Remember when you were young? Avoiding generational conflict.

flickr photo shared by USDAgov under a Creative Commons ( BY ) license

I’ve been thinking about generational conflict a lot lately – we just finished our annual fundraiser at the radio station, which is a time when volunteers new and old really get a chance to mingle. I had lots of great conversations with new undergrads about their classes, music they’re digging, and cat videos. I also sat through soliloquies from some veterans about how things used to be back when they were young. It was like those cliched “When I was your age…” tales only they didn’t allow for any dialog – just listening to stories about “the good old days”. It totally annoyed on several levels, but mostly the missed opportunity for the vets to learn from the rookies. We’re all pretty much on the same footing, and I don’t think the vets remember that.

Remember when you were young? Remember when you were first starting out?

I try to.

When I was first getting into libraries, I was totally one of those young guns who thought I knew more than anybody else and that we needed to raze the system and start new. I kind of went to library school out of spite to fix things that I thought reflected outdated ways of looking at libraries and information management. I’ve mellowed some, but I still think we need to make sure the voices of new professionals are heard. I worry about many SLA members not seeming to understand the worries, concerns, and issues of new librarians (or whatever you’re called).  Not only is it hard to feel heard, but the opportunities to learn and grow are often stifled. I sometimes wonder if it’s because human nature makes letting go of things difficult, or is this like a form of professional helicopter parenting?

I worry we’re going to drive away or wear down a generation of librarians through this ineffective management and poor communication. Mentorship should be able to address this to a degree, but it alone is not enough.

I try to be mindful of this as much as I can when working with others. We need to think about the opportunities we had (or wish we had), and how to make sure similar opportunities are available for coming generations. I’m talking about responsibilities, work, and professional growth. This little empathy and memory could go a long way.

So in my renewed effort to do something about it, I’m trying to figure out ways to work with a broad group of people who want to get stuff done to make the opportunities and learn from each other. I will also continue to try and give newer people a platform to speak their case to those who need to hear it. The hardest part, and most frustrating, is working through quagmires brought about from stale practices and poor documentation tactfully. Inertia is hard to overcome, but we need to push through it. If not for ourselves, but for those who will follow.


Don’t Be Like Me – On hypocritical advice

flickr photo shared by Blue Mountains Local Studies under a Creative Commons ( BY-SA ) license

Yesterday on Twitter I got into a discussion with one of the sagest librarians I know – Anna Creech – about being honest and realistic to aspirant librarians/archivists yet still promoting more diversity in the ranks. The conversation kind of ended with a well intentioned, but also kind of part of the problem LIS professor chimed in with some super Pollyannaish points. She’s not entirely wrong, but it also reflects a generational and situational issue where well intentioned advice from people who are established in their careers often misses the mark because the landscape has changed drastically post-2008. “Careers ain’t ever gonna knock.

This is a hard line to walk – I don’t want to tell kids, “There’s no future.” I also don’t want to make them think the road ahead is sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. One of my fears is that my natural cynicism (thanks mom) leads me to focus on what I don’t like about librarianship, and the troubles. Let’s face it – it’s not all doom, but the future isn’t quite rosy yet. I worry that I might throw up barriers to potential new librarians with my bad attitude, particularly people from diverse backgrounds this profession actively needs: non-hetere, non-white, non-cisgendered, first generation college educated, and so on. Balancing realism with encouragement given the budgets and changing missions of libraries is hard. But whatever, I went to school and got the job and I shouldn’t rain on other people’s parades because they want to do the same.

Instead of saying, “Don’t go to library school,” I’ll continue to suggest, “Get a job in a library.” Any undergrads reading this; seriously, get a campus library job. You’ll never have the opportunity for some paid experience that will help you understand what working in a library is actually about. I think for a lot of people the allure of libraries and archives as a workplace is based in a love of the familiar and nostalgia. A lot of people like libraries and archives because they’re cool places with interesting resources, and for the most part they aren’t evil. Since we’re a career-obsessed society, it makes sense that people feel the need to pick a career early and they’ll go with what they know. So when I tell people, “work in a library,” it’s not only because I know it will help them get jobs after they graduate school, but they’ll have a better notion of the different job functions and concerns. A lot of undergrads don’t get metadata or privacy yet. I hope it prepares them for the kind of work and the underlying philosophies that will ultimately help them be nimble as the ground shifts underfoot. We can’t talk about “new roles for info pros” when many LIS school students don’t even know what roles info pros hold beyond the obvious.

The bigger issue for me is making sure I’m not yet another hypocrite when talking to new professionals. This is a trend that I see too often that the advice from established professionals to students and job seekers is clueless and lacks a certain empathy and self-awareness. The advice focuses on what they feel is important and what they feel should be important, but they seem to forget what it was like to be in school trying to figure out life, or getting an entry level position. That’s totally human nature, but also sounds like they’re trying to pull the drawbridge up on the profession. Myopic. More about that later though.


Why I’m Still In SLA: Big tents and hive minds

flickr photo shared by brizzle born and bred under a Creative Commons ( BY-NC-SA ) license

I feel bad about using a pic of Teddies when I have always leant to the Mods, but I think this is a good pic of group cohesion and defiance.

This week the results of the SLA elections were announced this week; Dee Magnoni will be SLA President in 2017. Congratulations to Dee and all the other winners. Commiserations and thanks to all the also rans. Tucked at the end of the official announcement of the election results was a restructuring of the dues structure. The synopsis is that student member dues increase from $40 to $50, retired member dues increase from $40 to $100 (unless you’ve been a continuous member for 45 years), and the new rate of $100 for unemployed members will only be for a year. Members can read a more detailed explanation.

