Q&A: Open Educational Resources as a New High-Impact Practice

This project has major implications for the future of open education in the U.S.

If you follow open education news, you probably heard over the summer that AAC&U recognized Open Educational Resources (OER) as a High-Impact Practice (HIP). OER’s addition to the roster of 12 teaching and learning practices means AAC&U has deemed there to be “…significant educational benefits for students who participate in them—including and especially those from demographic groups historically underserved by higher education.” To achieve the requisite degree of evidence, AAC&U commissioned what it describes as “the largest examination of OER to date.” Over two years, their research team examined around 700,000 student records along with qualitative responses from over 200 instructors who had implemented OER in their courses, drawn from 15 institutions across six Carnegie classifications.

This project has major implications for the future of open education in the U.S., not only as the path to OER’s recognition as a HIP, but also via rich, multifaceted data that requires so much labor to collect and analyze at scale. The insights from this study are valuable both as rationale for institutional support of OER and as practical considerations for open education advocates and instructors. Whether you consider open education a passion, a moral obligation, or a job responsibility, the full report is worth a deep dive. (And a quick unsolicited plug for Open Education Conference, where the AAC&U team shared early results from this study last year). My institution has an office dedicated to promoting HIPs on campus, as I imagine is true at many other colleges and universities. The opportunity to embed support for open education beyond traditional advocacy units (e.g. libraries, teaching centers) may be truly game-changing at institutions where that hasn’t yet happened.

Heather Miceli, Assistant Director of the Institute on Open Educational Resources and a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at AAC&U, kindly answered a few questions about their study and High-Impact Practices for ACRLog.

I’m sure there are many possible practices that could be studied as potential high-impact practices. Why OER? In other words, what led to the initiation of this study, including but also beyond the guiding research questions?

Open Education, as we know it currently, is celebrating a milestone anniversary this year. Twenty-five years, a quarter of a century. And yet, the practice is still fairly siloed, sometimes completely unknown to faculty and instructors whose students would benefit from even just the affordability argument. However, we knew from multiple smaller scale studies that the potential to impact student success was there. But we also knew that there were small sample sizes, confounding variables, and conflicting results. So, we decided to take a shot at trying to gather as much data as possible, from as many different types of institutions as possible, to push forward the conversation on how OER impact student success. At the same time, one of the foundation pieces of high-impact practices (HIPs) is that they are most impactful “when done well.” We wanted to capture the instructor experience and connect it as much as we could with what we were seeing in the quantitative data.

The report describes some differences in instructors’ experiences between those who adopted an OER without revision vs. those who revised, remixed, or created OERs. How would you summarize/synthesize some those differences and what they might mean for librarians who support instructors making course material decisions?

We found considerable evidence across multiple contexts that when instructors choose to revise, remix, or create their own OER (high-level implementation), the withdrawal rates in the course are significantly lower than those who chose to simply adopt (low-level implementation). We attribute this to the fact that higher-level implementation of OER allows instructors to customize the texts specifically for their students, courses, and context – which has been shown in the literature to have a positive impact on student belonging and success.

We also found some interesting correlation in the instructor survey around high- vs. low-level implementation. 52% of instructors that simply adopted their OER as is were externally motivated, meaning that they were required to adopt the text by the institution or the department, as opposed to only 12% that revised/remixed/created their OER. Of those that adopted because they were externally motivated, 34% perceived their first implementation went poorly. We also found that 31% of those who adopted and had no support also perceived their first implementation as poor. These results did not surprise us—we know that support and internal motivation are going to be key variables in the quality of implementation. However, when we looked at instructors who adopted and who perceived their first OER implementation to be poor, we found that they overwhelmingly did not engage in any other teaching practice changes as a result of using OER.

Could you highlight a few other takeaways from the study that might be especially relevant to librarians and other open education advocates?

One of the most significant findings was that at doctoral institutions, withdrawal rates decreased at much higher rates than any of the other institutions when OER was implemented. It was especially impactful for students with a high intersectionality of historically minoritized characteristics. Doctoral institutions are likely the most heterogenous institutions in our study, and this result suggests that OER, on its own, could be a compelling retention strategy for students in their first year courses (the majority of courses in our sample from doctoral institutions were lower-level courses).

