What 2.0 Means to Me

The “Library 2.0” tag appears in this month’s Technically Speaking column by Andrew Pace, and I was struck by the interpretation he promotes of “Library 2.0” as being solely defined by advances in technology. I won’t try to summarize Walt Crawford’s lengthy and largely critical review of the Library 2.0 discussion, but I will note a key piece of Pace’s column:

“Put simply, the 2.0 moniker denotes a next generation of Web technology.”

I disagree, or, rather, I agree that this is a simple way of putting it – too simple, really.

While most of the discussion around Library 2.0 has noted its connection to the (equally arcane) Web 2.0 discussion, to me the key is interaction and willingness to enhance library services in collaboration with our users. In the Wikipedia entry, we find “Library 2.0” defined, in part, as “information and ideas flowing in both directions – from the library to the user and from the user to the library” and this means a lot more than using blogs, OPACs or portals that allow users to tag favorite works, etc. – it means that the library is an open system, i.e., one that is characterized by permeable boundaries between the library and its user communities and local environment and one that is characterized by dynamic change (Birnbaum, 1988).

So, what does Library 2.0 mean to me? Let’s think about instruction.

In a “1.0” approach, information literacy instruction is wholly library-centered. Librarians identify instructional objectives based solely on their definition of what students need to know, and all instruction is provided by librarians in an environment largely divorced from the classroom. There is little attention given to student evaluation of the instruction provided, and little follow-up by the librarian based on the feedback provided. Now, don’t get me wrong, you can provide a lot of valuable instruction this way, and your students may even learn a lot of useful information skills (although you may not have much evidence of student learning beyond attendance statistics), but it’s not the future of instructional service in libraries.

In a “2.0” approach, information literacy instruction is integrated across the curriculum. The library serves as an instructional center on campus and as the hub for a campus-wide commitment to preparing students with the information skills needed for success in the 21st century (see the role of the Writing Center, and then read Elmborg & Hook, 2005). Assessment of student learning benefits from its integration into campus activities that foster input and interaction from student and faculty library users, including: (1) course assignments designed to demonstrate student information skills; (2) portfolio assessments that include assignments chosen for their demonstration of student mastery of information competencies; and (3) end-of-course assessments of student learning and student satisfaction (“Senior Surveys”) administered by academic programs or campus offices of institutional research. And, yes, you might meet those goals using an online course environment, a Web-based learning object, and an interactive tutorial, but those are simply the tools.

Likewise, it is very “2.0” to integrate information literacy instruction into campus educational opportunities outside the classroom, e.g., residence hall and Greek life education, and as part of staff development and faculty development programs sponsored by units such as Human Resources and the Center for Teaching Excellence. Both foster integration, interaction, user feedback, and permeable boundaries between library and other campus services – the very heart of the “Library 2.0” concept; the heart of the library as “open system.”

Finally, “Library 2.0” means that we’re committed to continual improvement, which strikes me as a much better way to identify that commitment than the more familiar, IT-based, phrase “Beta is forever.” I’ve been through enough bad OPAC upgrades (and you all know who you are!) to have a visceral reaction against the idea that “beta is forever,” but I’m perfectly comfortable saying that I (like the services I provide) am a work in progress, and a work that can always be improved through interaction with my peers and my users and through integration with broader services and initiatives embraced by my campus. Some of those services will be technology-based (e.g., a information literacy Weblog that I can use to alert faculty interested in the integration of ILI into their courses about new resources and questions to ask), but others are wholly human (e.g., working with a curriculum committee to identify end-of-program learning objectives for graduating students as relate to information skills).

Commitment to improve, commitment to assess, commitment to integrate, commitment to communicate – that’s my Library 2.0. I get there using the newest information technology and tried-and-true human technology. I don’t agree with Crawford’s conclusion that “Library 2.0 is hype,” but neither do I cede the notion entirely to those engaged primarily in discussions of technology. How about you?

