Recently I realized that I just didn't have much time for reading. A librarian who doesn't read is like a guitarist without strings, a cobbler with no shoes, a balloonist bereft of hot air. So I decided to do something about it.
I read over 20 books. Not trash, either -- some were classics. I read Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina," Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment," and Herman Melville's "Moby Dick." I also read some science fiction: "Stranger in a Strange Land," by Robert Heinlein, "The Time Machine," by H.G. Wells, "2001: A Space Odyssey," by Arthur C. Clarke. I even read some children's books: Eric Carle's "the Very Hungry Caterpillar," "The Cat in the Hat," and "Green Eggs and Ham," by Dr. Seuss, and Shel Silverstein's "the Giving Tree."
Not bad, eh? That's not even the whole list. And what's more, I read all of these books in a single day!
You're wondering, "How did he do it? Speed-reading? Cranked up books on tape, absorbed as he slept? Or is it some special, even supernatural skill, transmitted via obscure rituals at library schools?"
No. I stumbled across what may be serious competition to Cliff's Notes (book digests long used by students who never got around to reading a book, but had a test the next day). I found a web site called, "Minute Books." Their motto: "We read them for you."
Each section -- divided into Classics, Science Fiction, and Children's (so far) -- includes a summary that you can read in a minute or less. And the summaries are funny.
Take their version of "Green Eggs and Ham."
SOME CREATURE
I will not eat green eggs and ham, anywhere, anytime, under any circumstances.
SAM I AM
Try it!
SOME CRITTER
Yum.
Or how about "A Christmas Carol?"
EBENEZER SCROOGE
Bah, humbug. You'll work thirty-eight hours on Christmas Day, keep the heat at five degrees, and like it.
GHOST OF JACOB MARLEY
Ebeneezer Scrooge, three ghosts of Christmas will and tell you you're mean.
THREE GHOSTS OF CHRISTMAS
You're mean.
EBENEEZER SCROOGE
At last, I have seen the light. Let's dance in the streets. Have some money.
THE END
In short, these descriptions are not only, well, short, they do a good job of capturing the gist of things. The range of titles chosen is impressive: from Beowulf to "Ethan Frome" (which gets a great two sentence summary: "I met a man named Ethan Frome. His life sucked.") You see books by Joseph Conrad, the Brontes, Jane Austen, Homer, Hawthorne, poems by Coleridge, Poe, and Milton. You see titles that range from contemporary "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," to summaries of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew Series.
But the really sly thing about these summaries is that to get the maximum impact, the truest appreciation of how well they've been executed, you ... have to read the book. The whole book. The long version.
Take this version of Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree." "Reader: I can't believe you chopped down the tree, you jerk!" That's exactly the way I felt when I read this. But if you haven't read the book, you don't get it.
So finally, Minute Books remind you of all the great books you never got around to, or you'd like to go back and revisit. They don't save you any time at all. Fiendish.
The URL for the site is http://www.the-forest.com/minutebooks/. Got a minute?
Wednesday, March 15, 2000
Wednesday, March 8, 2000
March 8, 2000 - Library Measurement
Librarianship is like any other business. You have to watch the numbers. But -- like any other business -- the question is, "which numbers?"
The traditional measure of library services is "circulation." In some respects, this is like sales. Circulation is what people check out the door. (Let's just ignore for the moment that most of our sales are also, technically, "returns." In business, that's bad. In librarianship, that's good.)
If we just count "checkouts", the Douglas Public Library District is doing very well. Our increase of use far outstrips population growth. And why not? Our adult demographic profile almost defines the ideal library user: well-educated, white collar, upwardly mobile, lots of kids.
But -- like any other business -- our environment is changing. New uses are emerging, new expectations, new demographics.
I believe there are three areas of significant growth in the demand for library services, particularly in Douglas County.
The first is reference. What do reference librarians do, exactly? Well, the public piece of their job is pretty simple. They answer questions. This varies from the elementary school student's last minute research assignment ("What's the chief export of Bolivia?") to the idle telephone inquiry ("What does ëhumongousí mean?") to thorny investigations into abstruse market conditions for potential products ("how many Douglas County households have replaced their roof shingles in the past five years?").
There's the problem with reference. An easy question equals a count of ... one. A hard question equals ... one. In sales, items involving different costs have different values. In libraries, the distinction is not so clear.
But here's what I do know. We get many more -- and much harder -- questions than we used to.
The second area of growth is children's services.
Ask the following question to the next three adults you meet: "When you were a child, what book changed your life?" Chances are, there is one.
Then ask the next question: "Who told you about it?" Where there's good library service, the answer is, "The librarian in the children's department." Just how, exactly, am I supposed to measure that?
