30th Year Reflections/29: Naughty or Nice?

“Schools nationwide are rethinking how to provide students with resources, said Susan Ballard, president of the American Association of School Librarians. It's much easier to forgo physical books if…each student has a laptop and access to physical books at home or in other places.”—Pam Louwagie, “Stack of books are history at Benilde library,” Minneapolis Star Tribune

I might not have seen the article were it not for a day-after-Christmas dentist appointment. (Who schedules a dentist appointment the day after Christmas? I guess I do.) But there it was, staring me in the face. What initially caught my attention was the fact that the article on the Benilde-St. Margaret junior and senior high school library was on the front page. It is not everyday that a library story makes the front page. (Sorry, I can’t remember if it was above or below the fold.) But then again, it was the day after Christmas and perhaps the news cycle was a bit slow.

We’ve seen stories like this before. The school library, nearly empty of books, has been transformed into a “learning commons.” Novels and a few magazines are the sole print survivors, sitting forlornly in a forgotten corner in case a student needs a change of pace. All the rest of the books and periodicals are gone, picked off by interested faculty for classroom shelves or boxed and shipped to someone with a greater need, often in a distant land.

However, what really grabbed my attention—and reading between the lines—was the interconnectedness of this private school library with other libraries—public and private—in the metropolitan area and how the relationships between this library and its students were about to change. According to the article “Leaders at the school…decided against trying to duplicate what area public libraries offer. Instead, they will emphasize teaching the school's 1,200 students to find reliable information electronically.” Teaching information literacy is important and I commend the school for focusing on these skills. But I wonder what staff at public libraries serving these students think of the decision. Will they see an uptick in circulation? Will their reference staff field more questions related to homework assignments? Will other demands be placed on public libraries that were not present before Benilde made its decision? Did Benilde administrators consult with their counterparts in the public library systems?

I’m an academic librarian so perhaps some of these questions are naïve. And I’m not publicly reprimanding the folks at Benilde. Consider it, instead, a case study that raises interesting questions. I know that public libraries face their own challenges with funding; the pool of money municipalities and counties make available for public library services is steady state at best. (Remember, we’re only days away from the “fiscal cliff.”) I live in and enjoy one of the best public library systems in the country, Hennepin County. I take advantage of their collections for personal and professional use. I’m also plugged in with the good folks at Minitex and the Electronic Library for Minnesota (ELM). Did the folks at Benilde talk to Hennepin County or Minitex as they contemplated the switch? Benilde, according to the article, did not make the decision based on budgetary reasons. It was a gradual decision and followed an earlier weeding of their collection. Evidence existed that students already used public libraries for their research projects. Professional groups such as the American Association of School Librarians were “rethinking how to provide students with resources.” So it sounds like a lot of thought went into the decision at Benilde.

But I still wonder about the underlying assumptions, e.g. that each student “has a laptop and access to physical books at home or in other places.” All of which leads me to a number of “what if” questions. What if those assumptions prove false, that not everyone has that kind of access to computers or books? And what if funding for public libraries shrinks (or continues to shrink)? Or what if a relationship with an e-book vendor sours? What will the school do then? And will I suddenly see a new crop of students at my door, wanting assistance with their school assignments? How will I fit their needs into the spectrum of needs that already exist for the students and faculty at my institution? What will schools like Benilde do then? I don’t have answers to these questions. At this point I’m simply raising them. I do think that some of the underlying assumptions in decisions like these are not always valid or not fully explored or thought through. I’m just hoping that next year students (or teachers) like those at Benilde won’t find a lump of coal in their Christmas stocking.

30th Year Reflections/28: Heartbroken

“I can only hope it helps for you to know that you’re not alone in your grief, that our world, too, has been torn apart, that all across this land of ours, we have wept with you. We’ve pulled our children tight.”—President Barak Obama

Since Friday, when news came to me of the soul-wrenching event at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I’ve wrestled with what to write in this space. It has been a trivial pursuit compared to what families, first responders, and the community of Newtown are dealing with. And yet, there is a need to respond, to put into words, however poor, whatever wisdom my profession might offer at a time like this.

Librarians are not first responders, but they may be in the next line of response. We need to remember our colleagues at Sandy Hook and think of creative ways to support them as they work through this tragedy. The Library Media Center at Sandy Hook is staffed by four individuals. I make bold to name them so that we might keep them in our thoughts and prayers: Yvonne Cech, Library Media Specialist; Nancy Duffy, Library Teacher; Mary Ann Jacob, Library Clerk; and Cindy Carlson, Library Educational Assistant. Beyond keeping their names before us perhaps some of my colleagues will send them a card or note of support; perhaps some already have.

Some of you might also have resources in mind that you can share with them. Librarians are excellent at finding material and connecting sources with those in need. Now may be the perfect time to offer up your expertise to these colleagues. Perhaps a book or article was particularly useful to you in a similar time. Or maybe you know the perfect book to suggest for those in their care—the students who will again come to them looking for answers. For myself, I’ll note a group that was made available to me in a time of need, following the death of my fifteen-year-old niece: GriefShare. Our parish nurse coordinated this program and I found it immensely helpful as I walked through my own grief. Other faith-based or community groups may offer similar programs. I encourage my colleagues at Sandy Hook to look for such opportunities. You are not alone. You need not walk this path alone.

Finally, I’ll end with a story I heard last Sunday. It is, perhaps, well known to you. For me it was a new story that carried with it a sense of hope. The gist of the story can be found in Wikipedia, from which I borrow here. During the American Civil War Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s oldest son joined the Union army, without his father’s blessing. His son was wounded in battle and this, together with the recent death of his wife, prompted Longfellow to write “Christmas Bells.” It was set to music in the 1870s, a carol familiar to many. A few of the verses, it seems to me, speak to those in Newtown and to us:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day | Their old, familiar carols play, | and wild and sweet | The words repeat | Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent | The hearth-stones of a continent, | And made forlorn | The households born | Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head; | "There is no peace on earth," I said; | "For hate is strong, | And mocks the song | Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: | "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; | The Wrong shall fail, | The Right prevail, | With peace on the earth, good-will to men."

Grace and peace to my colleagues at Sandy Hook.

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.