Helping Patrons Ask For Help

I've been thinking a lot lately about patrons - specifically about how to make them feel comfortable asking us for help. This is an eternal struggle, I know, but thanks to a librarian here I've been having new ideas about it.

Here are some things I know for sure:

• Even I sometimes have problems asking librarians for help. I recently had to ask for help at my local public library because the catalog system they use makes it difficult (impossible?) to request a specific volume in a series when they are cataloged together. I felt awkward and dumb because I couldn't figure it out on my own. I know better! And yet I still felt awkward and dumb.
• Students feel more comfortable coming to ask for help if they have a friend along for the ride.
• Asking a librarian for help is a last resort for pretty much everyone, from people who have never walked through the door to actual librarians.

Here are some things that I suspect are true:

• Some patrons won't interrupt us if we look busy, but what "busy" looks like is different for each person. The conversation I had recently that got me thinking..? Was about how if librarians look like they are just chatting with a patron, such as a faculty member, they are more likely to interrupt than if they see someone sitting at their computer typing away. But I also believe that if we are always chatting with someone, patrons might think we're having a meeting and won't want to interrupt that either.
• If patrons know a librarian in a different context, they are more likely to feel comfortable asking for help. This is where fun roving reference days - with guessing contests and similar - can help. This is also how being a club advisor or adjuncting or generally being visible outside the library can help.
• Word of mouth marketing - patrons telling other patrons that they got help - is the most powerful tool we have, but it can be so hard to take advantage of that kind of network. Getting to know the influencers in your community can be difficult or impossible, especially if the only way you participate in that community is as librarian.

I'm still sometimes left scratching my head when it comes to who will and who won't come to a librarian for help. Breaking through and getting people's attention and trust is so difficult, but it is so important. I pick at this conundrum a little at a time, but I doubt I'll ever completely complete the puzzle.

How about you? What do you do to make patrons comfortable asking for help?

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Revisiting Difficult Patrons

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I've discussed difficult patrons in the past, but in that post I was talking about people who are awkward or emotionally overwrought or out-of-sorts. My context then, as it is now, was an academic library. The advice I'm about to give might not apply in other kinds of libraries. Heck, it might be expressly against the rules, so check with your boss(es) before you do anything I've suggested.

Before I get into my advice, though, I want to tell you a couple of stories about difficult patrons I've had in the past, over the course of my career. Also, and this may go without saying but I'd rather be upfront about it, I've changed and/or left out personally identifiable details where possible.

Up first, the sportsball team. I've actually had similar interactions with football, basketball, and soccer teams, so saying "sportsball" is as much about protecting identities as it is about an umbrella term to capture the experience. If you've worked on an academic campus with a popular sports team, you can probably predict what I'm going to say. The athletes came into the library on a regular basis. Study hours are frequently a required thing for student athletes - after all, student is the first and more important part of that phrase - and the library and/or tutoring center is a good place for this to happen. Only problem with this is that they didn't always have work to do even though they always had to do the hours. With nothing else to do, they talked. They got loud. They collected people the way an electromagnet collects spare paperclips.

This led to:

• Discussions and reminders that if they wanted to talk, there are other parts of the library available where that wouldn't disturb others. Verdict: completely unsuccessful. Had to do this repeatedly throughout the same evening or afternoon.
• Sending a staff member who read as male to have the same conversations. Verdict: more successful than when I did it, but still not a true solution.
• Jokes about, "don't make me call your coach." Verdict: this would usually quiet them for the rest of the time period - afternoon, evening, etc. - but it wasn't a permanent thing.
• After a particularly difficult day, when even sending a male staff member only quieted them for 5 minutes, actually contacting their coach. Verdict: this was a permanent solution. Getting to this point was kind of a nuclear option, but we'd gotten repeated complaints from other students and hadn't found anything else that worked.

Up next, the angry teaching assistant. I'll tell you up front that it turned out to be a miscommunication between the professor and their teaching assistant - a minor one, at that. The TA came to the front desk of the library, and I'm not sure how the conversation started, but I was walking by and overheard this individual getting aggressive, so I inserted myself.

This led to:

• "Is there something I can help with?" This is how I insert myself when I sense a tense situation anywhere in my library. Verdict: successful in that it brought the TA's attention off of the (if memory serves) student worker and onto the full-time staff member.
• A lot of back and forth with the TA where I tried to pin down exactly what it was they wanted, to inform them it was not something the library did, and to suggest another department at that school that would be able to fulfill that need. Verdict: very unsuccessful. Even though I remained calm, used open body language, and stayed on topic, the TA got increasingly agitated and even started cursing at me about things.
• "I won't talk with you unless you can be civil. And if you can't be civil, I'll also have to ask you to leave the library." The TA walked off in a huff. I would have called security, but I didn't need to go that far. Verdict: Very successful. The TA came back later to apologize and explain the miscommunication. Please note I might not have been this direct if I hadn't already known the TA.

Finally, the community member. I've worked at multiple libraries that allowed computers to be used by people who aren't attached to the school in any way other than they live in the same municipality. In this case, the difficulty was not as overt as either of the two cases above. This person was having difficulties with a particular thing on our network, and they weren't satisfied with the speed at which our IT department was addressing the issue so they asked to speak directly to me, the director.

This led to:

• Vague threats about appealing to someone above me. I responded by making my own vague threats about changing the policy that gave this patron access to our space and resources. Verdict: partially successful. I needed to let this person know that I cannot be bullied, and this was the first step.
• Walking away as soon as the initial conversation was over. I gave this person's concern attention, but not a single drop more than was warranted. Verdict: partially successful. Sometimes these kinds of things end up being attention seeking behaviors, and I didn't want to feed into that.
• Communicating with appropriate staff both in and out of the library. Of special importance was that I spoke with my boss, since she was one of the people the patron had threatened to contact. Also of importance was that I brought security into the loop. Verdict: very successful. I took these steps mostly to help my own piece of mind. 
• Documenting everything. If this person escalates, I need to have a paper trail to support the need to have this person banned from campus. Verdict: very successful.