In terms of grades, we found that A grades increased across the board, with a small increase also in F grades—we attribute the increase in F grades to students finishing a course when without OER, they might have withdrawn from the course, putting their enrollment in jeopardy.

A frankly jaw-dropping finding at community colleges was that when students who had been enrolled for 4 or more years took 6 or more OER courses, their time-to-completion dropped by over a calendar year. This finding shows that institutionalized OER could be a monumental strategy in shortening time-to-completion for nontraditional students.

With the understanding that their operationalization might look different campus-to-campus, why does it matter for something to be recognized as a high-impact practice by AAC&U? What opportunities can that recognition present?

Since their inception almost twenty years ago, high impact practices (HIPs) have shaped the experiences of millions of students in the US and abroad. We know that when students participate in HIPs, especially those from historically minoritized groups in higher education, they report positive cumulative, additive effects on student success. However, when you look at the list of HIPs, a lot of the experiences require time and resources that aren’t available to all students. For example, not all internships are paid, and there are many students who can’t afford to give their free labor to companies to advance their education; study abroad programs are inaccessible to students that have familial or parenting responsibilities. So, we are starting to look to the future of HIPs knowing that a practice that is included on this list is valued highly by administrators and curriculum developers, so much so that some institutions require participation in HIPs for graduation. We hope that in adding OER to the list, with substantial evidence to support their use in many contexts, we can begin to see a shift towards further institutionalization of OER on campuses, including the necessary instructor support to ensure optimal implementation.

Thank you to Heather for her responses, and thank you to Heather and her research team for this study. We may not understand the full scope of this work’s impact on the field for a while, but I expect it will be significant.

Seeking First Year Academic Librarian Bloggers for 2026-27

As we enter a new academic year, we’re looking to bring on a few new bloggers here at ACRLog. We’d like to thank our 2025-26 FYAL bloggers Lisa Shin, M. Roberts, and Eleanor Ball for their terrific posts this past year in our First Year Academic Librarian Experience series. We’d also like to encourage new academic librarians — those who are just beginning in their first position at an academic library — to blog with us during their first year.

FYAL bloggers typically publish posts monthly during the academic year. If you’re interested in applying to be a FYAL blogger here at ACRLog, applications are due by Monday, September 14. Please submit an application through this Google form.

Proposals are evaluated by the ACRLog blog team. When selecting FYAL bloggers we consider:

Diversity of race/ethnicity/sexual orientation/ability
Voices from a range of academic institutions (for example, community colleges, research universities, etc.) and job responsibilities within academic libraries (for example, instruction, cataloging, scholarly communications, etc.)
Clear and compelling writing style
Connection between day-to-day work and bigger conversations around theory, practice, criticism, LIS education, and other issues

Please send any questions to Justin Fuhr. We’re looking forward to hearing from you!

Learning from our Students as First Year Academic Librarians

This marks the last collaborative post as First Year Academic Librarians, and we wanted to take a chance to share some of our most memorable experiences – learning directly from students. From instruction to outreach, none of the activities and events we do would be possible without an audience, and we often found that we learned more from them, even when we were instructors.

Eleanor: Trust Your Inner Student

When I began working as a librarian, I was twenty-four years old. I had just finished six straight years of higher education, and I felt that one of my biggest strengths as a research librarian was my closeness in age and experience to our students. I was immediately familiar with the experience of being a student: zoning out during my Zoom night classes, drowning in busy work, debating whether I could afford eggs at Aldi that week. But although it’s only been a year, I can already sense a growing distance between me and my students.

I have two instincts: a librarian instinct and a student instinct. Sometimes they align; sometimes they don’t. (For example, the librarian instinct says Copyright is the bedrock of our profession. The student instinct says Copyright? I just put back eggs because they were too expensive. I am not paying for this textbook.) Over the last year, it’s become harder to recall my life as a student. I find myself relying more often on my librarian knowledge and skills when making decisions.

