Category: Academia

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.

The academe is people and people are complicated

To fully understand the intricacies of your institution’s internal politics, you’d need a graduate level course on the subject.

For introverted librarians (like me) in public facing positions, the parts of our jobs that require the most face time are often the most exhausting (although some folks learn to love it). I try to appreciate invitations to speak to groups/at events, but those calendar holds remain my primary source of professional anxiety, even if they’ve generally gone well in the past. The more you practice something, the better at it you become, so maybe public speaking gets to be old hat for liaison/subject librarians.

In my scholarly-communications-focused role, I very rarely speak to groups of students. Most of my external interactions are with faculty and administration, and not often in large groups. Through these interactions I’ve come to see myself and the library as responsible for, or at least involved in, connecting folks from across campus to work toward shared goals. This type of work presents different relational challenges from public speaking. I usually like this focused, small group work, particularly when shared with other librarians who think alike and speak the same technical language (turns out, most librarians are pretty nice!), but I’ve noticed how much that dynamic can change when working with folks outside the library.

If cross-departmental/interdisciplinary work were easily initiated or naturally occurring, we probably wouldn’t see as many calls for more of it or rewards for pursuing it. Much of that discourse refers to interdisciplinary research endeavors, but many of the same challenges hold true for work meant to improve the functioning of our institutions. My area of librarianship is geared toward those types of behind-the-scenes operations. As I’ve met and worked on shared goals with folks from other units across campus, I’ve come to realize how complicated it can be to navigate the human aspect of the university machine. The relationships in a cross-departmental group are influenced by years of reorganizations and budget reallocations and disappointments and hurt feelings and wrong impressions and conflicting philosophies, very little of which can be prepared for—and if you do know about those dynamics, you’re probably less likely to bring that group together in the first place, even if those people could provide the right mix of knowledge to address a given problem. To fully understand the intricacies of your institution’s internal politics, you’d need a graduate level course on the subject.

I know messy human relationships aren’t unique to the academe, but the academe does tend to attract many smart and opinionated cooks to a pretty complicated kitchen. As an early career librarian, I don’t think I’ve appreciated how insulated I’ve been from those rough seas outside the library, but sometimes our work can (and should) bring us into cooperative spaces with folks from other units. When I’ve found myself in such situations where the vibes are distinctly not good, my natural conflict aversion makes it more difficult to contribute. Over the past several years, reminding myself of a few truths has helped me push through these emotional challenges:

  • Notwithstanding the widespread need for better funding, academic libraries/librarians are generally well liked (Fagan et al., 2022;  Weng & Murray, 2020). This reputation positions us well as arbiters in groups with complicated dynamics.
  • Librarians have unique disciplinary expertise about the information lifecycle and information systems. We have valuable insights that will not be considered without our contribution.
  • In situations with higher-than-normal levels of conflict, I try to remember to challenge cognitive distortions like personalization (“I am somehow responsible for how badly this is going”) or emotional reasoning (“This feels bad; therefore it must be bad/dangerous”) with reality-checking strategies (e.g. identifying the distortion; examining the evidence; thinking in shades of gray).

I’m not sure I have a clear thesis to share, other than to acknowledge: the human part of library work (or maybe all work?) can be hard, especially when you care about the work. I’m sure we’ve all felt that way at some point and it’s good to name the things that we find hard or stressful. How have you learned to handle complicated institutional politics in your work? Feel free to share in the comments.

Combating Library Hazing: Building a Safer Academic Environment

Editor’s note: We welcome a guest blog post from Alejandro Marquez, Science and Engineering Librarian at the University of Denver Libraries.

Hazing is the practice of initiation rituals often involving humiliation, danger, or abuse. It is a serious and deeply troubling issue within many groups. It is most commonly associated with fraternities, sororities, sports teams, and even some clubs. While proponents sometimes argue it builds camaraderie and strengthens bonds, the reality is that hazing can quickly escalate into dangerous and even deadly situations. The core problem lies in the power imbalance created when new members are pressured to participate in activities which they may not be comfortable with and often under the threat of exclusion or ridicule. These activities can range from simple pranks and sleep deprivation to more extreme behaviors like forced consumption of harmful substances, physical violence, and risky stunts. Regardless of the intent, hazing fundamentally violates a person’s autonomy and can have devastating consequences.

Hazing occurs in higher education even though it is less visible than in fraternities, athletics, or social clubs. Researchers have examined this phenomenon in music education faculty, in the workplace, and in new employee hazing. It can manifest in many ways such as deliberately excluding individuals from important meetings or social events to assigning them the most difficult or unpleasant tasks, often with the intention of making them feel inadequate. While some might rationalize it as “tough love” or a way to quickly train new hires, hazing fundamentally undermines trust, creates a climate of fear, and can severely impact an employee’s mental and emotional well-being.