I don't know. But I do know that we're working hard to add, and to educate, library staff around library services to children. If you haven't seen our new service stations in the children's area already, you'll see them soon. I can't think of anything else we could do that has such power to transform our communities.
From the business perspective, why are we doing this? Because a smart counselor in the world of bibliography builds our customer base. In other words, a good children's librarian has the power to hook you into a lifelong pursuit of reading.
Like any good sales professional, a children's librarian knows the product, knows the customer, makes the sale, and keeps you coming back for more.
The third area of library measure is electronic services. And here, I must confess, the whole profession is in utter disarray.
Think about it. The library has a web page. What, exactly, does a "click" mean? I can sure count that. But is it equal to a checkout? A reference question? A suggested book?
There are lots of ways to look at this. A positive spin is that when librarians add a new reference link to a web site, lots of our patrons will click along for the ride. They're curious to see what it has to offer. That never happened with our reference books. So web sites encourage our patrons to explore more of our collection, to serve themselves.
But it's very hard for us to know whether or not we've made the sale. In the old days, librarians made sense of hard books. But some web patrons don't ask us for help with a balky database.
Should we count the click? The number of database retrievals? The number of pages printed?
Again, I don't know.
I've decided that library statistics fall into one of four types.
The first is Availability. For instance, we count the number of library branches, or library hours, or staff, or magazine subscriptions, or databases subscribed to, or Internet terminals.
The second is Incidence. It's the number of transactions: checkouts, reference questions answered, programs held, people who walked in the door, photocopies made, links that somebody clicked on.
The third is Relevance. Here, the difference is between a book somebody pulled off the shelf but left on a desk, and the book checked out. "Relevance," in this context, just means, "looked promising."" And at present, none of our statistics really measure this, with the possible exception of our occasional survey that asks people if they actually found what they came in for.
The fourth library measurement is Quality. In this area, we join the ranks again of merchants and professionals. You may check out and read a bestseller. Was it any good? Hard to know.
In a business and librarianship, it's good news if you come back to buy something else. In medicine or law, it's bad news if the first visit didn't fix things.
In libraries, the things we measure do little more than point towards kinds of activity, and our measurements often don't capture useful meanings. Science is about numbers, hard facts, clear relations. Library Science, I've decided, is about much fuzzier relationships. It is, in sum, not science at all.
It is art.
The traditional measure of library services is "circulation." In some respects, this is like sales. Circulation is what people check out the door. (Let's just ignore for the moment that most of our sales are also, technically, "returns." In business, that's bad. In librarianship, that's good.)
If we just count "checkouts", the Douglas Public Library District is doing very well. Our increase of use far outstrips population growth. And why not? Our adult demographic profile almost defines the ideal library user: well-educated, white collar, upwardly mobile, lots of kids.
But -- like any other business -- our environment is changing. New uses are emerging, new expectations, new demographics.
I believe there are three areas of significant growth in the demand for library services, particularly in Douglas County.
The first is reference. What do reference librarians do, exactly? Well, the public piece of their job is pretty simple. They answer questions. This varies from the elementary school student's last minute research assignment ("What's the chief export of Bolivia?") to the idle telephone inquiry ("What does ëhumongousí mean?") to thorny investigations into abstruse market conditions for potential products ("how many Douglas County households have replaced their roof shingles in the past five years?").
There's the problem with reference. An easy question equals a count of ... one. A hard question equals ... one. In sales, items involving different costs have different values. In libraries, the distinction is not so clear.
But here's what I do know. We get many more -- and much harder -- questions than we used to.
The second area of growth is children's services.
Ask the following question to the next three adults you meet: "When you were a child, what book changed your life?" Chances are, there is one.
Then ask the next question: "Who told you about it?" Where there's good library service, the answer is, "The librarian in the children's department." Just how, exactly, am I supposed to measure that?
I don't know. But I do know that we're working hard to add, and to educate, library staff around library services to children. If you haven't seen our new service stations in the children's area already, you'll see them soon. I can't think of anything else we could do that has such power to transform our communities.
From the business perspective, why are we doing this? Because a smart counselor in the world of bibliography builds our customer base. In other words, a good children's librarian has the power to hook you into a lifelong pursuit of reading.
Like any good sales professional, a children's librarian knows the product, knows the customer, makes the sale, and keeps you coming back for more.
The third area of library measure is electronic services. And here, I must confess, the whole profession is in utter disarray.
Think about it. The library has a web page. What, exactly, does a "click" mean? I can sure count that. But is it equal to a checkout? A reference question? A suggested book?
There are lots of ways to look at this. A positive spin is that when librarians add a new reference link to a web site, lots of our patrons will click along for the ride. They're curious to see what it has to offer. That never happened with our reference books. So web sites encourage our patrons to explore more of our collection, to serve themselves.