In each of these interactions, I took responsibility for what was happening. As the director, it's my job to deal with the angriest of the patrons, but you won't always have someone higher up around to help. Common themes from each of these incidents:

• I did my best to diffuse without backing down.
• I had and was willing to fall back on contingency plans. 
• I never took it personally, even though in each instance there was definitely a moment of the difficult patron making some sort of personal insult/attack.

Sure, each situation is different, but you have to have a way to approach difficult patrons. How about you? Have you had any difficult patrons? Had to anyone banned from your library?

Using Strengths

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This post is probably going to come off sounding a bit like an advertisement for Gallup's Strengths Quest program, so please understand that this is written purely from a place of loving the tools I've gotten from engaging with this tool multiple times and on multiple levels.

If you're unfamiliar, StrengthsQuest is kind of like a personality test, but it's a lot more involved than that. The general premise is that we can't be all things to all people, so working to our strengths is a good way to go. They've identified 34 strengths, and while everyone may display characteristics of each of the ones they've listed, you're going to have areas where you're strongest.

Here are mine (in order):

1. Ideation: "People strong in the Ideation theme are fascinated by ideas. They are able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena." p. 179
2. Input: "People strong in the Input theme have a craving to know more. Often they like to collect and archive all kinds of information." p. 191
3. Strategic: "People strong in the Strategic theme create alternative ways to proceed. Faced with any given scenario, they can quickly spot the relevant patterns and issues." p. 229
4. Learner: "People strong in the Learner theme have a great desire to learn and want to continuously improve. In particular, the process of learning, rather than the outcome, excites them." p. 199
5. Communication: "People strong in the Communication theme generally find it easy to put their thoughts into words. They are good conversationalists and presenters."

I've taken it more than once, and my strengths did change from the first to the second. The literature around the test would have you believe that your strengths are the core of you, but my experience of some change was also reported by the few other people I know who have taken it more than once. I think it's still a useful tool, even though it's more a reflection of your circumstance than anything else. Regardless, both times 

Here's what this test has helped me do:

• Reframes weaknesses as strengths. For instance, because I'm so good at noticing connections between seemingly unconnected thing, I used to think that I was going off topic. Now I know it can be a good thing that I notice those connections.
• Gives a common vocabulary to people who have very different perspectives and/or strengths. Picking on myself again, my ability to find alternate ways to move forward, and talking about them in the planning process, used to strike people as me throwing up roadblocks. After taking that test, and sharing my results, I was able to further communicate that I was trying to warn people of possible future problems so they could avoid them.
• Better support my staff and help them work to their strengths. This is why I realized I want to tell you all about StrengthsQuest - this month, as I sit down for the one-on-one meetings with everyone who works for me, I've been talking to them about their strengths and the advice from Gallup about how to manage someone with their particular strengths. 

I feel fortunate that where I am now, StrengthsQuest is part of the culture. When they asked about my management style, and I started talking about StrengthsQuest, their eyes lit up. Mine did in return once they explained why. Not only did we already have a shared perspective, we started off with a shared vocabulary. Starting a new job is fraught enough as it is, and StrengthsQuest helped me overcome one major hurdle before I even showed up on campus. I'm a big fan.

So, what about you? Have you taken this test? If so, what did you like about it?



(All quotes are taken from Strengths Based Leadership by Tom Rath and Barry Conchie.)

On Listening and Being Listened To, by Michele Santamaria

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My former colleague, let’s call them "M," was completely baffled that someone could get a job recommendation letter from a person whom they had never met face-to-face. M was questioning the validity of a recommendation letter written by a library school professor who had only interacted with our candidate during online classes. The candidate in question was someone who had been hired in a temporary position at our library and whom I had never met. However, I knew that the candidate had alienated M by implying, either accidentally or intentionally, that M’s view of librarianship was hopelessly out of date.

In fact, I had been warned by someone who had worked at the library for a very long time that it was very important to show M respect. Which I did. But I also showed her respect by engaging her in real dialogue and occasionally challenging her preconceptions. This discussion about the recommendation letter was one of those moments.

When it came to discussing this lack of face-to-face contact, I pointed out that I knew several excellent librarians in an "In Real Life" context who had attended the same online program and that this was the way many people were becoming librarians in our geographic area. Given the number of library schools and the economic realities of life, this was the best way for most people. To riff on the language used by Jessica in a recent post, I created a bridge between online and real life, a rift that M didn’t like to traverse. M nodded cautiously; at this point, they didn't think that I was full of crap, so I took it as a good sign.

This particular conversation took place during the summer when there was less stuff to do. I sat down and spoke with M for about an hour. We would do this sometimes.  Though M was the most senior of the librarians and very set in some ways, I felt that M was willing to listen to me. Maybe part of the reason for this is that M felt the same way about me, hence the title of this post. These times with M resonate for me, given some recent commentary about newbies needing to do a better job of absorbing the institutional knowledge and context before showing up with brand-spanking new ways of doing things that may not be a good fit. Meredith Farkas’ fairly recent editorial piece in American Libraries comes to mind.  

I agree that listening to seasoned librarians is essential and that overzealous young librarians may favor change at all costs rather than smart change that is a good fit to their institutional context. However, in exploring my dialogues with M, I want to draw attention to the fact that there needs to be reciprocity between generations of librarians. Ageism cuts several ways. Or put in a less-like-academic-speak-way, I listened to M because they listened to me. M didn't necessarily agree. M would frequently advocate for their point of view. But at least M was willing to entertain that I had something to offer and that they might want to rethink their preconceptions. I felt heard by M and this made me feel less alone in that particular workplace.

I knew for sure that M listened to me when I made a comment about some strategic plan language sounding "outdated” during a meeting. Two librarians who had drafted this particular piece of language looked at me funny. It would not be a stretch to say that they gave each other a knowing look and then glared. M, who was the oldest by several years, said that what they thought I was trying to say was that the language had become so commonplace that it no longer sounded fresh.  Which was exactly what I was trying to say. Perhaps it would have been wiser, in a way, to say "clichéd" though I might have sounded more judgmental.  Honestly, I would rather sound harsh than ageist.