The dangers of hazing extend far beyond just physical harm. Psychological distress, anxiety, and depression are common outcomes for those subjected to it. Hazing can create a culture of silence and secrecy, making it difficult for victims to seek help and for institutions to address the problem effectively. It creates a legal liability for library organizations, as hazing can be considered harassment or discrimination.

Resilience Narratives

The prevalence of hazing is consistently underreported. This silence isn’t accidental. It’s often rooted in cultural norms, unspoken expectations, and a reluctance to confront uncomfortable truths. Several factors contribute to this concealment including the influence of vocational awe and professionalism. Workers have gotten used to being put into difficult situations as reported in the Urban Library Trauma study. Although this report focuses on public libraries, it highlights a lot of the same concerns facing academic libraries.

Resilience narratives suggest that seemingly negative or harmful experiences can be reframed as opportunities for growth and strength. It can often feel like bosses encourage or require library professionals to get the job done no matter what the obstacle. They might frame an incident where a student who yells at an employee as a teachable moment of customer service rather than focus on setting appropriate workplace boundaries. Additionally, people tend to downplay the adversity they face even if they meet the definition of a horrible act like hazing. They downplay it with, “it wasn’t so bad” or “others had it worse.” Hazing tells a worker that they are unworthy of their position, accomplishments, or who they are.

The Hidden Curriculum

The hidden curriculum can actively perpetuate hazing. It refers to the implicit lessons and values that are taught within an organization, often through observation and experience, rather than formal instruction. For example, older staff members, having themselves navigated a system of hazing such as enduring long hours, being assigned undesirable shifts (like nights and weekends), or handling difficult patrons may simply assume that this is the “normal” way things are done. They may even explicitly articulate these expectations to newer employees, leaving them feeling pressured to conform, even if the practices are uncomfortable or unfair. It’s crucial to recognize that this cycle isn’t always intentional. It’s driven by a desire for loyalty and a belief in the importance of paying your dues.

Rites of passage

Rites of passage describe the transformative process that individuals undergo as they transition from one social status to another. These workplace rituals provide structure, instill values, and foster a sense of belonging within a community. While not always explicitly called “hazing,” the practice often involves new employees being subjected to uncomfortable, humiliating, or even dangerous activities as a test of loyalty and commitment to the group. Within libraries, this might take the form of excessive workloads, forced overtime, public shaming, or requiring new staff to perform tasks outside their job description. These acts are designed for professionals to demonstrate dedication and willingness to “earn” their place within the established team. For example, one library team forced their new instruction librarian to work with the ‘difficult’ professor to see if they could handle the job. They framed it as a trial by fire.

Anecdotally, there seems to be a generational divide when it comes to hazing. It seems like older generations believe that if they had to survive this awful thing then so do younger generations. They paid their dues. There also seems to be a mistrust of things that bosses and coworkers can’t see, like working remotely or relying solely on email communication. Some workers are proud about pushing the envelope (burning out), working while sick, or not taking vacation as a sign of commitment and belonging. This tells other members of the team that they should push themselves to and past their limits.

Conclusion

For too long, the silence surrounding library hazing has allowed it to fester and grow. We’ve accepted the notion that ‘it’s just how things are’ which is a dangerous and ultimately self-destructive mindset. We as a library profession cannot passively accept this any longer. Each of us has a responsibility to challenge the norms that enable this behavior and to speak out against injustice. Every instance of hazing represents a breach of trust and a serious threat to employee well-being and productivity. Let’s commit to building an academic library workplace where there is a firm declaration that hazing – in any form – will not be tolerated.

A few takeaways from Open Education 2025

In an age of corporate techno-solutionism, open education can help academia fulfill its responsibilities to the public good. But we have to institutionalize and preserve open principles to do so.

One of these days, Open Education Conference, I’ll attend you in person. In the meantime: thank you for providing a well-coordinated (and affordable) option for virtual attendance. This is my second year attending the Open Education Conference from afar and both occasions were well worth my time. I attended 20+ of the virtually available sessions, which isn’t close to half, but still gave me plenty to ponder. Below, I’ve organized a few thematic takeaways I’ll be thinking more about and what they mean for the future of my library and my institution. If you attended OpenEd2025 and came away with something different, please share in the comments!

The tightening walls of EdTech

Han Solo has a bad feeling about standing in a trash compactor. Gif by JuniorCor84, retrieved from tenor.com.

