I have been kind of completely and totally overwhelmed at the response to my most recent post; it's amazing to me that something I wrote could resonate with so many people. What's been even more gratifying is the conversations I've been able to have with people about the role and perceptions of school librarians.
In that post I hinted at--but did not make entirely clear--one of the two words that bothers me most when we talk about images of libraries and librarians.
That word: make.
The point I didn't make clearly enough in that post is that I have no problem at all with the doing what we can to help educators, administrators, and legislators understand what we do and why it's important. I think we should demonstrate, I think we should teach, I think we should share, I think we should tell. I think we should be very deliberate and purposeful about taking our lights out from under the bushel. But those are not the words I most often hear--the word I hear more often than not is "make"--and as a reader and recovering English teacher, I know that verbs matter.
I know, of course, that other parts of speech matter, too. Which brings me to the other word I hear again and again in these discussions, and that bothers me even more.
Just.
As in "more than just a librarian." Or "more than just books." That we need to "make" people see that we're more than "just" librarians.
I am often described by colleagues as being "more than just a librarian" and while I know they're trying to be complimentary, it always makes me cringe. Is there something wrong with being "just" a librarian?
It just seems so. . . dismissive. As if being a librarian isn't much to be impressed by.
It seems that people are looking for a term that encompasses more than traditional, stereotypical definitions of what a librarian is. In school libraries in particular, they seem to want a word that encompasses both teacher and librarian--and the term they most often go for seems to be "media specialist." For the record, I hate the term media specialist. I think it makes me sound like a PR consultant. Not that there's anything wrong with being a PR consultant--it's just not what I am.
We seem to be in a bit of a "redefinition phase" and I think we need to be really thoughtful about the roles we're playing as people make up their minds about the terms they use to describe us, and the definitions attached to those terms. The dictionary definitions of librarian are vague enough that it's really up to us. And beyond the dictionary, it really is up to us as librarians to define who we are and what we do; we won't be able to "make" anyone have a particular definition of librarianship, but our actions will determine the limits of that defintion.
I really hope that the end result of these growing pains is not a new name for what I do, but a new definition of the term librarian. I don't want the idea of librarianship to be limited by "just"; I want to expand the limits of traditional definitions.
I worry, too, about the use of the word "just" when we talk about being about "more than just books." Even though what I do extends far beyond paper books, I don't think that the work I do with connecting readers and books (no matter their format) is anything to be dismissed; it's important work, and it's work I love.
I've heard other school librarians use the term "more than just a librarian" too (usually in the context of "how do we make them see we're more that just librarians). I always find this a little dispiriting--if we won't own the title, how can expect anyone else to?
I don't want a new name for what I do. I love being a school librarian, and I think that title fits perfectly for what I do and who I am. Rather than looking for a term that means more than "just" a librarian and encompasses all that we do, I would love to see us broaden the definition of librarian to include all that we know librarians do.
I am not "just" anything. I am a school librarian. No more, no less.
Showing posts with label school libraries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school libraries. Show all posts
Monday, February 13, 2012
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Think, Create, Share, Grow at your school library
Tomorrow morning, pre- crack of dawn, I leave for New Orleans for ALA and for the culmination of my Emerging Leader experience. It's been an amazing six months, and I've been lucky to work with a group of other smart, passionate, and creative librarians. It's been a lot of work, but also a lot of fun.
We were given the task of creating some promotional materials for Learning4Life and AASL's Standards for the 21st Century Learner. We decided pretty quickly that the best way to promote the standards was to highlight the incredible work school librarians are doing all over the country. So we wrote and distributed a survey using a GoogleDocs Form, and used the responses we got as the raw material for all of our projects.
I created an Animoto using some images that school librarians shared, and included some examples of the standards in action:
Melissa Corey created a Storybird, which I just love:
Think, Create, Share, Grow at Your Library by melissacorey on Storybird
as well as a great GoAnimate video:
GoAnimate.com: Think, Create, Share, Grow in Your Library by melissacorey
Like it? Create your own at GoAnimate.com. It's free and fun!
Alicia Blowers made this great Xtranormal video:
and Kim Ha made one too:
We were given the task of creating some promotional materials for Learning4Life and AASL's Standards for the 21st Century Learner. We decided pretty quickly that the best way to promote the standards was to highlight the incredible work school librarians are doing all over the country. So we wrote and distributed a survey using a GoogleDocs Form, and used the responses we got as the raw material for all of our projects.
