Welcome to the Library, Now Put Together Your Career, by Amelia Rodriguez

I have a bad habit of letting other people’s opinions overshadow my own. I get so focused on not making a stir that I get swept along in what other people think or feel and lose myself in their ideas. This can clearly be seen by my choices in my undergraduate study. I changed majors three times and with each change came a new school. The first two majors were influenced by what other people thought would be good areas of study for me. My mom, ever the voice of reason, asked me what I wanted. She was also the one who guided me towards library school.

By a lot of accounts I’m rare for a librarian and one of those people who was like, “I love books. Being a librarian sounds fun.” I didn’t work in libraries as a teen; I don’t have family who worked in libraries; and I didn’t come into librarianship via another profession. Anytime I hear someone mention how these are good reasons to become a librarian not just a love of books/reading, I feel a little hurt because it's how I chose this profession.

Because of my tendency to listen to other’s opinions over my own feelings, I left myself open when I started school. We didn’t have to pick an area of study and could build our own curriculum as long as we took certain classes or so many in a given area of study. I took a variety of classes from archives to cataloging to digital libraries. When presented with the opportunity to work in one of the libraries on campus, I jumped at the chance to work the reference desk and teach library instruction. Lucky me: I found what I wanted to do with my degree!

I got a great first job in a small branch of my local county library system. I got to learn about all different aspects of the running of a library. I worked the circulation desk, re-shelved books, pulled holds, processed new books, ordered books, fixed books, and so many more things that I didn’t learn in library school. Three years ago the branch started to go through a period of transition and it seemed like it might be a good time to consider a transition for myself. A lot of my friends (both librarians and non-librarians) had already moved jobs a few times, advancing their careers and I got swept up in the idea of it all. I worked on my resume and reached out to some co-workers within the system to ask about being a reference.

One of those people was in the IT department. She asked if I wanted a change from the library system or just in job because there was a possibility of an internal move. I said I was happy with the system but felt like I needed something different. That sounded perfect to me, since it would give me time to decide what I really wanted next.

It was even more perfect because I had related experience. One of my duties at that time was to serve as the IT Liaison. I did small troubleshooting and updates for the IT Department, and my responsibilities grew over the years. As the liaison I learned how to do so much with a computer that when this possible opportunity became a reality, it was an easy transition. I’ve been in the IT department for a little over a year now and I’ve learned a lot. I’m in a really good place, too. It may have seemed like an easy transition but it was filled with anxiety and doubts. So many of them were based on things other people have said to me, about me, and just around me.

There was a manager who believed that people shouldn’t spend their whole careers in one job or with the same library or system. Over the last year I’ve learned more about some of the librarians at other branches, and just how wrong that manager was. A lot of them have spent a number of years working in this system. It was refreshing to learn that it was okay to stay put and keep a job for more than 2 or 3 years. Libraries are all about growth and change, and I’ve learned you can grow in the same place. There is so much focus on the larger picture of the profession but sometimes you need to look at your community and what they need. I can see that in my current position there is going to be growth. Further, with the variety of communities that our county system serves, there will always be opportunity for change. Being with the IT department puts me on the front lines of seeing the system through the growth spurts. It’s a good place to be.

Amelia Rodriguez is an IT librarian for the Mercer County Library System. In her free time she geeks out over a lot of things including Jane Austen, James Dean, and prison/cop shows. If you want to read tweets on these topics you can find her at @LitJrzyGrl. 

Everyone Else Is Already Taken

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A while back someone (I'm sorry I don't remember who!) asked me if I'd revisit some old posts. Since it came up last week, I thought now was a good time to jump in my wayback machine and reconsider "Free to Be... You and Me," a post all about letting my nerd flag fly.

A few key points from that original post, for those of you who don't remember it and/or don't have time to read more than one blog post right now:

• I am a nerd of the first water. Played Dungeons & Dragons in the early 80s. Owned a ColecoVision. Doctor Who. Ad infinitum.
• I used to try to hide that fact.
• I stopped hiding that fact, and started being myself.
• Hilarity, and better connections with members of my community, ensued.
• I think everyone should do the same.