So I wish that the younger me had been more careful with my words, though it was kind of a "damned if you do, damned if you don't situation."  But mainly, the older me is grateful towards M for mirroring back what I was trying to say and grateful towards the younger me for at least being wise enough to sometimes realize the importance of listening. So listen, young librarians and seek out colleagues who are also willing to listen. 

Michele Santamaria is the Learning Design Librarian at Millersville University. She is also happy to say that she is the Subject Librarian for English, foreign languages, and Latin@ Studies. While she has published in other genres, this is her first real blog post. She tweets at @infolitmaven.

Dealing With Self-Important Concern Trolls

"I believe that we owe our fellow human beings a certain amount of compassion and courtesy and respect, and to listen to their complaints and grievances. We should ask ourselves whether those complaints and grievances are valid, and whether we can help - and in some cases, ask whether we are the author of those grievances, and if so what can we do to resolve them.

But I also believe that after a certain point, it may become obvious that some people just want to complain, to to be angry, or to be an asshole, or whatever, and that nothing a reasonable person can do will ever make those people happy or satisfied. So you give them a quarter, metaphorically or otherwise, and tell them to call someone who cares. Because you have other things to do. And then you go on doing those things you need to do."

~John Scalzi, from "Here's a Quarter" 

I know I'm a little behind with reacting to the above quoted piece. I can show you my work calendar some time if you want an explanation. Regardless, I was glad of the serendipity of finally getting a chance to read that blog post from John Scalzi last week, because I really needed that advice. You see, In the Library with the Lead Pipe published the article I wrote with Michelle Millet last Wednesday, and as happens whenever anything about gender and empowerment is published, we had a few "but what about the mens?" type comments. In short, while we were discussing the disparity between the gender breakdown of librarianship as a whole (roughly 80% women and 20% men) and our leadership (roughly 60% women and 40% men), someone was upset that we weren't talking about how librarianship is only 20% men.

There was some discussion, but best response came from one of the Lead Pipe editors:

@gjfowler @libraryleadpipe @olinj @winelibrarian IMO not all disparities are same; power disparities matter more than mere numerical ones

— Ian Beilin (@ibeilin) November 4, 2015

Even if I'd wanted to discuss numerical disparities, there's only so much one can fit in a short article... especially one in which my coauthor and I specifically stated that we were speaking specifically from our frame of reference. But here's the thing: this happens every time an article on a controversial topic or even a marginally controversial topic comes out. Write an article about the experiences of indigenous people and you'll get some self-important concern troll asking why the author hadn't mentioned the experiences of other people of color. An article about transgender men will inevitably get angry comments about how hard it is to be a cisgendered gay man. Any piece about the problems of existing within Community A gets at least a couple of responses yelling about what a crime that the authors ignored Community B. Of course this happened to us. I was glad that Ian responded, but I barely engaged with the naysayers. It's not that I'm going to quiet myself or try to pretend that I'm a meek woman (can you imagine?), but I only have so much energy for problem solving.

And that brings me back to the quote up at the start of this post. I'm not advocating that you turn the other cheek. Definitely defend yourself if attacked. But remember that some people - like the "what about the mens" concern trolls - aren't ever going to be satisfied. So offer them the proverbial quarter so they can call someone who cares, and then show them the exit.

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Letter to the Liaison Librarian, by Rebecca Carlson

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Communicating the value of the library to university administration, communicating library resources and services to faculty, staff, and students, communicating with other librarians and library staff, with vendors… In the library, it’s all communication all the time. In particular, building relationships and trust with faculty through ongoing communication is crucial for community engagement, budget support, library use, administration buy-in, relevant resources, and about any other part of my job that I can name.

And yet, for all that I am a strong believer in the value of ongoing communication, it has been one of the skills I have worked on most as a young librarian. (The other has been managing my library budget, can I get an amen?). As I think critically about what helps and what hinders my communication with faculty, I have identified a few key strategies for continued improvement.

The biggest thing for me is to build that metaphorical bridge. Both psychologically and physically, the library and I are separate from the departmental faculty. Physically, the library is at one end of the building and the faculty offices, workrooms, and lounge are at the other end; psychologically, I do not belong to any of the close-knit groups of faculty who are teaching the same course or teaching in the same program. To cross these distances, I find ways to meet faculty where they are and create opportunities for open conversation.  

For instance, early on in my current job one of the IT staff told me she never ate lunch with the faculty because she couldn’t get through 30 minutes without having to answer question after question. I heard that and thought that was exactly where I wanted to be. Bring on the questions! I asked where and when most faculty ate lunch on campus and I followed them there. We sit and eat and talk and most of the time nothing related to the library comes up; it’s stories about kids and pets and plans for the weekend. But when then conversation moves to students struggling with a research assignment or a question about a library resource, I’m there.

Just being there can help you to foster relationships with individual faculty; each problem you solve over lunch or in other informal situations is one more board that is building a bridge between you and the faculty.  

In those conversations, I am the new kid in the neighborhood. Many of the departmental faculty have been here for 15 or 20 or more years, so I don’t know the details of their past relationship with the library and librarians. Not having a personal knowledge of that history means working harder toward building relationships from the very foundation. But, instead of focusing on the lack of history, a young librarian has the opportunity to use their newness as an opportunity for meaningful change.

I tell the faculty that it’s not my library, it’s their library and it should be what they want it to be. I want to help make the library what will make it most useful for their students, research, and learning. Learn what your faculty think is most important in their work: their teaching, research, advising, professional development. Then, your role as the librarian is to provide to meet what faculty need. Take the time to be involved in curriculum discussions, ask about their research, etc. etc., and then follow up on these conversations by tailoring library budget decisions, collection development, and service priorities toward what matters to the faculty. You have the opportunity to frame the relationship in a way that will help everyone; showing that the library can adapt, can change, and can be more relevant will have a lasting impact. It starts and ends with you as the liaison librarian going outside the library and moving outside the library box to improve communication.


Rebecca Carlson is the Director of the Mercy College of Nursing and Health Sciences Library and the Personal Librarian to the Mercy College of Nursing and Health Sciences. She tweets at @CaptainLibraria.