There is a growing sense among open education advocates of the ways proprietary educational technology (EdTech) restricts and undermines the goals of the open education movement. In several sessions[1], presenters identified the pressing issue of platformitization: EdTech providers are inking long-term deals with administrators at the institutional, system, and even state levels that reduce faculty freedom in using different educational tools, such as homework software and learning management systems. Ostensibly, these agreements are being negotiated without much input from their institutions’ foremost experts in material and tool licensing. Librarians have traditionally leveraged our expertise in collections and licensing to lead negotiations that center access, equity, and sustainability, but we’re lacking a seat at these EdTech tables. That needs to change quickly as commercial providers—who tend to profit off student data—continue to more deeply embed their products into the basic functions of higher education.

  • The issue of platformitization overlaps substantially with automatic billing textbook schemes. If you’ve been following that saga, you might recall that automatic textbook billing programs’ ethical dubiousness was enough to draw the Biden administration’s attention, who had planned to outlaw the practice. Instead, such so-called “inclusive access” programs persist, in which students (sometimes all students, sometimes students enrolled in certain courses) are automatically opted-in to pay either a flat course material fee or the first-sale cost of their course materials.[2] Many textbooks are now accompanied by proprietary homework software that are understandably appealing to instructors of large-enrollment courses. Together, these factors reduce the rationale for instructors to use open educational resources (OER), especially at schools that charge students a flat fee regardless of whether their course materials are free. In turn, these factors continue to undermine efforts for student affordability. In a presentation on measuring and communicating the value of OER, Virginia Clinton-Lisell[3] cited results of her recent student survey, in which “29.4% [of students] reported their grade was hurt because they could not afford an [homework system] access code,” and in which first generation students reported higher rates of having to pay for homework access, and experienced more subsequent negative effects. To make matters worse, access to homework systems is generally restricted to a single semester, and one-time access codes don’t allow students to recoup any cost through resale like they might with physical textbooks.

  • One bright spot in response to these issues is the work of librarians in the Big Ten Academic Alliance, who collaborated to pilot library support for open homework systems.[4] In pilot courses, 49% of students found the open systems more relevant/helpful than proprietary systems in other courses, and the other 50% of students felt open homework systems were about the same as proprietary systems. All pilot faculty said they planned to continue using their piloted systems and would recommend those systems to their colleagues. This seems like a promising way for librarians, with help from supportive instructional designers and IT departments, to promote open alternatives in the age of Big EdTech.

  • Robert Farrow shared a cogent philosophical argument on openness as critical perspective that couples nicely with this practical example from the Big Ten. Openness creates conditions for innovation that are transparent, participatory, and grounded in public values via practices like open-source development frameworks and open licensing.[5] We need to identify and support the new forms of EdTech that demonstrate these traits, and in turn, we must question who benefits from certain technologies, whose voices are marginalized, and what pedagogical assumptions are embedded in design of each EdTech option. Many of us in higher ed have the privilege and cultural capital to speak out about issues like EdTech corporate capture at our institutions. In particular, Farrow argued that part of our goal should be to shift the narrative away from market hype and techno-solutionism toward values of transparency, pluralism, ethics, and equity. And speaking of techno-solutionism…

AI is a bummer and we have to contend with it

Luke Skywalker expresses disbelief and displeasure in a single word. Gif by Sephirock38, retrieved from tenor.com.

Generative AI was predictably a well-trodden topic at OpenEd2025. I fall toward the skeptical/morally opposed end of the spectrum when it comes to AI but am always interested to hear what smart people think about it and how to deal with it. A few quotes continue to ring in my mind weeks after the conference.

“AI is a very seductive digital eugenics infrastructure.”

Jutta Treviranus, Director of the Inclusive Design Research Centre at OCAD University, referencing how AI leads us toward discursively normative ways of thinking via its core function: searching for probable (read: dominant) patterns in human data.[6]

“[Quoting Simon Wardley] ‘LLMs are a non-kinetic form of warfare. By controlling the language, medium and tools then they influence how we reason about any space.’ I believe this, and I also believe this second thing, which is: If your institution is not graduating students who are fluent and critical users of AI, your institution is criminally negligent.”

Hugh McGuire, Founder of Pressbooks, describing the tension we face as AI malcontents in a world hurtling toward an AI future.[7]

“When you see unexpected use of AI, that should often be understood as a signal for unmet need rather than as a moral failing by an individual.”

Will Cross, Director of the Open Knowledge Center and Head of Information Policy at NC State University Libraries, explaining why AI policies should be grounded in clear pedagogical goals as one principle of the DO3RS Policy Priorities for Generative AI and Open Education.