People have reached out to me over email and Twitter to express their concern about the new dues structure, the process, and the future of SLA. I kind of have that feeling of inevitability about it all. We knew dues had to increase because we’re broke, we just didn’t know what it would look like. Now we do. I’m not going to nitpick the changes because I’m not qualified to really speak on association finances and that ship has sailed. These are part of the approved roadmap, so the process has already been set. If anything, I expect more changes like this down the pike. Bitter pills to swallow as we have to adapt to get through this really hard time or fall apart.

One of my good SLA chums who’s still a member (not one of of my good SLA chums who already jumped ship) asked me why I’m still involved with SLA. I’ll admit it’s hard to answer when I don’t agree with the board or many other members of the association. Honestly, in many ways the situation reminds me of Social Security – we pay into it, and try to support it, but those ahead of us in power are making it go bust and there’s not much we can do about it. It is frustrating that many members who likely had the best of intentions couldn’t give up notions of 1995 quickly enough and now SLA is deep in a hole and the path out sucks. Whatever, it’s happened.

So why am I still a member today? The same reason John Cotton Dana organized a group of special librarians – this is the group where I can meet and work with librarians in similar positions and organizations. As a soon-to-be solo librarian in a research library who has to do everything, it’s an obvious fit. I think the reason I still see the value is that I ascribe to a very big tent idea of the profession. You work with information and metadata? DAMS? Whatever you call yourself, you’re probably librarian enough for SLA. I try to look beyond the specifics of my particular situation to learn from everybody, and SLA is the best group I know of for that. It’s the wisdom of the hive mind.

That’s just me though.

To people dropping out, I understand. The value is hard to justify and it does take effort to engage with members (inside or outside your units). I really want to make more ad hoc groups within SLA, but that takes energy and is hard to organize. I do think we, SLA members, can do some great stuff organically. We don’t need to wait for the Board of Directors or HQ to bless it. Members working with members. That’s networking and that’s relatively cheap.

The other thing that concerns me about this is egos. Like the Beach Boys sang on Pet Sounds, “Hang on to your ego.” What do I mean by that? Let stuff go. I think lots of people want similar things for SLA, but we’re focused on details which often sound like another song, Nirvana’s  “Territorial Pissings.” We need to innovate, try things, break things, experiment! That means we need to get over ourselves and any feelings of ownership that are throwing up barriers.

So people who want to change stuff, let’s try and fail and try again and eventually succeed. I know that’s valuable professional development right there.

Open Textbooks Playlist

For those of you who saw Tara Robertson‘s presentation on open textbooks at Access 2015, “Can I actually use it?” Testing open textbooks for accessibility, that I provided a Creative Commons licensed musical augmentation for, and you want the full playlist — HERE YOU GO!

  1. Willbe, “Introduced Beats”
  2. Jared C. Blaogh, “Proven Groove”
  3. Wake, “Glytch Funk”
  4. Podington Bear, “Trundle”
  5. Charlie Salas-Humara, “Sequence”
  6. C. Scott, “Enjoyable to Know”
  7. Niak, “Melody Maker”
  8. Cory Gray, “Someone Kill JT”
  9. Chapelle 59, “Funky Beat”
  10. Bix Beiderbecker, “Black Bottom Stomp”
  11. Smiling Cynic, “Do Robots Have A God?”
  12. Springtide, “Little Pink Guitar”
  13. Black Ant, “Government Funded Weed”
  14. Kosta T, “Train 007” (Questions)


Publishing too much (transport) research?

flickr photo shared by jambina under a Creative Commons ( BY-NC ) license

Today I stumbled across an editorial by the esteemed transport economist Kenneth Button in Transport Reviews that articulates a lot of ideas I’ve been working on the past few years. The editorial is titled, “Publishing Transport Research: Are We Learning Much of Use?”  In it, Button criticises the current trends that stress quantity and quantification of scholarly output, sacrificing quality and more “verbal” presentations of ideas. There are many reasons for this: the need for us to quantify everything, it’s easier to ‘show the work’ with math than it is to explain the ideas behind it, the whole publish or perish paradigm, and the struggle to retain qualified reviewers.  Button does make note of the increase in paper submissions from Asia, which has overall increased the demand for reviewers. He also highlights problems in the editorial process which hinders publication, such as requiring authors to suggest reviewers or citation stacking.

Button closes the editorial with his concern that without a step back and focus on quality, that transport journals may “sink to the level of junk bonds.” He closes it by encouraging people just blog.

This reminded me of another Transport Reviews editorial about the proliferation of transport journals by David Banister. Banister discusses the now many entry points of publishing that’s often daunting for authors to know where to submit a paper. He also notes the reliance on easily quantifiable metrics, such as impact factor and citation rates.

These problems aren’t really news and it’s obvious. From a librarian’s view, this makes collection development difficult since it seems like there’s a new journal we might need to subscribe to founded every few months. We can’t afford them all, so the need to tease out quality is important but how? It’s also hard to navigate which journals we should recommend people publish in based on copyright policies, review turnaround, and subject matter. Given that transportation is such an interdisciplinary field, it’s hard to guess which editors will take a narrow view of their subject and which will not.

As to Button’s argument that the increase in quality means a decrease in quality of thoughts, I would need to see some data. I do see that there are more things being published and I have concerns (see my crude analysis of published TRB conference papers in the last decade), but it’s also true that technology has opened up the process to more people. I think it can be a great thing, but we need to balance quantity with quality, and I don’t know how the current peer-review system is handling it. Button’s resignation that we should all just blog isn’t a bad idea, because it does provide a public feedback mechanism. Maybe open access, open data, and open blogging can be a way forward? Will that be enough to push big ideas forward and make people step back and look at the landscape?

Basically, go read Button’s editorial.