I created an Animoto using some images that school librarians shared, and included some examples of the standards in action:
Melissa Corey created a Storybird, which I just love:
Think, Create, Share, Grow at Your Library by melissacorey on Storybird
as well as a great GoAnimate video:
GoAnimate.com: Think, Create, Share, Grow in Your Library by melissacorey
Like it? Create your own at GoAnimate.com. It's free and fun!
Alicia Blowers made this great Xtranormal video:
and Kim Ha made one too:
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Summer Reading; or, It’s Not About the Books
Today, I held my first-ever Summer Reading Book Fair. Also, Seth Godin said something about libraries. At the beginning of the day, I did not think these two events would be related, but I wouldn’t be true to my English major roots if I wasn’t able to draw connections between seemingly unrelated events.
I announced the Summer Reading list during a all-school assembly last Friday (and this year the video played with sound, which was exciting) :
You can see my entire Summer Reading webpage here: Summer Reading 2011
(Have I ever mentioned that Summer Reading is one of my favorite parts of my job? If not, I’m mentioning it now. If I have, I’m mentioning it again.)
This year I’m working with our local independent bookstore to help students order the books they want to read and have them before they go home for the summer. And so I organized a Summer Reading book fair where students could come check out the books on the list and get help deciding which books they might want to read.
Eighteen students showed up--and I know 18 doesn’t sound like a lot, but trust me, it is. My school only has approximately 180 students, and about 50 of those are seniors. Which means about 14% of the students who will be participating in the Summer Reading program showed up (unless I’m doing the math wrong, which is possible, but I’m generally pretty good at percentages).
But more than the number of students who showed up, it was which students showed up. There were a lot of students there who not self-identify as avid readers--or even as readers. But they came and they wanted to know about the books. Some spent very little time, but several spent a long time--asking questions, debating between different books, and sometimes demanding I tell them which book they’d like better. One student came with his own personal short list of books he’d come up with after reviewing the list on the website. And students were talking with one another--recommending books and deciding on which books they both should read.
And this all got me thinking about Seth Godin’s post and Buffy Hamilton's amazing response to it and the bits and pieces of discussion I was able to follow on Twitter today.
The book fair was not a success because I had the books on display, or had computers set up for students to look up more info on the books, or because there was a Google form embedded on the page for me to gather feedback from students. It was a success because it brought people together in a particular time and space to talk about and get excited about books and reading.
If librarianship, in your mind, is about things (whether those things be books or computers or e-readers or the next shiny new toy), you’re doing it wrong. Librarianship is about people, and it’s about ideas, and it’s about bringing ideas and people together.
I admit to not having been as fully immersed as I am used to being (and would usually like to be) in the larger professional conversations that are happening lately; part of it is the time of year and the many projects I have going on, and part of it is that some of these discussions suck the energy right out of me, and I need all the energy I can hold on to in order to work on all these projects.
I know how important those larger conversations are, but they do often happen in an echo chamber where we argue about the trees while those outside are unaware of the forest (to brutally mix a metaphor). As Melissa Corey very eloquently pointed out, the changes we’re talking about need to be happening everywhere, not just in some libraries. But these changes do happen one library at a time. And right now I’m focusing on making those changes in my library.
I know that the teachers I work with have a different ideas about libraries and librarians after working with me. And I know the students I work with have different ideas about libraries and librarians after working with me. Everything I do is about changing expectations about what librarians can do and what libraries can be. And it’s not about the books, or the computers, or the physical space I work in. It’s about connections. It’s about people.
I announced the Summer Reading list during a all-school assembly last Friday (and this year the video played with sound, which was exciting) :
You can see my entire Summer Reading webpage here: Summer Reading 2011
(Have I ever mentioned that Summer Reading is one of my favorite parts of my job? If not, I’m mentioning it now. If I have, I’m mentioning it again.)
This year I’m working with our local independent bookstore to help students order the books they want to read and have them before they go home for the summer. And so I organized a Summer Reading book fair where students could come check out the books on the list and get help deciding which books they might want to read.
Eighteen students showed up--and I know 18 doesn’t sound like a lot, but trust me, it is. My school only has approximately 180 students, and about 50 of those are seniors. Which means about 14% of the students who will be participating in the Summer Reading program showed up (unless I’m doing the math wrong, which is possible, but I’m generally pretty good at percentages).
But more than the number of students who showed up, it was which students showed up. There were a lot of students there who not self-identify as avid readers--or even as readers. But they came and they wanted to know about the books. Some spent very little time, but several spent a long time--asking questions, debating between different books, and sometimes demanding I tell them which book they’d like better. One student came with his own personal short list of books he’d come up with after reviewing the list on the website. And students were talking with one another--recommending books and deciding on which books they both should read.