Talkin' 'Bout Weeding

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This post outlines the approach I use when weeding a library's physical collection. I'm going to assume that you already have established criteria for your own weeding projects. If you want more on that, there are lots of helpful articles and texts out there. Also, I've written about how I weeded my reference collection if you want an overview from me. However, that's not what I want to talk about today. Instead, I want to talk about how I involve members of my community in the decisions.

Before I begin, let me lay all the caveats on you. My methods for communicating with faculty about deaccessioning/weeding books and other materials have always worked for me. The one time I had someone get fussy, it was super minor and I headed it off by making a small concession. Even though I've had no real problems with this approach, I also know that it is not a cure-all. As you look through what I've written, know that I've worked exclusively at academic libraries that were part of small colleges where I have/had personal relationships with the faculty (we weren't always on the best of terms, we did at least speak regularly). Also, I have never had to weed a collection with a super-quick turnaround time. In other words: your mileage may vary,

Now, onto the good stuff.

The first part of my process is to go through the criteria established by the library and pull all the books I/we want to weed and set them aside. How much I do at a time has always been determined by space constraints. Usually it's one or two carts. It's crucial to make sure I have room to leave them where they won't get in the way because they may be there for a while. You'll see why in a moment.

Second, I contact the faculty who use the books that we're weeding. When we weeded the 800s (yes, I'm at a Dewey library), I contacted all of our English faculty for feedback. There have been times that I've contacted just the chair of a department, but usually I contact everyone. 

This contact is the contact crucial step. I've crafted my words carefully and I'll explain why after I share the text of an email I sent recently - on 10/20/14 - as we started weeding the 900s.

"One of the biggest complaints we get from students about the library’s collection is how old and out of date it is. (Based on results of the exiting senior survey from last academic year.) We take those comments with more than the proverbial grain of salt, of course, but there is some truth to their concern. We add newer materials as our budget allows, and that will help, but we are also trying to cut down the existing collection to make room for the new materials.

The two professional librarians here have 33 years of library experience between us. Add to that the fact that we've also gotten our graduate assistant to help since he is a recent graduate of the history department. The thing is, though, we’re not experts in your fields of study. And that’s where you come in:

We’ve pulled books from the 900s (history) section of our collection that don’t seem to fit the current curriculum or your areas of research, but would love if you could double check. [Name of librarian] has a cart in her office right now with the books we’ve pulled. This will be an ongoing process, so there will be more books to check in the future, but if you could stop by sometime before 10/31 we’d appreciate it. After that point we’re going to assume that you trust our judgment, and move on.

Thanks ahead of time,

Jessica"

Things I included:

• Citing student satisfaction, or lack thereof. This is another way to use the data you collect: to help you tell your story.
• Citing library expertise. 
• Appealing to faculty expertise.
• Being up front about the fact that this process will take a while.
• Giving them a deadline.

Things I did not include:

• Any mention of specific criteria.
• Specific numbers relating to how many books we'll weed, how many books we'll buy, or how many complaints we received.

Third and final step is to make sure someone is present when the faculty members come by to look at the books. This is the point at which we answer questions about our criteria, but I have to tell you that is a rare event. I also make sure to tell faculty that we're happy to keep any and all of the books we've set aside, but that most of them will have to be replaced with newer editions that aren't falling apart or stinky or whatever else.

There have been a few times I've deviated from this method, such as the time I begged the Victorianist to come help me go through that part of our fiction collection. But this is the method I've stuck to for a while now, with variations on the themes in that letter above being the crucial part of the process.

How about you? How do you communicate with your patrons about weeding? I'm especially curious about how non-academic libraries approach this.

What Library Work Isn't Outreach?

Maybe it's because I started my librarian life as public services (well, technically I was called "research services"), or maybe it's because I've always worked at smaller libraries where pretty much everyone is cross-trained and wears multiple hats, but everything in libraries seems like public services to me. Even if you never work directly with the public, you're still working to serve them in some way. We are all in the outreach business. Even when it seems impossible, we might as well relax and appreciate it.

The outreach is obvious if you're doing instruction or reference or programming, but public services aren't the only ones serving our communities. If you're working on the catalog, you're making it easier for the public to access all the things. If you're the person who cleans the restrooms and empties the trash, you're doing it to make the library nicer for your community. This is a service industry after all, and we are all here to give good service to our constituents.

No, I'm not saying that "the customer is always right." They aren't. Heck, in my part of the library world, academic libraries, the customer is frequently at least a little wrong. I've lost count of how many times have I had to say some version of, "let me show you how to search for it in the catalog," when a student asks me to look a book up for them. You can still give good customer service while pointing out the "customer" is wrong. We need to respect that the people who come into the library, virtually or physically, are people. We should also remember that fellow librarians are among our constituents in this hyper-connected world.

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When people know you're "that librarian lady" or "that librarian guy" in your community, they always see you that way. It can be hard sometimes, especially if you tend towards introversion. But really, even when it gets tedious answering the same question or fixing the same problem in the catalog or shushing the same loud group of teenagers again and again, it helps to remember that we're all in the outreach business. I don't remember who said it, but "if we didn't have patrons, libraries would just be book museums" has always rung true to me.

Am I wrong? Is there some part of librarianship that doesn't serve our communities in some way, even remotely? I'd love to hear. I'd also love to hear if you have any tricks for reminding yourself that outreach is part of everything we do.

Bias is Everywhere

One of my favorite jokes from when I was a kid is about a cat applying for a job:

After posting an advertisement looking for a new secretary, a business owner was surprised to see a cat in her waiting room with a completed job application and resume. Not wanting to be rude, the woman sat down and interviewed the cat. At every step, the cat was a stand out applicant. The cat could file, type, handle Excel spreadsheets, and so on.

The business owner was still skeptical, so she said to the cat, "Okay, you've got all the other qualifications, but the advertisement says you have to be bilingual."

The cat cleared his throat and responded, "Woof." 

