The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades

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I was recently asked about the experience of future students walking into an academic library. At first, all I could think about was a building where I used to work that was completed in the early 90s but that was outmoded by the late 90s. The rise of mobile devices and the need for power outlets everywhere made a practically brand new building seem dated. That’s just one major change that completely altered the experience in a library. That kind of upheaval can and will happen again, so I know I can't specifically describe the academic library of the future. And I'm not the only one... I read an article last week that flat out stated: “The array of forces that impact upon the library’s operating environment makes any modelling of transformation during the coming years an almost impossible task.” That was written by someone at Carnegie Mellon University - if someone at a school that size doesn't feel up to predicting the future in a meaningful way, how could I?

So then... what are we to do? I mean, other than designing flexible spaces and hiring flexible people...? How can we be ready for the future? Here's how: we need to concentrate on the people. We need to work on making members of our community feel welcome in the library. And I mean all members. I keep thinking about something Verna Myers said at ACRL: "Diversity is being invited to the party. Inclusion is being asked to dance." And that feeling of being asked to dance, of truly belonging, should be our goal for the people who walk through the doors of our libraries.

So, how do we do this? How do we make members of our community, especially our students, feel like they belong in the library? We do it by meeting their needs. And by treating them as whole people, not just academic entities. We've already got them academically. Accommodating and supporting academic needs is the main mission of an academic library. Especially at small, liberal arts colleges like mine. We do course reserves, information literacy, shape our collections to support the research and curricular needs of our parent institutions. But that's just the beginning.

We also need to accommodate the social needs of our community. Yes, most (if not all) of us are giving our students places where they can talk or be quiet, as they choose, but I’d like to see it go further. It’s great to do a display for African American History Month or Women’s History Month, but we shouldn’t restrict it to just those months. Making sure to include writers of color in all displays, not just in February. Including nonbinary authors and women and beyond. We should spend time making sure visual branding is representative as well. We want students to have a sense of ownership of the space, and so partnering with them will be crucial. Making sure they see themselves reflected is crucial.

This is a place where some academics might balk, but providing ways to relax, beyond comfortable chairs, should also be part of our mission. As I said above, our students are whole people and we need to support the whole person. From popular reading materials to board and video games to fun activities sponsored by the library. Therapy dogs and gaming nights and arts &crafts and movie nights might seem on the surface like things only public libraries should be doing, but if we want our students to feel welcome and supported as whole people, we need to do these as well. Even if there’s a public library in town, they aren’t always open nearly as late as we are. Further, even if the public library is right off campus, students - particularly those who aren’t from the local area - aren’t always going to feel comfortable going off campus. Besides, letting our students see us in a social light will help us build the relationship so students will feel more comfortable coming to us for academic help.

It's all well and good - and a bit fun, I have to admit - to think about how technology will shape the future of libraries. Will we be more Starfleet Academy or more Johnny Mnemonic? Gattaca or Jetsons? But, no matter which direction the tech takes us, we will be fine if we remember to focus on the people.

What do you think?

Practicing Library Love

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I have a few other posts in the works, including some timely political stuff, but I woke up this morning thinking about the farce that will likely be the senate confirmation hearings this week, and realized I need to write something else instead. At best, the next four years are going to be grueling and perhaps even thankless work for those of us in education and libraries. I wanted to write myself a reminder - and to share it with all of you - of why what we do is worth the work. We need to keep our eyes and minds on the why so I can keep rolling the boulder up the hill.

1. The moment the light bulb goes on. This is my absolutely favorite thing about working in a library. That moment when you see a student/patron/member of the community get it - it being whatever you're trying to teach them.
2. Getting the book (or article, or film, or whatever) in the hands of a reader. Ranganathan's rules are still my jam, and finding the reader their book and the book their reader is a fantastic feeling.
3. The mix of intellectual and fun. Working at a library that supports the curriculum of a liberal arts institution with both traditional liberal arts majors and professional programs means that on any given day I could be talking about board games or about the finer points of research strategies for intensely academic programs - or both. This is a great way to make a living.
4. Community building. I love working with people in our community, both on and off campus. It's a direct reminder of why this work is important.
5. Books, books, and what was that other thing...? Oh, yeah: books. Libraries are primarily a people business. I am very much against the fetishizing of the physical containers and am I big believer and practitioner of weeding. But my oh my, I do love working in a profession that is associated with books. Love it.