When a faculty member recently asked me to teach her senior seminar how to use microfilm, I was skeptical. As an undergraduate student, I would have loved learning about microfilm. But my brand-new librarian instinct said: Students in 2026 do not want to use microfilm. They always want things to be digital and fast. I will show them how to use NewspaperArchive, which they will obviously prefer, and then we can browse microfilm with the leftover time.

Boy, was I wrong.

The students were bored and listless during my valiant NewspaperArchive demo. But when we ventured down into the basement and I dusted off the microfilm machine, their eyes lit up. They were so excited to search the microfilm drawers for articles about Pearl Harbor, the JFK assassination, and 9/11. Even when they spent twenty minutes scrolling through a film strip and didn’t find what they wanted, they were not deterred. They simply sprinted back into the stacks to find another record.

After class, I walked back to my office in a daze.

My assumptions would probably have been true about some students, but I realized I hadn’t allowed myself to be surprised by the students I was working with that afternoon. I had to (re-)learn to trust students to lead their own learning journeys. After all, a passion for learning is more important than precisely following procedure; though sometimes, I think our focus on database search mechanics can obscure that truth, both to ourselves and our students. Most importantly, I (re-)learned that I shouldn’t think I know students better than they know themselves just because I’ve acquired new professional expertise. After all, when I was a student, isn’t that what frustrated me the most about my instructors?

M: Letting Go of Assumptions

In library school, my assumption was that I would be working with undergraduate students as a librarian. Many of my more practical classes talked about the undergrad student experience, teaching first-year writing seminars, and more. In my work as a Graduate Assistant in an on-campus library, I also worked primarily with undergrad students, both for instruction and reference appointments. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that I’d be serving undergrads in my first full-time librarian job as well.

That conclusion was upended when I accepted my current role and learned that the opposite would actually be happening – I wouldn’t be working with undergrads at all. In my position, I only work with master’s and doctoral students. When I started a year ago, I really didn’t know what to expect from those students. Would they all already know about library resources? Would I not be able to wow them with Boolean? Would they be totally unimpressed that we have 800+ databases and multiple AI tools?

Looking back now, I think my lack of expectations and assumptions actually helped me. While some of my grad students do know about databases, other library resources, and Boolean searching, most of them don’t. Many of my students have been out of school for anywhere from 5 to 15 or 20 years – some have even talked to me about remembering card catalogs. The same things that I would show first-year students are the same things that I need to show master’s students. My Ph.D. students tend to be more familiar with library resources, often because they’ve been working with them for a few years, but my Ed.D. students also benefit from general overviews as well as more individual and detailed material, like subject heading searches.

I also realized over the last year that some students I’ve worked with are hesitant to say that they could benefit from going over some library basics. I’ve started leaning into discussing my own experience meeting with librarians and getting help from them as a library science student, which I think has helped to make them feel more relaxed. I also say things in appointments like, “seven years went by between when I graduated from undergrad and went back to school for my master’s, so I totally understand feeling lost!” and “the most common answer I hear from students is that they don’t know what Boolean is! That’s totally okay!” For my students, hearing that they’re not alone and that it’s okay to be unsure about what they’re doing makes a huge difference in encouraging them to reach out.

I guess in all of this, the number one thing I’ve learned from my students in the last year is to let go of any assumptions I have. Meeting them where they are, and being supportive and encouraging, is a much better approach than assuming I have all the answers and already know what they need. I’m really excited to be starting this second year with this lesson in mind and to see what more I learn from the students I meet this year.

Lisa: Growing Alongside Students

I remember the first consultation I shadowed was with a graduate student who I actually knew from back in high school. As excited as I was to see a familiar face, I was a bit worried about the blurring of personal and professional boundaries and the professional, competent image I wanted to present to students and researchers, even as a first-year academic librarian. The relationship between a librarian and a student though, is unlike no other. There are no elements of power and no grades assigned (unless the student is in a class that the librarian is teaching), and thus, an environment of a relationship that is open and transparent can occur.

