“What are your research interests?” “Hmm. I’ll get back to you.”

Commonalities across first-year academic librarians (FYALs) may or may not include imposter syndrome, teaching jitters, too much coffee, and navigating the life of an academic. A large part of what an academic is stems from their identity as a researcher, but as new librarians entering the university system for the first time, it is something to be reckoned with. Scholarly responsibilities, academic service, professional development, and others are all expected, but how do fresh library school graduates tackle these aspects while linearly following an interest that just makes sense?

Now more than halfway through our first year as early-career librarians, the FYALs, Eleanor, Lisa, and M, wanted to share a peek into the thought processes in tackling the giant monster that consists of finding a research interest.

Lisa: A Sea of Information, Even Within Myself

On Academic CV templates, the two sections that I always struggled with the most to fill were teaching philosophies and research philosophies. One of the first goals that I put for myself in the beginning of the school year was actually to find my identity as an instructor-researcher. Immediately, something my supervisor commented on was how it would be a long journey, often taking several years to really refine and clearly develop.

Acknowledging that it would be a multi-year process, I started reading about different ways scholars describe their methods of conducting research and presenting their work, and an idea that I appreciated was the notion of a praxis. Borrowing ideas from critical race theory, the intersecting effects of identity, race, emotions, and critically examining how these elements coexist in research was a perspective that I didn’t think to bring into my daily work. Even though I am a research librarian by job title and supporting specific departments in Health Sciences and STEM, elements of myself bleed into the work that I do, whether subconsciously or consciously. Consequently, my thought process was that once my identity as a researcher was settled, I would be able to examine the big picture and see new perspectives that I contribute to.

Although this is most definitely still a work in progress, I notice myself slowly finding projects that I continue to gravitate towards, words that I enjoy writing or reading more about, or research that makes me realize how fast time flies by. I am still very much tying up the shoelaces of my student projects and have been learning how to balance my work between teaching, consults, outreach, and my own research. Although I definitely do not feel like I have things under control right now, I hope to have some sort of routine where I will be able to balance the percentages of responsibilities and find myself with a clear identity as a librarian-instructor-researcher.

M: Is It All Just Research?

When I decided to go into academic libraries, I started hearing right away about how research was a key component of those jobs, so I would need to have a good answer for questions like “tell me about your research interests.” Initially, I used my master’s paper topic to answer that question, which was convenient – but it was really a cover up for the fact that I had no idea what “conducting research” actually meant.

Until very recently, when I’ve thought about “conducting research,” I’ve pictured a long process that involves choosing a topic, developing a research question, getting IRB (Institutional Review Board) approval, designing and conducting a study/survey/interviews/focus groups, writing a paper about the findings, and getting it published in a peer-reviewed journal. The concept of trying to take that on, by myself or with a peer, and fit it in around other work has been overwhelming, but I thought I would have to make it happen somehow, because what else could research mean?

There’s a group of new and new-ish librarians at my institution who have formed a group to read and discuss journal articles, share about projects we’ve been working on, and discuss things we’ve learned. At our most recent meeting, the topics of “finding a research interest” and “conducting research” came up. I was relieved to learn that I wasn’t the only one who was confused about what those phrases meant – in fact, most of us had the same questions. One colleague who has been an academic librarian for several years shared how she thinks about research, and her views were incredibly helpful. She said that from her perspective, almost all of the work we do every day is research. Learning about a new topic to help a student in a reference interview? That’s research. Developing a new workshop on an unfamiliar topic? That’s research. Coming up with a new process or procedure to make your workflow more efficient? That’s research, too – because in all of these cases, we’re investigating key questions, learning new things, and teaching them to others – and our findings from all of those instances are worthy of presentations and publications. It’s really just research all the way down.

Eleanor: Creativity is Research, Too

In addition to being a librarian, I’m also a writer. A year ago, I thought these two parts of myself were totally unrelated. But as I’ve begun thinking about myself as a librarian researcher, I’m drawn to the possibilities of a creative-critical practice.

