While I drove home with a friend from a wedding in Evansville, talk centered on technology, reading and children. My friend, Joan, is a special ed teacher and mother of two in their twenties. Her daughter just got a job as a librarian in Edmonton, Canada. She and her husband are computer literate and use computers on a daily basis at work and at home as an educational, artistic, organizational and communicative tool.
So I was surprised when I asked her if she’d ever heard of Second Life and/or World of Warcraft, and she said no. I told her that WoW is a medieval online game with wizards, trolls, and warriors where players act out their fantasies in battle. She didn’t like the name or the violent nature of the game. I told her about Second Life and its avatars, and how two friends got into an argument over the selling of one’s avatar by the other on e-bay for over $1000. I told her that the avatar’s creator got so mad over the sale and over the seller’s refusal to share the profit that he murdered him, really, in real life. She was stunned. She expressed concern about youth’s apparent need to escape this world for a virtual one. She asked me if children really were playing this game, and I said that I thought they were in large numbers, esp. teens. I said that teens played it a lot on library computers. She asked me if I considered that fulfilling the library’s mission. That was a stumper.
On one hand, I want with all my being to shield children from these games, just as I want to shield them from real violence and war. It seems to me, though, that teens who play WoW and Second Life are not escaping this world but actually safely mimicking it and exploring it virtually to see how well they navigate their way in it. Why should it surprise us that children choose to fight virtually when news and consequences of real warfare surround them? For many, war is panting at the finish line of 12th grade. If I were a young adult, I would be thinking a lot about how I would perform in the face of violence, be it in Iraq or at school. I know my teens did when Columbine happened. Since 2003 I have watched the Greencastle armory marquis promise to a new recruit, first, $1000, and then $10,000, and today, $60,000! If I were a young adult male, I would surely want to know if I had what it takes to be a “real” man – i.e., as defined by our culture, to fight in battle to victory. At least, in WoW and Second Life, the fighting is virtual, and destroyed avatars can be resurrected. In real life, children are baited with bribes to commit the greatest sin – war. And they do it because they see it as a way to gain societal rewards of respect, money, glory and honor. Even more, they hope to find camaraderie in the military, as I’m sure they do online in WoW.
So, although I could not answer Joan when she posed the question about whether allowing patrons to play WoW fulfilled the library’s mission, I would say now that it does fulfill its mission. It does so because it is facilitating lifelong learning. The fact that children are using library computers to learn how to conduct oneself in battle is a sad commentary on America’s dreams for its children. Children feel the need to immerse themselves in virtual violence as a way to prepare for what’s fast approaching --society’s expectation that they will sacrifice themselves to it in reality.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Desktop conferencing
An article in October’s “American Libraries” by Meredith Farkas, called, “Learning on a Shoestring” (p45) caused me to ponder the pros and cons of long-distance conferencing.
Farkas is convincing – “Your next conference may be on your desktop.” The pros of online conferences are obvious: one saves time, money and days off as down-time (not conference time), and those whose jobs do not include perks such as conference travel can acquire professional development by attending conferences on line. Indeed, modern technology links us to experts, with whom we can carry on conversations about the latest issues in technology and libraries. Farkas points out that live web programming is free and can be for patrons not just for staff. Farkas, who calls these online programs “class acts,” might inadvertently be addressing the best aspect of online programs – that they can minimize class divides by looping in more rank-and-file people who, for whatever reason, do not enjoy privileges, such as travel and conferencing.
The good news for this swath of folks is called OPAL – Online Programming for All Libraries (www.opal-online.org). This program reminds me of ILL in that it is a collaborative effort among libraries and organizations offering online programming to staff and patrons. By pooling their resources they can pay for the expensive web-conferencing software. If people miss a conference, they can access the OPAL archives, freely download the conference and listen to it in the comfort of their computer room.
Besides OPAL, there’s SirsiDynix Institute (www.sirsidynixinstitute.com), which offers “webinars” led by regular keynote speakers at conferences. I attended one of these on virtual gaming, and I found it very interesting. I downloaded and printed out the power point presentation and put it in a binder for staff at my library, who found it very interesting.
The cons about online conferencing for me are, it’s a less natural setting. Also, you don’t get a change of scene from the normal workplace. There isn’t the kind of face-to-face interaction (social networking) that invigorates and can be a catalyst for new possibilities both professionally and personally. Travelling to other cities and places is thrilling and expands one’s view. It offers opportunities to see other libraries, too. I am infused with new energy after travelling. Staying home too long nurses a static feeling in me. There is nothing like live conferences. It’s a lot like live theatre. Mel Brooks said in an interview in a recent Newsweek that you don’t get goose bumps from a movie, but you always get them from good live theatre. There’s a charge linked to live interaction that you just don’t get online. Finally, what about serendipity? That is, the times at a conference when you decide to go to this program instead of another and it makes a huge impression. That’s a wonderful occurrence that won’t happen with webinars. And live discourse is more exciting and naturally unfolding than that of long-distance conferencing.
However, I seek inspiration just a few times a year. Inbetween, webinars and online programming suit me just fine. Online programming meets many educational and financial needs, as Farkas points out: “There is so much useful information being shared in the online world these days that anyone can continue their education without spending a dime.” As always with history and progress, it doesn’t make sense to insist on pitting new against old. Why not use all available opportunities and recognize that each is unique and all can be used to our advantage?
Farkas is convincing – “Your next conference may be on your desktop.” The pros of online conferences are obvious: one saves time, money and days off as down-time (not conference time), and those whose jobs do not include perks such as conference travel can acquire professional development by attending conferences on line. Indeed, modern technology links us to experts, with whom we can carry on conversations about the latest issues in technology and libraries. Farkas points out that live web programming is free and can be for patrons not just for staff. Farkas, who calls these online programs “class acts,” might inadvertently be addressing the best aspect of online programs – that they can minimize class divides by looping in more rank-and-file people who, for whatever reason, do not enjoy privileges, such as travel and conferencing.
The good news for this swath of folks is called OPAL – Online Programming for All Libraries (www.opal-online.org). This program reminds me of ILL in that it is a collaborative effort among libraries and organizations offering online programming to staff and patrons. By pooling their resources they can pay for the expensive web-conferencing software. If people miss a conference, they can access the OPAL archives, freely download the conference and listen to it in the comfort of their computer room.
Besides OPAL, there’s SirsiDynix Institute (www.sirsidynixinstitute.com), which offers “webinars” led by regular keynote speakers at conferences. I attended one of these on virtual gaming, and I found it very interesting. I downloaded and printed out the power point presentation and put it in a binder for staff at my library, who found it very interesting.
The cons about online conferencing for me are, it’s a less natural setting. Also, you don’t get a change of scene from the normal workplace. There isn’t the kind of face-to-face interaction (social networking) that invigorates and can be a catalyst for new possibilities both professionally and personally. Travelling to other cities and places is thrilling and expands one’s view. It offers opportunities to see other libraries, too. I am infused with new energy after travelling. Staying home too long nurses a static feeling in me. There is nothing like live conferences. It’s a lot like live theatre. Mel Brooks said in an interview in a recent Newsweek that you don’t get goose bumps from a movie, but you always get them from good live theatre. There’s a charge linked to live interaction that you just don’t get online. Finally, what about serendipity? That is, the times at a conference when you decide to go to this program instead of another and it makes a huge impression. That’s a wonderful occurrence that won’t happen with webinars. And live discourse is more exciting and naturally unfolding than that of long-distance conferencing.
However, I seek inspiration just a few times a year. Inbetween, webinars and online programming suit me just fine. Online programming meets many educational and financial needs, as Farkas points out: “There is so much useful information being shared in the online world these days that anyone can continue their education without spending a dime.” As always with history and progress, it doesn’t make sense to insist on pitting new against old. Why not use all available opportunities and recognize that each is unique and all can be used to our advantage?
Friday, November 9, 2007
A Walk in London
I went out for what was supposed to be a quick morning walk in London, Ontario, today, and stumbled upon three treasures – the London Public Library and two 80+ year old women, one named Gladys and the other, Jean.
Believe it or not, the London Public Library – the Central Library – is located in a mall in the heart of this economically-depressed city to find the library right in front of me! Unfortunately, it was closed today for staff development, so I peered into the windows to catch a glimpse of the inside. Right away, I saw a few things that I liked, so I whipped out my little travel log to take note of them. For example, inviting salmon and azure-colored signage over the information desk reads “Welcome Desk” and over the computer stations, (which are referred to as “viewing stations”), signage reads “Discovery Place.” A security guard manning the door asked if I needed help. I started to tell him that I was a library science student from Indiana who was very interested in this library in the mall when a little old lady appeared at my side. She touched my arm and told me that her friend was sitting nearby and was the library’s most devoted patron and could tell me everything anyone would ever want to know about it. Maybe it was the lady’s big twinkling eyes that were made even larger by the thick lenses of her eyeglasses, but I liked what I saw and accepted her offer. Soon the three of us were sitting together on a mall bench – Jean, an Englishwoman, and Gladys, a Scotswoman, and I, a descendent of English and Scottish immigrants to New Brunswick who later walked across the border from Truro into northern Maine.
