neither librarians or priests went into the profession thinking, great, this is really a place for me, since I love giving speeches on a weekly basis! Yet we find ourselves giving elevator speeches to community organisations we want to partner with, or meeting with groups as diverse as city councillors and teen mums, talking about library programs and services, or giving booktalks and leading book clubs, and it's not that different from a parish priest going to a local school or giving a weekly sermon, and we catch ourselves thinking, how did we get into this, again? Both fields need to attract, encourage, and actively recruit great speakers, strong voices, passionate defenders. And, if you're working in a parish or leading storytime, a good singing voice or some skills on the guitar wouldn't hurt, either.

All joking aside, there are some real connections between these two fields, and a lot we can probably learn from each other in (equally) troubling times for our professions. On a more personal level, my mum certainly modeled good professional behaviour in any situation, and committment to a vocation, and that has influenced me a lot and probably made me the librarian I am today.

The Pack Horse Librarians

I just finihsed reading That book woman by Heather Henson, which is utterly lovely! I highly recommend checking it out - it's about the (real-life) Pack Horse Librarians of the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. Founded in the Dirty Thirties by Roosevelt to bring books to reomote regions, the Pack Horse Library Project organised librarians by horse or mule to deliver books every two weeks to residents!

A great story (in book form, and historical form) about bravery and selflessness. Also a great pick for storytimes about reluctant readers. I was all like, I'm not going to cry!!!, until I got to the part where the mother in the story thanks the librarian for making two readers out of one. You'll understand when you read it.

Other Pack Horse Librarian reads:
Down Cut Shin Creek: The Pack Horse Librarians of Kentucky by Kathi Appelt
Night Comes to the Cumberlands: A Biography of a Depressed Area by Harry M. Caudill

Pop quiz: who can tell me what a librarian does?

Not that many people, I can tell you from experience. From my real estate agent in Montreal telling me, "I was a librarian ... when I was about 16!" (yes, she meant she shelved books for a summer job), to the countless replies, "Oh, I had no idea you needed a Masters degree for that!," I'm not unaware that we have an image problem. I think the reasons we continue to have such a big problem when we have, in most cases, passed the point of the bunned, bespectacled librarian, are complicated. It has something to do with the way people romanticise libraries as a place, as a repository for knowledge, unchanging through time (as opposed to a vibrant, busy, constantly-adapting place filled with new and old knowledge).

It also has something to do with the type of people our profession attracts. By the time people get to a point where they understand what a librarian is, they have often become regular library users, and are therefore already part of one sub-set of humanity. We attract to the field of librarianship (and I am including knowledge management, archivists, and others in here, much to their probable chagrin) people who are readers, lovers of intellectual freedom, book-worshippers, dreamers, thinkers, observers, guardians. We do not attract (and I speak in general here!) people who are naturally outgoing, outspoken, political, ground-breakers.

In many places, these skills are unnecessary for everyday work. They are especially necessary, I would argue, in public libraries, where librarians often act, especially as they move up to management, as representatives of their organisation to the public, the media, local government, and non-users. Even on the ground, in community branches, it takes a certain type of person to do effective outreach in the community, and, let's face it, the person behind the Reference desk often isn't inclined (or well-prepared, but that could be a whole other post about library school education gaps!) to reach out, speak out, or effectively make those community connections.

I think about this situation all the time - not only do we tend to "keep our heads down," focusing on our work and advocacy for our organisation rather than advocacy for the profession as a whole, but we continue to undervalue people skills, love of connection and community, public speaking, and leadership potential when training and hiring (public) librarians. I think someone needs to do a scientific study about children's librarians, because I hear anecdotally (Superconference 2008: Session # 1206, entitled The Path to the CEO's Office) that they tend to end up as directors more frequently than other food groups. I suspect that once you've bid your dignity farewell by doing storytime in front of grown-ups, you have no shame left and are willing to speak up and take initiative.

I have an ongoing struggle trying to convince people that I was once exceptionally, debilitatingly, shy. I did learn to deal with it, mostly by pushing the fear down really far (I'm far too good at that, and at pushing down other emotions, too, but that's another story) and putting up a very brave front. It works a bit too well, because sometimes I say the wrong thing, and I'm sure people think I'm weird, but if it's happened to you talking to me, now you know it's likely because I was actually really nervous and blurted something out without thinking. I get nervous especially on the phone, for some reason, and even talking to people I know really well.

All that to say, I'm not insensitive to the often crippling feeling of shyness, and I understand why our profession ends up with so many shy people. I'm not saying we all need to be future leaders, or future revolutionaries; I'm just suggesting we need to take both small and big steps to advance our profession, some of which can be done by addressing our introvert (collective and individual) natures.