But it's very hard for us to know whether or not we've made the sale. In the old days, librarians made sense of hard books. But some web patrons don't ask us for help with a balky database.
Should we count the click? The number of database retrievals? The number of pages printed?
Again, I don't know.
I've decided that library statistics fall into one of four types.
The first is Availability. For instance, we count the number of library branches, or library hours, or staff, or magazine subscriptions, or databases subscribed to, or Internet terminals.
The second is Incidence. It's the number of transactions: checkouts, reference questions answered, programs held, people who walked in the door, photocopies made, links that somebody clicked on.
The third is Relevance. Here, the difference is between a book somebody pulled off the shelf but left on a desk, and the book checked out. "Relevance," in this context, just means, "looked promising."" And at present, none of our statistics really measure this, with the possible exception of our occasional survey that asks people if they actually found what they came in for.
The fourth library measurement is Quality. In this area, we join the ranks again of merchants and professionals. You may check out and read a bestseller. Was it any good? Hard to know.
In a business and librarianship, it's good news if you come back to buy something else. In medicine or law, it's bad news if the first visit didn't fix things.
In libraries, the things we measure do little more than point towards kinds of activity, and our measurements often don't capture useful meanings. Science is about numbers, hard facts, clear relations. Library Science, I've decided, is about much fuzzier relationships. It is, in sum, not science at all.
It is art.
Wednesday, March 1, 2000
March 1, 2000 - Meetings and programs
Readers of this paper have probably noted the weekly listing of library events elsewhere. But I thought I'd call out some of the notable events coming up this month.
In addition to our weekly story times, we have a number of reading groups. Here's a gander at March literary gatherings:
March 1 - the Mother-Daughter Book Club at Highlands Ranch will be reviewing "Julie of the Wolves" at 7 p.m.
March 2 - at 9 a.m. the reading club at Lone Tree will be discussing Thornton Wilder's "Our Town." The Highlands Ranch Chapter Book club meets from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m. each week.
March 9 - Louviers will hold its Chapter Book Club from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m.
March 13 - at 1 p.m., the Senior Book Discussion group in Castle Rock will talk about "Three Men in a Boat," by Jerome K. Jerome; later (at 7 p.m.), the Highlands Ranch Book Club will discuss "Their Eyes are Watching God," by Laura Huston
March 14 - Philip S. Miller Library's Night Readers will review Barbara Kingsolver's "High Tide in Tucson" at 7 p.m.
March 16 - Highlands Ranch Chapter Book group meets from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m.
March 27 - Lone Tree hosts its Juvenile Chapter Book Club at 4 p.m., which will focus on historical fiction.
In addition to the reading groups, we've got some programs worth putting on your calendar:
March 5 - Celeste Hodges Art Reception at Parker Library, 1-5 p.m.
March 7 - How to Use Interlibrary Loan for Genealogy at Highlands Ranch Library, 7 p.m.
March 9 - also at Highlands Ranch, 7 p.m., is our Advanced Internet Class.
March 12 - our Local History Collection will sponsor the "Tales from the Public Records," at the county's Philip S. Miller Administration Building in Castle Rock
March 14 - the Parker Library will host one of its introductory classes on the Internet at 7 p.m.
March 15 - our Spring Reading program, "Climb to New Heights with Books!" begins at all our libraries
March 18 - Mountain Adventures with Julie Davis at the Highlands Ranch Library, 2 p.m. (repeats at Lone Tree the same time on March 25, at Philip S. Miller at 4:15 p.m. on March 27, and at Parker on 4:15 p.m. March 30)
March 21 - the Philip S. Miller Library's Lunch and Learn program (12:10 to 12:50 p.m.) is the intriguingly titled "UFO's in Douglas County."
March 25 - Parker Library will host the Parents and Kids Internet Class at 10 a.m.; Highlands Ranch Library will sponsor "Bonsai for Beginners" from 1 to 3 p.m.
The above is, by no means, the total of program offerings during the month. (We're up to about 50 a week these days.) But it does underscore some of the rich activities going on in libraries aside from the checking in and out of books.
Our meeting rooms, which are free and open to the public, themselves constitute an important library service. For far too many of us, our lives rush from event to event. What's even worse is that we often drive miles and miles to get to these events, and shell out far too much money.
Here's hoping that you'll find something right down the road at your neighborhood library that can delight or divert you, and won't compromise your children's college education (or your own retirement) fund.
In addition to our weekly story times, we have a number of reading groups. Here's a gander at March literary gatherings:
March 1 - the Mother-Daughter Book Club at Highlands Ranch will be reviewing "Julie of the Wolves" at 7 p.m.
