I wrote a guest post for YALSA’s blog in November as part of a “Transforming Youth Services” series that I’ve been contributing to since last summer. If you would like to check out the blog itself, take a look here!
Adulting programs are generally geared towards older teens (16 -18) and emerging/new adults (19 – early 20s) and support these young patrons in developing life and college ready skills. News articles and similar commentary about library adulting programs appeared somewhat flippant and even disrespectful or disparaging of young adult attendees. Yet through such programming, libraries are providing a unique service which appeals to two underserved age groups and impacts their lasting success, health, and wellbeing.
A few nights ago I read an article where the author ended with a recommendation list for “girl-friendly” science fiction books. I understand seeking out books that may get boys/girls more interested in reading particularly reluctant readers. There is research that suggests that boys lag behind girls in reading comprehension. And I do realize that the covers selected by publishers and authors that aren’t particularly appealing to boys or girls. Most of us (me) do judge a book by its cover. And middle school and high school peers aren’t kind to boys would display excitement or even interest in reading. It’s not seen as a “masculine activity”. It’s uncool and nerdy. At least what I witnessed and friends’ experienced in K-12 schooling.
Sometimes it’s just meant as a helpful conversation starter. “I didn’t learn this in library school, but now I know….”. Sometimes it’s a statement of fact. “I didn’t learn this in library school.”. Yet often it seems as a criticism of the LIS education experience. It’s a complicated discussion among librarians, expressing both disappointment and frustration with the ways in which MLIS programs educate future librarians. I’ve witnessed and participated in these discussions via social media, discussion boards, and listservs over the past few years since I left librarianship (oddly enough, not when I worked as a librarian).
There are so many crucial things you don’t learn in library school that become part of your day-to-day life as a librarian. Some days you have to serve as replacement janitors. Other times you are dealing with a local political figure who is hell bent on cutting your budget and staff. Maybe you need to find businesses to sponsor your library’s Summer Reading Program or run into rude and critical patrons. Who learned about that in library school? Why did I spend time reading about information science theory, information architecture, and information ethics if I couldn’t even manage patron relationships or create a storytime?
As a young librarian, with a brand new, framed (by my parents) MLIS diploma (and student debt), I found myself becoming confused and overwhelmed by how much I didn’t know about librarianship or library work. Despite having spent the majority of my life either patronizing, volunteering, or working in public libraries, I felt completely lost. Politics is a thing? Community assessment? Outreach and marketing? While programs vary, there is a lot that left out of the library school experience. But is it a LIS graduate program’s responsibility to teach the nitty gritty of librarianship?
To me, no. An LIS program should (ideally) lay the theoretical and philosophical groundwork of librarianship and the provision of library services. These programs provide us with a better understanding of not only what our field encompasses; but also the history of our profession and its framing (You know, Ranganathan, Buckland, John Budd, Marcia Bates, Kuhlthau). The models and theories created by these information scientists inform how we conduct an reference interview, deconstruct information needs, assess an information request, and even view the profession.
Another question is what should MLIS programs teach? Obviously, there’s no such thing as the perfect program, the perfect course schedule, or the perfect faculty. More practical versus more philosophical versus somewhere in-between. So much of the practical, day-to-day library responsibilities and tasks you learn on the job through mentorship, experience, or sometimes just plain failure.
Within the library community there is also the recurring argument about whether a master’s degree is necessary or if an ALA-accredited MLIS really matters. Recently, I’ve considered applying to be an external review panelist just to learn more about the accreditation process. There is obviously a lot of work to be done to regarding LIS education to make coursework more relevant to contemporary issues and questions.
Librarians Wanted!
I know there are so many library workers who disagree with me. And I understand their arguments. Grad school is expensive; both financially and time-wise. Especially if you’re doing it as a distance without the possibility for graduate assistantships to help with tuition and expenses. Or if you’re already working full-time and looking for a new career path. Taking courses one at a time, at night. None of this is easy.
There are other barriers that exist for some of those interested in pursuing an MLIS. There’s a serious lack of diversity in librarianship. This is an overwhelming problem that must be addressed. Also working in libraries often times doesn’t pay well. Depending on where you live, what type of library work you do (academia, school, public), the changing nature of state and local budgets, etc., you may struggle just to pay for daily necessities. The clichéd statement that you don’t go into the libraries for the money is kinda true but also kinda terrible to tell MLIS students and young librarians (actually any library worker).
I’m not the only voice in this discussion (I kinda pointed that out at the beginning). What am I missing or overlooking? What other questions, opinions, or insights should I be thinking about?
Here are a few other interesting posts on the topic:
I want to thank you all for your outpouring of love and support. I had no idea what to expect when I pressed “publish” on Part 1. Right now I feel both very exposed and empowered. A contradictory feeling but a good one. Thank you to those who shared stories of personal struggles via social media, blog comments, and e-mails. I know that couldn’t have been easy. I admire your strength and perseverance.
As I mentioned in my last post, I’m going to dig a bit deeper and answer some questions from my draft-reading librarian friend (you’re the best!) and a few of my own questions in this last post. Hopefully, my writing flows along somewhat smoothly. Here we go.
The New Member’s Round Table (NMRT) panel at ALA Annual hasn’t been my only panic attack during a presentation, but it has been my worst. My other panic attack happened during the last semester of my Master’s in Library and Information Studies (MLIS) program at Florida State University (FSU). As part of my coursework, I had an assignment to develop and carry out a training session about some aspect of library work. I decided to create a basic research workshop about databases, online tools, and helpful websites for our library staff. There were (maybe?) seven people at the workshop, but I still felt the intensity of pressure and anxiety. The morning of the workshop, I went to the gym very early because I thought working out would help. As I got ready for work, I went through my index cards of notes obsessively. While backing up the driveway to get to the library, I reversed into my mom’s car. Freaked out. My dad calmed me down as well as he could. I got to work, set everything up in the meeting room, and began my workshop. After the first 15 minutes, I relaxed a bit. I knew these people, had worked with them for a while, and they appeared to be engaged. Before the panel, that was my only other panic attack during a presentation. My panic level was seriously uncomfortable but manageable-ish.