Or, if you prefer a meme:

Why am I sharing these with you? Other than being a crazy cat lady, I do have a point to make... a point about bias and culture in libraries and education. I had a quick conversation about cultural bias with Meredith Farkas in response to a tweet she sent from a session she was attending at Library Instruction West. Language is only one example, albeit an obvious one, of the ways in which bias and cultural differences can play out. As an industry, libraries and librarians work so hard to be accessible to our communities, employing user experience professionals and even customer experience specialists to help us smooth the way, but so many of us are guilty of forgetting the cultural aspects of the library and/or educational experience. Even though we do forget, it's still an important consideration, because

@olinj agreed. We express our cultural beliefs, biases, etc. in everything we do. #liwest14
— Meredith Farkas (@librarianmer) July 24, 2014

Here are some ways in which I've had culture and bias problems in professional settings:

• Trying to teach a group of international students in a freshmen writing class about picking databases by talking about picking stores at a mall, only to realize a significant portion of the class had never been to a shopping mall.
• Saying things like "outcome" and "goal" and "Bloom's Taxonomy" while talking to a group of professors and getting blank stares in return.
• Being told, "oh, that's in the bowling alley," when I asked where something was and being completely stumped about where to go (until later when I learned "bowling alley" is the nickname for a weirdly shaped storage room we have).
• Sitting in a lecture about how to create student centered courses and seeing people visibly shocked by the idea that this is possible. (Happily shocked, but still shocked.)

Yes, I've been on both sides of confusion arising from cultural beliefs, biases, etc. I know about shopping malls since I grew up in the U.S. I use pedagogical lingo because I have an MAEd. I like to think of myself as mindful, but really, there's no way to get away from these little and big confusions. Even things that I think of as basic - such as which side of the stairs to use when you're passing someone who is walking in the opposite direction - are not actually basic. Heck, not even all Americans have identical cultures and biases (regional slang used to give me fits when I was in undergrad).

So how do you deal with it? Especially since there's no way to avoid expressing these beliefs, you need to be mindful and aware of your audience and yourself. If I hadn't been paying attention to the body language and expressions of my audiences, I never would have noticed that the class was confused about shopping malls or that the committee didn't speak pedagogy. Dealing with "bowling alley" took a different skill - being willing to ask questions when I'm confused. As for that last one, all I can advise is patience.

Really, patience and mindfulness are the key in all of this - be patient with yourself as you learn and be patient with those around you. Just don't expect everyone to be dog-speaking cats. That's a one in a million.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Technical Services, by Erin Leach

"New Friends"

I’m a cataloger. It’s okay, though. I’m not that kind of cataloger.

I know that you know what I mean by that. But just to prove the point, I did an experiment and asked my Twitter pals to tell me the stereotypes about people who work in Technical Services.  I was told that people who work in technical services are social inept/socially awkward, change averse, unfriendly, rigid, detail-oriented to a fault, bad communicators, uncompromising, rule-bound, and territorial.

If you work in public services, I’m sure you know the technical services librarian: that person who sighs heavily when you bring her some donations to catalog or who won’t budge on acquiring books shelf-ready.

This stereotype isn’t helped by relegating technical services departments to basements or off-site buildings. When we do this, we tell technical services staff a story about themselves: you don’t like people and people don’t like you. You aren’t good with people. You should stay out of sight and away from the people who visit service points in the library.

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF RANGANATHAN, STAY AWAY FROM THE PEOPLE!

I think that there’s a more insidious message inherent in this, too:  you don’t have anything to offer the people who visit service points. You matter, but not as much as the people we put front-and-center. Is it any wonder, then, that the technical services librarian is territorial? She was told that she could “listen to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven.” (Yes, I am saying that tech services is the Milton of the library world.)

This isn’t an anti-public services screed.  Some of my best friends are public services librarians.

In the interest of fairness, I wanted to see if there is a public services librarian stereotype, too.  So I did another experiment and asked my Twitter pals to tell me the stereotypes about people who work in public services. I was told that people who work in public services are flighty, aggressively friendly, loud, know-it-alls who hate math and pay no attention to detail. If you work in technical services, you know the public services librarian: that person who doesn’t know how the catalog works and doesn’t care to or who just drops a bunch of rush orders on you and assumes you’ll drop everything to get them done.

These stereotypes? They don’t move us any closer to creating better libraries for our users. Do you want to work with the person who thinks you’re flighty? Or the person who thinks you’re socially inept?

To steal a line from my beloved The Hold Steady, I believe in a Unified Library Scene.  I believe that public and technical services librarians should work together to build a better library, each complimenting the work of the other. I believe that technical services and public services skills should be treated with equal importance in LIS programs. I believe we should encourage (maybe even require?) LIS students to take practicums in both public and technical services. And I believe we should recruit new LIS grads to technical services, bringing new life and new ideas when they do.

In the interest of moving toward this Unified Library Science, I have made it a habit of getting involved in activities that are seen as traditionally public services. I worked with my university’s freshman writing program, doing one-off instruction sessions and one-on-one meetings with students. I taught classes to students and faculty about using Twitter. I facilitated focus groups and usability studies with library users.

 

All of these experiences made me a better cataloger. I learned how users search for information and what they do with that information after they’ve found it. I also gained insight into the challenges that my colleagues in public services face as they try to gain support and generate enthusiasm in the higher education landscape. But as much as I have learned from my public services colleagues, I have a lot to teach them as well. I understand the quirky things the catalog does and can teach you how to build search queries that yield better results. I can make material more accessible by working with you to create better bibliographic records. And, in the case of serials, I can help untangle the knots of holdings and title changes for you.

I can’t create the Unified Library Scene on my own. I need public services colleagues who value my work and who will get involved in activities that are seen as traditional technical services activities.

Again, to steal a line from The Hold Steady: We can all be something bigger.

Erin Leach just started as Head of Serials Cataloging at University of Georgia and is still trying to figure everything out. She is Chair-Elect of the Continuing Resources Section of ALCTS. She tweets about music, running, beer, and libraries at @erinaleach.  Despite her seemingly cynical exterior, Erin embraces Jessica's theory on brutal optimism and loves librarianship for better and worse.