Jean introduced me to Gladys, and I began asking questions about the library and their feelings about technology. Turns out, the library moved to the mall five years ago for three reasons -- space, modernization, and downtown revitalization. It had been located in a grand, old, stone edifice which now stands empty, for lease. The new library is up-to-date technologically and has many computers, an underground parking lot, a café, extra rooms, and a courtyard with a garden called “The Reading Garden”. In the summer, people can go read in the garden. Gladys said that many immigrants from Jamaica, the West Indies, South America and the Mid-east live in London and take ENL classes at the public library.
Across from the library inside the mall is the library bookstore, where volunteers sell weeded and donated books are sold to benefit the library. Also in this space are meeting rooms and a performance hall, where the Spriet Children’s Theatre of London often performs. City leaders hoped that moving the central library to the mall would attract people and revitalize the city center, but this did not happen, according to Gladys – lots of people come to library, but then they return to their car in the free underground parking lot and go home.
Gladys, who has had a library card since she was seven years old, remarked, “Reading is something that isn’t hereditary, but when you see everyone around you reading, as I did – my parents and older brother -- then you read, too.”
“How do you feel about technology?”—I asked my new-found friends. Jean piped up, “We don’t have cell phones because everything on them is too small for me to read” . . . “And my fingers are too arthritic to push the buttons,” added Gladys.” Gladys continued, “I wish I’d been born a little later so I could have learned it. It’s too hard to learn now.” “But how do you manage without using it?” I pushed. “We holler for young people to help us, and they always do. I was in a bind the other day and needed to make a phone call, and a young man said, “I have a cell phone, would you like to use it?’ So I told him the number, and then I talked into that tiny thing and everything worked out. Young people are very kind to us.” “But how do you get information to figure out medical prescription programs?” – I foolishly asked. They both looked at me soberly and explained that they pay $100 a year for all their medicines! They told me that many Americans come to Canada for prescription drugs because often, one pill can cost $50. “Why can’t you do something about that in the States?” – they both asked. I said that whenever anyone tries to, cries fly about socialized medicine, and whoever brought it up is called a communist. Then, everyone suffers, and the ones crying communist drive to Canada to get their prescription drugs.
“How do you feel about the effect of technology on children?” – I asked. Gladys replied that her grand-nephew is studying political science and told her that he searches for sources on the internet but always has to get books to research his topics thoroughly. “I think children should not be introduced to computers until middle school,” said Gladys. “They should just read books and learn from people until then. Technology is good for keeping us in touch with each other and with sources of information, but it’s bad because it separates people from actual social contact and their background. They’re so busy thinking about what they’re doing, and they’re moving so fast to shape the future that they don’t know about the people who made the technology. They don’t know enough or value enough the past.”
They were two very intelligent ladies. Both were retired nurses. Jean was 11 when the Nazis bombed England. She grew up in Stratford-on-Avon. She remembers one afternoon in the summer of 1940 when a buzz bomb approached. Jean said, “You knew it was going to fall if the motor stopped. My mother said, ‘I wonder who the blokes are that are going to suffer tonight.’ Later in the evening my father announced that he was going outside to read the newspaper. I followed him out and watched him read the newspaper by the light of Coventry burning fifteen miles away. The Germans bombed Coventry because there was an ammunitions plant there. The sky glowed all night long. And you know, the German scientist who made the buzz bomb – von Braun – was recruited by the United States at the end of the war to help with American technology. He lived a rich, good life in California ‘til the end of his days. He should have been sent to England for crimes against humanity. Instead, he got off scot free. He never had to pay for crimes against humanity. Then, two planes crash into the World Trade Center, and the whole world is in an uproar! But no one talks about the bombing that the English took day after day during the war. No, now people apologize to the Japanese for bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki and to the Germans for bombing Dresden and Cologne! It’s incredible! The people who started it should be apologizing for what they did. War is more than immoral. It’s, it’s . . . I can’t find the right words to say what it is. It’s awful. When I was working AS a nurse in Birmingham in 1947, a 25-year-old man came in with a disease he got during the war. British soldiers often came home with tropical diseases. He had worked in a Japanese slave labor camp where he had to build a railroad. Well, the doctors had to do a spleenectomy on him, and he died. He survived a Japanese labor camp and made it home just to die. Now, spleenectomies are done all the time, and people survive them just fine. When I told Jean that a lawyer from Greencastle imported a buzz bomb and put it on a pedestal on our local square, where I see it every day, she said, “That is just ghastly. I don’t ever want to see one. I wish they had never been invented. But there you have it – there are benefits to technology, but it’s so often used for destruction.”
The time came to say goodbye. I watched the friends shuffle away with their handcarts knowing I would never see them again but understanding that I would never forget how we met or what they said.
Believe it or not, the London Public Library – the Central Library – is located in a mall in the heart of this economically-depressed city to find the library right in front of me! Unfortunately, it was closed today for staff development, so I peered into the windows to catch a glimpse of the inside. Right away, I saw a few things that I liked, so I whipped out my little travel log to take note of them. For example, inviting salmon and azure-colored signage over the information desk reads “Welcome Desk” and over the computer stations, (which are referred to as “viewing stations”), signage reads “Discovery Place.” A security guard manning the door asked if I needed help. I started to tell him that I was a library science student from Indiana who was very interested in this library in the mall when a little old lady appeared at my side. She touched my arm and told me that her friend was sitting nearby and was the library’s most devoted patron and could tell me everything anyone would ever want to know about it. Maybe it was the lady’s big twinkling eyes that were made even larger by the thick lenses of her eyeglasses, but I liked what I saw and accepted her offer. Soon the three of us were sitting together on a mall bench – Jean, an Englishwoman, and Gladys, a Scotswoman, and I, a descendent of English and Scottish immigrants to New Brunswick who later walked across the border from Truro into northern Maine.
Jean introduced me to Gladys, and I began asking questions about the library and their feelings about technology. Turns out, the library moved to the mall five years ago for three reasons -- space, modernization, and downtown revitalization. It had been located in a grand, old, stone edifice which now stands empty, for lease. The new library is up-to-date technologically and has many computers, an underground parking lot, a café, extra rooms, and a courtyard with a garden called “The Reading Garden”. In the summer, people can go read in the garden. Gladys said that many immigrants from Jamaica, the West Indies, South America and the Mid-east live in London and take ENL classes at the public library.
Across from the library inside the mall is the library bookstore, where volunteers sell weeded and donated books are sold to benefit the library. Also in this space are meeting rooms and a performance hall, where the Spriet Children’s Theatre of London often performs. City leaders hoped that moving the central library to the mall would attract people and revitalize the city center, but this did not happen, according to Gladys – lots of people come to library, but then they return to their car in the free underground parking lot and go home.
Gladys, who has had a library card since she was seven years old, remarked, “Reading is something that isn’t hereditary, but when you see everyone around you reading, as I did – my parents and older brother -- then you read, too.”
“How do you feel about technology?”—I asked my new-found friends. Jean piped up, “We don’t have cell phones because everything on them is too small for me to read” . . . “And my fingers are too arthritic to push the buttons,” added Gladys.” Gladys continued, “I wish I’d been born a little later so I could have learned it. It’s too hard to learn now.” “But how do you manage without using it?” I pushed. “We holler for young people to help us, and they always do. I was in a bind the other day and needed to make a phone call, and a young man said, “I have a cell phone, would you like to use it?’ So I told him the number, and then I talked into that tiny thing and everything worked out. Young people are very kind to us.” “But how do you get information to figure out medical prescription programs?” – I foolishly asked. They both looked at me soberly and explained that they pay $100 a year for all their medicines! They told me that many Americans come to Canada for prescription drugs because often, one pill can cost $50. “Why can’t you do something about that in the States?” – they both asked. I said that whenever anyone tries to, cries fly about socialized medicine, and whoever brought it up is called a communist. Then, everyone suffers, and the ones crying communist drive to Canada to get their prescription drugs.
“How do you feel about the effect of technology on children?” – I asked. Gladys replied that her grand-nephew is studying political science and told her that he searches for sources on the internet but always has to get books to research his topics thoroughly. “I think children should not be introduced to computers until middle school,” said Gladys. “They should just read books and learn from people until then. Technology is good for keeping us in touch with each other and with sources of information, but it’s bad because it separates people from actual social contact and their background. They’re so busy thinking about what they’re doing, and they’re moving so fast to shape the future that they don’t know about the people who made the technology. They don’t know enough or value enough the past.”