And this all got me thinking about Seth Godin’s post and Buffy Hamilton's amazing response to it and the bits and pieces of discussion I was able to follow on Twitter today.
The book fair was not a success because I had the books on display, or had computers set up for students to look up more info on the books, or because there was a Google form embedded on the page for me to gather feedback from students. It was a success because it brought people together in a particular time and space to talk about and get excited about books and reading.
If librarianship, in your mind, is about things (whether those things be books or computers or e-readers or the next shiny new toy), you’re doing it wrong. Librarianship is about people, and it’s about ideas, and it’s about bringing ideas and people together.
I admit to not having been as fully immersed as I am used to being (and would usually like to be) in the larger professional conversations that are happening lately; part of it is the time of year and the many projects I have going on, and part of it is that some of these discussions suck the energy right out of me, and I need all the energy I can hold on to in order to work on all these projects.
I know how important those larger conversations are, but they do often happen in an echo chamber where we argue about the trees while those outside are unaware of the forest (to brutally mix a metaphor). As Melissa Corey very eloquently pointed out, the changes we’re talking about need to be happening everywhere, not just in some libraries. But these changes do happen one library at a time. And right now I’m focusing on making those changes in my library.
I know that the teachers I work with have a different ideas about libraries and librarians after working with me. And I know the students I work with have different ideas about libraries and librarians after working with me. Everything I do is about changing expectations about what librarians can do and what libraries can be. And it’s not about the books, or the computers, or the physical space I work in. It’s about connections. It’s about people.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
New year, new blog post
I have several half-started (but nowhere near half-finished) blog posts that I haven’t gotten around to actually writing and posting; now is the time of year when I switch from not posting regularly because not much is going on, to not posting regularly because too much is going on. As a reader, your experience is pretty much the same. I’m all about consistency.
I’ve been back for over three weeks now (two weeks of an intensive Professional Development Institute, and then the regular week-long inservice), but today the new students arrived, making it feel like a real “first day of school.” More significantly, it is the first day of my fourth year at this school. Which is, for the record, the longest I’ve worked anywhere. Which is both exciting and kind of weird. Don’t get me wrong--I love working here, which is why I’m still here, and I’m really excited about many of the changes that are taking place, and the ways in which my job is developing. And I really like the idea of being somewhere for a length of time--establishing myself, building a program, becoming the person that can answer the new teachers’ questions.
Also, this year’s four-year seniors have never known another librarian at this school. I still can’t quite wrap my head around that.
Many exciting things on the horizon for this year (I’m aware that I keep using the word “exciting.” I do know other words, but they are stored in the less tired parts of my brain, to which I do not currently have access). My big goal for this year is to write a real, actual curriculum--beyond the big ideas of what students learn, to a year-by-year, “when and where” do they learn it plan. On one level it seems straightforward, and on another there are too many pieces for me to wrap my head around. But realizing that this year’s seniors have only had me as a librarian has lit a fire in me in terms of really taking ownership for the long-term shape of the information literacy curriculum.
We’re also doing a big push with assistive technology this year, taking what we’ve been doing and making sure it’s implemented consistently across the disciplines. This has, for a while, seemed to be a Sisyphean task (yes, I can come up with “Sisyphean,” but not a synonym for “exciting”), but momentum has finally gotten to the point where real, school-wide change is almost inevitable. I’m psyched and overwhelmed; AT is one of those things where I feel like I know enough to know what I don’t know. But I’m working with a great team of people, and we have built connections to experts who can help.
We’ve switched to a new website portal. . . thing (not to get too technical), and the state of the library website is sort of in limbo. I still have the wikispaces site I’ve had for the past three years, but at some point the library will get folded into the larger school site, which is exciting. I’ve always been a bit frustrated with the wikispaces site; I love that it makes it possible for me to have an easily editable website, but I hate that it’s not really that professional looking. It feels separate from the rest of the school website. Probably because it is. However, that integration hasn’t happened yet, so I’m kind of in between the old site and. . . something new. I don’t know what it will look like or what I’ll be able to do. I am using this experience for building my “making peace with uncertainty” skills.