The Relationship Emotion Thing, Thoughts on a Change of Course, by Fabiola Gies

Last month, I read 'Another Thing I Didn’t Learn in Grad Schools: It's All About Relationships' on this blog. I was not only impressed, but couldn't agree more. It seems to me one more fitting piece in a series of wonderful and inspiring blog posts from the past few weeks and months. 'As we speak about relationships we speak about emotions as well', I wrote to Jessica, and she asked me to write a blog post about it. I wasn’t sure at first, but I decided to give it a try. And here we are.

Times are changing, no doubt about that. But there is also a changing change already started. Thanks to social media it's easy to follow this phenomenon all around the globe. It happens quite fast, actually, and it isn't easily to describe. I found one sort of street art on notesofberlin.com, a graffiti on a bench, and I couldn't explain this new social movement any better:

"You can't find Empathy at an Appstore"

A summary of changing minds, changing emotions, and changing needs, given in a one sentence philosophy. A very powerful statement, too.

People are creating, people start building their own People's Libraries, responding to social-economic changes, cut downs, closure of small, local libraries. The real innovation is taking place right there, in self organized, spontaneous, ardent, and mostly volunteer based projects. From my point of view libraries have to reconnect with their basic issues, with their communities, with innovative projects outside, with life outside, supporting the spirit and the force from inside the community, without boundaries, without selections.

Let's take time to listen and to communicate, to share knowledge and skills, to co-create and to find a cooperatively way of working together. The shortest distance between two people is a story. We've gone a long way on the technical highway, an endless highway without any speed limit, but in some ways we’ve raised human isolation to perfection. We’ve made it possible to be connected to the world without being connected to anyone in real life. There are studies forecasting isolation as one of the most dangerous trends of the era.

Despite that, am I against technical progress? No, absolutely not! A library is the place for makerspaces, for fablabs, for getting in contact and learning everything about the latest tools. I’m very much for technology, but it's also essential to create a place of respect, kindness, helpfulness, trust and reliance. A place where it's enough to be just the person you are. A place that feels just fine. I'm not saying 'back to the good old days', what I try to say is: Back to humanity, back to a real social way of life.

That is what I'm dreaming of, talking about the future of libraries. But will it work? I don't know. But I'm convinced that it's more than worth trying.

Fabiola Gies is working as a librarian at a mobile library in Zeeland, the Netherlands. The bus delivers, besides books, various services (including post office and cash point) to rural areas where most of the facilities have vanished. For further information: www.zeeuwsebibliotheek.nl #biblioservicebus (She also tweets, almost exclusively in Dutch, @fabjerennt.)

Books: Important Symbol or Annoying Physical Reality?

The question in the title is something that I've spent a lot of time considering. It's plagued me almost since the very beginning of my career, but I think I know the answer now. "So," I can hear you asking, "what are books? Are they an important physical reality? Or are they a magical symbol?" My answer: Both.

Why am I bringing this up now? Lately there's been a flurry of controversy about libraries DARING to get rid of their books in favor of other things - study space, computer labs, learning commons, coffee shops, etc. Part of me thinks those must have been slow news days, since libraries have always weeded their collections. But, slow news days or not, there has been a lot of outrage and I can't ignore it. Since I'm most definitely a bibliophile, I can understand the impulse to treasure the printed word. However, as someone who's hip-deep in what is probably going to be a multi-year weeding project, I can also speak to the annoying, dust-covered reality of old books. So here I am with a blog post.

Here's a brief list of the specific things that prompted me to sit down and write this post:

First, there was a click bait article, "Save Our Stacks: It's not about the books. It's about the books representing the last place on campus where intellectual contemplation thrives." (That link is one I created using DoNotLink.com, so you won't be rewarding them with hits if you want to read it.)

Second, there was a conversation on Twitter in response to that piece of click bait (the conversation started with the tweet I embedded below, but I highly recommend looking at the rest of what was said - especially Tom Bruno's contributions to the discussion):

someday when i have time, I'll write an article titled "Its about the books AND the symbolism of the books" #falsedichotomies
— Chris Bourg (@mchris4duke) May 12, 2014

Finally, there was another tweet a little over a week later:

Philip Deloria - libraries should have traces of the past, should also induce humility. Emotional experience of encounters with knowledge.
— barbara fister (@bfister) May 22, 2014

I don't want to descend into the "you have no idea what you're talking about, outsiders!" territory, although it's tempting - there are lots of comparisons to be made to other service professions on the tip of my tongue. But no... as tempting as it might be, that's not the point of this blog. I want to help us all be better librarians, and after a certain amount of griping it becomes counterproductive. Instead, I want to talk about my desire to find a middle ground, a way of accommodating the visceral responses of those who fetishize the printed word while still serving their real needs.

That phrase, "their real needs," sounds a bit high handed even to me - and I'm the one who wrote it. But really, I can't help thinking about Jakob Nielsen's piece, "First Rule of Usability? Don't Listen to Users," and a related quote from Steve Jobs: "It's not the customer's job to know what they want." I'm not Steve Jobs. I'm not even Jakob Nielsen. As much as I might admire those men for their clear vision, I don't feel comfortable dismissing community voices. This means I can't go into "damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" mode with collection development. Books are absolutely a symbol, and an important one at that. As I've said many times before, no matter what else we might be/do/have, "the library brand is still books."

All of this means that no matter how annoying the physical reality of books might get, gathering dust, attracting bedbugs, rotting in colorfully staining ways, I can't disregard the symbolism. So I communicate as much as I can with my community when we weed. We have posted a sign near our book sale area that explains how books end up on those shelves. I give faculty in related departments a heads up when we are weeding, doing everything I can to solicit their feedback. When I run into people in my community who don't want to listen, I deal with it on a case by case basis - sometimes giving in to their wishes, sometimes insisting on the library's needs, and sometimes finding a compromise. 

My point is that we need to respect the dual nature of the books within the library's walls. As Chris Bourg said, "It's about the books AND the symbolism of the books." And, no matter what, always remember to stroke the spines of the nastiest ones. 