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So, how about you? What are the reasons you get out of bed and go to work every day? What makes librarianing your thing?

Down Wit OPL, Ya You Know Me!

While trying to find a picture for this post, I stumbled on one by someone I know, so I stopped there.

What's OPL? Other People's Libraries, and I've been in a couple of them lately. We're working on a kindness audit in my library right now (an idea I got from Joe Hardenbrook), and my reference librarian came up with the idea of comparing our space to the public library in town using those means. Then, as part of my participation in the College Library Directors' Mentor Program, I finally got a chance to visit my mentor's library. Mostly I talked with her staff and a few colleagues, but we did spend some time touring the building.

Once I got past the jealousy that both visits induced in me (well-staffed, beautifully lit, gorgeously furnished libraries, both of them), I took lots of notes. The thing is, I always learn so much when I visit other libraries - even if it's in the category of "What Not To Do." Sometimes when I go visiting, I have a specific agenda, as when I was working on a wayfinding plan back at my last library. Usually, though, it's more of a general perusal. Even when a visit falls into the second category, I try to look at specific things:

• Staff
• How are people dressed? Staff, student workers, etc.
• Does the staff make eye contact with patrons when appropriate? Does the staff smile?
• Are staff interacting with patrons? If so, in what capacities?
• Collections
• Where are the new books?
• How is the collection organized?
• What does it look like? Do I get a feel of old and musty? New and shiny? Some mixture?
• Furniture
• Is there graffiti on furniture?
• How out of date/up to date is the style?
• What kinds of furniture are provided?
• Space
• Is there a variety of spaces for patrons? (Small study rooms, large study rooms; reading nooks; tables; study carrels.)
• What is the color scheme?
• What kind of art?
• Signage
• Is there lots of jargon on the signs?
• What kinds of fonts and colors are used? (And is it ADA compliant?)
• Are there maps available?

I also look for how ADA compliant and otherwise accessible libraries are even beyond the signage, but that's a post unto itself. I know lots of MLIS programs require students to visit multiple libraries as part of their course of study, but that visiting shouldn't stop just because you graduated. Nothing is an exact substitute for an in person visit, but if you don't have other libraries nearby, you can always try to visit virtually. When you are in the same library all the time, you can forget that there are other ways of librarianing. Even if you don't have the budget that your destination libraries have, you can still get ideas. 

So, you down wit OPL? If so, how do you approach it?

Leaders Needed at Rural Libraries, by Natalie Binder

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You’ve always wanted to work in a public library. You believe in service, citizenship, and community. You value relationships; when you imagined being a librarian, you imagined participating in local government and getting to know your patrons by name. You want to make a big impact—not just in your career, but in people’s lives. You want to be a generalist, not a specialist. You want to have a great quality of life on a librarian’s salary. And when you started library school, you wanted to be a traditional, book-based, community librarian, but it seems like those jobs are either disappearing or impossible to get.

If that sounds like you, you may be a rural librarian at heart—which is great news, because rural libraries need you. These jobs rarely appear on listservs or job boards, but the “graying” of the profession is very real in rural libraries. Many rural libraries have a long-serving librarian (or staff) who will be retiring soon. And since rural libraries are often quite small, you can quickly rise to an influential leadership role and have a strong say in how these small libraries meet the challenges of the future.

I’ve worked in a rural library since before library school—four years this month—and I love my job. Every day I go to work knowing that I will make an impact on someone’s life. Every day something terrific, exciting, or funny happens at my library, and though I am not in administration, I always feel like my contributions and ideas are appreciated and valued. There are many other benefits to rural librarianship. While salaries are generally low, a dollar goes much further in rural communities than it does in urban or academic communities, and affordable housing is rarely an issue. You can probably afford to live much closer to a beach, farm, or lovely national park than you imagine. If the library is adequately staffed, working conditions are also good. Rural libraries enjoy strong community support, and small staffs often work together to ensure flex time is available for things like childcare and family events. Rural libraries are usually quite safe—while no public library is conflict-free, your patrons are more likely to bring you homegrown vegetables than complaints.