In a related story, regular readers (hi Mom!) will recall that I had gotten some. . . less than enthusiastic feedback on the summer reading program. Well. In the past few weeks I’ve gotten several e-mails from students who are excited about the books that they’ve read, and are asking good questions about the summer reading projects. And they are doing some cool projects. I can’t wait to see them. In fact, one student showed me his book trailer for Carl Hiassen’s Flush this afternoon, and it was obvious (underneath his “too cool for school” exterior) that he was proud of what he’d created--and he is not the type of student I would have necessarily expected that from. I know there will still be grumbling, and I know that every student didn’t necessarily buy in, but just based on the initial feedback I’m thinking that this new program was a success. So there.
I also did a new student orientation today, which went well, but I’m not really thrilled with what I did. I’m not sure what I would have changed (if I knew, I would have fixed it beforehand); it just seemed lacking in some way. But, one of the prefects did introduce me to a new student as “the coolest librarian you’ll ever meet.” So, I got that going for me.
I’ve been back for over three weeks now (two weeks of an intensive Professional Development Institute, and then the regular week-long inservice), but today the new students arrived, making it feel like a real “first day of school.” More significantly, it is the first day of my fourth year at this school. Which is, for the record, the longest I’ve worked anywhere. Which is both exciting and kind of weird. Don’t get me wrong--I love working here, which is why I’m still here, and I’m really excited about many of the changes that are taking place, and the ways in which my job is developing. And I really like the idea of being somewhere for a length of time--establishing myself, building a program, becoming the person that can answer the new teachers’ questions.
Also, this year’s four-year seniors have never known another librarian at this school. I still can’t quite wrap my head around that.
Many exciting things on the horizon for this year (I’m aware that I keep using the word “exciting.” I do know other words, but they are stored in the less tired parts of my brain, to which I do not currently have access). My big goal for this year is to write a real, actual curriculum--beyond the big ideas of what students learn, to a year-by-year, “when and where” do they learn it plan. On one level it seems straightforward, and on another there are too many pieces for me to wrap my head around. But realizing that this year’s seniors have only had me as a librarian has lit a fire in me in terms of really taking ownership for the long-term shape of the information literacy curriculum.
We’re also doing a big push with assistive technology this year, taking what we’ve been doing and making sure it’s implemented consistently across the disciplines. This has, for a while, seemed to be a Sisyphean task (yes, I can come up with “Sisyphean,” but not a synonym for “exciting”), but momentum has finally gotten to the point where real, school-wide change is almost inevitable. I’m psyched and overwhelmed; AT is one of those things where I feel like I know enough to know what I don’t know. But I’m working with a great team of people, and we have built connections to experts who can help.
We’ve switched to a new website portal. . . thing (not to get too technical), and the state of the library website is sort of in limbo. I still have the wikispaces site I’ve had for the past three years, but at some point the library will get folded into the larger school site, which is exciting. I’ve always been a bit frustrated with the wikispaces site; I love that it makes it possible for me to have an easily editable website, but I hate that it’s not really that professional looking. It feels separate from the rest of the school website. Probably because it is. However, that integration hasn’t happened yet, so I’m kind of in between the old site and. . . something new. I don’t know what it will look like or what I’ll be able to do. I am using this experience for building my “making peace with uncertainty” skills.
In a related story, regular readers (hi Mom!) will recall that I had gotten some. . . less than enthusiastic feedback on the summer reading program. Well. In the past few weeks I’ve gotten several e-mails from students who are excited about the books that they’ve read, and are asking good questions about the summer reading projects. And they are doing some cool projects. I can’t wait to see them. In fact, one student showed me his book trailer for Carl Hiassen’s Flush this afternoon, and it was obvious (underneath his “too cool for school” exterior) that he was proud of what he’d created--and he is not the type of student I would have necessarily expected that from. I know there will still be grumbling, and I know that every student didn’t necessarily buy in, but just based on the initial feedback I’m thinking that this new program was a success. So there.
I also did a new student orientation today, which went well, but I’m not really thrilled with what I did. I’m not sure what I would have changed (if I knew, I would have fixed it beforehand); it just seemed lacking in some way. But, one of the prefects did introduce me to a new student as “the coolest librarian you’ll ever meet.” So, I got that going for me.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Apparently, a lack of planning on your part does constitute an emergency on my part
I know it's been a while since I've written a post with much substance--there are many reasons for that, of varying levels of validity. It's been "research season" at school, which means I'm busier than usual (and more brain dead than usual when I do have down time). I've also been putting together a presentation for a grant proposal I wrote about increasing the availability of assistive tech on campus; that happened on Tuesday, and I should know the final decision on it in mid-June. And I've been working on the Summer Reading program (which I will write more about later). So it's not that I haven't had anything to say; it's just that--as anyone who's talked to me in real life in the past few weeks can tell you--sentence formation has not been my strong suit.