They were two very intelligent ladies. Both were retired nurses. Jean was 11 when the Nazis bombed England. She grew up in Stratford-on-Avon. She remembers one afternoon in the summer of 1940 when a buzz bomb approached. Jean said, “You knew it was going to fall if the motor stopped. My mother said, ‘I wonder who the blokes are that are going to suffer tonight.’ Later in the evening my father announced that he was going outside to read the newspaper. I followed him out and watched him read the newspaper by the light of Coventry burning fifteen miles away. The Germans bombed Coventry because there was an ammunitions plant there. The sky glowed all night long. And you know, the German scientist who made the buzz bomb – von Braun – was recruited by the United States at the end of the war to help with American technology. He lived a rich, good life in California ‘til the end of his days. He should have been sent to England for crimes against humanity. Instead, he got off scot free. He never had to pay for crimes against humanity. Then, two planes crash into the World Trade Center, and the whole world is in an uproar! But no one talks about the bombing that the English took day after day during the war. No, now people apologize to the Japanese for bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki and to the Germans for bombing Dresden and Cologne! It’s incredible! The people who started it should be apologizing for what they did. War is more than immoral. It’s, it’s . . . I can’t find the right words to say what it is. It’s awful. When I was working AS a nurse in Birmingham in 1947, a 25-year-old man came in with a disease he got during the war. British soldiers often came home with tropical diseases. He had worked in a Japanese slave labor camp where he had to build a railroad. Well, the doctors had to do a spleenectomy on him, and he died. He survived a Japanese labor camp and made it home just to die. Now, spleenectomies are done all the time, and people survive them just fine. When I told Jean that a lawyer from Greencastle imported a buzz bomb and put it on a pedestal on our local square, where I see it every day, she said, “That is just ghastly. I don’t ever want to see one. I wish they had never been invented. But there you have it – there are benefits to technology, but it’s so often used for destruction.”
The time came to say goodbye. I watched the friends shuffle away with their handcarts knowing I would never see them again but understanding that I would never forget how we met or what they said.
Friday, October 26, 2007
new ALSC blog, Second Life
There's a great new blog out there that I just discovered while reading School Library Journal: http://www.alsc.ala.org/blog/. ALSC = Association for Library Service to Children. Check it out!
Under the entry, "How I became a FSA Groupie"(Federation of American Scientists), is a description of Second Life which startled me into seeing this "thing" that I've feared with new eyes: "Second Life is not a game but the Internet in a different skin. Amy described it very clearly to me that it was a wikipedia of MMOs (Massive Multiplayer Online) worlds. Once I suspended my disbelief, something amazing happened. I saw the beauty of the technology–that it rolled everything into one–IMing, emailing, podcasting, videostreaming, weblinking (Web 2.0 features) into one. I finally understood what all the rage was about! It was truly the internet in its next evolutionary stage. And a great platform to ally ourselves with other open-minded, public-serving organizations."
Maybe I will dare to investigate Second Life further. It's just that so much time is lost in there. I think of all the other things people could be doing in the natural world, and I feel an abiding, deep repulsion towards getting so lost in technology. It's like we're going back to cave-dwelling where artificial light illuminates so much of our lives. I don't like it. (Am I talking myself out of re-visiting Second Life?:)
Under the entry, "How I became a FSA Groupie"(Federation of American Scientists), is a description of Second Life which startled me into seeing this "thing" that I've feared with new eyes: "Second Life is not a game but the Internet in a different skin. Amy described it very clearly to me that it was a wikipedia of MMOs (Massive Multiplayer Online) worlds. Once I suspended my disbelief, something amazing happened. I saw the beauty of the technology–that it rolled everything into one–IMing, emailing, podcasting, videostreaming, weblinking (Web 2.0 features) into one. I finally understood what all the rage was about! It was truly the internet in its next evolutionary stage. And a great platform to ally ourselves with other open-minded, public-serving organizations."
Maybe I will dare to investigate Second Life further. It's just that so much time is lost in there. I think of all the other things people could be doing in the natural world, and I feel an abiding, deep repulsion towards getting so lost in technology. It's like we're going back to cave-dwelling where artificial light illuminates so much of our lives. I don't like it. (Am I talking myself out of re-visiting Second Life?:)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Shelfari, facebook, and teen reading
While doing my usability testing homework, I came upon this url relating to Shelfari on the Mooresville Public Library wiki’s Readers’ Advisory page: http://lu.com/ranews/sep2007/hanley.cfm. When you click on this link, you get an e-letter published by “Libraries Unlimited”. This September 2007 issue includes an article by Dave Hanley called, “Connect with Readers and Patrons on Shelfari.” Hanley is Shelfari’s VP of Marketing. He writes that the “level of activity of Shelfari’s members has honestly surprised us.” Of special interest may be the FAQs for librarians. Click on that and see if anything appeals to you/your library.
While Hanley claims to be surprised by the response to Shelfari, the author of an article in this month’s Economist explains its high response. “Social Graph-iti” argues that there is “less to Facebook and other social networks than meets the eye,” and “Silicon Valley’s craze for the ‘social graph’ is overdone.” (p83) The author argues that Facebook’s longevity arc is short because too many people are in the network: “social networks lose their value once they go beyond a certain size. ‘The value of a social network is defined not only by who’s on it, but by who’s excluded’”. (83) The future of social networking, according to this article, rests on the “small is beautiful” axiom and on users’ ability to construct their own social networks for their circle of friends – which is just what Shelfari does.
Did anyone see the article by Michael Cart called, “Teens and the Future of Reading” in the October issue of American Libraries? In a nutshell, “Not everyone believes the sky is falling on the state of America’s reading” (p 52, Michael Cart). While the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Assessment of Educational Progress have put out reports claiming a serious “falling-off of the reading rate” and a “plateauing or decline of reading scores among early teens”, (p53), YA author Marc Aronson and YALSA past president Pam Spencer Holley point out that “it depends on what you consider ‘reading’” (53). The argument circles around traditional print materials (literary reading, general reading, all printed matter) versus technology-based reading (e.g., listening to audiobooks, reading graphic novels and non-fiction, blogs, wikis, text messages). The article also addresses the astonishing revival of reading for pleasure that JK Rowling’s Harry Potter books have triggered –which bodes well for reading scores, since the NEA acknowledges the link between reading for fun and reading proficiency. The International Reading Association advises adolescents to “have access to ‘a wide variety of reading material that they can and want to read.’” (p54) Due to a 51% increase since 1995 in the number of YA librarians currently working in libraries, young adults can get direction to access materials they want. Plus, a new Harris Interactive poll indicates that young people are going to libraries. Only one out of five say they have not gone to the library in the past year, and of those who go, 78% say they go “to borrow books and materials for my own personal use.” (p54) Clearly, the current emphasis on young adult literature and literacy, (e.g., Teen Read Week, Teen Tech Week, and Support Teen Literature Day), is helping and will continue to help the future of teen reading.
While Hanley claims to be surprised by the response to Shelfari, the author of an article in this month’s Economist explains its high response. “Social Graph-iti” argues that there is “less to Facebook and other social networks than meets the eye,” and “Silicon Valley’s craze for the ‘social graph’ is overdone.” (p83) The author argues that Facebook’s longevity arc is short because too many people are in the network: “social networks lose their value once they go beyond a certain size. ‘The value of a social network is defined not only by who’s on it, but by who’s excluded’”. (83) The future of social networking, according to this article, rests on the “small is beautiful” axiom and on users’ ability to construct their own social networks for their circle of friends – which is just what Shelfari does.
Did anyone see the article by Michael Cart called, “Teens and the Future of Reading” in the October issue of American Libraries? In a nutshell, “Not everyone believes the sky is falling on the state of America’s reading” (p 52, Michael Cart). While the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Assessment of Educational Progress have put out reports claiming a serious “falling-off of the reading rate” and a “plateauing or decline of reading scores among early teens”, (p53), YA author Marc Aronson and YALSA past president Pam Spencer Holley point out that “it depends on what you consider ‘reading’” (53). The argument circles around traditional print materials (literary reading, general reading, all printed matter) versus technology-based reading (e.g., listening to audiobooks, reading graphic novels and non-fiction, blogs, wikis, text messages). The article also addresses the astonishing revival of reading for pleasure that JK Rowling’s Harry Potter books have triggered –which bodes well for reading scores, since the NEA acknowledges the link between reading for fun and reading proficiency. The International Reading Association advises adolescents to “have access to ‘a wide variety of reading material that they can and want to read.’” (p54) Due to a 51% increase since 1995 in the number of YA librarians currently working in libraries, young adults can get direction to access materials they want. Plus, a new Harris Interactive poll indicates that young people are going to libraries. Only one out of five say they have not gone to the library in the past year, and of those who go, 78% say they go “to borrow books and materials for my own personal use.” (p54) Clearly, the current emphasis on young adult literature and literacy, (e.g., Teen Read Week, Teen Tech Week, and Support Teen Literature Day), is helping and will continue to help the future of teen reading.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
“Accidental librarian”--NOT!
It’s common knowledge that many librarians enter the field later in life in a second or third career, so I’m sure I’m not the first to suffer from the label “librarian by default”. Viewing myself as an accidental librarian, however, is not gratifying. L554 has helped me evolve psychologically and professionally towards claiming my new identity as librarian - not just librarian, but 21st-century librarian, which implies technological competence. I know I’m not great at that, but I’m good enough, and, most important, I know how and who to ask for help.
I revised my resume today. That’s a cathartic exercise. I have lived many lives. What blessings are life and health! I revisited 20+ years’ teaching at all levels, 5 years’ work in libraries and museums, the last 2.5 years’ coursework, and my spring research paper. The conclusion?—I am ready for a career in library science at many levels!