Best of all, rural libraries serve as true community centers, where far-flung and diverse groups can come together. A rural library often serves as a small town’s largest meeting room, its only Internet hotspot, the only local, affordable entertainment for adults and children, and an access point for badly needed social services. My library serves as the physical “office” for employment services, child welfare and legal aid.

Of course, no type of library is for everyone. Rural libraries are generalist libraries. As a rural librarian you will frequently be called to do things your master’s degree never prepared you for, from running a farmer’s market to repairing a child’s shoe. If you’re interested in doing something quite specialized or academic, it’s probably best to begin your job search elsewhere. If you need to be surrounded by other young academics, or enjoy a lot of social activities, then you probably won’t enjoy the quiet and isolation of a rural community. If you’re married, it can be a challenge for your spouse to find work in town.

Finally, in small towns there is little division between your personal life and your work life. Your patrons, co-workers, Friends group, Board of Directors, and government leaders are also your friends and neighbors. Sometimes it feels like you’re never off the job! For this reason, it’s very important to move slowly, get community buy-in, and be prepared to backtrack on big changes. That can be a challenge if you’re fresh out of library school and eager to change the world.

I have seen too many “new directors” leave or lose their rural jobs because of avoidable conflicts among stakeholders. It’s great to have vision and ambition, but if you’re more combative than cooperative, you’ll have a hard time achieving your goals in a small town. Even if your library seems like a mess that you were hired to fix (or “bring up to date”), plan to spend a full year or more listening and learning before you try to change the system. When you become a librarian at a rural library, you’re also joining small, stable team of prominent citizens and community leaders whose support you’ll need for years or even decades. Make those relationships a priority, and always take the long view in any conflict.

If that sounds like a challenge you’re up to, then you can begin your rural job hunt locally. No matter where you live, you’re probably not far from a small library system. Check county job boards, or see if there’s a volunteer position available. Ask if you can shadow a librarian or staff member for a day or two. These jobs are not usually widely advertised. Take your time and get to know the rural libraries and communities around you. Even if you decide to look elsewhere for a permanent job, you’ll be in for a fun, rewarding and educational experience.

Natalie Binder is a librarian at a small library in rural Florida. She is a graduate of Florida State University's College of Communication and Information. She is also the founder and moderator of #libchat, a Twitter chat for librarians and library school students. She can be found on Twitter @nvbinder.

Libraries and Librarians: A Love Letter, by Day Al-Mohamed

Let me open with the fact that I think Jessica Olin is awesome. [Editor’s note: I swear I didn’t pay her to say that.] Let me follow up with the additional statement that we have never met in person. Our communication has always been electronic: Twitter and email and via “Letters to a Young Librarian.” Over time, I’d like to think there has grown a mutual respect. So when she put out a call for guest posts, I was quick to reply. Why? Because one of the most precious and amazing things about the internet is the sharing of information, and having the opportunity to “communicate directly with library science graduate students and new professional librarians” is yet another way to do that.

You can read about me, my experiences, and expertise in my bio, but the thing I want you to know is that I struggled with what to write about. I’ve a love and interest in history; I work in employment; and I have a disability. Any of these would have worked for a topic. However, in the end, after much thought and scribbling, what I ended up with was a personal love letter to libraries and librarians. Rather than tips or advice on the work and information, I thought it might be best to simply speak from the heart, not as a historian or employment policy expert, or even as a person with a disability…but as a grateful patron.

I didn’t have a library growing up on a small island in the Middle East. It wasn’t until seventh grade, when I changed schools, that I discovered what a library was. Before that, knowledge came from the bookstore. In my young mind, that’s where all the books were kept and so I could only gain as much knowledge as I could convince my parents to purchase. Thinking back, I have to laugh at how I badgered them about “Just one more book!” But that first day of walking into the school and into the room that they called the “library” (it really was not very large, perhaps 700 square feet in total), there were so many books, boggled my mind. I could read as many as I wanted. And, best of all, I didn’t have to BUY them.

I remember the librarian explaining to me how to check out books and the rather tall stack I left with that first day. I can’t recall what the books were but I can remember a few things from that era of my life. Memories that are very precious to me: pulling Anne McCaffrey’s White Dragon from the shelf and flipping through the pages, since it was the book that started me down the path of reading and eventually writing my own fantastical stories; reading The Andromeda Strain in the brightly lit space and shivering as I realized how it connected the science from my biology class to science in the real world and its potential terrible impacts; I learned how to bowl and ride a horse from books (true story, I learned enough that after my first riding lesson, I was moved to a more advanced class); I studied French and got a taste for astronomy.

