Future Ready

There has been a lot of talk about whether libraries and information professionals can adapt to the increasingly digital future--and if so, how. This video, from a seminar at Library 2.011 called "Future Ready," offers a humorous metaphor for how information professionals can adapt to the "jungle" of this brave new world:

This excerpt from Switch offers a mindset for adapting to rapid change: don't look for the roots of problems; look for "bright spots," see what's different about them, and replicate what they're doing as much as possible.

I admit, the future intimidates me sometimes. So do people who jokingly (I think?) welcome our robot overlords. I often feel like they're mindlessly repeating Barney Stinson's four-word mantra from How I Met Your Mother: "New is always better." Not true, in fact. But neither is the reverse.

November Library Conferences

I am so excited about the two library conferences I am going to this November! There's the CLA/CLSA conference, which I've gone to for the past two years and always enjoyed tremendously, and a brand new conference, Library 2.011, which focuses on the future of libraries in the digital age. The latter is free and entirely online, so that will be an interesting experience, I'm sure. Definitely not the traditional conference experience. Then again, it may give me warm nostalgic feelings (or something) for my days of online education.

More to come! :D

"Math People"

Over the years, I have done a lot of tutoring in various subjects. Of course, I get a lot of math students--either students who need help with a math class or who are reviewing math in preparation for a standardized test. So a lot of people have trouble with math. This is understandable, as it can be a difficult subject. But what I find baffling is how often I get comments like, "I just don't get math" or "I'm not a math person." It's this odd fatalism you don't usually find in other academic subjects. I don't hear people say, "Well, I'm not really a history person" or "I don't get English." They might say they don't like it or they find it boring or they have trouble with part of it (usually grammar), but they assume that if they cared enough to put in the effort, they could understand it.

Why don't they assume the same for math? The premise is actually arguably more true for math than for other subjects because of how systematic math is. Maybe the problem is that it is easier to get behind in math--if you miss one conceptual building block, you're more or less stalled until you can get past it and work your way back up. Maybe it has something to do with cultural assumptions about math and the people who love it.

Look: you can learn math. I promise. And it can be very useful. A better understanding of percentages and interest could have decreased the number of people who accepted bad mortgages. An understanding of statistics can help you decide whether a poll or scientific study is actually valid. And geometry has applications in physics, art, architecture, engineering, and animation, among other things.

There are no "math people." There are people who choose to learn math, and people who choose not to.

Choose math.

Learning from Mistakes

I've learned there's the greatest difference in the world between feeling guilty and taking responsibility. Feeling guilty mires you in the past: it's about beating yourself up for mistakes and asking, "How could I have been so stupid?" Taking responsibility advances you into the future: it's about learning from your mistakes and asking, "What could I do differently next time?"

Further thoughts on collaboration

This summer, I interned at the Pasadena Library, working specifically with the Pasadena Digital History Collaboration (PDHC). The PDHC consists of (currently) four organizations that are digitizing their historical Pasadena materials and putting them online in a shared database to allow for easier research by the general public. My main task was creating an online policy manual to describe their mission, goals, policies, procedures, and standards. Since they were getting to the point where they were large enough to start seeking grants and adding new partners, they wanted everything described very clearly. They also wanted to narrow their focus so they would not scatter their limited energy and resources on activities that would not help them further their long-term goals.

This meant a lot of collaboration, communication, and compromise. I was working closely with about eight different people from three different institutions, and all of them were doing work for the PDHC on top of their full-time or part-time jobs. The biggest difficulty was just waiting to hear back from people. This taught me very quickly to only send out e-mails concerning questions I really needed answers to and give deadlines (usually of about a week, given the complexities of scheduling), but also indicate whether those deadlines were flexible or not. Most of the time, they were, but sometimes I needed a particular piece of information in order to be prepared for a meeting or before it was my last day at the internship. I felt more confident and assertive (and got better responses) after the first meeting, where I got to meet everyone and make a short presentation on my progress.

All of this work came together in the final meeting I facilitated in August. It was exhausting, but a really rewarding experience.

On the whole, I learned that collaboration can work very well, but it's messy, and everyone has to have the same overall goals. It helps when the goals are a larger extension of what they are doing anyway, and they have special skills and interests they can explore within the project.

Gentle Reader

There is an old New Yorker cartoon with a man approaching the desk at a library or bookstore and asking, "Are there still books being written for Gentle Reader?" It addresses the concern of readers who fear books are becoming too harsh and violent, that there is no longer a place for the old-fashioned "gentle" reader who just loves a good story.

This isn't directly what I want to focus on. Books (and any medium or artistic form) will always address the concerns of the time in which they were written, in one way or another. Times always change, both for better and worse. New trends emerge, and old thoughts, habits, and technologies fall by the wayside. We are always losing "the way things were" in a "simpler" time (that wasn't always as simple as we recall). At least the books of the old days still remain. Some things, though, change the fabric of our society in more practical ways.

To put it another way: Are there still jobs available for Gentle Reader?

I had a conversation with my mom recently about Borders closing. She has worked for Barnes & Noble for several years, and I asked her if she thought it would weather the storm. She said she thought it would, since it had a good business model, but reflected that things were definitely changing. The store was likely going to be offering a smaller selection of physical books, in favor of promoting the Nook, e-books, and toys and games, "things people actually buy." She reflected, "There isn't going to be much use for people with my set of skills. It's going to be a lot more technical support and high-pressure sales."

This saddens me. To me, bookstores are supposed to be places people go, and work, because they love books. Not because they love technology or movies or music or games or (ugh) sales. BOOKS. Do these other things have their place? Of course. In fact, they have their places. Bookstores and libraries are the only places for books, and they are both facing tremendous pressure to change and move away from their original purposes.

No doubt some of this is inevitable. And, of course, many positive changes have resulted from more computerized and mobile access to information. But there is something about having a physical place to browse books that engenders a sense of community and serendipity in a way that Amazon will never be able to duplicate.

Is there still a place for Gentle Reader?

One wonders.

Interview with Michelle Turner, Pasadena Museum of History

The latest interview on the Pasadena Digital History Collaboration is from a very different perspective, as it addresses the concerns of someone from the Pasadena Museum of History. Michelle Turner describes the unique concerns in digitizing art and working with librarians.

You can read the interview here.