Flash forward two jobs and almost exactly 6 years, and I still feel like bringing myself - my whole self - to work is one of the best professional decisions I've ever made. I'm still a big ol' nerd, even though my current nerdy obsessions are "Lost Girl" and the Eric Carter series and hunting through thrift stores to find choice vinyl.

But being myself in my professional life is still working the same magic. You see, I have a Guster poster up in my office. They're my favorite band, after all. And when the union president stopped by my office to discuss the benefits of joining, he remarked on it. Turns out he loves Guster, too. So in between discussing the form and the money parts of joining our union, we gushed about the times we've seen our favorite band perform live. It was an unexpected bonus that made what could have been a stilted conversation go smoothly.

All of this isn't to say that I think everyone should be a nerd, or be like me. I'm just saying you should be your whole self at work if possible. Wear your Peggy Carter inspired jewelry. Listen to Ukrainian folk on your headphones or in your office. Put that picture of your pet ball python up in your work space. Make the dumb joke that gets people to laugh. Being yourself will help other people be real with you, too.

The Promise and Pitfalls of Openness by Default, by Galen Charlton

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Some of the keynote speeches I have seen were inspiring. Others were thinly disguised sales pitches. The worst were simply boring. However, a couple evoked record-scratch moments for me -- and those are the ones I remember best.

Earlier this year, Catherine Devlin of 18F spoke at the conference of the Evergreen open source ILS project. 18F is a group within the U.S. Federal government that aims to solves technology problems in collaboration with other government agencies. Among 18F's principles is a commitment to open technology, including the use and development of open source software, and a commitment to working in the open. Devlin's talk about openness and how to encourage government agencies to adopt open software meshed well with values and practices that the Evergreen project strives for.

Devlin's thesis went well beyond the technology. She suggested that the key contribution of open source will ultimately not be the technology, but a way of working: building things, be they software or laws, in the open where anyone can suggest improvements. Viewed with humility, criticism becomes a gift; moreso when inclusion is actively sought. Openly communicating about building something while it is being built can lead to better results.  As Devlin has put it,

Imagine a world where laws are edited and commented [upon] online — where lobbyists must make public pull requests, and any one of us can file public bug reports.

Compelling, no? (For more on Devlin’s keynote, look at Tanya Schlusser's summary of a previous one.)

I promised a record-scratch moment. During her Evergreen keynote, Devlin said something to the effect that for her, the open source process extended not just to technology and managing collaborative projects, but also to herself. She's accepting pull requests for herself -- i.e., requests to change her habits and interactions with other people. One thing to emphasize about the metaphor is that a pull request doesn't just ask for a change: it gives precise instructions on how to do it.

This is radical openness and radical transparency. I have worked in free and open source software projects in libraries for over a decade and advocate for free software principles -- and yet I recoiled at the notion of announcing that anybody was free to file pull requests on… me. Wow.

Let's unpack my reaction. On the one hand, I believe that open source is a good ethical fit with several key library values. If libraries are to promote access to information and entertainment to as many people as possible, our tools should be openly available and developed. If we want to protect the privacy of our patrons, being able to directly inspect every aspect of the technology we use is crucial.

There are also pragmatic reasons for librarydom (and I'm using the collective term advisedly) to embrace open source. For one thing, credible development and use of open source software by libraries can counterbalance the power of proprietary software and content providers who seek to extract as much economic rent as they can from closed systems. Furthermore, since very few libraries field large teams of developers, working in the open provides a way for libraries to collaborate.

Openness and transparency are also virtues in other aspects of library management. A department or a director who develops policies in the open and invites critique and collaboration can be much more effective than an organization full of silos.

However, it is hard to adopt a stance of being open by default. Thinking about the notion of accepting pull requests on one's own person can help highlight some of the pitfalls.