March 2 - at 9 a.m. the reading club at Lone Tree will be discussing Thornton Wilder's "Our Town." The Highlands Ranch Chapter Book club meets from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m. each week.
March 9 - Louviers will hold its Chapter Book Club from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m.
March 13 - at 1 p.m., the Senior Book Discussion group in Castle Rock will talk about "Three Men in a Boat," by Jerome K. Jerome; later (at 7 p.m.), the Highlands Ranch Book Club will discuss "Their Eyes are Watching God," by Laura Huston
March 14 - Philip S. Miller Library's Night Readers will review Barbara Kingsolver's "High Tide in Tucson" at 7 p.m.
March 16 - Highlands Ranch Chapter Book group meets from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m.
March 27 - Lone Tree hosts its Juvenile Chapter Book Club at 4 p.m., which will focus on historical fiction.
In addition to the reading groups, we've got some programs worth putting on your calendar:
March 5 - Celeste Hodges Art Reception at Parker Library, 1-5 p.m.
March 7 - How to Use Interlibrary Loan for Genealogy at Highlands Ranch Library, 7 p.m.
March 9 - also at Highlands Ranch, 7 p.m., is our Advanced Internet Class.
March 12 - our Local History Collection will sponsor the "Tales from the Public Records," at the county's Philip S. Miller Administration Building in Castle Rock
March 14 - the Parker Library will host one of its introductory classes on the Internet at 7 p.m.
March 15 - our Spring Reading program, "Climb to New Heights with Books!" begins at all our libraries
March 18 - Mountain Adventures with Julie Davis at the Highlands Ranch Library, 2 p.m. (repeats at Lone Tree the same time on March 25, at Philip S. Miller at 4:15 p.m. on March 27, and at Parker on 4:15 p.m. March 30)
March 21 - the Philip S. Miller Library's Lunch and Learn program (12:10 to 12:50 p.m.) is the intriguingly titled "UFO's in Douglas County."
March 25 - Parker Library will host the Parents and Kids Internet Class at 10 a.m.; Highlands Ranch Library will sponsor "Bonsai for Beginners" from 1 to 3 p.m.
The above is, by no means, the total of program offerings during the month. (We're up to about 50 a week these days.) But it does underscore some of the rich activities going on in libraries aside from the checking in and out of books.
Our meeting rooms, which are free and open to the public, themselves constitute an important library service. For far too many of us, our lives rush from event to event. What's even worse is that we often drive miles and miles to get to these events, and shell out far too much money.
Here's hoping that you'll find something right down the road at your neighborhood library that can delight or divert you, and won't compromise your children's college education (or your own retirement) fund.
Wednesday, February 23, 2000
February 23, 2000 - Town Center Issues at Highlands Ranch
One of the head-scratching realizations of advancing age is that sometimes good people have honest disagreements with each other.
For the past several years now, the Douglas Public Library District has been working with Shea Homes and the Highlands Ranch Metropolitan Districts (HRMD) to jointly create a Town Center. All of the land once belonged to Shea, although the company has deeded parcels, free of charge, to the library and to HRMD.
The library got a 3.5 acre parcel. Our contribution to the Center has been our 42,000 square foot Highlands Ranch Library, which is nearing completion.
The library has worked very hard to make the building fit into our understanding of an urban center. We have, for instance, a strong street presence on Ridgeline, having tucked our parking around the back.
But our strongest orientation has been to the south. Through many meetings, we worked with the Metro Districts to treat the library and the proposed Civic Green (a 5 acre parcel immediately to the south of us) as one relatively seamless piece of property.
The library entrance is also an entrance to the Civic Green. Our second-story balcony overlooks the park. Our children's area and public meeting rooms rest on its edge.
After a very inclusive public process, the Metro Districts staff came up with a plan that incorporated a host of delightful features: a fountain that could double as a performance stage, a stream that gently burbled along half the open green, a playground, and many quiet nooks and reading areas.
In this vision, library space and public park space flowed smoothly into one another. I believe that together we have designed a space far greater than what either of us could have built alone.
Here's what I like and respect about all of this: Shea Homes, largely through the facilitation of Steve Ormiston, brought a well-researched, team-based approach to the Town Center. Yes, the company wants a commercially viable downtown. They are in the business of making money. But I believe they also want a downtown that captures what Highlands Ranch residents genuinely desire: a place that is interesting, walk-able, and populated with more trees than parking lots.
What I like about the HRMD is its recognition that the Civic Green is not a typical suburban park. The Civic Green has required lots of new thinking -- and money. HRMD staff, as I've mentioned in previous columns, have consistently impressed me as dedicated, honest, and insightful public servants. They've done a fantastic job.