While conducting this self review, I came upon and started to read a book which so intrigued me last spring that I bought it but then never found the time to read it. It’s called The Accidental Systems Librarian (thus, the inspiration for this post’s header), by Rachel Singer Gordon. I have learned much in L554, but one thing is certain – I do not yet have the skills to be a systems librarian. What the book pointed out, though, is that for many, including the author (and Mary Alice, I believe), traditional library skills played a more important role in becoming a successful systems librarian than computer skills. Gordon points out that many accidental systems librarians came to that role via their acquisition and application of traditional library skills within an increasingly technological era. Reading this prompted a “eureka!” moment for me, because I have just entered the library field; I am acquiring traditional library skills, so why am I beating myself up for feeling altogether ignorant? I am learning a lot in a short time, and much of it is theoretical. L554 appeals to me because it pairs theory and application; it kills two birds with one stone. I can learn about technology in class and apply it to benefit a real library, which is an efficient way for me to learn, as I don’t have time to mosey. Gordon tracks the root of “traditional library skills” to one’s desire to solve problems. This, too, is heartening since I decided to become a librarian because I want to solve problems through literacy.
Compared to L554 peers’ technological prowess, mine looks pretty dinky, but my technological learning curve these past two years, honestly, resembles the 1964 Moscow obelisk commemorating the conquest of space. For me, the journey has felt a lot like traveling through space, where holding things I can feel, like a book or a baby, or producing sounds I can hear, like a song or foreign language, do not apply. I know now that learning to use technology is a lot about following directions patiently and persistently. It is a lot like swimming – if I don’t believe that I can float, then, I will be tense and sink. Technologically, I have learned to do more than tread water – I am swimming. And when it’s not fast enough or far enough, I ask for help. I won’t get sucked into a big black hole because I won’t let myself get isolated and drift helplessly away.
Mary Alice and L554 group work have convinced me that communication and people skills are critically important for 21st century librarianship. I have those skills, and they are well-developed. If, technologically, I am the turtle, not the hare, that's okay -- steady I will go. I will follow directions, and when in need, I will turn to books such as Gordon’s and/or kind colleagues for advice and information about using technology effectively. And I will give thanks for colleagues with good people and computer skills.
I revised my resume today. That’s a cathartic exercise. I have lived many lives. What blessings are life and health! I revisited 20+ years’ teaching at all levels, 5 years’ work in libraries and museums, the last 2.5 years’ coursework, and my spring research paper. The conclusion?—I am ready for a career in library science at many levels!
While conducting this self review, I came upon and started to read a book which so intrigued me last spring that I bought it but then never found the time to read it. It’s called The Accidental Systems Librarian (thus, the inspiration for this post’s header), by Rachel Singer Gordon. I have learned much in L554, but one thing is certain – I do not yet have the skills to be a systems librarian. What the book pointed out, though, is that for many, including the author (and Mary Alice, I believe), traditional library skills played a more important role in becoming a successful systems librarian than computer skills. Gordon points out that many accidental systems librarians came to that role via their acquisition and application of traditional library skills within an increasingly technological era. Reading this prompted a “eureka!” moment for me, because I have just entered the library field; I am acquiring traditional library skills, so why am I beating myself up for feeling altogether ignorant? I am learning a lot in a short time, and much of it is theoretical. L554 appeals to me because it pairs theory and application; it kills two birds with one stone. I can learn about technology in class and apply it to benefit a real library, which is an efficient way for me to learn, as I don’t have time to mosey. Gordon tracks the root of “traditional library skills” to one’s desire to solve problems. This, too, is heartening since I decided to become a librarian because I want to solve problems through literacy.
Compared to L554 peers’ technological prowess, mine looks pretty dinky, but my technological learning curve these past two years, honestly, resembles the 1964 Moscow obelisk commemorating the conquest of space. For me, the journey has felt a lot like traveling through space, where holding things I can feel, like a book or a baby, or producing sounds I can hear, like a song or foreign language, do not apply. I know now that learning to use technology is a lot about following directions patiently and persistently. It is a lot like swimming – if I don’t believe that I can float, then, I will be tense and sink. Technologically, I have learned to do more than tread water – I am swimming. And when it’s not fast enough or far enough, I ask for help. I won’t get sucked into a big black hole because I won’t let myself get isolated and drift helplessly away.
Mary Alice and L554 group work have convinced me that communication and people skills are critically important for 21st century librarianship. I have those skills, and they are well-developed. If, technologically, I am the turtle, not the hare, that's okay -- steady I will go. I will follow directions, and when in need, I will turn to books such as Gordon’s and/or kind colleagues for advice and information about using technology effectively. And I will give thanks for colleagues with good people and computer skills.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Shelfari scores one for technology
Do you know about a thing called “Shelfari”? It’s this . . . what is it? I’m not sure what to call it, but my son’s girlfriend, Katie, sent me an invitation to join her group of Shelfari friends, so I did. Once in, I got to show what I am currently reading, and I also listed some of my all-time favorite books, such as Waiting for the Morning Train, by Bruce Catton. I get to see what others are reading, too. It’s fascinating. Have you ever heard of a book called, The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body, by Steven Mithen? Just read the description you get when you click on the image of the book cover:
“The propensity to make music is the most mysterious, wonderful, and neglected feature of humankind: this is where Steven Mithen began, drawing together strands from archaeology, anthropology, psychology, neuroscience--and, of course, musicology--to explain why we are so compelled to make and hear music. But music could not be explained without addressing language, and could not be accounted for without understanding the evolution of the human body and mind. Thus Mithen arrived at the wildly ambitious project that unfolds in this book: an exploration of music as a fundamental aspect of the human condition, encoded into the human genome during the evolutionary history of our species.
Music is the language of emotion, common wisdom tells us. In The Singing Neanderthals, Mithen introduces us to the science that might support such popular notions.”
I would LOVE to take a good look at this book. I dream of a time soon when I will be able to read for pleasure. No matter how ubiquitous technology becomes, a beautifully sung phrase and a well-written sentence will still be the stopper for humanity.
Be that as it may, I went snooping about Shelfari and noticed an offer to put my shelf on my blog. Hmm, I thought, that would be interesting; I wonder if I can do it - I’d like to share Shelfari. So I followed the directions, (which mentioned a widget), and, voila! It was easy. Three book images from my shelf in Shelfari transferred to the left-hand margin below my profile and blog archive, so people who read my blog can catch a glimpse of what I have been reading lately or what I cherish from past reading. I know that someone had to do a lot of coding to make that transfer happen. I can see Joe and Todd doing something like that. I appreciate it because Shelfari makes me want to read. That’s a good thing, because when I read or even, catch a whiff of a good read, I begin to envision life beyond the status quo.
Tonight as I relaxed with Shabbos candles, I let myself dream about the future. I saw myself with a good job and benefits in a pleasant living space with a baby grand in the living room. I saw myself playing Chopin and Scott Joplin. I saw myself with time to read. I saw other people living with me -- foreign exchange students or Iraqi refugees. The debacle in Iraq is such a disaster! George Bush reminds me of Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby. After he plays his power games, the rest of us will have to pick up the pieces and put the world together again. I know that I am only a tiny pebble in a mountain of pebbles, but I am ready to do what I can to fix the mess that has been created in Iraq by using force to resolve conflict.
I like tonight’s vision. I appreciate Shelfari triggering it. I resist, however, getting bogged down in internet reading. I must admit, though, that learning about Shelfari has been a literacy shot in the arm. Shelfari is another example of the power of the internet to connect people and thought. Social networking – that’s what it’s called. Even if I don’t read the books I see on others’ shelves, just salivating over them stimulates my mind and makes me wonder. This happened to me as I grew up in a house so full of books, you got educated just by looking at the titles and imagining what they meant and what the books contained -- e.g., The Greening of America, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Bell Jar, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Catcher in the Rye, Across Five Aprils, The Cruel Sea. The miraculous thing about a good read/good title is that it can elevate instantly, the way the hint of a good read caused me to glimpse myself in a place I long to secure.
I wonder if I will get there. And if I do, I wonder if contentment will translate into dullness and cause me to eat and sleep and get fatter, as Eugene O'Neill said: "One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers." Unless one gets lobotomized, though, sorrow and joy will always find their way into any contented state. Seeing as O’Neill drank himself to death rather than yield to or trust in the contentment of home, I think I’ll give contentment a chance. And I will give technology a chance – but in good measure.
“The propensity to make music is the most mysterious, wonderful, and neglected feature of humankind: this is where Steven Mithen began, drawing together strands from archaeology, anthropology, psychology, neuroscience--and, of course, musicology--to explain why we are so compelled to make and hear music. But music could not be explained without addressing language, and could not be accounted for without understanding the evolution of the human body and mind. Thus Mithen arrived at the wildly ambitious project that unfolds in this book: an exploration of music as a fundamental aspect of the human condition, encoded into the human genome during the evolutionary history of our species.
Music is the language of emotion, common wisdom tells us. In The Singing Neanderthals, Mithen introduces us to the science that might support such popular notions.”