There is one significant issue I've been grappling with, and it's one I'm regularly confronted with, particularly when there are a lot of research papers and projects going on; I've resisted writing about it for many reasons, but mostly because not only do I not have a sense of what the right answer is, I'm not sure I know what my right answer is.
One of my guiding principles is that I won't do research for students. I will show students where to search. I will help students devise search terms. I will guide them in effective database usage. I will try--and mostly fail--to clearly explain the difference between keywords and subject headings. I will resist the urge to wail and gnash my teeth (at least openly) when a student refuses to believe me when I tell them that search engines and databases don't understand natural language (and remain patient when a student asks why I just don't invent one that does, as it would make life easier). I will sit next to a student as long as necessary to help them find the sources they need and cite them properly. I will keep my hand off the damn mouse and let them do the work.
But I will not do the research for the student.
Unless.
All of my principles and beliefs work just fine when students start the research process when they're supposed to, and come for help (for which I am readily and frequently available, and routinely rearrange my schedule to provide), and ask for help once they're run into a dead end. None of my principles and beliefs work at all when a student (or, a couple times this semester, their parent) comes to me less than 24 hours before a paper is due, hopelessly lost about what they need or where to find it.
I want to do exactly what I do with other students--sit them down at a computer, put their hand on the mouse, and walk them through the research process. But that whole process takes time. And when a student is in the middle of a full-scale-freakout, the last thing they have is the time or patience needed to do research. And so that is the point at which I often end up taking over the mouse and finding resources for (or, I like to delude myself, with) a student. I say "click here, click here, print this, here's the source you need." I try and throw in some incidental instruction, but I know none of that sticks. And it drives me crazy.
In those moments I want to be able to say, with a clear conscience, "I'm sorry, but you've waited too long." It hardly seems right that the students who didn't plan and didn't make the effort get the most research "help." And I know, in the long term, that the students who plan properly and start early and actually learn research skills will be better off, academically, in the long run. And I know, in the long term, that students who don't develop these skills in high school will reap the consequences of poor planning and researching skills. Or they won't. 'Cause chances are there will always be someone like me who is willing to compromise their principles in order to help students find information. Because that is, after all, another core principle of librarianship.
Trying to hold the line between teaching students and doing the research for them becomes infinitely more difficult any time the process involves a) tears b) irate parents or c) both. And anything I can do to neutralize tears or parents is, in that moment, the right choice. Because as much as I would like to be able to tell students that they've waited too long and will need to throw themselves at the mercy of their teachers, that is not a viable option.
But here's the thing that I think rankles most about this whole issue. The students who wait to the last minute and come to me in a panic? The students who demand resources--usually late at night--immediately if not sooner? The students who, by some measures, get the most help? Also the students least likely to say thank you.
If I'm going to compromise my principles for you, the least you could do is show a little gratitude.
There is one significant issue I've been grappling with, and it's one I'm regularly confronted with, particularly when there are a lot of research papers and projects going on; I've resisted writing about it for many reasons, but mostly because not only do I not have a sense of what the right answer is, I'm not sure I know what my right answer is.
One of my guiding principles is that I won't do research for students. I will show students where to search. I will help students devise search terms. I will guide them in effective database usage. I will try--and mostly fail--to clearly explain the difference between keywords and subject headings. I will resist the urge to wail and gnash my teeth (at least openly) when a student refuses to believe me when I tell them that search engines and databases don't understand natural language (and remain patient when a student asks why I just don't invent one that does, as it would make life easier). I will sit next to a student as long as necessary to help them find the sources they need and cite them properly. I will keep my hand off the damn mouse and let them do the work.
But I will not do the research for the student.
Unless.
All of my principles and beliefs work just fine when students start the research process when they're supposed to, and come for help (for which I am readily and frequently available, and routinely rearrange my schedule to provide), and ask for help once they're run into a dead end. None of my principles and beliefs work at all when a student (or, a couple times this semester, their parent) comes to me less than 24 hours before a paper is due, hopelessly lost about what they need or where to find it.
I want to do exactly what I do with other students--sit them down at a computer, put their hand on the mouse, and walk them through the research process. But that whole process takes time. And when a student is in the middle of a full-scale-freakout, the last thing they have is the time or patience needed to do research. And so that is the point at which I often end up taking over the mouse and finding resources for (or, I like to delude myself, with) a student. I say "click here, click here, print this, here's the source you need." I try and throw in some incidental instruction, but I know none of that sticks. And it drives me crazy.