What triggered this rant was reading the Lipstick Librarian this morning. She was writing about minorities in the profession (or the lack thereof, rather). She points to a report by the ACRL Board of Directors Diversity Task Force (a subgroup of the ACRL Board of Directors) that states that "the biggest factor for minorities applying to library school is prior work experience in a library--in other words, direct exposure to the work." No kidding. That's why we don't attract lots of people, including minorities! How much do we talk about what we do, or show people? Sure, we get our friends' kids jobs shelving, and we talk about books to our friends, but do we talk about our day-to-day tasks? Do we even talk about them with circulation staff or pages in our own libraries (they are our biggest advocates, too!)? Do we talk about bigger issues, like copyright, the digital divide, intellectual freedom, RDA,.... with our non-librarian friends?

I try to make a point, at parties, for instance, if my profession comes up in conversation, of giving a few concrete examples of what I do in an average day. I might casually (at least I hope it's casually) mention supporting a book club with articles and online resources, visiting a grade 5 class and talking about great new fiction and non-fiction titles, judging book prizes, going to a teen mums' group to talk about babytime at the library, and so on. Every single time I do this, I get an exclamation of surprise, and interest: Oh! I had no idea you do that sort of thing! Once, my friend's husband asked me outright what I thought about the death of the book. I was so pleased, and on I went about libraries not being about books (books are a format; the format will change) but about knowledge, community, heritage, lifelong learning.... His eyes (luckily) did not glaze over, and he said, huh, I never thought of it that way.

I truly believe that even small victories like this advance our profession, slowly, step by step. There's nowhere to go but up: A 2006 survey of MLIS students at the University of Alabama’s SLIS found that only 2% listed the profession as a goal since high school. Seriously, 2%. Sadly, that says something about the state of American school libraries (or lack thereof, and therefore lack of good role models for our career), but it also says something about the general lack of awareness of libraries (public or otherwise) and of librarians as a part of children's communities, or personal lives.

The ARCL study goes on to underline that "The professional and research literature and Web presence on library and information science recruitment and retention ... suffer[s] from divergence," meaning that we divide our efforts and resources, instead of unifying them under one banner. The example given in the study of an unified presence for recruitment and retention is DiscoverNursing.com, but I would also suggest that Canadian chartered accountants have done a super job, also, with their CA advantage ad campaign. They're now implementing phase 2, "Decisions matter." The ads are brilliant.

Why can't we develop a national “ad campaign” for Canadian librarians? Coupled with recruiting, training, and supporting leaders within the profession, we could make a big difference in the type of professionals we attract, and the type of image we project in the world at large. Meanwhile, we have to never turn the "librarian" off, and seize every opportunity for public education and discussion of our role in the world. We simply can't afford to keep quiet, and toil in relative obscurity, any longer.

Do you love your teen librarian ... enough?

Great post over at the YALSA blog.

Rutgers's School of Communication, Information and Library Studies, now with less "library"

Yup, Rutgers University’s School of Communication, Information and Library Studies (SCILS) is dropping the word "library" from its name, following many others (including U of T's iSchool, UWashington, Syracuse and Carnegie-Mellon).

I agree that our profession requires much more than library expertise, but I am somewhat incredulous that we are, at times, so full of self-loathing that we must scratch out the "library." I often wonder if we're doing it because we want to divorce ourselves from the librarian stereotype. Are we throwing the baby out with the bathwater?

Don't give me that whole, "we're in the information business, like doctors are in the business of medicine" argument, because that's crap. Many of us are still in the library business, with much more than information being sold: what about a sense of community? Literacy? Lifelong learning? Do you want to cram that in, too? Didn't think so.

OK. Deep breath. Calm now. I'm sorry - I may be the last person standing who wants that word in there, but I think it's a part of our profession and it belongs there, even if not everyone works in a library. The library is not a physical place but an idea, a concept.

The best part of the above article is the fact that, after changing names (note the inclusion of the word "communication"), there was a big snafu about the dean circulating a letter that claimed, incorrectly, that he had the support of the New Jersey Library Association (he didn't). He's calling it a typo; the president of NJLA gets the last word: "For a communication school, there was very poor communication."

ALA's Core Competences of Librarianship: notes about lifelong learning

The final version of this is dated August 2008, but, perhaps due to the anarchy of the new ALA website (one more page not found note and I'm going to give up...) I somehow missed it. ALA has released its Core Competences of Librarianship. Warning: that link points to a Word doc. Seriously? How 1.0 of you, ALA! Of course, I suppose our continued use of PDF for the ABQLA bulletin is not much better (we're working on it).

The document includes a section relating to continuing ed. and lifelong learning, which underlines:

• "The necessity of continuing professional development of practitioners in libraries and other information agencies.


• The role of the library in the lifelong learning of patrons, including an understanding of lifelong learning in the provision of quality service and the use of lifelong learning in the promotion of library services.
  
• Learning theories, instructional methods, and achievement measures; and their application in libraries and other information agencies.


• The principles related to the teaching and learning of concepts, processes and skills used in seeking, evaluating, and using recorded knowledge and information."

Totally obvious, but interesting. There's also a whole section about management. Ha. "The principles of effective personnel practices and human resource development" - really? If only.