I would LOVE to take a good look at this book. I dream of a time soon when I will be able to read for pleasure. No matter how ubiquitous technology becomes, a beautifully sung phrase and a well-written sentence will still be the stopper for humanity.
Be that as it may, I went snooping about Shelfari and noticed an offer to put my shelf on my blog. Hmm, I thought, that would be interesting; I wonder if I can do it - I’d like to share Shelfari. So I followed the directions, (which mentioned a widget), and, voila! It was easy. Three book images from my shelf in Shelfari transferred to the left-hand margin below my profile and blog archive, so people who read my blog can catch a glimpse of what I have been reading lately or what I cherish from past reading. I know that someone had to do a lot of coding to make that transfer happen. I can see Joe and Todd doing something like that. I appreciate it because Shelfari makes me want to read. That’s a good thing, because when I read or even, catch a whiff of a good read, I begin to envision life beyond the status quo.
Tonight as I relaxed with Shabbos candles, I let myself dream about the future. I saw myself with a good job and benefits in a pleasant living space with a baby grand in the living room. I saw myself playing Chopin and Scott Joplin. I saw myself with time to read. I saw other people living with me -- foreign exchange students or Iraqi refugees. The debacle in Iraq is such a disaster! George Bush reminds me of Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby. After he plays his power games, the rest of us will have to pick up the pieces and put the world together again. I know that I am only a tiny pebble in a mountain of pebbles, but I am ready to do what I can to fix the mess that has been created in Iraq by using force to resolve conflict.
I like tonight’s vision. I appreciate Shelfari triggering it. I resist, however, getting bogged down in internet reading. I must admit, though, that learning about Shelfari has been a literacy shot in the arm. Shelfari is another example of the power of the internet to connect people and thought. Social networking – that’s what it’s called. Even if I don’t read the books I see on others’ shelves, just salivating over them stimulates my mind and makes me wonder. This happened to me as I grew up in a house so full of books, you got educated just by looking at the titles and imagining what they meant and what the books contained -- e.g., The Greening of America, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Bell Jar, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Catcher in the Rye, Across Five Aprils, The Cruel Sea. The miraculous thing about a good read/good title is that it can elevate instantly, the way the hint of a good read caused me to glimpse myself in a place I long to secure.
I wonder if I will get there. And if I do, I wonder if contentment will translate into dullness and cause me to eat and sleep and get fatter, as Eugene O'Neill said: "One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers." Unless one gets lobotomized, though, sorrow and joy will always find their way into any contented state. Seeing as O’Neill drank himself to death rather than yield to or trust in the contentment of home, I think I’ll give contentment a chance. And I will give technology a chance – but in good measure.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
I chatted for the first time tonight
Joe, Todd, Bonnie and I met in the Oncourse chat room to update ourselves on the Mooresville PL wiki. As expected, I’ve been nervous about making the right moves to get into the chat room, and once in, doing the right thing to converse.
Almost everything went smoothly. I found it in Oncourse under L554 in the left margin, just as Bonnie said (thanks, Bonnie). Bonnie and Todd were already in. It felt really good to see their messages welcoming me – I’d landed where I wanted to!
Joe arrived soon, and the chatting began. It’s a disjunct way to converse. It’s funny, the way our full formal names appear with every sent message: Susan Beverly Parsons, etc. I felt like I should salute. Comments popped up and made my eyes bounce. “Hurry up!” I told myself. I felt like Lucy Ricardo in that chocolate factory scene where she can’t keep up and pops the chocolates instead of packaging them.
Mid-way through the chat, I got bumped out – an “Error” message popped up. I took a breather and tried to come back in a few minutes later, and I did. I thought I’d done something wrong, but Todd said it was the software. I wish it had happened to someone else, though – then I would see that it doesn’t always happen to me.
Using technology makes my blood pressure rise, but we got things done, and it was fun. Now I have to figure out how to get an education-related and a Reader’s Advisory-related graphic onto the wiki. Forward!
Almost everything went smoothly. I found it in Oncourse under L554 in the left margin, just as Bonnie said (thanks, Bonnie). Bonnie and Todd were already in. It felt really good to see their messages welcoming me – I’d landed where I wanted to!
Joe arrived soon, and the chatting began. It’s a disjunct way to converse. It’s funny, the way our full formal names appear with every sent message: Susan Beverly Parsons, etc. I felt like I should salute. Comments popped up and made my eyes bounce. “Hurry up!” I told myself. I felt like Lucy Ricardo in that chocolate factory scene where she can’t keep up and pops the chocolates instead of packaging them.
Mid-way through the chat, I got bumped out – an “Error” message popped up. I took a breather and tried to come back in a few minutes later, and I did. I thought I’d done something wrong, but Todd said it was the software. I wish it had happened to someone else, though – then I would see that it doesn’t always happen to me.
Using technology makes my blood pressure rise, but we got things done, and it was fun. Now I have to figure out how to get an education-related and a Reader’s Advisory-related graphic onto the wiki. Forward!
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
You can't eat your cake and have it, too
All day I have been thinking about tonight's post. I decided to incorporate the course's readings, so I read the chapter in Library 2.0 on Facebook, Second Life, etc. and libraries’ role in meeting the needs of young people who use these programs.
While reading with a cool breeze coming through the front door, my friend, Rajai, stopped for a visit. “I saw your light on and realized you were home for once, so I thought I’d say ‘hello’” he said. Although it was great to see him, to tell the truth, my heart kind of sank, because I was poised to do my HW. Years of living in Russia, however, taught me how rejuvenating and thought-provoking such spontaneous visits can be. It is very bad luck to spurn a friend from a cup of tea. So in he came, and thus began an hour-long conversation about technology.
Rajai is fluent with it, but he said that he does not embrace it. In fact, he has very mixed feelings about it. While he recognizes and respects the achievement of computer scientists and algorithms, Rajai does not think technology has improved life in the west. After spending two years in Niger in the Peace Corps, he got a job at DePauw in the International Center helping international students assimilate to campus life. The irony is, he is finding that he is having trouble re-assimilating into American life. He can take one course a semester at IU – a perk of his job—so he’s taking French linguistics and preparing to apply to graduate school.
He has doubts. “I’m having these crazy thoughts,” he said, “I find myself wishing I were a fisherman on the coast of Senegal.” He looked at me full of apprehension, sure that I would tell him he was crazy. I told him I didn’t think that was crazy, although I wouldn’t glamorize the life of a fisherman. He went on, “There’s a natural rhythm to that life that I want. I spend so much time on paperwork and micro-managing. It’s so ungratifying. At the end of the day, what do I have to show for my effort? I went to IU’s Financial Aid Office and thought I’d landed in a Chase Manhattan bank! Have you ever been in there, with its plush seats, piped music, cubicles, people in suits? It was a totally corporate setting. Colleges and universities are big businesses. I feel so out of place. And computers give me no peace. I find that when I use them, I become impatient and vain. When something goes wrong, I’m enraged with the machine. How could it do this to me? What is its problem? I expect it to work perfectly for me every time, without fail. But it wasn’t like that before when I wrote things by hand. Then, when my hand got tired, I’d stop for a while and let it rest. I didn’t look at my hand with bugged-out, angry eyes and rail against it for being tired. I took a natural break before returning to the writing. We are slaves to electronics. Everyone and everything is pulling me deeper into this world, but I’m not sure I want it.”
I told Rajai that while he was young, independent and healthy, why not be a fisherman in Senegal? When could he ever have such an opportunity again? I also told him that 20 years down the road, there might not be the natural rhythms of life he feels in Africa today. The Technological Age is like a roaring locomotive barreling across the frontier, stampeding everything in its path. It is unstoppable. It will conquer all places. “html” will do what Esperanto couldn’t – it will be the international language. You either climb on board or become ciphers like Katrina victims.
Who needs such people? What are they good for in the Technological Era? Who needs fisherman? Or miners? There are machines who do the work that a labor force used to do. At a DePauw speech last Friday, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. described a 22-story machine that chews up mountains in West Virginia’s Appalachian Mountains. It finds the coal and spits everything else out and down the slope into streams. 250 miles of W. Virginia waterways– the size of Delaware – are gone, covered with fill from strip-mining. The mountains are gone, flattened, and all that’s left is forsaken, dead refuse.
Every time I hear someone say, “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” I think of the Unabomber. He got caught by his brother when his brother read his manifesto printed in the NYTimes, in which the Unabomber wrote, “You can’t eat your cake and have it, too.” His brother knew only one person who ever presented that saying correctly – his brother. He remembered how it irked his brother that everyone got it backwards. That was when he went to the FBI and told them he suspected his brother as the Unabomber. Although I completely eschew violence as a means for social change, I sympathize with the Unabomber’s fear of a society driven and overridden by machines. But it is unstoppable, like the Industrial Revolution.