Reasons for hope

Han Solo believing in himself despite the difficulties of the situation. Gif by JuniorCor84, retrieved from tenor.com.

For me, the most valuable takeaway from this conference is the solidarity and inspiration that radiates when fellow advocates get together and share ideas, even in an increasingly difficult environment for open education’s goals. Challenges present opportunities for creativity and re-commitment to our values. I found much-appreciated reasons for hope in a number of sessions.

  • Folks from the American Association of Colleges & Universities presented data from their multi-institutional study into the impact of open education on student success.[8] Although the evidence itself is compelling, the most exciting part of this study is that preliminary data analysis suggests there may be rationale to add OER adoption to AAC&U’s list of High-Impact Practices (HIPs). I’m aware of HIPs mostly because they’ve received attention and investment at my university—maybe they’re of interest to administration at your college or university too. In either case, the institutionalization of OER adoption by influential organizations like AAC&U would put open education “in another conversation,” as Eddie Watson put it, for many institutions that value HIPs but have yet to invest heavily in open ed.

  • In “A Positive Agenda for Open Education as a Public Good,” presenters pitched four principles we could bring to our work in libraries (and academia at large) moving forward, so as to orient toward a vision of higher education as a public good rather than a site of corporate control: a) Whenever we build or pay for something at libraries, it needs to be open; b) Push for the absolute most you can get in electronic licensing agreements and then share those agreements publicly, thereby building up community norms and standards; c) Understand and rely on fair use to take full advantage of our legal rights as libraries; and d) Record and share the stories of when the corporate-influenced system fails us.[9]

  • “Connect the opens” was a chorus heard in multiple sessions, and was highlighted by the work of SPARC Europe in their capacity as a resource and network hub for institutions across the continent who want to interweave different open efforts.[10] I like their focus on an explicit connection between open science and open education, which has resonated with lab instructors at my own institution.

  • Finally, in Right to Learn Afghanistan’s presentation on their online education program, I was reminded of a core reason why we work to make knowledge more open and accessible and remixable for whoever needs it, and the impact OER have already made in the world. Relying on their library of over 8,000 OER—the first initiative of its kind available in Afghanistan—the Darakht-e Danesh Academi provides an online secondary school to over 600 currently enrolled students as they pursue internationally recognized high school diplomas in a country where such education is difficult to access. And in turn, these OERs adapted or created for the Afghan context can be resources for our institutions as well. When we talk about student success and impact metrics related to open education, we can’t forget how OER might impact people beyond our institutions, even though we might never see it.

Lastly, here are a few resources and examples I was excited to learn about, some of which were mentioned above:

Stay as open as possible, as closed as necessary, everyone!

[1] Cross, W., Allen, N., McCullough, H., & Cook, E. (2025). Rewiring EdTech Licensing: Bringing Open Values to the Platforms that Shape our Learning; Buckley, A., Williamson, D., Allen, N., Elder, A., Shoemate, J., Abdullah, A., Diaz, L, & Goller, C. (2025). Navigating Open Education’s Path Forward in the U.S. Political Landscape.

[2] Students generally have the opportunity to opt-out of these programs, but this process tends to be unintuitive and poorly communicated to students, despite the opposition’s best efforts.

[3]  Bliss, T. J., Elder, A., Wagstaff, S., Clinton-Lisell, V., & Buck, S. (2025). What Difference Does It Make? Measuring & Communicating the Impact of OER Initiatives.

[4] McGeary, B., Gjeltema, M., Nackerud, S., Wetherington, C., & Yu, S.(2025) Piloting a Library-Led Support Model for Open Homework Systems: Outcomes, Lessons, & Recommendations.

[5] Farrow, R. (2025). Openness as critical perspective.

[6] Treviranus, J., Bali, M., Santos, S., & Scott, A. M. (2025). AI on Our Terms: Designing Open, Inclusive, and Responsible AI.

[7] Cross, W., Jacob, M., Gallant, J., McGuire, H., & Hoye, A. (2025). Connecting the Dots on AI: Developing a Policy Response Grounded in the Experience of Open Educators.

[8] Micelli, H., Watson, C. E., Chittum, J., Schneider, H., & Perkins, B. (2025). Beyond Affordability: Early Insights from a Multi-Institutional Study on OER and Student Success.

[9] Cross, W., Jacob, M., & Hansen, D. (2025). A Positive Agenda for Open Education as a Public Good.

[10] Proudman, V., Corti, P., & Stacey, P. (2025). Connecting the Opens.

Technologies of the self in academic librarianship

Some thoughts on the “why” of professional development.

