30th Year Reflections/23: The Day After

“The nation, as you know, is at a critical point. At a time like this, we can’t risk partisan bickering and political posturing. Our leaders have to reach across the aisle to do the people’s work. And we citizens also have to rise to the occasion.” — Governor Mitt Romney

"I believe we can seize this future together because we are not as divided as our politics suggests. We’re not as cynical as the pundits believe. We are greater than the sum of our individual ambitions, and we remain more than a collection of red states and blue states. We are and forever will be the United States of America.” — President Barack Obama

I am predisposed, perhaps even biased. There are times when it is appropriate to state this up front. Today is one of those days. I cut my teeth on politics in Chicago. I am a member of the Democratic Party. I stayed up until three this morning (Wednesday) celebrating that predisposition, slept for two hours, and awoke to a new day. With the dawn came a fist-pumping joy, but also a sense of caution, a deep respect for the democratic process, a patriot’s love of country, and a desire to keep any impulse to gloat as far away from my being as possible.

My caution and desire to keep the crowing at bay is rooted, in part, in my professional identity. A few months ago I wrote about professional ethics and the ALA code. Allow me to refresh our collective memories with a few key statements from the code:

…In a political system grounded in an informed citizenry, we are members of a profession explicitly committed to intellectual freedom and the freedom of access to information. We have a special obligation to ensure the free flow of information and ideas to present and future generations…

VI. We do not advance private interests at the expense of library users, colleagues, or our employing institutions.

VII. We distinguish between our personal convictions and professional duties and do not allow our personal beliefs to interfere with fair representation of the aims of our institutions or the provision of access to their information resources.

We are, indeed, at a critical point in the history of our country and we are greater than the sum of our individual ambitions. It is the day after the election and regardless of whether we won or lost it is time to put the common good front and center. We need to call up the best within our being—individually and collectively—to work to improve the life that flows around and through us. We, as librarians and keepers of the social transcript, need to do everything in our power to assist our fellow citizens and provide them with the full range and unfettered access to all the information, thought, opinions, and ideas under our care. We need to inform ourselves, as professionals, of all the issues that influence our abilities to do our jobs and to do them well. We need to advocate for positions that bolster the common good, make us all better citizens, and move us forward as a country.

Along the way we will, no doubt, disagree with others on what constitutes the common good or makes us a better profession. We will need to constantly interrogate our own thoughts and ideas, to make sure we find the correct balance and distinction between our personal convictions and professional duties. If we do these things with respect, with a continuing ear to the minority voice even as we stand in the majority, if we treat others as we would treat ourselves, if we look and work hard in times of conflict for that common ground and spirit of consensus, we will do great things. I am hopeful for our country. I am proud of my profession. I have faith in those ancient words that still ring true today:

We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

30th Year Reflections/20: The Seminarium

“But that time is not lost which is employed in providing tools for future operation: more especially as in this case the books put into the hands of the youth for this purpose may be such as will at the same time impress their minds with useful facts and good principles.”— Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia

Where is the seed-bed, the nursery, the seminarium for nurturing an informed citizenry? Some might think it is found in the debating halls most recently on display or in the post-debate spin rooms of punditry. Others might look for it on the editorial pages of our great national newspapers. Some, more corrupt in their thinking, might believe it is found in that great wasteland known as talk radio. And still others might think, with some small hope, that the source lies within the classrooms of our distinguished colleges and universities. The latter might be closest to the truth, but for me the hope for an informed citizenry is found in the hearts and minds of our youngest children, their teachers, and—should our children be so fortunate—school librarians and media specialists. It is here, in the earliest grades, that the greatest public good will be found “in providing tools for future operation.”

Primary teachers and librarians are on the front lines of the Republic. Unfortunately—at least for our librarians—they are some of the first—along with teachers of art or music—to be sacrificed when school districts face faltering public support, a shrinking tax base, economic constrictions, or indifferent communities. I found myself wondering, as I watched last night’s presidential debate (and the inevitable commentary, tweets, and memes that followed)—where did these folks go to school? Where did they learn their manners? Is discourtesy or insolence the new norm? Did they ever, in their youth, experience the guiding light of a school librarian or social studies teacher, one who impressed “their minds with useful facts and good principles?” If last night was any indication, then the lesson has been lost and we have nothing but grief to look forward to.