The close age between me and students was something I originally thought was a barrier and an obstacle, similar to what Eleanor had experienced. It turned out to be a way to create relationships faster, using my past and current experiences as an early career researcher fresh out of school and navigating the academic world. Actively expressing interest in the different avenues of information consumption and where students find out about different AI tools were some personal agendas of mine that I tried to incorporate into each research consultation when the conversation dried up. Questions about starting in academia ranged from how to make a conference poster to how to write a rejection email to a conference a student couldn’t attend anymore, allowed me to explore the grey areas of academia with students and help them navigate relationships with mentors and the greater academic community beyond the university. Being asked if I wanted to grab coffee or lunch together with PhD students was a great way for me to build connections outside the library and develop relationships for further collaboration and library outreach beyond my office and the classroom.

In the classroom, often being focused on the topics at hand on what slides I needed to cover was important, but so was actively looking for collaborators within the room and recognizing what students wanted to learn. In research consultations, being able to take in the complicated research topic without being overwhelmed and drawing links and connections between resources while cultivating relationships and creating a two-way street of learning is something I continue to strive for. As I look back on September until now, I am grateful to have had the trust of so many students, and I hope that my intentions have reflected in my approach as an academic librarian.

Looking Ahead

We are excited to keep growing and sharing our stories as academic librarians and wanted to thank you all for reading our posts through ACRLog. This year has reaffirmed to all of us on how amazing this community and profession is, and the daily work that makes up the incredible profession.

First Year Reflections

Tuesday of last week, August 4, marked one year in my role at Vanderbilt. The time has flown by! One of my goals for the summer was to reflect on my first year as a librarian and to plan for the second year based on what I’d learned. Although I haven’t had as much time for that reflection as I’d hoped, for my final post as a First-Year Academic Librarian blogger, I wanted to share a few lessons learned that I’m planning to build on during the upcoming year:

Be proactive

I started this job last year only three weeks before the first day of fall classes. Although it felt like enough of a head start at the time, especially considering that I had only moved to Nashville a few weeks prior, I wish that it had been possible for me to start earlier. As it was, there were several classes that I had to get ready to teach or co-teach at the last minute, relationships with the department I support that I was trying to build in a hurry, and a lot of basic information about how everything worked that I had to learn. Even with support from the other librarians at my library, plus our library director, it all felt like a whirlwind.

One example of something that I wish I could have planned better for was when I met individually with around 25 students from the same degree program, almost all in October, for research appointments. I realized about halfway through the appointments that the students all needed help with the same skills – choosing databases and learning how to search with Boolean terms – and that it would be a lot more efficient for everyone’s time if I could have taught all the students that in one instruction session. This year, I reached out to the appropriate professor in late July and asked if I could come to a class early in the semester to teach everyone the basics of a library search. Happily, she enthusiastically agreed. My hope is that this year, I’ll be able to spend my appointments with students talking about their specific search topics and make the sessions more tailored to their research interests. But that wouldn’t have even been a possibility if I hadn’t learned from last year and proactively reached out this year.

Build community

During this first year, one of the main things I knew was how much I didn’t know. I had tons of questions (and still do), and more things to learn seemed to come up every week. Luckily, librarians are generally helpful people, and I’ve gotten very lucky with how many people around me have been willing to help me out. My colleagues at my library, Peabody, have been incredible, always willing to answer questions and take the time to walk me through different processes and procedures. Additionally, there were actually six new librarians (including me) who started at Vanderbilt last summer, and we all bonded pretty quickly. Being able to check in with them, ask each other questions, and serve as sounding boards has been a huge help. We also started a journal club that’s expanded to include other newer librarians, and having that built-in community is great.