Photo by Bohdan on Unsplash. Alt image: a multicolored ladder leaning on a gray stone wall.

Premium skills

I subscribe to Book Freak, a substack newsletter by Mark Frauenfelder. In short, each newsletter summarizes a few main takeaways from “great books and thinkers to help improve yourself, boost productivity, build the life you want, and generally live better.” I’ve found it a concise way to consider new ideas from authors I would otherwise not have time to read (as my teetering bedside stack of similar books gathers dust in lieu of fantasy/sci-fi).

In a recent issue, Frauenfelder covered some key points from So Good They Can’t Ignore You by Cal Newport, professor of computer science at Georgetown University and author of Deep Work. According to Book Freak, Newport advises that the best path to a tailored and meaningful career is via “the accumulation of ‘career capital’ — rare and valuable skills that can be traded for greater autonomy and impact.”

I mention Book Freak a) because I like it, and b) because I want to clarify that I have not read So Good They Can’t Ignore You—only a very short summary of some of its points. I’m sure there’s plenty of nuance I can’t speak to. That said, the advice to “Identify the core skills in your field that are both rare and valuable” and “Make a concrete plan to systematically improve these skills” spurred some thought about what those skills might be for an academic librarian. I asked a few mentors. Their response was mostly that specific valuable skills would depend on whichever area of librarianship one found themselves in, given the disparateness of academic library specializations; or perhaps that rare and valuable skills, like knowledge of scholarly communication intricacies in my case, is what qualifies one for specialized library positions in the first place. I’m curious what readers might posit as rare and valuable skills in their areas, or whether there are skills whose rarity and value would span all academic library positions.

Skills for whom?

Yet, a disheartening counterpoint to all of this is that rare and valuable skills won’t help you thrive or even save your job if your library is being stripped for parts. Brilliant librarians are being laid off at universities around the country (e.g. Duke, Northwestern, UC San Diego, Western Illinois). Some of these layoffs were the result of direct attacks on higher education; some were probably due to structural economic changes to the information landscape; all of them represent a devaluation of library work. In this climate, grinding for new skills doesn’t guarantee job security, although it may help with a career transition. Tressie McMillan Cottom has said in many places that the “institution does not/cannot love you.” Institutions exist to maintain themselves at whatever cost. I feel that a lot these days.

The logic of pursuing skills that might endear us to loveless institutions is a concrete example of how soft power influences the way we move through the world: what is valuable for us to spend our time learning is defined by what is useful to the institution, or to those in power within the institution, or in an even broader sense, by those with power through the generations. But, in a classic structure vs. agency paradigm, we retain some degree of human agency within and despite the visible and/or discursive structures that order our lives. Here, I’ll invoke some (probably tacky) Foucault, or rather a more digestible interpretation of his theory on “technologies of the self” from the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy:

“Subjects are not simply constructed by power; they themselves partake in that construction and modify themselves through practices of the self. They are not just docile bodies, but actively refuse, adopt and alter forms of being a subject. One way of contesting normalizing power is by shaping oneself and one’s lifestyle creatively: by exploring opportunities for new ways of being, new fields of experience, pleasures, relationships, modes of living and thinking.”

Threading the needle?

So, I close with two questions: a) what would “technologies of the self” look like for those of us working in academic libraries, and b) could they ever overlap with pursuit of “career capital” skills that are rare and valuable to institutions that cannot love us? In a practical sense, I’m not sure if resisting the institution is the way for more of us to keep our jobs… perhaps you are inherently a subject of the institution when you agree to receive a salary. I generally like what I understand my job to be, and I want to keep doing what seems worth doing. I also want to pursue skills and ideas and actions that align with my interest in stewarding information for the public good, but it’s hard to predict how higher educational institutions may or may not value that ideal in the future.

The best answer I can posit right now focuses on the word “creatively” in the encyclopedia quote above. After reflecting on my individual values and goals, I’d like to explore skills that will allow me to approach my work more experimentally and flexibly in alignment with those goals. Creativity may sound like a cliché thesis, but it’s easier said than done; it’s the highest tier of Bloom’s taxonomy, and it’s challenging to even identify how to increase creative capacity. Some of the skills I may explore through this approach to professional/personal development might be perceived as directly institutionally valuable, and some might not – via a course on fiction writing, for example. The overarching benefit would be my ability to do or create something with those skills that feels novel and generative and aligned with my professional values. The ability to be creative in one’s work tends to help the institution in the long run, even if the goal of shaping oneself creatively would be partly to resist normalizing power, in this case. To the institution’s credit: I’m not sure it counts as love, but I do appreciate the professional development stipend.