Who gets to make the pull requests? On the one hand, one should be able to accept critique, especially if one has positional power, privilege, or both. Humility is often mentioned as an open source ideal for exactly that reason. On the other hand, people are also entitled to maintain personal boundaries; a workplace where everybody is expected to quietly take criticism on every aspect of their work and personality would quickly turn abusive. Not all criticism is valid; the bug trackers of any large open source project are rife with irrelevant, picayune, or wrong-headed critiques. Nor can all valid criticism and suggestions be acted upon in a software project -- or in a library; time is not infinite and priorities must be set. A significant portion of the emotional labor in open source projects revolves around managing critique.

If you work in the open, your failures will also be open. In a healthy organization, failure should be expected and learned from. However, being free to fail is often a privilege reserved to, well, people who already have substantial privilege. Even if an organization is equitable about responding to failure, it can take a leap of faith to be willing to fail openly. Do you trust your library to let you fail?

An open by default stance can be useful -- but it can also be subverted. Consider 18F: an organization that aims to transform government IT by introducing open source thinking is one thing in the context of an administration that believes that government can be effective. In another context, though, a government department taking the leap of faith into openness could be swiftly punished by its destruction.

Libraries should be open. They should be as transparent as possible. However, openness is not enough; in fact, a poorly-conceived or unbalanced mandate to be open can backfire. Openness can only thrive with a foundation of trust, respect for boundaries, and inclusiveness.

I’m still working through my thoughts on this, but I know one thing for sure: want to promote openness in your library? Start by promoting trust.

Author bio: Galen Charlton is a developer and manager at the Equinox Open Library Initiative, where he spends his time helping libraries to use and improve the open source integrated library systems Koha and Evergreen. This is his second post for LtaYL. The first was “Constant Vigilance”. He can be found on Twitter as @gmcharlt.

Little Libraries, Big Ideas

It's something that's been apparent to me almost my entire career: little libraries have just as many - if not more - big ideas as do big libraries, but our budgets and personnel constraints make it so that we have a hard time getting the word out. I remember distinctly attending ALA Annual in DC back in 2010, walking over to have a conversation with someone at the Dark Horse Comics booth (we'd emailed before, and I wanted to say hi in person, and then later overhearing a remark about how cool it was that librarians were adding comics and graphic novels to their collections. I was flabbergasted. I'd been in charge of a graphic novel collection for most of my career - probably about 6 years - at that point. How was it that people thought libraries didn't do that thing?

And that's not the only instance I've seen in the 14 years since I started my first job in a library. Necessity sometimes truly is the mother of invention, so when your choice is between some fancy new expensive thing and keeping the lights on... you get creative. Small libraries - particularly small public libraries from whom I've shamelessly stolen ideas for years - are hot beds of creativity. Gaming in libraries. Maker spaces that go beyond a 3D printer. Outreach at places you'd never expect it, like a book club that meets in a brew pub. Art shows. The list goes on and on.

Now I need you to bear with me as I try to make this next point, because I'm not exactly sure where this will end up. I know a few things, though. I know that the cost of attending conferences, even smallish local ones, is cost prohibitive for too many people. Further, there are only so many slots for online presentations. I know that a lot of you are going to talk about the amazing connections you can make and enhance when you go to conferences in person, and you're not wrong. I've spent literally thousands of dollars out of my own pocket over the last 5 years to attend conferences, so I know. But I also know that my situation isn't common and not everyone can afford to do what I did.

Further, what about publications? I've tried to make LtaYL a bit of a platform for sharing ideas and innovation. There are plenty of other publications that do the same - The Journal of Creative Library Practice and In the Library with the Lead Pipe come immediately to mind. But what about the people who are so busy keeping their libraries open and running that they have no time to write?

It's hard to think about the kinds of things we're missing because of the disparity in finances between different kinds of libraries. And let's be clear: this isn't just a problem of academic and public libraries. Think about the teeny museum libraries that are run by curators who are also the librarians. Think about the small corporate libraries that have one librarian splitting their time between multiple locations. Think about librarians who work solo in the libraries of small city hospitals. What innovations have they dreamed up that could solve major problems at bigger libraries?