(context)

How about you? Do you have a preferred method for dealing with the false dichotomy?

Another Thing I Didn't Learn in Grad School: It's All About Relationships

I've talked before about the kinds of things I didn't learn in graduate school, but there's one I've been thinking about a lot lately - and that's the need for relationship building skills. Everything I do almost every day gets down to building relationships. Writing my blog? That's my relationship with the profession. Creating and watching over the budget? That's my relationship with the finance office, my staff, and many others. Teaching? My relationship with faculty and students. I didn't understand that when I was new in the field, and it's taken me years to learn. I've made lots of mistakes, including accidentally burning a bridge that it took me about a year to rebuild. Since one adventure in relationship building recently bore fruit, though, I thought I'd share.

I've been trying to build a connection with the Vice President for Institutional Advancement (VP of IA) ever since I first showed up on campus. (I know IA is a fairly widely known term in higher ed circles, but for those of you who are in public or special or other kinds of libraries: institutional advancement is what colleges and universities typically call the people who do fundraising for the institution. By "advancement" we mean financial advancement.)

When I was brand new, I tried to meet with as many departments as possible, to share my ideas, to see how I could help them and their areas, but mostly to say hi. With the VP of IA, I opened with a few small scale ideas - things that could help IA in general, things that could benefit both IA and the library, and so on. We chatted about the major fundraising push he was shepherding at that time, and left it that we would check in again at some later date.

Though the tone of the meeting was fairly negative, I didn't get discouraged. I went out of my way to help people in his department. I reworked the library's process for taking in book donations to make it as easy as possible for IA to handle their part of the process. We don't have an archivist and our archives are in need of a lot of work, so when IA staff needed materials from the archives, I helped them. I kept in touch with the VP, but in casual ways - chatted with him whenever I saw him at campus events, asked for his advice on something related to the aforementioned form, and so on.

Then, a few months ago, I got a great idea from my mentor: she suggested I create a wishlist of items, naming opportunities in the library and the like, and bring that list to the VP of IA.

He loved it.

So, almost a year after I met with him originally, the VP of IA asked me to write a letter that his department could then send to people who had given to the library in the past. In the letter I talked about the library's recent efforts, focusing on our successes. I shared my ambitions for the library, and thanked past donors for their support. The letter included the wishlist, with a range of giving opportunities from books all the way up to having the archives named for the donor. IA edited my letter, then I wrote a brief message and signed each one by hand (and we're talking hundreds of letters... my hand hurt for a couple of days after).

The letters were mailed a little over a week ago, so it's too soon to know if this first effort will yield anything. I have hopes that this will be me soon:

Mo' Monies! (Source)

Realistically, though, we'll be lucky if we get much right now. Even if we don't get anything, it will still have been worth my time. People who have had the library in mind in the past are being reminded that giving directly to the library is an option. Also, staff in IA have a specific list of library related giving opportunities in case a prospective donor mentions something like, "I can only give $1000 right now, but will that have much impact?" Most importantly, though, I have strengthened relationships across and beyond the campus walls. All this because I took my time, cultivated connections, and heard the VP of IA's initial negative response for what it really was: it was a "not now."

I know there are plenty of people who read my blog who don't work in academic libraries. I also know the majority of you aren't administrators. Think of it this way: libraries are all about relationships. What kinds of relationships could you be building right now? Who can you help who might, later on, be able to help you? 

Thinking About Thinking, Or, Everyday Applications of Metacognition and Epistemology

Source

Once again, I've been thinking about thinking. With my instruction background, even have a master's in ed, and my philosophical bent, it's not surprising. Metacognition and epistemological development are my bread and butter, since how people think about thinking and how people think about the structure of knowledge are a major factor in teaching those same people information literacy skills as well as in how I run my library. But lately these thoughts about thoughts have been inspired by controversies that have been brewing and exploding on Twitter.

Some of them have seemed very tempest-in-a-teapot, others are deeply important, but all have been incredibly divisive. I'll admit I wade into the fray on occasion, but usually I try to hang back. No, I'm not going to tell you which of the recent controversies fall into which category for me. First off, I've had friends, colleagues, people I admire, on all sides of these recent debates. Second, I can see validity in many of the arguments. So, in the (perhaps futile) interests of peacemaking, here are a few ideas/rules I try to keep in mind when deciding whether or not to tweet:

1. 140 characters just isn't enough for nuanced arguments I think are necessary in most cases. Sure, you can actually say a lot in a tweet, but when highly charged topics are being discussed, it may not be enough.
2. Twitter can be an echo chamber. Things that seem important to those of us who inhabit the Twittersphere, things that seem like big news, can sometimes be barely a blip outside of our world. Sometimes things can be a big thing in one part of Twitter but barely be mentioned in another. (Ever taken a look at those trending hashtags and been confused? I know I have.)
3. There are some oft cited statistics that 55% of communication is body language, 38% is tone and inflection, and a measly 7% is the actual words. Even with emoticons and hashtags to give us cues about the 93% that isn't words, it's still hard to read people's tweets the way they may have intended them.
4. I want to form my own opinions, not just buy into others' wholesale. It can be hard to do this. I'm human and I am just as likely to fall for logical fallacies as the next overly educated adult. And I do fall for them. I'm not trying to say I'm the only one who's right or that other options are all wrong (see my next point), but in the words of a friend with whom I was discussing the participants in a particular Twitter brawl: "I want to listen to them, not obey them."
5. In most arguments, there are people who are right, people who are wrong, and many shades in between. Those shades in between can be the hardest thing to see. That same sage friend (who I'm quoting here because s/he said it so much better than I ever could): "I think seeing other perspectives as something other than contradiction is a challenge." 

Even if you ignore all of my above highly* important points, even if you take nothing else away from today's post, please remember: think about your thinking, and about others' thinking, and remember that not everyone has the same perspective on truth and knowledge and information. What seems like an offhand comment to you might be taken as a bone-deep insult to someone else, and vice versa. Most of all, please think before you tweet.