In those moments I want to be able to say, with a clear conscience, "I'm sorry, but you've waited too long." It hardly seems right that the students who didn't plan and didn't make the effort get the most research "help." And I know, in the long term, that the students who plan properly and start early and actually learn research skills will be better off, academically, in the long run. And I know, in the long term, that students who don't develop these skills in high school will reap the consequences of poor planning and researching skills. Or they won't. 'Cause chances are there will always be someone like me who is willing to compromise their principles in order to help students find information. Because that is, after all, another core principle of librarianship.
Trying to hold the line between teaching students and doing the research for them becomes infinitely more difficult any time the process involves a) tears b) irate parents or c) both. And anything I can do to neutralize tears or parents is, in that moment, the right choice. Because as much as I would like to be able to tell students that they've waited too long and will need to throw themselves at the mercy of their teachers, that is not a viable option.
But here's the thing that I think rankles most about this whole issue. The students who wait to the last minute and come to me in a panic? The students who demand resources--usually late at night--immediately if not sooner? The students who, by some measures, get the most help? Also the students least likely to say thank you.
If I'm going to compromise my principles for you, the least you could do is show a little gratitude.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Effect and Cause
I finally took the time to watch PBS's Digital Nation this weekend; I chopped vegetables and folded laundry while doing so, in a semi-deliberate attempt to totally miss the point about multi-tasking. It's well worth the 90 minutes--lots of thought-provoking stuff. They offered more questions than answers, which is only appropriate for an area in which we don't have a lot of answers yet.
Near the beginning Sherry Turkle (who was talking about student multi-tasking in class) said, "They need to be stimulated in ways they didn't need to be stimulated before." Which is a line of thinking I've heard before, and one I don't really buy 100%.
We seem to allow ourselves and others get really casual about proving causation when it comes to the use of new technologies, particularly by students. Just because students are adapting (sometimes somewhat obsessively) to new technologies, it doesn't mean that the technology created the need for stimulation; it seems more likely that the technology filled the need for stimulation. If you've been even casually aware of educational trends for any length of time, you'll realize that the need for stimulation is not new. Heck, if you've ever been a student you'll realize this. I remember zoning out in boring classes in high school, spending time doodling in my notebook, or doing work for other classes. I remember one girl who regularly spent class time painting her nails. Sure, these were less obvious distractions than more contemporary technologies, but you can't convince me that students' desire to occupy their brains in some way during classes that don't stimulate them is somehow a new trend.
The other, similar argument I hear regularly is that kids today are "wired differently." Until I'm shown actual brain scans that show that today's students have made sudden, drastic evolutionary leaps, I refuse to believe that students are actually "wired" differently. The way they meet the need for stimulation is different, but the need is the same as it has always been.
One of the things that struck me as I watched Digital Nation is that they were using shots of students fooling around on their computers during class to show how distracted students were during class. Only all of these shots were taken in large lecture halls, where students were expected to be passive. I've sat in those large lecture halls. Some of you have sat in them with me. And I guarantee you that even though I was a good student who was frequently interested in the topic, if I'd had a laptop in class I also would have been distracted by it. Because large lecture halls and classes that don't actively engage students in their own learning are boring.
The need to actively engage students in their own learning has always been there--but the introduction of new technologies into the classroom has made it more urgent. Many teachers seem to be looking for a way to "change" students, to make them put down the electronics and go back to being "good students." But the students haven't changed; they need the same things they always have, that we haven't been giving them for ages. So we, as teachers, have to be the ones who change.
Which is not to say I think we need to be all stimulation all the time. The other part of the series that really resonated for me was from the extended interview with Sherry Turkle, called The Need for Stillness. I believe that as librarians we are in a unique position to help provide the space and structure for quiet reflection--which is vitally important to the process of both consuming and producing knowledge.
Near the beginning Sherry Turkle (who was talking about student multi-tasking in class) said, "They need to be stimulated in ways they didn't need to be stimulated before." Which is a line of thinking I've heard before, and one I don't really buy 100%.
We seem to allow ourselves and others get really casual about proving causation when it comes to the use of new technologies, particularly by students. Just because students are adapting (sometimes somewhat obsessively) to new technologies, it doesn't mean that the technology created the need for stimulation; it seems more likely that the technology filled the need for stimulation. If you've been even casually aware of educational trends for any length of time, you'll realize that the need for stimulation is not new. Heck, if you've ever been a student you'll realize this. I remember zoning out in boring classes in high school, spending time doodling in my notebook, or doing work for other classes. I remember one girl who regularly spent class time painting her nails. Sure, these were less obvious distractions than more contemporary technologies, but you can't convince me that students' desire to occupy their brains in some way during classes that don't stimulate them is somehow a new trend.