This isn't the first nor will it be the last time I discuss this problem, but it's gotten so much more frustrating lately. Admittedly, part of it is because I see big name/big school libraries getting lauded for doing things those of us at smaller libraries have been doing for years, and it stings. It really stings. Beyond the selfish aspect of this, though, is the fact that we really are missing out on some amazing ideas.

So, how can we solve this problem? Scholarships are good, but don't go far. Can we get more committees - particularly committees that are part of national organizations - to go digital? I'm not sure how to answer this issue, since my own solution was to dig into my own bank account. So, really, what ideas do you have?

Stepping Back: Creating Space for Equity in Librarianship, by Violet Fox

As a (relatively) new librarian—I got my MLIS in 2013—I’ve been doing some soul searching lately on my place within the future of libraries, inspired by articles and blog posts on the whiteness of librarianship (e.g., Max Macias on “Whiteness in Libraries,” April Hathcock on “White Librarianship in Blackface”) and innumerable Twitter conversations, especially critlib chats.

It’s apparent that bringing people from marginalized groups into library work, by rethinking hiring practices (see Angela Galvan on “Soliciting Performance, Hiding Bias”), and more importantly by creating workplaces that ensure librarians from a variety of backgrounds feel valued and secure, benefits us all. For those of us who are just starting out, how do we contribute to diversifying the profession?

I’d like to start a dialogue with fellow white people on what it means to divest ourselves from the power that comes from being a white person in librarianship. Many of us might agree that it’s a necessary step, but what does it look like in practice?

For some, it might look like financial support of new librarians. Giving funds for attending conferences (ranging from comping registration fees to funding a new scholarship) helps address the well-documented racial wealth and/or wage gap. Alternatively, people can use their positions of authority (managerial positions or tenure status) to bring issues of race to the forefront or to support coworkers from marginalized communities.

Unfortunately, newer librarians and library school students likely don’t have expendable cash or built-up authority with which to support black or indigenous librarians or librarians of color. But we do have access to a variety of opportunities, including funding, networking, presentations, internships, and library leadership programs. I’m suggesting that, as individuals, we take a moment to evaluate, frankly, our advantages and reconsider opportunities that come our way.

My initial thoughts about this were formed by hearing Hannah Buckland, Director of Library Services at Leech Lake Tribal College, speak about how her library users would be better served if their librarian was a Native American (specifically, in the case of her library, Ojibwe). She candidly made the case that white people will have to step down to make space for Native peoples to learn from and build each other up. I very much appreciate her self-awareness and efforts to invest in those she works with to take over her job in the future.

Her words came to mind again recently when I was asked to speak on a panel. I accepted the invitation but, to be honest, I'm feeling uncomfortable about it. The panel is part of a presentation on self-publishing sponsored by the library at a community/technical college (with approximately 62% students of color), and I was asked to represent the zinester perspective. I am reconsidering my role on the panel because I wonder if my words, talking about how zines can empower people, won’t be as effective as giving that spot to a zinester of color. It’s my responsibility to bring these concerns up with the moderator of the panel, and, if necessary, withdraw my acceptance.

For new librarians, especially those who are unemployed, underemployed, or just not yet at their dream job, it can be easy to slip into competitiveness. As we know from recent politics, very real fears of economic insecurity can lead to resentment and acting without thought for the collective good. In the effort to make a name for oneself, it’s difficult to consider giving up opportunities.

It’s important not to phrase this as “giving up privilege,” which can lead to a sense of benevolent generosity or, worse, white savior complex, but instead to frame these ideas as correcting inequity. As decolonial historian Sandrew Hira writes, “racist oppression, exploitation and injustice of people of color” is not a privilege, it is an injustice. The fruits given to white people based on that brutal tradition are tainted. Of course it is difficult if not impossible for white people to know how much of their status or “good fortune” is related to their whiteness, versus the amount that can be attributed to their hard work. The only moral choice is to assume that at least some of our success has originated in the rotten heritage of white supremacy.