Creative-critical research blends traditional scholarship with some kind of artistic expression, such as creative nonfiction, digital media, or performance art. While some may dismiss creative-critical research as “just” creative writing (and I would challenge that use of “just”!), creative-critical research is in fact powered by deep engagement with data, history, case studies, and critical theory.

One of my favorite examples of creative-critical library research is “Invisible Stitches: A Semester at the Reference Desk, Quilted” (Weidner, 2025), a quilting project that foregrounds the “process” in “research process” and challenges the depersonalization of library labor. In her article, Weidner discusses the “Is it research?” question, noting how some viewers rejected the idea of quilting as creative-critical research. I see a connection between this dismissal and how other feminized labor, such as librarianship and teaching, is often devalued in the academy’s traditionally masculine culture.

At a time when libraries are under persistent attack, a creative-critical approach helps us translate our work and research into impactful stories that excite our patrons. It can help challenge artificial hierarchies within the culture of research and welcome valuable, “non-traditional” ways of developing and deepening our collective knowledge into the academy.

The Bigger Picture: The Value of Librarians as Researchers

As the three of us discussed our personal experiences with research, we noticed several discrepancies. M is expected to do research in order to succeed in their role, but they are ineligible for faculty status and the benefits that come with it, such as tenure, increased academic freedom protections, and participation in university governance. On the other hand, Eleanor is a term faculty member, but she is not expected to do research (instead, her portfolio focuses on teaching and service). Lisa’s institution offers a mix of these two models. Librarians and faculty are in the same union, but librarians are reviewed for “continuing appointment” after a “preliminary appointment.” When we were applying for jobs last year, we all found it difficult to identify where our prospective employers fell on this spectrum.

Much of this varies from institution to institution, but we think our experiences represent several troubling trends across higher education. Fewer and fewer institutions of higher education grant faculty status to librarians, but they may still expect their staff librarians to take on faculty-type duties (such as research and teaching) without the support that would be provided to faculty. At a time when both higher education and libraries are facing widespread attacks, it’s more critical than ever for our institutions to provide librarians with substantial academic freedom protections as we engage in the teaching and research they ask of us. When librarians still have faculty status, we also suffer from the “adjunctification” of higher education. Tenure-track positions are dwindling in favor of adjunct and term positions, which may not provide research support and certainly offer less stability. What do these trends indicate about how higher education values (or doesn’t value) librarians as researchers?

Our expertise is information seeking and evaluation, which is important to disciplines across campus. At a time when the information world is transforming at a dizzying pace, we think it’s essential that higher education recalls the value of librarians as researchers–not just rhetorically, but through concrete, worker-friendly and intellectual freedom-first policies that make it easier for librarians to do meaningful research.

Some Thoughts on Showing Up for Students and Overcoming Discouragement

I returned to library instruction this week bearing mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was excited to return to teaching after a pause between December and February that was replaced by other work priorities. I missed building connections in instruction sessions and individual consultations with first-year students and course instructors and navigating the library’s many materials and resources as a new employee. On the other hand, I returned with a great weight on my soul. The same December-February period has seen a series of assaults on information access that are too many to describe in just one post but include the scrubbing of data and resources from federal department and agency websites without notice and the downstream effect that government funding cuts will have on potentially impactful research. I mention this example not to revisit everything that has happened in Washington over the past several weeks but to say that I carried what was happening nationally in my mind and body.

The conflicted state I felt is one that many academic librarians across the country are very likely feeling. In these uncertain times, how we can best show up for our students and guide them toward becoming critical and responsible information users is a question that is more important and complex than ever. As a Black librarian, these questions are amplified by my concern for other students of color at my institution and my professional aim of creating a library space that is safe and inclusive—both now threatened by the undermining of DEI efforts on the federal level and increasingly in higher education nationwide.