It was great to converse with Rajai, but when he left, I hustled to DePauw’s library to catch the WiFi and put this post on my blog. The library was more crowded than I ever remember seeing it – mid-terms. I climbed 3 flights of stairs and finally found a table with an outlet. In went my laptop cable. Up came everything, and I logged on. The computer told me my sidebar was not working and it would investigate the problem. Fine, whatever, I never use the sidebar anyway. Then the computer froze. The cursor wouldn’t move, so I hit “control-alt-delete” to get out of everything, but that didn’t work. So, I turned off the computer. Then, I turned it on and clicked “e” for Internet Explorer. I am told it cannot be displayed. No problem. Maybe the Internet is swamped. I tried again. And again, and again, and again. Oy. What’s wrong? Is it my computer or DPU? I’m connected—no problem, there. I try Mozilla Foxfire, but can’t get it. I turn off the computer again and start all over.
30 minutes later I close up shop and descend to the Help Desk, where they have no trouble opening Internet Explorer. Then a girl comes up to say that she can’t open Explorer. Hmmm, say’s the HelpDesk lady. Why could I? Then another person says he can’t open it, either. But Foxfire opens. Everyone starts troubleshooting, trying to figure out why three of us can’t open it but the one can. I thank them for their help and exit.
Outside, the air is so fresh and the shadows so lovely among the campus trees, that I feel as though I was just released from prison. But I MUST make a post on my blog. So, I go to my workplace, quietly use my key to enter through the side door and slip downstairs to my office computer, where everything works. No problem. Thank heavens. And here is my blog post.
But look at what it took. What would I have done without this extra card to play? What would someone who cannot afford WiFi at home have done who has no campus such as DPU?
We are so dependent on technology, but technology is fickle. I do not like the relationship. I accept that I must learn to handle it, but it is only because I have to, not because I want to. I guess I can't eat my cake and have it, too.
While reading with a cool breeze coming through the front door, my friend, Rajai, stopped for a visit. “I saw your light on and realized you were home for once, so I thought I’d say ‘hello’” he said. Although it was great to see him, to tell the truth, my heart kind of sank, because I was poised to do my HW. Years of living in Russia, however, taught me how rejuvenating and thought-provoking such spontaneous visits can be. It is very bad luck to spurn a friend from a cup of tea. So in he came, and thus began an hour-long conversation about technology.
Rajai is fluent with it, but he said that he does not embrace it. In fact, he has very mixed feelings about it. While he recognizes and respects the achievement of computer scientists and algorithms, Rajai does not think technology has improved life in the west. After spending two years in Niger in the Peace Corps, he got a job at DePauw in the International Center helping international students assimilate to campus life. The irony is, he is finding that he is having trouble re-assimilating into American life. He can take one course a semester at IU – a perk of his job—so he’s taking French linguistics and preparing to apply to graduate school.
He has doubts. “I’m having these crazy thoughts,” he said, “I find myself wishing I were a fisherman on the coast of Senegal.” He looked at me full of apprehension, sure that I would tell him he was crazy. I told him I didn’t think that was crazy, although I wouldn’t glamorize the life of a fisherman. He went on, “There’s a natural rhythm to that life that I want. I spend so much time on paperwork and micro-managing. It’s so ungratifying. At the end of the day, what do I have to show for my effort? I went to IU’s Financial Aid Office and thought I’d landed in a Chase Manhattan bank! Have you ever been in there, with its plush seats, piped music, cubicles, people in suits? It was a totally corporate setting. Colleges and universities are big businesses. I feel so out of place. And computers give me no peace. I find that when I use them, I become impatient and vain. When something goes wrong, I’m enraged with the machine. How could it do this to me? What is its problem? I expect it to work perfectly for me every time, without fail. But it wasn’t like that before when I wrote things by hand. Then, when my hand got tired, I’d stop for a while and let it rest. I didn’t look at my hand with bugged-out, angry eyes and rail against it for being tired. I took a natural break before returning to the writing. We are slaves to electronics. Everyone and everything is pulling me deeper into this world, but I’m not sure I want it.”
I told Rajai that while he was young, independent and healthy, why not be a fisherman in Senegal? When could he ever have such an opportunity again? I also told him that 20 years down the road, there might not be the natural rhythms of life he feels in Africa today. The Technological Age is like a roaring locomotive barreling across the frontier, stampeding everything in its path. It is unstoppable. It will conquer all places. “html” will do what Esperanto couldn’t – it will be the international language. You either climb on board or become ciphers like Katrina victims.
Who needs such people? What are they good for in the Technological Era? Who needs fisherman? Or miners? There are machines who do the work that a labor force used to do. At a DePauw speech last Friday, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. described a 22-story machine that chews up mountains in West Virginia’s Appalachian Mountains. It finds the coal and spits everything else out and down the slope into streams. 250 miles of W. Virginia waterways– the size of Delaware – are gone, covered with fill from strip-mining. The mountains are gone, flattened, and all that’s left is forsaken, dead refuse.
Every time I hear someone say, “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” I think of the Unabomber. He got caught by his brother when his brother read his manifesto printed in the NYTimes, in which the Unabomber wrote, “You can’t eat your cake and have it, too.” His brother knew only one person who ever presented that saying correctly – his brother. He remembered how it irked his brother that everyone got it backwards. That was when he went to the FBI and told them he suspected his brother as the Unabomber. Although I completely eschew violence as a means for social change, I sympathize with the Unabomber’s fear of a society driven and overridden by machines. But it is unstoppable, like the Industrial Revolution.
It was great to converse with Rajai, but when he left, I hustled to DePauw’s library to catch the WiFi and put this post on my blog. The library was more crowded than I ever remember seeing it – mid-terms. I climbed 3 flights of stairs and finally found a table with an outlet. In went my laptop cable. Up came everything, and I logged on. The computer told me my sidebar was not working and it would investigate the problem. Fine, whatever, I never use the sidebar anyway. Then the computer froze. The cursor wouldn’t move, so I hit “control-alt-delete” to get out of everything, but that didn’t work. So, I turned off the computer. Then, I turned it on and clicked “e” for Internet Explorer. I am told it cannot be displayed. No problem. Maybe the Internet is swamped. I tried again. And again, and again, and again. Oy. What’s wrong? Is it my computer or DPU? I’m connected—no problem, there. I try Mozilla Foxfire, but can’t get it. I turn off the computer again and start all over.
30 minutes later I close up shop and descend to the Help Desk, where they have no trouble opening Internet Explorer. Then a girl comes up to say that she can’t open Explorer. Hmmm, say’s the HelpDesk lady. Why could I? Then another person says he can’t open it, either. But Foxfire opens. Everyone starts troubleshooting, trying to figure out why three of us can’t open it but the one can. I thank them for their help and exit.
Outside, the air is so fresh and the shadows so lovely among the campus trees, that I feel as though I was just released from prison. But I MUST make a post on my blog. So, I go to my workplace, quietly use my key to enter through the side door and slip downstairs to my office computer, where everything works. No problem. Thank heavens. And here is my blog post.
But look at what it took. What would I have done without this extra card to play? What would someone who cannot afford WiFi at home have done who has no campus such as DPU?
We are so dependent on technology, but technology is fickle. I do not like the relationship. I accept that I must learn to handle it, but it is only because I have to, not because I want to. I guess I can't eat my cake and have it, too.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Finding joy
Today a new friend and I talked about finding joy in work. I can’t stop thinking about it. Hers was a tale of years of professional life in multiple careers, none of which brought her the kind of joy she felt last week when, after an American Girls program, one of the girls gave her a big hug before leaving. As a program coordinator at a public library, this woman is getting paid much less than she was as an administrator, a free-lance writer/consultant working at home, etc. If you could see her, you’d see an impeccably groomed, petite woman who emanates warmth, intelligence and competence; she is a class act.
We talked about all our SLIS coursework and profs. We shared laughs, esp. about Roger Summit and Dialog. I thought she’ pee her pants when I told her I hired someone to help me with my homework. She said she was so traumatized by Dialog that she doesn’t remember how she got through it. She told me about one woman who refused to attend 401 without her husband! (And I thought I lacked confidence!)
Inbetween conversations, we attended to work-related things, such as searches for books about new babies, death and dying, toilet training, accelerated reading. Each of us troubleshot and resolved each inquiry in a professional, timely way. She’s wonderful to work with. I found the books I was looking for on two searches, although my heart still pounds when I field such calls – will I choose the right key words? Will I find what the patron wants and in time (everyone’s pushed with needy children, time constraints, etc). The patrons would leave, and my friend and I would sit wondering, what would it be like to need a book about death and dying for your 11-year old son? Will the woman who is nine months pregnant with a two-year-old holding her hand deliver her baby well and find the strength to attend to her 2-yr-old? Will the books help?
My friend and I talked about these things and the gratification we get from providing some kind of guidance in the form of a book. She told me about searching for ideas for her American Girls Around the World program. She hit a gold mine of materials on the AG website and managed to fiddle with them enough to customize them to meet the needs of her particular group. She pulled books from her library collection to accompany the program. While she did that, I learned how to use the antiquated die-cut machine and cut out 100 fire trucks for tomorrow’s toddler storytime.