Questioning The Value Of ALA Membership

Once again there is discussion in the biblioblogosphere about the value of joining ALA. You can read posts about it here and here. There are good points in both of these posts – and in the comments (though I had to take issue with Meredith’s remarks about ACRL – see my comments on her post), and many of us long-time members of ALA would do well to give thought to them. It seems that most of the concern of the younger generation is that membership in ALA is too costly and that it doesn’t provide an adequate forum for information sharing and connecting with colleagues. I’m not sure what ALA can do to make membership less costly. It’s already a bargain compared to other professional associations. As I said in my comments ALA and all the sections sponsor many programs and activities that could only be paid for by additional fees (e.g., belonging to a section, participating in an online workshop, etc.).

Why aren’t more library administrators supporting their younger members involvement in ACRL? Further, more needs to be done to get new librarians involved while in library school. I’m sure many of the schools have ALA chapters but I can’t comment on how active local librarians are in working with faculty to get students engaged. We need more discussion about and support for local initiatives.

Perhaps ALA could extend low cost memberships for the first few years of a new librarian’s career. I think I’d be willing to pay more to make it easier for new members to join at an early stage in their career. After all, if we don’t get these folks involved our association might not have a future.

There also has to be greater support for ALA and ACRL at the local and regional level. Since it is less expensive to participate locally, that is how many of us first get engaged in the national organization – so let’s capitalize on the existing network. ALA may be better off to allow newer members of the profession to participate locally at a lower membership rate than to have them be unable to join at all.

And with ALA’s evolving online community, these locally-oriented members could also have a voice in national level activity without needing to pay their way to national meetings. On the ACRL College Libraries Section committee I chair we get tremendous work done by email, phone calls, and virtual chat sessions.

I think we all, veterans and newbies, get more out of our ALA membership when we are actively involved. It all comes back to getting out of it what you put into it. However, if we don’t make it easier for folks to get in the door we can’t expect them to have the chance to put themselves into being an active member.

What if Libraries Were Run Like a Rapacious Corporation?

Remember when Steve Coffman asked us “what if you ran your library like a bookstore?” (American Libraries, March 1, 1998.) Not just any bookstore, but a mega-chain that has its books selected centrally and doesn’t pay its floor workers much because, hey, reference services are an unnecessary extravagance anyway.

Now digital media consultant Joseph Esposito asks “what if Wal-Mart ran a library?” He predicts our days are numbered because we’re simply too expensive and inefficient.

If Wal-Mart ran a library, there would be fewer libraries, but they would be much, much larger. Wal-Mart would study the entire supply chain, from authors all the way to readers, to root out inefficiencies. If a particular vendor proved to be hard to deal with, Wal-Mart would encourage other vendors to enter the area. Wherever possible, solutions would be sought with information technology rather than high-cost First World labor . . . It is not only the cost of academic journals that is unsustainable, but also the behavior of entire institutions that are currently operating outside the demands of a globalizing society steeped in industrial processes and a stubborn, if narrow, view of accountability.

Of course, if there were fewer libraries, and those that survived were run this way, we’d stop supporting academic programs that were small or unproven, we’d avoid stocking material that wasn’t sufficiently popular, we’d outsource as many functions as we could, and (like Coffman’s bookstore model) we wouldn’t bother building collections geared to local needs. Not to worry: higher ed as we know it is doomed, anyway.

We’d also be enough of a monopoly that we could bully publishers into meeting our terms. Lest you think “hey, he’s got a point” – consider SPARC and other efforts to reinvent scholarly communication. We’re already having an effect. But Esposito would disagree: he thinks open access is a bad idea and will end up costing more than traditional publishing, redirecting the expenses from libraries to authors and their institutions.