As challenging as it will be with the brevity of one-shot instruction, consultations, and reference interactions, here are some ways I want to show up for my students this year:

Listen with intention and empathy: Having the patience to pay attention to what students are saying and the struggles they might face that are difficult to communicate.
Reinforce that I am a resource for different kinds of information: Remind students during classes, consultations, and more extended reference interactions that I can help them find things they need that are not just research-related.
Employ principles of trauma-informed teaching: Constantly be aware of stressful events and issues on campus and beyond that are potentially impacting my students and create a learning environment of safety, trust, autonomy, and support where appropriate and possible.
Model vulnerability and authenticity: Be honest with students about my struggles with research and library use and emphasize that I am growing like them.
Meet students where they are: Remember that, to borrow the focus of Dr. Carol Kuhlthau’s seminal research, the information search process will be different for each student and necessitates me working with them at the place they are at rather than pushing them to the “right” way of finding information first.

Whether I can meet even one of these goals remains as unclear as the direction of this administration. But even beyond the stress and nerves of teaching, two feelings I will likely struggle with this year are discouragement and disillusionment triggered by the state of the country and the fracturing of truth and fact due to mis and disinformation primarily online but also increasingly from unregulated artificial intelligence. In moments like these, it is vital to remind myself of the purpose of my role as a librarian–to support students in finding the information they need and equipping them with research skills they can use in college and life.

A few years ago, amid a challenging season of loss, a close artist friend of my partner and I named Soyoung Kim gifted us a watercolor sketch that we keep in our office. The sketch depicts a sailboat bobbing over blue waves with the following words on the bottom center: Advice for Discouraged Sailors 1. Stop 2. Steady Your Boat 3. Study Your Compass 4. Seek The Wind.

Image Credit: Soyoung Kim, 2023. See more of Soyoung’s work here!

As we journey into the deeper, busier waters of this semester and the uncertainty of this year, as we meet discouragements, disappointments, and failures, may we remember to pause, refocus, return to what inspired us to work in academic libraries, and pay attention what this work is calling us to do in these times.

LibParlor Online Learning is live(!) & takeaways from launching a big project

This post serves two purposes – promotion of a new curriculum that launched this fall aimed at supporting LIS professionals in developing their research skills and a chance for me to reflect on some takeaways I had from launching a big (IMLS funded) project.

In 2017, I helped start The Librarian Parlor, LibParlor for short. It started as a blog on WordPress where folks could share stories, tips, strategies, and lessons on doing research in LIS. As the blog grew, we heard from the community that they wanted more. As we thought about what that more could look like, the idea of an openly available curriculum arose. Long story short, we spent a lot of time in Google Docs putting together a proposal for an IMLS grant. We were fortunate to be awarded a Laura Bush 21st Century Grant in 2021. Over the last three years, we’ve collaborated with so many wonderful folks in the field to put together LibParlor Online Learning (LPOL). We launched the curriculum this fall and are working to get the word out!

What is LPOL?

LPOL is a free, openly-available “living” curriculum for library workers who want to develop their research skills. The curriculum in its entirety is six courses, each with lessons, readings, and activities. LPOL starts with reflecting on who we are as researchers, moves into the LIS research process, our methodologies, planning for a project, the writing and editing, the publication and review process, and wraps it up with having you compile a final research plan. We envision that learners might complete the whole curriculum from start to finish, or pick up pieces of the curriculum, depending on what they need.

Our curriculum is guided by the following learning outcomes:

Develop and articulate a personal understanding of their research identity and values in order to create short- and long-term research goals
Identify and navigate the institutional and professional systems that intersect with LIS research in their given context
Describe the LIS research process and articulate disciplinary norms in order to make informed decisions about their own research projects
Assess various LIS research methodologies in order to choose an appropriate approach for their own projects
Apply project planning skills and strategies in order to develop a research proposal and timeline
Critically evaluate the field of LIS research in order to advocate for change and promote an inclusive, supportive, and rigorous research community

One of the many things I love about this curriculum is how it was co-created. During the grant, we hosted an in-person and virtual forum to get ideas and shape the curriculum. We then recruited a group of incredible colleagues who took these big ideas and wrote the lessons, identified readings, and designed activities. Before we formally launched LPOL, we also had a group of pilot participants test the curriculum out and provided actionable feedback we could implement. What you see today is a culmination of teamwork and collaboration that we hope makes the curriculum meaningfully and useful to library workers.