As white people we have what I think is an important privilege: the privilege to act conscientiously in order to benefit the future of librarianship as a whole. Leftist British politician Tony Barr, who understood that social change came from the collective action of ordinary people, once said “[h]ope is the fuel of progress and fear is the prison in which you put yourself.” A compassionate, equitable future for libraries can only be reached if we choose to act not out of fear but with a clear understanding of our place in the profession. By stepping back, we create space for unlimited possibilities.

For more thoughts on the necessity of redistributing power to address inequality, see “Diversity Isn’t “Being in the Room”: It’s Whites Giving Up Their Seats” by journalist Ernest Owens. What does “giving up your seat” mean to you in the context of our profession?


Violet Fox is the Metadata Librarian at the College of Saint Benedict/Saint John’s University (Minnesota) and a 2013 graduate of the University of Washington iSchool. She helps out with scheduling critlib chats and co-organizing the Twin Cities Zine Fest, and thinks entirely too much about the ethics of classification. Find her on Twitter at @violetbfox.

Why I Fight

My Grandfather

So many things I could write about this week. I've been thinking about how small libraries have big ideas that are ignored until a big library follows suit. I've also been thinking about the world of difference between my last job and my current one. I've spent some time thinking about mental health. But I can't stop thinking about the events this past weekend in Charlottesville, and similar events that have been happening again and again in the United States - not just in recent times, but for decades and beyond. That seems more important.

I'm a long time fighter. Here are some examples: Boycotting Coke in the 80s because they were still in South Africa - also posted signs around my high school, even on the Coke machines. Marching for women's rights, and regularly skipping classes to campaign for the same, in the 90s. Embraced and pushed size acceptance in the 00s. As I (and my knees) have aged, I've started fighting with money by donating money to civil rights organizations like the Southern Poverty Law Center.

And now? What am I fighting for now? I'm fighting so I can be the person my grandfather expected me to be. That means there is no one issue that gets my sole attention. Instead, I work for respect for people's humanity, religious differences, race, and beyond. But it also means that I won't back down from defending people who have been disenfranchised and had their voices taken from them. The United States have a long and bloody history of racism, sexism, religious intolerance, discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation. We need to respect and appreciate differences, not suppress and destroy them. We need to do this in our professional as well as our personal lives.

Norman Olin never stopped learning and growing and doing what he could to make things better. He was a traveling salesman who joined the Army Air Corps then ran his own business in NYC before finally becoming a high school teacher and college professor. And there was never any doubt that he loved me for who I am. I hope you all have someone in your life or your past who makes you want to be a better person the way my grandfather does for me. If you don't, feel free to adopt my grandfather for your own posthumously. He'd be happy to meet you.

Handling Microaggressions in the Library, by Amanda M. Leftwich

As a young librarian in the field, no one told me about the microaggressions that I might face in the field. In fact, no other librarian of color mentioned it either. Seemingly, it’s something that you just deal with or something you talk about with your friends AFTER you leave librarianship all together. However dealing with microaggressions as either a young, person of color, gay/lesbian/trans, religious, disabled, or otherwise marginalized person cannot be ignored. Instead of being a passive recipient as I was in the past, here are some ways you can change the conversation.

• First, confront the microaggression head on. It’s easier to shake your head and walk away when a harsh statement is thrown your way, but it’s not the best for you. Acknowledge the statement (i.e. “Where are you really from?” or “Your hair looks good that way! You look less confrontational that way!”) and start the conversation. Simply saying “this statement makes me uncomfortable please refrain from this language in the future” can help. Most people, especially in the workplace, do not want to be seen as insensitive. Starting the conversation in a non-defensive way can provide a learning opportunity for your fellow co-workers. If you are uncomfortable speaking with the aggressor directly, involve Human Resources (HR). Although this seems drastic, you must protect your well-being in the workplace. Keep a running tab of the aggressions faced with dates and how you addressed them. This will give the manager an idea of the issues you're facing. HR will be able provide a safe place to voice your concerns, and hopefully, find a solution.