In the past four years, I've seen at least three different plans regarding downtown development for Highlands Ranch. Yet plans change when you not only pay attention to the market, but also bring new players into the process. The bottom line: our town center is better conceived than any new downtown in the metropolitan area. It's a place where people would want to spend some time.
Here's my issue. The most recent draft of the downtown plan moves Main Street (the main commercial street) a couple of blocks south. There's some logic to all this: the road would be more visible from C-470; it would also be longer, and research suggests that there is such a thing as a minimum length for a successful business street.
When this plan was first presented, however, both library and HRMD staff noticed we were no longer so easy a destination, no longer just across the street from a commercial center.
There's not much the library can do about this. Our building is nearly done.
But the park has not yet begun construction. Would it make sense for the park to move west, across the street to the west side of Ridgeline? There are some pluses for the idea. The main one is a closer integration with the heart of downtown, through a sort of wandering trail system.
I know the HRMD staff well enough to know they will give thoughtful consideration to the issue. (We have also asked Shea Homes to find another option: a way to strengthen the connection to their new main street and the joint library/civic green.)
But just for the record, I believe the library and civic green should stay together. Shea's plans call for a 10 year development cycle. If at any point, some piece of their plan doesn't work, we run the risk of fragmentation: a library on one block, a park across the street from it, and a main street too far away to have a connection with either of the other two.
Development follows success. Right now, the library and the civic green together will make a dynamic pair, whatever happens to the economic climate. Libraries and parks endure; commercial developments sometimes flop (remember Cinderella City and the River Front project in Littleton). Moreover, a Civic Green is not the same thing as a business park.
Highlands Ranch residents know what commercial development looks like. What they have not seen is civic development -- the creation of public space that is thoughtful, multi-faceted, and inviting.
Right now, the public sector has an opportunity to demonstrate genuine civic leadership in its most important task: the building of community. I don't think we should give that up.
For the past several years now, the Douglas Public Library District has been working with Shea Homes and the Highlands Ranch Metropolitan Districts (HRMD) to jointly create a Town Center. All of the land once belonged to Shea, although the company has deeded parcels, free of charge, to the library and to HRMD.
The library got a 3.5 acre parcel. Our contribution to the Center has been our 42,000 square foot Highlands Ranch Library, which is nearing completion.
The library has worked very hard to make the building fit into our understanding of an urban center. We have, for instance, a strong street presence on Ridgeline, having tucked our parking around the back.
But our strongest orientation has been to the south. Through many meetings, we worked with the Metro Districts to treat the library and the proposed Civic Green (a 5 acre parcel immediately to the south of us) as one relatively seamless piece of property.
The library entrance is also an entrance to the Civic Green. Our second-story balcony overlooks the park. Our children's area and public meeting rooms rest on its edge.
After a very inclusive public process, the Metro Districts staff came up with a plan that incorporated a host of delightful features: a fountain that could double as a performance stage, a stream that gently burbled along half the open green, a playground, and many quiet nooks and reading areas.
In this vision, library space and public park space flowed smoothly into one another. I believe that together we have designed a space far greater than what either of us could have built alone.
Here's what I like and respect about all of this: Shea Homes, largely through the facilitation of Steve Ormiston, brought a well-researched, team-based approach to the Town Center. Yes, the company wants a commercially viable downtown. They are in the business of making money. But I believe they also want a downtown that captures what Highlands Ranch residents genuinely desire: a place that is interesting, walk-able, and populated with more trees than parking lots.
What I like about the HRMD is its recognition that the Civic Green is not a typical suburban park. The Civic Green has required lots of new thinking -- and money. HRMD staff, as I've mentioned in previous columns, have consistently impressed me as dedicated, honest, and insightful public servants. They've done a fantastic job.
In the past four years, I've seen at least three different plans regarding downtown development for Highlands Ranch. Yet plans change when you not only pay attention to the market, but also bring new players into the process. The bottom line: our town center is better conceived than any new downtown in the metropolitan area. It's a place where people would want to spend some time.
Here's my issue. The most recent draft of the downtown plan moves Main Street (the main commercial street) a couple of blocks south. There's some logic to all this: the road would be more visible from C-470; it would also be longer, and research suggests that there is such a thing as a minimum length for a successful business street.
When this plan was first presented, however, both library and HRMD staff noticed we were no longer so easy a destination, no longer just across the street from a commercial center.
There's not much the library can do about this. Our building is nearly done.
But the park has not yet begun construction. Would it make sense for the park to move west, across the street to the west side of Ridgeline? There are some pluses for the idea. The main one is a closer integration with the heart of downtown, through a sort of wandering trail system.
I know the HRMD staff well enough to know they will give thoughtful consideration to the issue. (We have also asked Shea Homes to find another option: a way to strengthen the connection to their new main street and the joint library/civic green.)