I’ve also been able to make and strengthen connections with librarians outside of Vanderbilt. One of my professors from library school is now friend and mentor – in addition to our frequent Zooms, we’re also co-authoring a textbook chapter. The education librarian from UNC-Chapel Hill, where I did my MSLS, has also become a friend and colleague. We support a lot of similar degree programs, so we chat around once a month about what trends we’re seeing with our students, what helpful resources we’ve found, what new ideas we’ve tried, and more. And, because I get so many business-related questions, I’ve also looked for business mentors who can help with questions. In addition to all the business librarians at Vanderbilt, who have been great, I’ve also connected with UNC-Chapel Hill’s business school librarian. Building all of these relationships and communities has taken time, but it’s been time so well spent. My first year would have been so much harder without my colleagues and friends, and now I have these solid connections to move forward with this year.

Learn lots!

When I first started, my library director told me that “this is a learning year.” I agreed, because of course that made sense on the surface, but at the time I didn’t fully understand what she was getting at. It took going through this first year for me to really understand what she meant. There’s so much more that I know now after a full academic cycle. Some of it is tangible – like being proactive – but a lot of it is also intangible. I know which months will likely be busy and which will be slow(er). I know how much fun it is when the students come back to campus after the quiet summer. I know that I need to work ahead on projects because every day is different, and saving something for a specific day probably means that that day will get overtaken by something else and I’ll have to scramble. I know that a big part of my job is just being present, both at my library and at my department, and getting involved with whatever’s happening. And even with everything that I’ve learned in the last year, I’m very conscious that there’s still so much I don’t know. There’s always something else to learn.

Looking ahead

Students will be back at Vanderbilt in about two weeks. I’ve already done some prep work for the upcoming semester and academic year, but I have a lot more to do before classes start. I’m looking forward to being back in the classroom and meeting with students more regularly, as well as reconnecting with colleagues who I haven’t seen as much over the summer. Vanderbilt Libraries also hosts regular professional development sessions for newer librarians during the school year, so I’m excited to see familiar faces at those sessions as well (plus, more learning!). I’m also just really interested to see how I feel about this second year compared to the first year. My hope is that I can learn just as much, while also building on what worked from last year. I’m looking forward to it!

All About My AI Literacy Course

In my first ACRLog post, Teaching AI as an Anti-AI Librarian, I shared how I was approaching the task of teaching an AI literacy course as an anti-AI librarian. For my final post, I’d like to share a follow-up (which a few people have requested—thank you!) sharing a bit of practical information about how I organized the course and reflecting briefly on my first experience solo teaching a credit course.

Getting Started

My course was LIB 1100 AI, Algorithms, and (Y)our Future, a one-credit elective about AI created by my predecessor. 17 students enrolled, and we met twice a week for 50 minutes during the second half of the semester. Because this was a one-credit elective, I knew I couldn’t treat it like a survey course; there just wasn’t time. This course also attracted students from across the university: future designers, teachers, accountants, journalists, lawyers, and more. I wanted the course to be meaningful to everyone, regardless of their disciplinary background or preexisting level of knowledge about AI. For these reasons, I decided to focus on building skills over mastering content.

Before we could begin skill-building, however, I spent the first couple weeks of the course ensuring all students had a common, basic understanding of how AI works, which included in-depth discussions of hallucinations and algorithmic bias. Part of me worried that students might find this phase of the course too elementary. While a few certainly did, I was surprised by the feedback I received.¹ Several students—frequent ChatGPT users—told me they had no idea generative AI tools could produce incorrect or biased information. Others shared that they did not know the term AI included anything other than chatbots; for example, they were shocked to learn how AI technology is involved in facial recognition, dynamic pricing, and resume screening. Most did not know that generative AI works by predicting what is most likely to come next. In general, I found that my students either a) thought they knew more about AI than they did, or b) felt completely lost in AI information overload, unsure how to tell fact from fiction.

As an information literacy librarian, this is where I feel I can make the biggest impact. I want to equip my students with critical thinking, research, and communication skills that will help them thoughtfully and ethically navigate a world being radically reshaped by AI. When they finish my course, I want them to feel empowered to make informed decisions about their personal AI use, investigate AI issues that matter to them, and engage in productive civic dialogue about AI. I believe these skills are more essential to our individual and collective humanity than technology-specific skills like prompt engineering or computer programming. On a practical level, they’re also more evergreen. As AI models evolve faster and faster, technical knowledge about how to engineer prompts or which tool to use quickly becomes outdated. On the other hand, critical thinking skills retain their value as long as we live.