Okay, LPOL sounds cool/useful. How do I get started?

It’s really easy to get started. We’ve distilled it down into three steps:

Register for an account. While you don’t need an account to access the curriculum, we recommend creating one, as this allows you to track your progress and also helps us assess the curriculum’s impact and efficacy.
Download our LPOL Workbook. This workbook contains all of the activities throughout the curriculum. Once you download the workbook, you can use it however it’s most useful to you.
Dive into the curriculum. Our curriculum home page has additional information on our courses and lessons and or you can explore our full curriculum to decide what you’ll do first!

Lessons Learned

As this IMLS grant wraps up at the end of the year, I’ve also been thinking a lot about what I’ve learned from this experience. Being a part of this grant has been my largest, long-term project I’ve worked on in my professional life. Here are some of my takeaways:

Things don’t always go as planned so build in flex time and be okay with making revisions: When you’re building a timeline for the future, you truly don’t know what will happen. For us, we had to navigate a pandemic, support one another through job and life changes, and work with our collaborators to move things forward like hiring folks and paying people (ahh bureaucracy). Even though we thought we built a flexible timeline, we still made additional revisions. We got better as the grant went on with building in even more flex time and recognizing when we needed to extend something. In order to do our best work, we needed more time and that’s okay!
Co-creating takes time and is so worth it: LibParlor has always been about co-creation, but it was wonderful to see this co-creation play out in creating the curriculum. One of my favorite parts of the grant was helping to facilitate conversations about what should be put in the curriculum. We had all of these wonderful ideas and perspectives and that shaped what you see today in LPOL. I really feel like the curriculum pulls together so many themes and ideas from our community. And while we couldn’t use all the ideas (because then the curriculum would never end), we have some really good ideas for the future! Which leads nicely to my last takeaway…
Even when the grant ends, the work continues: Even though we wrote about the sustainability of the project in our IMLS application, it’s one thing to write about it and another thing to actually do it! As the grant winds down, we are talking a lot about what’s next. What edits to the curriculum will we make? How will we continue to promote it? How do we keep building a community from those who participate in LPOL? These are all important questions that we don’t have all the answers to. As we get ready to transition into life post grant, we know there’s still a lot of exciting work ahead.

In many ways, these takeaways have also benefited my day-to-day work life. Leading a teaching and learning department is a long-term project and so participating in LPOL has shaped how I approach this kind of work with my team.

Final thoughts

I’m grateful for the chance to be a part of this grant. I’m proud of the work we did and excited to see how others might use LPOL. I’d love to hear from you, our readers. What excites you about the curriculum? Do you see ways you might use LPOL? I’d love to hear from you in the comments!

You Should Really Think About Publishing Something

It’s a piece of “advice” we’ve all received at some point or another in our academic librarian career. We may be on the tenure-track, in a continuing appointment position, promotion eligible, or classified as administrative staff. But at some point we’ve all heard some variation of the following statement:

You should really think about publishing something.

Sometimes it’s said in passing by a colleague who received similar feedback at some point. Others times it comes up in conversations with supervisors, mentors, or department chairs. It might be a breezy statement or one laced with concern. It frequently shows up around review or promotion time or sometimes just when someone happens to look at a cv or think it might be appropriate. When and how it comes into being, it remains a supremely unhelpful statement. It’s the kind of statement that causes more angst and stress than positive action. It reinforces the idea that a line on a CV is what’s important. It has the potential to create writing prompted by fear and/or a desire to “get a name out there” or just to “get something published.”