*Highly important, in this case, is highly based on my judgement. ;-)


P.S. In response to the people who might be trying to juxtapose this bit of advice with what I wrote last week, these posts aren't actually in opposition to each other. Tweet what you want, for sure, but if you're going to get embroiled in arguments, please do so circumspectly. It makes me think of an old Bill Cosby joke: "I said to a guy, 'Tell me, what is it about cocaine that makes it so wonderful,' and he said, 'Because it intensifies your personality.' I said, 'Yes, but what if you're an asshole?'" Twitter is cocaine in this analogy. 

When the Answer is Always No (or at least it seems to be)

Last month I wrote a post about how I got management experience. That post resonated, but people wanted more:

@olinj Love this! Would appreciate tips on how to execute solutions in a "no" culture (period, end of sentence, don't even think about it).
— Elizabeth Lieutenant (@LizLieutenant) March 12, 2014

@LizLieutenant @olinj Oh man, same here.
— Anna-Sophia (@aszingarelli) March 12, 2014

Before I give you advice on dealing with human embodiments of NONONONO Cat up there, I want to remind everyone of the big ol' caveat that comes with every piece of advice I give. All tips and tricks that I give here, on Twitter, via email, or even in person, are all colored by my past experiences. Sometimes they are things that I tried that worked for me. Other times I share things I wish I'd tried, because whatever technique I did employ did not work. No matter the flavor of my advice, however, you must always remember: your mileage may vary.

Okay, on to dealing with "a 'no' culture." Truly, the best way of getting stuff done in this kind of atmosphere is to do your work ahead of time.

• Take time to think about all the possible reasons someone - a coworker, a boss, a colleague at another library - will say no. Do this ahead of time and come up with counters for every possible reason someone could turn you down. Think of it as doing a mini-SWOT analysis (or a major one if you're proposing something at the level of a program change).
• Consider when and who is most appropriate for you to ask. More than once in my current job I realized long after starting a process that I'd asked the wrong people to begin with. The most startling example of this was when I called advice about what kind of information to include in a proposal, only to be told, "You don't have to write a proposal. I can do that for you. I do that for other people around campus, so it's no big deal."
• Find examples of similar things that have worked at other institutions and/or look at the research related to the topic. That's how I got to incorporate gaming into our outreach efforts at one institution, and how I got permission to build a graphic novel collection at another.

Sometimes those won't be enough. You could get a question/concern that you didn't anticipate, or the money really isn't available, or maybe Professor Doe is just ornery and curmudgeony and doesn't like the cut of your jib. What should you do then?

• Wait and try again. "I know you didn't have time last semester, but could we talk about it again?" I don't want to be specific, but this worked with a former colleague. He was always too busy. Always. But I never gave up. I smiled whenever I saw him. Asked about his research and the classes he was teaching. Cookies may have entered into the proceedings at one point. Eventually he cracked.
• Find someone else to ask. That's how I got my cultural literacy series off the ground back at my last library. Asked person A, got a "no, thanks." Person B? "Great idea, but I'm too busy." Person C? "I can't, but you should ask [person A]." Person D? "I'd love to, and I can squeeze you into my schedule, but I don't have a lot of spare time and can't take a leading role." Person E? "Oh! I'd love to!"
• Realize that you won't be able to get every idea off the ground.

Finally, I want to discuss one of my biggest pet peeves. Lots of people espouse an attitude of, "it's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission." I'm not saying you should never do this, but I don't recommend doing it at the beginning of your career (or during early days of a new job), and you should only do it sparingly if you are later in your career or in your tenure at a particular institution. Do this early on or too much, people will think they can't trust you. 

How about the rest of my audience? What are some things you've tried that have worked for you?

Night Librarianing is Good for Your Soul

I had an experience last week that is something all directors of small libraries dread: I had a night person quit with no notice. We are fairly much a skeleton crew as it is, and then to lose someone with no hint ahead of time...? Not the worst thing that can happen to a small library like mine, but it's up there on the list. Since we're also lightly staffed with student workers – I opted for quality over quantity, and don't regret it – that was going to leave me with only one person on a couple of shifts, including a night shift. 

The neighborhood where we're located isn't horrible, but we are in a small city and campus is only a couple of blocks away from the little bit of a bad area we do have, so even if I weren't concerned about leaving someone alone for logistical reasons, it's just not safe to walk out alone that late at night. With nobody else available, what did I do? I stayed and closed the library. There really wasn't anybody else who could do it at such short notice, and my staff's safety and comfort is crucial to me.

I've worked nights here before, but never until close. I don't work nights regularly because as short staffed as we are at night, things are even tighter during the day, but I need to figure out a way to stay late at least once per month. Sure, I paid for it for a couple of days: I'm not a kid anymore. However, I saw much at night that I miss during the day, and learned lots about the way our students use the building late at night – learned first hand things I had guessed at previously.

Things I saw:

• The library is quieter at night, so much so that I never had to police noise levels – students were self-policing. (We share the building with an academic department that has a couple of classrooms, so less noise at night because nobody is tromping through going to or from class. That's not all of it, though. It seems students come to the library at night to get work done.)
• Quieter, that is, with the exception of the group study space in our basement. That's louder. A lot louder. But not so much that we can hear them on the first floor, so it's all fine.
• There are just as many, if not more, students in the library at night than during the day.
• Security guards are more noticeable at night and circulate more. (Our security department is made up of some great people, but I especially appreciate the evening shift.)
• This was a Wednesday night, but we were pretty full. It's one thing to see hash marks on a tally sheet indicating how many people were in the building, it's something else to see the students jockeying for the comfy chairs and study carrels.

As I was leaving, a little muzzyheaded from being up way past my bedtime, I couldn't help thinking of that scene from Dead Poets Society I posted above. Looking back at that movie now, it seems a little corny and obvious, but when I first saw that movie I was 17 years old and it made a big impression. That idea of looking at things from a different perspective – sometimes literally, other times metaphorically – to better understand it is important, and I sometimes forget that. I need to not forget it, so I'm glad in a way that I had to work until close one night last week. It forced me to do something I should be doing on my own, and I learned a lot.

How about you? How do you keep things in perspective? Look at things from different angles?