If this is a bit of a rant, so be it. What I’m looking for—what should be planted at an early age—is the capacity to sort through multiple channels of information, the ability to separate the wheat from the chaff, the patience to let ideas and thoughts stew and simmer for a bit, before any pronouncements or assertions are made. What I’m looking for is a civic exegesis, hermeneutic, or midrash that gives us the freedom to arrive at informed opinions without the press of incessant cultural chatter that demands immediate answers and instant gratification. Or, if truly pressed for time, I’m looking for a citizen quick on their feet and nimble of mind. I’m looking for slow-cooked ideas, robust in character, able to stand up to any fast-food thought that attempts to pass for informed conversation and debate. I want a young mind, nurtured by caring teachers and librarians, to see and understand the progression of thought from information to knowledge to understanding and, finally, wisdom.

Long ago I was introduced to the wisdom of the ages by a school librarian. I have been searching my memory for her name (and asked for help from the school district, hoping they would prompt my cloudy recollections, alas to no avail). Let me call her, for the moment, “Mrs. L.” Even in her anonymity she remains one of my heroes. I was somewhere between the fourth and sixth grades when she asked me to be a student assistant. My job was to help check out books, shelve those books that were returned, keep the school library neat and tidy, and help out in any other way needed. In the course of time I was introduced to a number of authors. I was not a voracious reader but rather a nibbler. I gravitated towards the picture books and mysteries. Every now and then I picked up a work of non-fiction or a biography. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all of this—along with the Tab books and Weekly Readers that came to the classroom—created a civil atmosphere, a respect for learning, and fuel for my curiosity. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if “Mrs. L.” had not crossed my path, if the school library did not exist, if the world of ideas was diminished or hidden because my school district could not afford such “luxuries.” Our school librarians deserve all the support we can give them. Remember that when you go into the voting booth in November, especially if an initiative is present on the ballot that impacts public education in your community. We need to provide the tools for future operation.

30th Year Reflections/19: Politics

“While library directors use statistics to document the excellence of their services, [Anne] Coriston suggests that in politics stories work better: pols may forget the numbers, but they won't forget the child who confides that the librarian is her best friend; they may forget that annual library attendance in New York City is 40 million, but they won't forget that that is higher than attendance at all the city's cultural institutions and sports team events combined.”— Library Journal, March 15, 2003

Last week Sherlock Holmes trumped everything else, but I did promise to talk about politics. So, unlike many of our politicians, I’ll keep that promise. I don’t see myself as a political animal in the sense that I’m not terribly fond of spending time with professional politicians. I’ve been to just a couple of caucuses, rarely put a political campaign sign on my lawn, never staffed a campaign phone bank, donated to a campaign, or gone door to door looking for votes. I’ve run for political office just once, as a neighborhood representative to a local school council in Chicago. I lost. I have been a political appointee (by the Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives to the Advisory Committee on the Records of Congress, a position I gladly served for six years). But for the most part the political arena is not an environment I’m familiar with or comfortable in. I’m just not cut out for all the glad-handing and back slapping that seems to come with politics.

On the other hand, I rarely miss a chance to write, e-mail, or phone one of my representatives when an issue concerns me. I know my local city council member, and I know who are my state and federal representatives. I have taken part in lobbying for library efforts, both on the state and national level. But I haven’t been active enough. And perhaps this is the greatest “takeaway” from this week’s post. We have to become knowledgeable about and engaged with the political process. We need to gather stories (and sometimes statistics) to share with our political leaders. We need to have conversations with friends and colleagues. We need to debate the issues. We need to make our legislators (and members of the executive branch) know where we stand on an issue, both as individuals and as a profession. I may not be comfortable with the political arena, may not like the back slaps, but I better get over it, and get over it soon. Our future—professionally and nationally—depends on it.

Long ago I carried on a correspondence with my representative in Congress. It had nothing to do with libraries and everything to do with what we were doing in Nicaragua (this at about the time of the Iran-Contra affair). In the course of my correspondence with the congressman I suggested a number of books he might read to better inform himself on the issue. At one point in our conversations things became a bit heated on my end, something I don’t recommend. Passion is fine, but stepping over into anger becomes counterproductive when communicating with a member of Congress. As it happened, I was in Washington a short time later with ALA colleagues lobbying for library issues. One of our appointments was with my representative. As we entered his office and introduced ourselves I saw a sudden spark of recognition in his eyes when I stated my name. At almost the same time I spied a pile of books on the credenza behind his desk. Many of the titles dealt with Nicaragua, including some of the books I had suggested. My message, it seemed, had been heard. I don’t know how much, if any, I influenced the congressman’s position on either Nicaragua or libraries, but I walked away with the sense that I was a participant, that all of this mattered, that I needed to stay informed and involved. We need to get into the political arena. We need to make our voices heard, now more than ever.