• On the flipside, you aren’t the “Rosetta Stone for Your Community”! While most people are genuinely curious about different cultures, sometimes the questions come off as intrusive. For example, someone frequently asking where your family is truly from OR how did you learn to speak English so well. Remember, you are a library employee, not the interpreter of your culture. You do not have to constantly explain your culture to anyone in the building! If a fellow employee consistently asks you questions about your culture, feel free to change the topic. Or simply say, “I don’t feel like speaking for my entire culture, I only speak for myself.” 

• Find something you enjoy outside of work. This seems like an obvious one, but everyone needs an outlet. Whether its reading, knitting, running, etc. find something that makes you happy outside of work. This will not only help lower your stress levels, but remind you that there are enjoyable things in life during stressful times. For example, is there a local chapter of a multicultural association in your area (Black Caucus of the American Library Association, REFORMA, APALA, AJL, etc.)? If so, join them! Most memberships have library school student or first-year librarian rates. Becoming active in one (or several) of these organizations can help remind you that you aren’t alone. Membership can also help you find a mentor that’s been through similar experiences. If you’re more introverted try following some online spaces such as the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Round Table (GLBTRT) Twitter page.  

I’ve learned to handle microaggressions in the workplace, but I’m not made of stone. Looking back now, I wish someone would’ve provided me with a list of this nature. Hopefully, someone will not deal with any of the issues I’ve faced.

How about you? Has anyone else learned any valuable skills when faced with microaggressions?

Amanda M. Leftwich is a circulation supervisor for a small arts college in Philadelphia, PA. When she's not in the library she's watching fantasy/sci-fi t.v. shows, studying aromatherapy practices, travelling, or looking for her next foodie adventure! She tweets @thelibmaven.

Getting Up To Speed: First Month in My New Job

My first month in the new job is over, and I feel really good about my progress. I've had a one-on-one meeting with every single person who works for me (16 people!) at least once, and most of them I've sat down with more than that. If you'll remember from the last post I wrote about my new gig, I'm working to learn the People, Process, and Projects. As a way to get to know my people, I asked everybody the exact same questions to start with. Thought I'd share them along with some of my reason for asking each question.


Personal & Professional Questions (these were mostly about breaking the ice and getting to know each other):

1. How long have you worked at this school?
2. How long in your current role? (Lots of promotion from within.)
3. Are you from the area? If not, where are you from originally?
4. What’s your favorite local restaurant? (Purely selfish on my part!)
5. How often do you want to hear from me as a group? (Gave me an opportunity to learn about my predecessor's style while also talking about my communication style. Also talked about meetings vs. emails.)
6. How often do you want to meet with me?

College & Library Questions (They've worked here a lot longer than I have and know the institution better. Also, this gave me an opportunity to figure out staff fears and hopes):

1. What are the biggest challenges the organization* is facing (or will face in the near future)
2. Why is the organization* facing (or going to face) these challenges?
3. What are the most promising opportunities**?
4. What would need to happen for us to follow up on these opportunities**?
5. If you were me, on what would you focus your attention?

*In this context, organization can mean everything from your particular part of the library all the way up to GCC in general, but I’m more interested in at the library level or below.

**Here, “opportunities” means anything that could enhance student, faculty, or staff experiences in and with the library. This could include things that would make your job easier or smoother.


I've also had follow up meetings with a good chunk of the staff about their specific job duties, college policies and procedures, and the my questions from walking around and reading as much as I've been able to read so far.

I still have more questions than answers. I still have so much more to learn. Truth is, though, that my learning will be a never-ending story. I was still learning things about my last job up until the very end. But getting past the steepest part of the learning curve is, and will be for the foreseeable future, my top priority.