Those of us who teach and work with undergraduate students focus on helping students value their curiosity and prior knowledge so that they can cultivate their own research interests and produce work that elicits pride. We don’t tell students that they should just “write something.” We ask them to think about what sparks their interest. In our classes we practice asking questions rooted in curiosity and wanting to know more about an idea or subject. We focus on research as an iterative process and the way that new ideas emerge from the reading we do, the conversations we have, and the thoughts with which we wrestle. We do this because it helps students improve their thinking and writing, and it creates a connection to their work. I want us to have this time connection to our own work.

A friend and colleague once told me that their most productive writing time was the year after their sabbatical year. That year off from teaching and service work gave them a chance to read, explore different ideas, and find space for themselves within a meaningful academic conversation. That’s the difficult stuff–the stuff that takes the most time. Instead of saying “You really should think about publishing something,” we could encourage reading, questioning, and exploration. We could make time in our workplaces–which might mean dropping something else–for professional reading. We could share our own research interests and ideas with our newer colleagues and help them spark their own interests. We could ask questions about their practice, listen to their ideas and concerns, and encourage their interests. Small questions are sometimes the most interesting! Would could embrace the practice of curiosity.

There are so many more productive, helpful things we can say and do to encourage writing and research within academic librarianship. What was the most helpful piece of advice you’ve received?

Weaving It Together

Image from "Technology of textile design. Being a practical treatise on the construction and application of weaves for all textile fabrics, with minute reference to the latest inventions for weaving" by E.A. Posselt is in the public domain. Courtesy of the Internet Archive via Flickr. — Image from “Technology of textile design. Being a practical treatise on the construction and application of weaves for all textile fabrics, with minute reference to the latest inventions for weaving” by E.A. Posselt (1899) is in the public domain. Courtesy of the Internet Archive via Flickr.

I recently finished writing my narrative statement for my second year tenure review file. It felt like pulling teeth. The statement required me to weave together the aspects of my work as well as my research and service to tell a meaningful personal story about my professional purpose and goals. The other sections of the file–the description of accomplishments, presentations and publications, committee work, etc.–were a piece of cake by comparison. I’m not sure why the statement felt quite so difficult, but, boy, did it ever.

All my teeth-gnashing about my narrative statement made me think about a program I developed with colleagues this semester, a series of panel discussions that we called “From Concept to Creation: Uncovering the Making of Scholarly and Creative Accomplishments.” We developed this program in order to celebrate the work of our faculty and staff. Even more importantly, though, the idea for this series grew out of a desire to share stories within our campus community about how we engage in research and creative work. We wanted to host conversations about process, not just product. In sharing a behind-the-scenes look at their work, we were hoping panelists would reveal their steps and stages, but also the information literacy and digital literacy skills, habits, and attitudes that were important to each project. I was excited about the potential of this panel series because I think uncovering process is not just interesting, but empowering. And by increasing the transparency of their component parts, we hoped these kinds of research experiences might feel more approachable to our students.

In conversations with panelists as we prepared for the series, we offered guiding questions they might consider as they prepared their remarks like the following: How did you take your first steps?, How did you ask questions?, How did you identify a path for your research?, How did you engage with other scholars’ work on the topic to develop your own?, How did your work change course during the process?, What attitudes were important to your process?, What skills and tools were key to your process?, How did you gather/organize/analyze data?, How did you draw conclusions?, and What did you learn along the way?.

I had imagined panelists would likely select a particular publication or project and discuss some aspects of its development. Instead, most chose to talk about their undergraduate experiences and their entry into graduate work or their field. Panelists described choices they made, challenges they encountered, and how their paths changed over time. Embedded in each of their stories, too, were practices and perspectives related to information literacy that seemed to me to have been crucial to their process.

What strikes me most now, though, is how each panelist interpreted the program theme and the guiding questions and how they chose to tell the story of their work. When my collaborator and I asked our colleagues to talk about their research processes, I didn’t give much thought to how personal their stories might be. As I reflect on the difficulty I felt in drafting my narrative statement, I’m thinking about the balance I, too, was trying to strike. I’m thinking now about how we weave together process and purpose, personal and professional to help focus and understand our work.