The AI Question

On the first day of class, I laid out these five learning objectives to help set student expectations:

After taking this class, I will be able to . . .

Explain the fundamentals of how AI works.
Evaluate the potential risks and benefits of using AI in different situations.
Understand and analyze multiple perspectives on AI issues.
Discuss AI issues with others.
Independently explore AI issues of interest to me.

You may notice that none of these objectives necessarily involve using AI. I was upfront with students about the fact that I would not ask them to use AI in our classroom. There are already several UNI courses that teach students how to use different AI tools; instead, our class would center around readings and small-group discussions. I expected a few students would drop after hearing this, but none did.

I decided to run a no-AI AI class for a couple of reasons. First, as I’ve already discussed, I truly believe I can best serve my students in an AI-dominated world by helping them develop habits of compassionate communication, curiosity, and critical thinking, particularly when it comes to information and technology issues, and these skills are best developed without relying, in full or in part, on generative AI. Second, I have major ethical concerns with the use of AI in the library classroom, particularly given our field’s values-driven commitments to patron privacy; intellectual freedom; copyright; delivering information with integrity; and opposing racial, gender, and economic inequality. These values are fundamentally incompatible with the design of consumer-focused generative AI tools. Our field has not always acted in line with these values, but I don’t believe generative AI is the solution. I believe it further entrenches inequality—including information inequality. I cannot welcome it in my library classroom.

The Nitty-Gritty

So . . . if students weren’t using AI, what did they actually do during our class meetings?

Since I chose to teach LIB 1100 in-person, I wanted to maximize one of the most important benefits of in-person instruction: the opportunity to have face-to-face discussions. Each week, I assigned a couple of short news articles or videos on AI issues I thought would be relevant to all students, regardless of discipline (e.g. AI in college admissions, Flock cameras, data centers in our state). I chose readings that a) presented multiple points of view on the topic and b) explored both the potential risks and benefits of using AI. When we gathered for class, we discussed the week’s readings in small groups. Throughout the course, we also practiced asking questions about AI, using basic search strategies to find more information, and fact-checking the answers we found. For our last class, students located a news article on an AI topic of their choice and shared their learnings with their peers in a five-minute lightning talk.

Our in-class discussions were highly structured. I hoped this approach would focus student conversation and help the idea of “discussion” feel more approachable for nervous students; generally speaking, I believe this theory was borne out in student feedback. Here are a few methods I used to structure our discussions:

I chose the discussion groups. I tried to place a mix of “strong” and “weak” discussers in each group while still changing the groups every day, so students had the opportunity to hear from all their classmates.
I used preset discussion formats. My favorites are conver-stations, philosophical chairs, and jigsaw, but I also used think-pair-share and snowball.
Discussions consisted of multiple rounds, which were no more than 10 minutes each. Each round had a distinct purpose and built on the previous round.
- For example: The purpose of Round 1 might be “Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page about the facts of this article.” Students define key terms and organize a timeline of events. Round 2 might be “Let’s discuss the risks and benefits of using AI in this way.” Students analyze the different perspectives presented in the article, consider what they would do, and share how the issue could apply to their own lives. Round 3 might be “What should we do in the future?” Students discuss how lawmakers, developers, and leaders in their discipline could respond to the issue.
I provided private, constructive feedback on students’ discussion participation at the midpoint of the course, encouraging good habits and suggesting ways to improve.
Finally, I eased students into the practice of discussion by starting the course with short, low-stakes discussion activities. For example, our first discussion was a think-pair-share in which students brainstormed ideas for our classroom agreement. By the time we began discussing readings in week 2, students were already somewhat familiar with the experience of small-group conversation.