Terminal Degree For the Academic Librarian

This was a topic of discussion last week on COLLIB-L. Someone asked what the generally-accepted terminal degree for an academic librarian was at their institutions. The consensus, along with some ACRL guidelines, certainly pointed to the M.L.S. as the terminal degree for academic librarians. Of course these degree discussions usually encompass some conversation about the Ph.D. (or Ed.D) for academic librarians. Is it something that enhances one’s career? Is it just for library deans and directors? What makes more sense, a Ph.D. in library and information science, a subject discipline, or higher education administration? A visit to the COLLIB-L archives would provide access to past discussion about the pros and cons of the doctorate for academic librarians. My own position has been that while it can be helpful if contemplating a move to the upper echelon of administration (although as Mignon Adams pointed out in last week’s discussion, of several recent hires at the largest research libraries in the Philadelphia region, the majority – three out of four – had no earned doctorate), I would advise making the extensive effort involved only if one is truly passionate about earning the degree for the sake of doing so (personal challenge, desire to learn more, seeking advanced research and writing skills, etc.), not because of some belief that it will make you more qualified for a job than other candidates.

What brought the COLLIB-L discussion to mind was this interesting blog post about the Ph.D. glut, and the economics of doctoral education in higher education. The author’s primarily economic perspective is that supply and demand principles do not seem to apply to the Ph.D. market. Even though there is a glut, there seems to be no decline in the number of programs at academic institutions or people willing to take the spots in them. Among the comments made:

The American higher education system is structured by the professorate to reward those professors who teach small classes of graduate students. So, year after year, decade after decade, the supply of Ph.D.-holding students increases, despite an academic market that does not hire most of them, and hires a minority at wages that do not compensate them for the money and time invested in earning their degrees.

While this post isn’t directly related to the COLLIB-L discussion, it strikes me as worthwhile reading for all of us whether we are thinking about pursuing a Ph.D., already have one, or will be convinced by this author that it’s just not a good idea right now. It does bring to mind two thoughts: (1) Would we have programs like the CLIR Postdoctoral Fellowship in Scholarly Information Resources if there wasn’t a Ph.D. glut in the humanities? My cynical side continues to believe this was a program engineered by a few large research universities to manage their own glut of humanities Ph.D. graduates. Hey, let’s just ship them off to libraries. Perhaps the program is placing these Ph.D.s who have no MLS in ways that are helping libraries. Other than my own skepticism I have no evidence that the program is hurting the profession; (2) Now that IMLS funds are fueling new scholarships (see priority #2) for Ph.D.s in LIS programs will we soon see a glut of our own Ph.D. holders? Though I’m not aware of a current or pending shortage of LIS faculty, perhaps the same wave of retirements that is supposed to open loads of jobs for new MLS holders will do the same for LIS Ph.D.s.

I’m pretty sure that this “should I get/do I need a Ph.D.” discussion thread on COLLIB-L will come up from time to time. It’s seems to be a perennial question that MLS holders ask themselves. Perhaps it’s just a natural consequence of our career insecurity and perceived lack of respect in higher education.

Professional Prize Proliferation

Ever think there are just way too many prizes and awards being handed out in the library profession. From the top of the heap (I see Library Journal just named its “Librarian of the Year“) to, well, just name it – there’s an award for just about everything in this profession (ILL, serials, book reviewing…) created by just about every association at every level – there are just so many awards and prizes being dealt out to academic and other librarians that the value of awards in an age of prize proliferation is being brought into question.

Prompting my thinking about prize proliferation is the recent discovery of the work of James English, a University of Pennsylvania English professor who speaks with some authority on the subject. His new book, The Economy of Prestige: Prizes, Awards, and the Circulation of Cultural Value argues that we have become a culture saturated with prizes and awards. There are over 9,000 annual awards in the film industry alone. The library profession certainly has fewer, but it does seems that every time one picks up a professional journal there are more than just a few award announcements.

While English points out a number of flaws in a world of award excess, he insists they do have some value. In a profession such as ours, that receives little recognition from the world at large, the proliferation of prizes may help us to acknowledge that we make an important contribution – one worthy of awards. Are there too many? Should we insist on the elimination of many librarian awards so that the remaining few would be quite significant and leave no doubt as to their value and meaning? I guess we might all agree with what English has to say about that matter. “There aren’t too many prizes until I’ve won more of them.”