The other, similar argument I hear regularly is that kids today are "wired differently." Until I'm shown actual brain scans that show that today's students have made sudden, drastic evolutionary leaps, I refuse to believe that students are actually "wired" differently. The way they meet the need for stimulation is different, but the need is the same as it has always been.
One of the things that struck me as I watched Digital Nation is that they were using shots of students fooling around on their computers during class to show how distracted students were during class. Only all of these shots were taken in large lecture halls, where students were expected to be passive. I've sat in those large lecture halls. Some of you have sat in them with me. And I guarantee you that even though I was a good student who was frequently interested in the topic, if I'd had a laptop in class I also would have been distracted by it. Because large lecture halls and classes that don't actively engage students in their own learning are boring.
The need to actively engage students in their own learning has always been there--but the introduction of new technologies into the classroom has made it more urgent. Many teachers seem to be looking for a way to "change" students, to make them put down the electronics and go back to being "good students." But the students haven't changed; they need the same things they always have, that we haven't been giving them for ages. So we, as teachers, have to be the ones who change.
Which is not to say I think we need to be all stimulation all the time. The other part of the series that really resonated for me was from the extended interview with Sherry Turkle, called The Need for Stillness. I believe that as librarians we are in a unique position to help provide the space and structure for quiet reflection--which is vitally important to the process of both consuming and producing knowledge.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thank you in advance
If you care about school libraries at all--and if you're friends with me, you better care at least a little, or we're in a fight--please take the time to write President Obama and your Congresspeople to ask them to restore funding for school libraries to the FY2011 Budget. You can read more about the story here: President Obama Proposes Eliminating Federal School Library Funds
Buffy Hamilton, the Unquiet Librarian, responds quiet eloquently here: An Indecent Proposal
My letter to President Obama (which I adapted from Hamilton's letter) is below.
Not sure what to write? Feel free to copy either my letter or Buffy Hamilton's.
Not sure where to send your letter? Find out here: Contact Elected Officials
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Mr. President:
Recently I learned through the American Library Association and the American Association of School Librarians that your FY 2011 education budget does not include any additional specific funding for school libraries, additional school librarians, or statues mandating certified school librarians for every state. Equally disappointing is the news that the Improving Literacy for School Libraries grant program has been all but put out of reach for school libraries with the FY 2011 budget proposal that will absorb this grant program into a variety of other Department of Education programs.
When you delivered the keynote at the ALA Conference in Chicago in 2005 you said, "At the moment that we persuade a child, any child, to cross that threshold, that magic threshold into a library, we change their lives forever, for the better. It's an enormous force for good." For many children the library that "hooks" them is the school library. Many young children don't have ready access to their public libraries, for any number of reasons--and often those libraries are also inadequately funded, or may not have programs that specifically meet the needs of younger children. School libraries, however, are always accessible to the students they serve, and are designed to instill in them a love of learning and reading. Without well-funded, professionally staffed school libraries, those students may never have that transformative moment you spoke of.
In October of 2009 I was heartened to read your official proclamation for National Information Literacy Awareness Month. I, and many other school librarians, cheered your recognition of the importance of information literacy--and what seemed to be your recognition of the crucial role libraries and librarians play in teaching students to how to find and evaluate information. You privilege information literacy as being equally important to the traditional literacies and mathematics, yet you are providing no additional funding to provide all schools the primary teachers of information literacy, school librarians. Why are you providing funding for additional resources and teachers to support reading, writing, and mathematics, yet you ignore funding for the experts who are most ready, willing, and able to teach information literacy to our nation’s students in grades K-12: school librarians. Are you aware that not all states legally mandate a fully certified school librarian? Did you know that many school libraries do not have a full time certified school librarian? Do you think students can become informationally fluent in the absence of rich, current, and diverse collections in their school libraries or appropriate access to digital content? How can we as a nation provide students the instruction needed to help students cultivate “the ability to seek, find, and decipher information” without fully funded libraries staffed by highly qualified, certified school librarians?
As an independent school librarian, I am less directly affected by these funding decisions. But making students--students who will one day join the work force, and vote, and run for public office, and are the next generation of this country's leaders--information literate citizens is in everyone's best interest. Finding information and separating, as you said in your proclamation, "truth from fiction and signal from noise" will become an increasingly more complex skill. But the life decisions we make using that information will become no less crucial. We need citizens who can find and evaluate the information needed to make those decisions.