But just for the record, I believe the library and civic green should stay together. Shea's plans call for a 10 year development cycle. If at any point, some piece of their plan doesn't work, we run the risk of fragmentation: a library on one block, a park across the street from it, and a main street too far away to have a connection with either of the other two.
Development follows success. Right now, the library and the civic green together will make a dynamic pair, whatever happens to the economic climate. Libraries and parks endure; commercial developments sometimes flop (remember Cinderella City and the River Front project in Littleton). Moreover, a Civic Green is not the same thing as a business park.
Highlands Ranch residents know what commercial development looks like. What they have not seen is civic development -- the creation of public space that is thoughtful, multi-faceted, and inviting.
Right now, the public sector has an opportunity to demonstrate genuine civic leadership in its most important task: the building of community. I don't think we should give that up.
Wednesday, February 16, 2000
February 16, 2000 - Children's Specialists
Back in my college days, I had developed quite a reputation around the dormitory for knowing essential facts, such as exactly which one of the dorm snack machines had oatmeal crème pies. A friend of mine, who was majoring in Anthropology, gave me a T-shirt that read "Optimal Forager." Two great words, but I was not sure what they meant. She explained to me that before man developed farming skills, he had to look (forage) for food. Those who survived were the best (optimum) at searching. Thus, 'Optimal Forager'--I liked it. So starting around 11:00 PM, people would knock on my door to find the answer to their urgent pie questions: "The west wing, between the third and fourth floor, is your best bet this evening," I'd say with cool aplomb. I was developing my information gathering skills and assisting my fellow man along the way.
I'm still in the information searching and gathering business. But now, I get to work with kids and answer THEIR reference questions. How does a student find the resources to complete his homework? Who can you ask to help you find a book just like the one you had before? Ask and you shall receive.
Douglas Public Library District recently added a Children's Specialist to the staff at each of the four main branches. Toddlers through high school seniors, we are here for you! We pay attention to what kids are reading for pleasure and for school so we can purchase library books that are necessary, useful and enjoyable. We can help you gather information for your homework assignments and we can help you find a great book to read.
But what if, "my teacher wants me to do an essay on..." or, "I have to write a book report and need..." No problem. Good communication with the schools will prove a key factor. Together, we can put student success as our primary goal. Of course we cannot do the homework assignment or write the paper, but Children's Specialists can help you learn how to use library resources--which ones are best, age appropriate, reliable and interesting.
Another exciting aspect of this new position is what librarians call 'Readers Advisory.' This is a fancy phrase for helping people find a fun book to read. Surely you've said to yourself, "I'd like to read another book just like..." Children's Specialists are well read in all areas from emergent readers to the college bound, and we are anxious to help you find the newest, most favorite story you have ever read.
The next time you are wondering, "Where should I look to get information on...," stop by the library. You'll find the Children's Specialist in the juvenile/children's section, pertly awaiting the opportunity to serve you, no matter what your age may be.
By the way, I no longer let people know where to find the oatmeal crème pies. But I'm very good at hiding them.
Laurel Iakovakis is the Children's Collection Specialist at the Lone Tree Library.
I'm still in the information searching and gathering business. But now, I get to work with kids and answer THEIR reference questions. How does a student find the resources to complete his homework? Who can you ask to help you find a book just like the one you had before? Ask and you shall receive.
Douglas Public Library District recently added a Children's Specialist to the staff at each of the four main branches. Toddlers through high school seniors, we are here for you! We pay attention to what kids are reading for pleasure and for school so we can purchase library books that are necessary, useful and enjoyable. We can help you gather information for your homework assignments and we can help you find a great book to read.
But what if, "my teacher wants me to do an essay on..." or, "I have to write a book report and need..." No problem. Good communication with the schools will prove a key factor. Together, we can put student success as our primary goal. Of course we cannot do the homework assignment or write the paper, but Children's Specialists can help you learn how to use library resources--which ones are best, age appropriate, reliable and interesting.
Another exciting aspect of this new position is what librarians call 'Readers Advisory.' This is a fancy phrase for helping people find a fun book to read. Surely you've said to yourself, "I'd like to read another book just like..." Children's Specialists are well read in all areas from emergent readers to the college bound, and we are anxious to help you find the newest, most favorite story you have ever read.
The next time you are wondering, "Where should I look to get information on...," stop by the library. You'll find the Children's Specialist in the juvenile/children's section, pertly awaiting the opportunity to serve you, no matter what your age may be.
By the way, I no longer let people know where to find the oatmeal crème pies. But I'm very good at hiding them.
Laurel Iakovakis is the Children's Collection Specialist at the Lone Tree Library.