Then she asked me the question that always plucks at my heart: “Don’t you want to find some way to use your PhD in Russian in your library job?” Ugh. I wrestle with this question constantly. I feel deep pangs of betrayal, even, about it. Why did I spend decades learning Russian and learning about Russian history, culture, etc., if I am not going to use it now to earn a living? I love Russian. I’m good at it. It’s a shame to have acquired fluency in a highly-inflected language and not use it in some external way. All I know is, at this time, I cannot see a way to get a fulltime job with benefits in Russian and be happy in the given environment (academe). As far as library science and Russian is concerned, what would I do with that? I try to imagine it. I would have to work in a Slavic library. What would that mean? I would do research for scholars. They would submit inquiries for materials about their research topic, and I would retrieve the materials. I would have to do many a search, the way I tried to do for my on-line retrieval course. Do I want to spend the rest of my working life doing that? Would it bring me joy? The answer is, no. What brings me joy is interacting with children, mothers, families, and others as they deal with the issues of life and struggle to extract meaning out of them. I want to be a healer whenever possible and help build lives through knowledge-knowledge about everything. I want to strengthen the middle class. I want to build bridges.
Am I utilizing technology well in this task so far? I think so. I am proud that I am searching well and finding books in the collection for patrons. They leave satisfied. I’m glad I can pull books for programs. Even if people don’t check them out, they know they’re there.
What I will be doing will bring me joy. Maybe it’s not what I’d envisioned when I was 18-40 and pursuing Russian. Maybe the point of Russian wasn’t to end with a tenured professorship. I really yearn to teach Russian, though. I am fascinated by all things Russian. It will always be that way. If the chance to use my Russian ever arises in the library science field, I will be overjoyed. But for now, the point of having learned Russian will have to remain a mystery. That’s OK. I’m pursuing another joy right now – Children/YA Librarianship.
We talked about all our SLIS coursework and profs. We shared laughs, esp. about Roger Summit and Dialog. I thought she’ pee her pants when I told her I hired someone to help me with my homework. She said she was so traumatized by Dialog that she doesn’t remember how she got through it. She told me about one woman who refused to attend 401 without her husband! (And I thought I lacked confidence!)
Inbetween conversations, we attended to work-related things, such as searches for books about new babies, death and dying, toilet training, accelerated reading. Each of us troubleshot and resolved each inquiry in a professional, timely way. She’s wonderful to work with. I found the books I was looking for on two searches, although my heart still pounds when I field such calls – will I choose the right key words? Will I find what the patron wants and in time (everyone’s pushed with needy children, time constraints, etc). The patrons would leave, and my friend and I would sit wondering, what would it be like to need a book about death and dying for your 11-year old son? Will the woman who is nine months pregnant with a two-year-old holding her hand deliver her baby well and find the strength to attend to her 2-yr-old? Will the books help?
My friend and I talked about these things and the gratification we get from providing some kind of guidance in the form of a book. She told me about searching for ideas for her American Girls Around the World program. She hit a gold mine of materials on the AG website and managed to fiddle with them enough to customize them to meet the needs of her particular group. She pulled books from her library collection to accompany the program. While she did that, I learned how to use the antiquated die-cut machine and cut out 100 fire trucks for tomorrow’s toddler storytime.
Then she asked me the question that always plucks at my heart: “Don’t you want to find some way to use your PhD in Russian in your library job?” Ugh. I wrestle with this question constantly. I feel deep pangs of betrayal, even, about it. Why did I spend decades learning Russian and learning about Russian history, culture, etc., if I am not going to use it now to earn a living? I love Russian. I’m good at it. It’s a shame to have acquired fluency in a highly-inflected language and not use it in some external way. All I know is, at this time, I cannot see a way to get a fulltime job with benefits in Russian and be happy in the given environment (academe). As far as library science and Russian is concerned, what would I do with that? I try to imagine it. I would have to work in a Slavic library. What would that mean? I would do research for scholars. They would submit inquiries for materials about their research topic, and I would retrieve the materials. I would have to do many a search, the way I tried to do for my on-line retrieval course. Do I want to spend the rest of my working life doing that? Would it bring me joy? The answer is, no. What brings me joy is interacting with children, mothers, families, and others as they deal with the issues of life and struggle to extract meaning out of them. I want to be a healer whenever possible and help build lives through knowledge-knowledge about everything. I want to strengthen the middle class. I want to build bridges.
Am I utilizing technology well in this task so far? I think so. I am proud that I am searching well and finding books in the collection for patrons. They leave satisfied. I’m glad I can pull books for programs. Even if people don’t check them out, they know they’re there.
What I will be doing will bring me joy. Maybe it’s not what I’d envisioned when I was 18-40 and pursuing Russian. Maybe the point of Russian wasn’t to end with a tenured professorship. I really yearn to teach Russian, though. I am fascinated by all things Russian. It will always be that way. If the chance to use my Russian ever arises in the library science field, I will be overjoyed. But for now, the point of having learned Russian will have to remain a mystery. That’s OK. I’m pursuing another joy right now – Children/YA Librarianship.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
How I feel about working with technology #3
I read a fascinating article about technology today in Newsweek (September 24, 2007). The article, "Power to the People," by Steven Levy, comes under the aegis of "The Boomer Files: Technology." Levy's point is, had it not been for the baby boomers and the counterculture of the 60s, then technology would have stayed in the possessive hands of an elite who wore suits and ties and restricted access. But boomers such as Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak, Bill Gates, Paul Allen and Mitch Kapor saw the possibilities of the moment and would not be left out. They had the know-how and vision to write their own software and open the world of technology to people and empower them. Like boomers, says Levy, "the computer assumed a leadership role, while still maintaining an unruly edge." (p48)
According to Levy, to early computer specialists, the proposition that people would want a computer for their own was preposterous. I remember, not so long ago, thinking that way. Why in the world would I ever put out all that money on something totally foreign to me, like math, that would need to be upgraded every few years and maintained for a lot of money? Why would I do that to myself? I stayed as far away from computers as possible--they were for geeks.
But boomers Jobs, Gates, etc., truly envisioned a PC revolution that would expand the minds of ordinary people. To their credit, they were right. Last night while talking to my son via skype and using code to get my weblog linked to my class wiki, I felt my mind expand. I really felt it -- the InterNet.
I learned from Levy's article that Google's unofficial motto is, "Don't Be Evil." (p50) I'd never heard that.
Levy helped me see the confluence of technological advancements and innovative boomers. In so doing, my disdain for technology is being replaced by admiration for the boomers who work hard to make it a tool for empowerment. May my mind expand at a rate fast enough to empower myself into passing this class.
According to Levy, to early computer specialists, the proposition that people would want a computer for their own was preposterous. I remember, not so long ago, thinking that way. Why in the world would I ever put out all that money on something totally foreign to me, like math, that would need to be upgraded every few years and maintained for a lot of money? Why would I do that to myself? I stayed as far away from computers as possible--they were for geeks.
But boomers Jobs, Gates, etc., truly envisioned a PC revolution that would expand the minds of ordinary people. To their credit, they were right. Last night while talking to my son via skype and using code to get my weblog linked to my class wiki, I felt my mind expand. I really felt it -- the InterNet.
I learned from Levy's article that Google's unofficial motto is, "Don't Be Evil." (p50) I'd never heard that.
Levy helped me see the confluence of technological advancements and innovative boomers. In so doing, my disdain for technology is being replaced by admiration for the boomers who work hard to make it a tool for empowerment. May my mind expand at a rate fast enough to empower myself into passing this class.
How I feel about working with technology #2
Last night's task was linking my blog to the class wiki. Five steps were recommended to reach this goal: 1. click on "edit this page" at top; 2. type name and name of blog; 3. highlight name of blog; 4. click on link icon (world with chain around it); 5. press SAVE button on right-hand side of page.
Getting oriented is always the first challenge--i.e., remembering urls, passwords, usernames. How do people remember all of these things? I write them down and I still have trouble. I mix them up. After the umpteenth try, though, I found the wiki and my blog and set to completing the assignment.
I did as directed. My blog link did not, however, look like the others'. There was no green arrow. The line under my blog link started under the second letter, leaving the first letter with no underline. When I clicked on it, nothing happened.
I was not surprised. I felt no anger. Same ol' same ol'. The night would be long. I was tired. Oh well. If at first you don't succeed, try again. I repeated the steps two more times with the same result.
Then the voices started: so what else is new? You never do anything right the first time. Everyone else did the assignment. I bet they didn't get stuck. What am I doing in library science?!?
I didn't know what to do next, but I knew I couldn't quit. So I waited. Then, to my astonishment, I heard a muffled bubble sound with a little pop at the end. What was that? - I wondered. This orange box appeared on the lower tool bar. I clicked on it. Up popped my son like a genie out of a bottle! Magical, wonderful SKYPE to the rescue! My brother had introduced me to skype last spring, but I never used it. Somehow, son Sasha got my contact info (obviously from my brother). I clicked on the green telephone receiver, and, voila! there he was, beautiful boy, asking me how I was. I told him my problem, and he said, "Ma, we're on skype so we can talk and still use our hands to type." So I sat talking into my computer (!) while typing in code to link people to my weblog. Step by step, he followed me through my blog and the wiki. He said that he could see my classmates' hypertext (http) mark-up where their blog links were, but that there was none at mine. He described the others' link format, and I copied it and added it to my blog info: [[http://www.sueparblog.blogspot.com/|SueParBlog]], and, lo and behold, I managed to link my blog to the class wiki.