And all of this with a librarian who laughed at my usual large stacks of books every time I went to check out; who stayed open “just a few minutes more,” who would ask how I liked different books, and always, always had suggestions for even more.

This love of the library continued in college. It was my sanctum. Moving from the Middle East and a community and culture I knew, to halfway around the world and a college campus with more than 30,000 students…to say it was culture shock would be an understatement. I went from being a decent enough student who was getting by with adequate grades to one who was struggling with managing my studies, myself, and my vision loss. 

The library is where I went to hide when the world was too much. It was where I polished my computer skills and really learned how to use a screen-reader to access the world via computer (while my guide dog slept comfortably under the desk). Paper and text were mostly out of my reach but with assistive technology and a little bit of help, I could still access it. 

This is this point where librarians shine. Where they show how it isn’t just the books and computers that make the space, but the people. [Editor again: This is another thing I didn’t pay or even ask her to say. *big grin*] The staff helped me to find books I needed and retrieved them for me. Occasionally, I’d feel adventurous and attempt it on my own. Trust me, with a visual impairment, reading one letter at a time is not an effective way to try and find a specific book on a specific shelf. But I loved the fact they respected my need to be independent. I graduated, and went on to law school. I didn’t spend as much time in the campus library, but that was because I had moved to the law school’s library.

I’m speaking about “my” libraries and the experience of one blind student, but it is an experience that I think occurs in a variety of libraries with patrons with a variety of disabilities. I love books. I love having a time and space to enjoy them. I love the access to text given through computers. I love the cultural events and activities. Libraries provide all this. And not just to those who can afford it, but perhaps most importantly, to those who can’t. It is why librarians are so very important. They set the tone and define the space. Otherwise, it’s just a building full of books. They shape the welcome and use their expertise to actively help people grow and thrive.

To this day, I have a fondness for libraries. I love to visit them. I love to browse through the stacks and smell the pages. I love even more perusing their online selections, my iPhone reading off titles to me, and then downloading the latest thriller, or history book, or even romance novel (I never could resist a good happily-ever-after). I love when the librarian eyes my selections and offers suggestions. Libraries have changed with the times, but that key feature, access to knowledge, hasn’t changed. Librarians and their attention to patrons’ interests and desires, hasn’t changed either. And for that I will forever be grateful.

To all librarians and future librarians. Thank you.

Day Al-Mohamed is Senior Policy Advisor with the U.S. Department of Labor, heading up the Add Us In initiative.  She has also worked as a lobbyist and political analyst on issues relating to healthcare, education, employment, and international development. Follow her on Twitter, @DayAlMohamed and read her stuff all around the web.

Let Them Eat Cake (or Oranges or Pizza): Food in the Library

"Oranges" is a CC Licensed photo by Aarthi Ramamurthy.

I was staring around my office, trying to decide what to write about this week, and my glance settled on the Clementines I brought for a snack. They were just in season, so I've been eating as many as I can before they go away again. The last batch I bought are candy-sweet and delicious.

And that got me thinking. We allow food, drink, etc. in the library where I currently work. The theory is that if we treat the members of our community like adults - trust them to be careful with their soda and french fries and the like - then they'll act like adults. (Also, policing things like that in a library with five levels takes a lot more energy and time than we're willing to give.) Theory and reality don't always coincide, but it does in this case: people who come into my library do exactly what we expect them to do. They are careful with food and drink. On the rare occasion when something is spilled, they almost always clean it up and/or report it to us. The worst behaviors actually come from atypical library patrons - people who are only here on a rare occasion.

I know this wouldn't work at every library, but I also think that letting go of the stranglehold librarians try to have over patron behavior can engender more goodwill than it will cause carpet stains. Trusting people to treat the library well, and communicating that fact (I let freshmen know we allow food and drink in the library and then explain, "You're adults. We're going to treat you that way."), is a great way of helping members of the community to feel a sense of ownership for the building and its contents, to feel like they are part of a community.