Congressional Chaplains

Something else, if you have the time, that caught my eye as I'm zooming through my Google Reader feeds, this one from the New York Times on the U.S. Senate and House Chaplains. Nothing to do with books or reading or Web 2.0 stuff but of interest to me--maybe "Politics 2.0" To quote from the article: "At a time when Congress is stunningly unpopular, with approval ratings in various recent polls around 12 percent, Father Conroy and Dr. Black serve as pastors to what must be one of the most reviled congregations in the country."

Politics and the Web: Rep Joe Wilson

I will rarely use this forum to comment on things political. But I wanted to pin this thought to my own board as a way to ponder how we communicate our political thoughts in a web 2.0 world. The thought is this: I find it interesting that Rep. Joe Wilson's web site was down for repair this morning, the morning after he acted beyond the bounds of decorum during the President's speech to Congress last night. Is there truly a problem with his web site, or is this the web 2.0 version of unplugging your phone, or is his site under attack, or something else?

Inauguration

A number of things have crossed my desk in the last few days about the inauguration of President Obama. I thought I'd post a few observations on how this Web 2.0 world made it possible to view the events and be a little part of history.

Part of this was fueled by my daughter's last minute decision to travel to Washington with a group from her college to be a part of this historic day. From her first message wondering if this was "crazy" to make such a quick trip (I told her I wanted to go with), to the time she returned home, there was a lot of texting going on back and forth. (She left Chicago at 6 pm Monday, arrived in DC and was on the Mall the next morning by 10am, left DC about 7 that night, and returned to Chicago the next morning, just in time for breakfast and her first class.) There were a number of reports about a possible overload of the cell system in DC, but I didn't experience any problems with text messages or phone calls (I talked to her while she was warming up in the Museum of Natural History, before the parade began). This was the second such experience with my daughter; the first was on election night, when she was in Grant Park, text and pictures flying back and forth between Chicago and Minnesota, as I watched on TV and she in person.

Another interesting experience was related to trying to watch the festivities from my computer at work. I figured that there would be a lot of traffic on the web that day, and I wasn't disappointed. I logged in first to MSNBC and watched for a while (trying to get a little work done at the same time), but the stream was bumpy and constantly rebuffering, so I looked for another option. I figured there wouldn't be as much traffic on the PBS site, so went there, loaded up their stream, and was able to watch the proceedings without a lot of bumps and rebuffering. It was a pleasant experience. (This makes me wonder, not being a really technical person, how traffic flow on the 'net works. I'm assuming that there were tons of folks looking for streaming coverage of events, so the total traffic had to be high. But I'm wondering why the PBS site was a lot smoother than NBC. Less traffic to their site and therefore fewer chances of things clogging up?) While watching, I was keeping my daughter informed as to the schedule of events, so she could know what to watch for next. For example, when President Bush departed on his helicopter from the Capitol I sent a quick text telling her to keep a lookout for the helicopter as it flew down the Mall. Later, during the parade, she was on Constitution near the beginning of the route and I let her know when the new President's limo was heading out. (I have to admit that this gave me a little bit of a chilly feeling, thinking that anyone with evil intent could communicate in the same way.) In any event, I could keep my daughter informed of what was happening next and what to look for (from my vantage point of the TV coverage).

Somewhere along the way one of my sons texted me as well, so for part of the time we had three members of the family communicating about what we were seeing and experiencing. (The same thing happened on election night; it was a fun way to share the event from different parts of the country.)

Finally, sometime between the inauguration and the parade, I visited the White House web site and was pretty amazed at how quickly the transformation had taken place and how much information was already available on the new administration. I took advantage of my visit and clicked through a number of the links, set up an RSS feed to the White House blog, and sent a congratulatory message through the Office of Public Liaison link from the blog. I had a fair sense of how the Obama campaign had used the Internet and was very impressed with my first visit to the new White House site.

So that's a few snippets from my inaugural day experience. When my daughter returned to Chicago she sent me a text message wondering where she could get a DVD of the inauguration. I did some quick checking and found that NBC was ready to take an order. Pretty amazing!