Wednesday, February 9, 2000
February 9, 2000 - In Defense of Administration
I've worked a lot of jobs. In rough chronological order, I've been a library shelver, a dishwasher, a stock clerk, a house painter, a nursing home orderly, a library clerk, a bartender, a cook, a bouncer, a university teaching assistant, an art class model, a shoe salesman, a truck driver, a counselor for disturbed juvenile delinquents, a telemarketer, a school bus driver, a construction worker, a wandering poet/philosopher, a property caretaker, a ditch digger, a library volunteer, a freelance journalist, a book store clerk, a graduate assistant, a professor, a college reference librarian, a circulation department head at a public library, an Assistant Director, a Library Manager, a speechwriter (both for me and for others), and a Library Director.
In the course of that time, I've learned a few things. The first one is that every job has intrinsic worth. Every job fulfills a useful function, provides a service somebody needs.
I've learned that there are people who are good at what they do, and make you proud to work alongside them. There are people who are very bad at what they do, or worse, utterly indifferent. They can make the job itself unpleasant. And there are a great many people who fall somewhere in the middle: neither great nor horrible, just marking time. But that has to do with people, not the jobs.
I've also learned that there were really only two categories of my jobs that completely engaged me, that woke me up, energized and delighted me. The first one was the wandering poet/philosopher bit -- although the excruciatingly low pay is what finally drove me into honest labor. The second had to do with libraries, at every level.
I've been thinking about all this because the library recently conducted an internal survey. We asked library staff how things were going -- a detailed checklist about everything from service standards to how well our supervisors and managers performed. On the whole, the survey was very affirming.
I got my share of criticisms, of course, some of them well-deserved. One of the comments that popped up several times was my increasing distance from the front line. Some staff members can still recall when I worked the reference desk, the circ desk, told stories to children, and selected titles for purchase. Others think the only way I can understand what goes on, or demonstrate my respect for their labor, is to work beside them.
But the truth is, as our organization has grown my job has morphed into ... other things. Administration: five syllables that set people to mumbling about bureaucrats and corner offices and "suits."
Well, on behalf of administrators both within and without the library, here's what I think I've learned: administrators worry about things so front line staff don't have to. Administrators worry about whether or not sufficient resources exist to fund current uses, what new services might be needed and when, where new sources of revenue can be found to offset new costs, how old buildings can be maintained or where new buildings should go, what old services and processes should be excised or redirected, how job classifications and salary schedules can be tweaked to get necessary work accomplished at defensible wages.
Having worked both sides of this fence, I see differences: front line staff do their work on the front line, in the moment. And when they go home, their work is done. Adminstrative staff do their work behind the scenes, mostly focused on the future. Their work is never done.
Front line staff do their work at the library. Administrative staff do their work in many locations, often (and most importantly) outside the library.
Front line staff usually have just one supervisor; two at most. Library administrators usually work for Boards -- in my case, seven supervisors.
Front line staff serve the customers; administrators make sure the store can open.
Both staff are necessary, both jobs have their own special demands, and both deserve their own brands of sympathy. But once an organization hits a certain size, I'm not sure it's possible for one person to do both jobs anymore. And let's remember: administrators are always outnumbered.
I try to take comfort in this little gag: before you criticize people, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, if they find out about it, you're already a mile away, and you've got their shoes.
In the course of that time, I've learned a few things. The first one is that every job has intrinsic worth. Every job fulfills a useful function, provides a service somebody needs.
I've learned that there are people who are good at what they do, and make you proud to work alongside them. There are people who are very bad at what they do, or worse, utterly indifferent. They can make the job itself unpleasant. And there are a great many people who fall somewhere in the middle: neither great nor horrible, just marking time. But that has to do with people, not the jobs.
I've also learned that there were really only two categories of my jobs that completely engaged me, that woke me up, energized and delighted me. The first one was the wandering poet/philosopher bit -- although the excruciatingly low pay is what finally drove me into honest labor. The second had to do with libraries, at every level.
I've been thinking about all this because the library recently conducted an internal survey. We asked library staff how things were going -- a detailed checklist about everything from service standards to how well our supervisors and managers performed. On the whole, the survey was very affirming.
I got my share of criticisms, of course, some of them well-deserved. One of the comments that popped up several times was my increasing distance from the front line. Some staff members can still recall when I worked the reference desk, the circ desk, told stories to children, and selected titles for purchase. Others think the only way I can understand what goes on, or demonstrate my respect for their labor, is to work beside them.
But the truth is, as our organization has grown my job has morphed into ... other things. Administration: five syllables that set people to mumbling about bureaucrats and corner offices and "suits."