So I say, with a tweaked version of a phrase that is frequently misattributed to Marie Antoinette: "Let members of my community eat cake, drink coffee, and consume whatever they want." It's their library, after all.

How about you? What do you think about food and drink in the library? Does your library have a policy against it?

The Measure of a Library

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There it stands: the library to which I compare all others. Why do I do this? Did that library win some prestigious award? Did some professor of mine hold it up as an example of the perfect library? It might have won an award or been cited as an example, but that's not why I use the Peabody Institute Library in Danvers, Massachusetts as my measure of a good library. It's simpler than that. The Peabody Institute is the library that serves the town where I grew up. Even better, it was close enough that my parents would let me ride my bike there, unsupervised. So I did. A lot.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that it was (and still is) a great library. Here are the things that stand out in my memory:

• There was always someone there to help. From introducing me to The Island of Blue Dolphins, to making the copier work, to explaining the Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature, the library staff were there for me.
• They always seemed to have what I needed. Although I had moved away from that area for almost a decade, I moved back and ended up getting my MLIS at Simmons College. I don't remember the specific assignment that had me confounded, but I do remember one of the reference librarians suggesting a resource I hadn't considered - a resource that was perfect for my burgeoning librarian needs.
• Even the building is welcoming. It had (has?) every kind of work space one might need, from reading nooks to meeting rooms and everything in between. 

I'm sure that their building has its problems - don't they all? Leaky roofs, drafty study rooms, limited storage space, etc. But I think about the impression that library made on me as a child and beyond, and I think about how I want my library to make the same impression on people in my community. I want our patrons to know that we are here for them, that we have what they need, and that they are welcome. It's a feeling that goes beyond print versus electronic, beyond services versus collections, beyond most of the things I've written about on this blog. I don't think there's a sure fire way to achieve this goal, but I keep trying anyway.

How about you? Do you have a library to which you compare all others? Why does that library stick with you?

A Busman's Holiday, Or, Why Can't We Stay Away From Libraries?

Another week with more questions than answers, but here we go...

I sent this tweet on Saturday afternoon:

And I got a couple of interesting responses:

I've been thinking about this exchange a lot since. Tthis isn't the first time I've had a conversation along these lines, either. I was actually referring to my local public library in the tweet above, but I do typically go visit public libraries (or even academic ones) whenever I can when I'm away from home. Clearly I'm not alone in this. It makes me wonder what it is about libraries that makes it so hard for librarians stay away. 

For me, I know part of why I do it is that I'm always trying to learn from what others do, taking notes about their signage or how they've got the place arranged, but I don't think that's the whole story. Before this comes up, I don't think it's a secret society kind of thing, because I almost never reveal myself as an MLIS. Do other professions do this? Do lawyers go to other courts? Professors check out other colleges?

How about you? Do you make a point of visiting other libraries when you're away from your own? Why? I'm especially interested to hear from the members of my readership who are in library science graduate programs &/or new to libraries.

Why Google Doesn't Scare Me, Or, Library As Place

Bear with me as I tell a bit of a story before launching into the main gist of today's post.

The library's roof no longer leaks (rumor is that is has leaked, off and on, since the building opened in 1995) which is a cause for much rejoicing. It is also a cause to repaint, now that we know (hope?) there won't be anymore water damage. I adore this building. It's one of my favorite things about working for this college. So, walking around my library and seeing the painters' progress, makes me smile. See what I mean about the beauty of this place:

These spiral stairs go from the basement to the first floor.

Old, old, old government documents in nice, neat rows.

My favorite study room.

That brings me to my main topic: "the library as place". I keep coming back to that concept, again and again, lately. The comfy chairs, the study nooks, the art... all of it makes this a welcoming space. Further, "library as place" is the reason I'm not worried about competing with Google. This library is a community center and a destination on campus. Sure, as a college library, we are here to help with research and to provide access to information, but we're so much more. How can Google ever compete with us? Google's not even a place.

What do you think? Why do the naysayers who keep predicting the Death Of Libraries never consider the library-as-place aspect?

Update: I just got around to reading this Grant McCracken, HBR Blog Network piece, "Innovating the Library Way," for which I saved the link a little over a month ago. Turns out this HBR writer agrees with little ol' me. Nice.