I became a school librarian because I believe, passionately, that these skills are vital to both our individual and collective success. These skills have the most resonance when taught in the overall context of the school curriculum, and driven by students' own inquiry and desire for knowledge. If you say you support information literacy as the cornerstone of a democratic society and informed citizenry, then you must not marginalize school libraries and librarians, and consequently, the students we serve.
We are already dealing with the aftermath of a financial crisis that was brought about, at least in part, by an inability to effectively evaluate information, to separate truth from fiction and signal from noise. Our collective ability to avoid and navigate future crises--of all kinds--will depend upon our having the skills that school librarians teach.
There is still time to restore and increase funding for school libraries. We will pay to prepare students to answer the questions of tomorrow, or we will pay when they don't have the answers. And the price tag for the latter is much, much larger.
Buffy Hamilton, the Unquiet Librarian, responds quiet eloquently here: An Indecent Proposal
My letter to President Obama (which I adapted from Hamilton's letter) is below.
Not sure what to write? Feel free to copy either my letter or Buffy Hamilton's.
Not sure where to send your letter? Find out here: Contact Elected Officials
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Mr. President:
Recently I learned through the American Library Association and the American Association of School Librarians that your FY 2011 education budget does not include any additional specific funding for school libraries, additional school librarians, or statues mandating certified school librarians for every state. Equally disappointing is the news that the Improving Literacy for School Libraries grant program has been all but put out of reach for school libraries with the FY 2011 budget proposal that will absorb this grant program into a variety of other Department of Education programs.
When you delivered the keynote at the ALA Conference in Chicago in 2005 you said, "At the moment that we persuade a child, any child, to cross that threshold, that magic threshold into a library, we change their lives forever, for the better. It's an enormous force for good." For many children the library that "hooks" them is the school library. Many young children don't have ready access to their public libraries, for any number of reasons--and often those libraries are also inadequately funded, or may not have programs that specifically meet the needs of younger children. School libraries, however, are always accessible to the students they serve, and are designed to instill in them a love of learning and reading. Without well-funded, professionally staffed school libraries, those students may never have that transformative moment you spoke of.
In October of 2009 I was heartened to read your official proclamation for National Information Literacy Awareness Month. I, and many other school librarians, cheered your recognition of the importance of information literacy--and what seemed to be your recognition of the crucial role libraries and librarians play in teaching students to how to find and evaluate information. You privilege information literacy as being equally important to the traditional literacies and mathematics, yet you are providing no additional funding to provide all schools the primary teachers of information literacy, school librarians. Why are you providing funding for additional resources and teachers to support reading, writing, and mathematics, yet you ignore funding for the experts who are most ready, willing, and able to teach information literacy to our nation’s students in grades K-12: school librarians. Are you aware that not all states legally mandate a fully certified school librarian? Did you know that many school libraries do not have a full time certified school librarian? Do you think students can become informationally fluent in the absence of rich, current, and diverse collections in their school libraries or appropriate access to digital content? How can we as a nation provide students the instruction needed to help students cultivate “the ability to seek, find, and decipher information” without fully funded libraries staffed by highly qualified, certified school librarians?
As an independent school librarian, I am less directly affected by these funding decisions. But making students--students who will one day join the work force, and vote, and run for public office, and are the next generation of this country's leaders--information literate citizens is in everyone's best interest. Finding information and separating, as you said in your proclamation, "truth from fiction and signal from noise" will become an increasingly more complex skill. But the life decisions we make using that information will become no less crucial. We need citizens who can find and evaluate the information needed to make those decisions.
I became a school librarian because I believe, passionately, that these skills are vital to both our individual and collective success. These skills have the most resonance when taught in the overall context of the school curriculum, and driven by students' own inquiry and desire for knowledge. If you say you support information literacy as the cornerstone of a democratic society and informed citizenry, then you must not marginalize school libraries and librarians, and consequently, the students we serve.
We are already dealing with the aftermath of a financial crisis that was brought about, at least in part, by an inability to effectively evaluate information, to separate truth from fiction and signal from noise. Our collective ability to avoid and navigate future crises--of all kinds--will depend upon our having the skills that school librarians teach.
There is still time to restore and increase funding for school libraries. We will pay to prepare students to answer the questions of tomorrow, or we will pay when they don't have the answers. And the price tag for the latter is much, much larger.
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