It does not feel like a victory, though, because I had dead-ended, as usual, and would have sat there, dumb, had my son not called and seen the problem. Why couldn't I see the mark-up that he saw? Why didn't the 5-step directions work? How could I ever have completed that assignment on my own, given what I knew?
I have moved one step away from the brink of flunking. But what will I do when I start my first job as a librarian? I must be better at technology, so, no matter how stupid I look, I will keep swimming.
Getting oriented is always the first challenge--i.e., remembering urls, passwords, usernames. How do people remember all of these things? I write them down and I still have trouble. I mix them up. After the umpteenth try, though, I found the wiki and my blog and set to completing the assignment.
I did as directed. My blog link did not, however, look like the others'. There was no green arrow. The line under my blog link started under the second letter, leaving the first letter with no underline. When I clicked on it, nothing happened.
I was not surprised. I felt no anger. Same ol' same ol'. The night would be long. I was tired. Oh well. If at first you don't succeed, try again. I repeated the steps two more times with the same result.
Then the voices started: so what else is new? You never do anything right the first time. Everyone else did the assignment. I bet they didn't get stuck. What am I doing in library science?!?
I didn't know what to do next, but I knew I couldn't quit. So I waited. Then, to my astonishment, I heard a muffled bubble sound with a little pop at the end. What was that? - I wondered. This orange box appeared on the lower tool bar. I clicked on it. Up popped my son like a genie out of a bottle! Magical, wonderful SKYPE to the rescue! My brother had introduced me to skype last spring, but I never used it. Somehow, son Sasha got my contact info (obviously from my brother). I clicked on the green telephone receiver, and, voila! there he was, beautiful boy, asking me how I was. I told him my problem, and he said, "Ma, we're on skype so we can talk and still use our hands to type." So I sat talking into my computer (!) while typing in code to link people to my weblog. Step by step, he followed me through my blog and the wiki. He said that he could see my classmates' hypertext (http) mark-up where their blog links were, but that there was none at mine. He described the others' link format, and I copied it and added it to my blog info: [[http://www.sueparblog.blogspot.com/|SueParBlog]], and, lo and behold, I managed to link my blog to the class wiki.
It does not feel like a victory, though, because I had dead-ended, as usual, and would have sat there, dumb, had my son not called and seen the problem. Why couldn't I see the mark-up that he saw? Why didn't the 5-step directions work? How could I ever have completed that assignment on my own, given what I knew?
I have moved one step away from the brink of flunking. But what will I do when I start my first job as a librarian? I must be better at technology, so, no matter how stupid I look, I will keep swimming.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
How I feel about working with technology
I hate to say this, but I have technophobia. When I am faced with a new technology, I close up shop like a turtle. I try to find someone else to do it while I watch. Then, I tell myself that, because I watched someone else do it, and because I followed the steps and it appeared clear to me, I understand it. Of course, I know that I do not know how to do it because I have still not done it; watching someone do it is not the same as doing it.
Technology makes me feel inadequate. old. stupid. incompetent. slow. never good enough. subpar. inferior. Trying something new with no exit, (like this blog assignment), is almost nauseating. I am afraid of it.
It was not always this way. When I started graduate school at Bryn Mawr College, I felt like the world was my oyster; I could do anything. And I almost did -- coursework, three kids (5, 4, and 2), teaching, Russian choir directing. But then came word processing, the dissertation. Writing my papers by hand in Russian had been allowed in all my classes up to that point, but now, the diss had to be word processed. So, I went to Sears with my kids to buy a computer because I had no money and Sears represented to me -- a person raised in the rural Midwest -- an American mainstay company that would sell me a cheap yet reliable computer. We carried that computer home and I typed on it like a typewriter. No problem. All went well until one day it began to whir, and the whirring didn't stop, and all was lost--I hadn't backed anything up on a floppy. I didn't know from Adam what I was doing. I'd never had a technology class, had never encountered technology before. I didn't know anyone in the area, as I'd picked up and moved there on a few weeks' notice. And I was too inhibited to ask undergrad Bryn Mawrters for help. I couldn't show them how dumb I was. I didn't even know where the lab was. I went to class, did my work at home and took care of the children. I was hellbent on writing that dissertation and so, blindly moved forward, ignorant as a fool.
When the computer crashed, I had to go to the lab and word process. The first time I went, I didn't know how to save, so I forced myself to go to the Help Desk. The only way to describe the look on that Bryn Mawter's face when I asked her how to save was disgust. She impatiently and haughtily showed me how to "Save as". It made no sense to me. Why would I want to save something "as" something else when I just wanted to save? She kept trying to convey the importance of tracking versions of paper writing by organizing them in a folder and identifying each version with a "1" or a "2" added to the file name. I just did it, without understanding, to free us both from discomfort. I was clearly a lost cause. I suffered through years of such treatment; it never varied. I came to hate the Help Desk in a deep and dark way, the way they hated me.
I realize now how traumatizing it was for me, but I was in a situation where failure was not an option. So, I got married instead and threw myself into a new life in a new city, where I was part of a congregation playing a pivotal role using all my personal skills with Holocaust survivors who had never seen a computer, much less used one. I was back on a loving team in a friendly community. I was in my element, and the diss and technology moved to a back burner.
I like working as part of a team. I like people. It's being alone with a technological assignment I have no background knowledge of that is depressing. Even if I know what I'm supposed to be doing, actually doing it feels like an unattainable accomplishment. I completely understand how library patrons and staff feel when encountering new technologies because I am them.
If this entry goes through properly, then I will gain an ounce of confidence. I am trying to overcome my fear. I have come a long way. I need to conduct meaningful work in the 21st century on my own. Going through library science school has been my way of forcing myself to learn. I pity my profs, esp. my 401 instructor. But, G-d bless her and everyone else at IUPUI--they have treated me with compassion. I will always be grateful.
I will get to the finish line. It won't be pretty, and my knees will be shaking the whole time, but I will arrive.
Technology makes me feel inadequate. old. stupid. incompetent. slow. never good enough. subpar. inferior. Trying something new with no exit, (like this blog assignment), is almost nauseating. I am afraid of it.
It was not always this way. When I started graduate school at Bryn Mawr College, I felt like the world was my oyster; I could do anything. And I almost did -- coursework, three kids (5, 4, and 2), teaching, Russian choir directing. But then came word processing, the dissertation. Writing my papers by hand in Russian had been allowed in all my classes up to that point, but now, the diss had to be word processed. So, I went to Sears with my kids to buy a computer because I had no money and Sears represented to me -- a person raised in the rural Midwest -- an American mainstay company that would sell me a cheap yet reliable computer. We carried that computer home and I typed on it like a typewriter. No problem. All went well until one day it began to whir, and the whirring didn't stop, and all was lost--I hadn't backed anything up on a floppy. I didn't know from Adam what I was doing. I'd never had a technology class, had never encountered technology before. I didn't know anyone in the area, as I'd picked up and moved there on a few weeks' notice. And I was too inhibited to ask undergrad Bryn Mawrters for help. I couldn't show them how dumb I was. I didn't even know where the lab was. I went to class, did my work at home and took care of the children. I was hellbent on writing that dissertation and so, blindly moved forward, ignorant as a fool.
When the computer crashed, I had to go to the lab and word process. The first time I went, I didn't know how to save, so I forced myself to go to the Help Desk. The only way to describe the look on that Bryn Mawter's face when I asked her how to save was disgust. She impatiently and haughtily showed me how to "Save as". It made no sense to me. Why would I want to save something "as" something else when I just wanted to save? She kept trying to convey the importance of tracking versions of paper writing by organizing them in a folder and identifying each version with a "1" or a "2" added to the file name. I just did it, without understanding, to free us both from discomfort. I was clearly a lost cause. I suffered through years of such treatment; it never varied. I came to hate the Help Desk in a deep and dark way, the way they hated me.
I realize now how traumatizing it was for me, but I was in a situation where failure was not an option. So, I got married instead and threw myself into a new life in a new city, where I was part of a congregation playing a pivotal role using all my personal skills with Holocaust survivors who had never seen a computer, much less used one. I was back on a loving team in a friendly community. I was in my element, and the diss and technology moved to a back burner.
I like working as part of a team. I like people. It's being alone with a technological assignment I have no background knowledge of that is depressing. Even if I know what I'm supposed to be doing, actually doing it feels like an unattainable accomplishment. I completely understand how library patrons and staff feel when encountering new technologies because I am them.
If this entry goes through properly, then I will gain an ounce of confidence. I am trying to overcome my fear. I have come a long way. I need to conduct meaningful work in the 21st century on my own. Going through library science school has been my way of forcing myself to learn. I pity my profs, esp. my 401 instructor. But, G-d bless her and everyone else at IUPUI--they have treated me with compassion. I will always be grateful.
I will get to the finish line. It won't be pretty, and my knees will be shaking the whole time, but I will arrive.
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