I initially worried students would find the frequent small-group discussions boring. I didn’t use any interactive tools like Mentimeter, Padlet, or Kahoot! (though I’d like to try some this fall). We didn’t play with AI hands-on, for reasons already discussed. We simply sat down in small groups and had highly structured, intentional conversations about AI for two hours a week. When I began receiving student feedback, I was surprised. Students consistently expressed that they enjoyed and looked forward to our in-class discussions; they shared that the structured discussion style helped them learn, they loved getting to hear a variety of opinions from their classmates, and they appreciated the opportunities to direct their own learning.

When I discussed my student feedback with a colleague, she pointed out that many of my students belonged to lecture-heavy disciplines or were at an early, lecture-heavy phase in their college education. This might have been one of their first chances to take a small course in which they could get to know their classmates, share their perspective, and direct their own learning. As I’ve reflected further on LIB 1100, I’ve also begun to wonder if my slower, discussion-focused approach might have resonated with students due to the particular topic of this course.

A Few Final Reflections

AI often feels like something that’s happening to us. You’re told to use AI in your classroom. Suddenly, Flock cameras pop up along your route to work. Every day, we’re buried deeper under an avalanche of stories about job loss, new cybersecurity threats, and environmental devastation. It can feel like everything is spiraling out of control.

But whatever helplessness we might feel about AI, I think our students often feel it more intensely. They are less grounded in the memory of what life was like before 2022; they will graduate into a world already reshaped by AI. Many of them feel there is something wrong with what’s happening, but they also understand there’s no going back. This is the only world they’ll ever know.

In this context, it’s important to carve out space to slow down—especially in the classroom. Students are under immense pressure to “keep up” and “not fall behind,” but in order for them to develop into thoughtful, creative, and compassionate graduates, they need time to breathe. In spite of—or because of—how fast-moving and overwhelming the issue of AI can be, it’s critical that we support students in slowing down, reflecting with intention, developing and sharing their perspectives, and learning from others with grace. Student autonomy in learning matters, especially with an issue like AI, where they may often feel like their autonomy has been stripped away. I believe my students resonated deeply with these aspects of LIB 1100, and I hope I can continue to foster a reflective, generous, and impactful learning environment for my students this fall.

Some Further Reading

If you’re interested in teaching about AI, I hope this post has been useful or thought-provoking in some way. I’m sharing how I approached LIB 1100 because I’ve been asked about this topic quite a bit over the last year, but this is only one teaching method out of many. I’m always learning from other teachers and librarians. To conclude this post, I’d like to share just a few perspectives that have informed my work in the hopes they may be helpful to others as well:

Allison, Leslie, and Tiffany DeRewal. “Where Knowledge Begins? Generative Search, Information Literacy, and the Problem of Friction.” Critical AI 2, no. 2 (2024). https://doi.org/10.1215/2834703X-11556038.

Camarillo, Lauren A. “Squinting Through the Dawn of AI: Embedding Algorithmic Literacy Principles in Library Instruction.” In Democratizing Knowledge + Access + Opportunities: The Proceedings of the ACRL 2025 Conference, edited by Dawn Mueller. Association of College and Research Libraries, 2025. https://www.ala.org/sites/default/files/2025-03/SquintingThroughtheDawnofAI.pdf.

Ellis, Elizabeth and Amanda Kaufman. “Diving Beneath the Surface: Incorporating Critical AI Literacy in Library Instruction.” Presentation, LOEX Conference, Norfolk, VA, May 8, 2026. https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1R9e1S_x1Mc-0Xl3rz6dcY8nZuPLgvDMcwQDnAmERnvc.

Illingworth, Sam. “What Is Critical AI Literacy?” Slow AI, February 13, 2026. https://theslowai.substack.com/p/what-is-critical-ai-literacy.

TILT Higher Ed. https://www.tilthighered.com/.

Slater, Kay. “Against AI: Critical Refusal in the Library.” Library Trends 73, no. 4 (2025): 588–608. https://doi.org/10.1353/lib.2025.a968497.

Notes

When I refer to “student feedback” throughout this post, I’m aggregating feedback received through in-class minute papers; graded learning reflections; three anonymous Google Forms surveys I administered throughout the course; my final, university-administered student evaluations; and students speaking directly with me. ↩︎