Well, on behalf of administrators both within and without the library, here's what I think I've learned: administrators worry about things so front line staff don't have to. Administrators worry about whether or not sufficient resources exist to fund current uses, what new services might be needed and when, where new sources of revenue can be found to offset new costs, how old buildings can be maintained or where new buildings should go, what old services and processes should be excised or redirected, how job classifications and salary schedules can be tweaked to get necessary work accomplished at defensible wages.
Having worked both sides of this fence, I see differences: front line staff do their work on the front line, in the moment. And when they go home, their work is done. Adminstrative staff do their work behind the scenes, mostly focused on the future. Their work is never done.
Front line staff do their work at the library. Administrative staff do their work in many locations, often (and most importantly) outside the library.
Front line staff usually have just one supervisor; two at most. Library administrators usually work for Boards -- in my case, seven supervisors.
Front line staff serve the customers; administrators make sure the store can open.
Both staff are necessary, both jobs have their own special demands, and both deserve their own brands of sympathy. But once an organization hits a certain size, I'm not sure it's possible for one person to do both jobs anymore. And let's remember: administrators are always outnumbered.
I try to take comfort in this little gag: before you criticize people, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, if they find out about it, you're already a mile away, and you've got their shoes.
Wednesday, February 2, 2000
February 2, 2000 - Family History Programs
It is our oldest social structure. It predates religion. It has survived the concerted attacks of various political experiments. It is the family -- father, mother, and children -- and it endures, at least in part, because it is wired right into our DNA.
In the late 1950s Chinese communists, in the name of good Maoist doctrine, reorganized villages to strengthen the hold of the Party. Fathers and sons went to one barracks. Mothers and daughters went to another. The drop in productivity on these collective farms was so precipitous -- and the subsequent famine so severe -- that party officials allowed families to return to their homes. The experiment was not repeated.
But while the nuclear family is strong enough to resist such heavy-handedness, some would argue that it hasn't fared so well against the seductions of technology. In the pre-industrial age, families worked beside one another. Even in the Victorian era, family members came together in the parlor to read aloud to one another, to play card and board games, to make music, to talk to one another.
To be sure, part of this was sheer necessity. The sun went down, and the horses were stabled for the night. Short of conversation and innocent recreation, there really wasn't much else to do.
But now even when we gather in our "family rooms" we tend to sit in front of the passive entertainment of television. When was the last time you read aloud to your spouse, or had your child read aloud to you?
The odds are good that there's more than one TV in your house. When was the last time you looked up and realized some members of your family were watching TV in one room, some in another? Or perhaps every one in the family was occupied with some other device -- telephone, computer, CD player, etc. But even if your family members were talking to somebody, they probably weren't talking to each other.
I'm not knocking technology. Give me the automobile and the indoor toilet over the horse and outhouse any day, particularly in bad weather.
But while statistics indicate that there's plenty of good news about American families these days (fewer divorces, for one), there's plenty of bad news, too. If you're interested in making your own family stronger, you probably have to put some time and attention into it.
At any rate, I was in a receptive frame of mind when I got a visit from some long time library friends. Linda Brimhall and Laura Beauchamp came to me with a proposal for a couple of programs. They both revolve around collecting and preserving family history. This strikes me as a brilliant response to the increasingly isolated family life of most of us.
The first program -- "From Story to Family History" -- will be held at the Highlands Ranch Library, February 13, from 3 to 5 p.m. There will be light refreshments. Using skits and engaging speakers, the program will focus on how to get older members of the family to start talking about their memories, then how to get the history organized.
A week later, February 20, we'll move to the Parker Library (also from 3-5 in the afternoon). This time the focus will be on family heirlooms. The title for this one is "Grandpa's Mustache Wax." All families pass mysterious objects from one generation to another. Too often stashed in dark corners of basements, garages, and attics, these items can and should be dragged into the light.
The programs are co-sponsored by the library and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. But there won't be any proselytizing (and no, I'm not a Mormon). Just as no nation or political party has a monopoly on "family values," neither does any religion. Exploring our family history is a worthwhile task for all of us, the sort of activity that aids in the important process of defining what families, and the people in them, hold most dear.
If you'd like some ideas about how to get started, I hope you'll join us. And bring the family.
In the late 1950s Chinese communists, in the name of good Maoist doctrine, reorganized villages to strengthen the hold of the Party. Fathers and sons went to one barracks. Mothers and daughters went to another. The drop in productivity on these collective farms was so precipitous -- and the subsequent famine so severe -- that party officials allowed families to return to their homes. The experiment was not repeated.
But while the nuclear family is strong enough to resist such heavy-handedness, some would argue that it hasn't fared so well against the seductions of technology. In the pre-industrial age, families worked beside one another. Even in the Victorian era, family members came together in the parlor to read aloud to one another, to play card and board games, to make music, to talk to one another.
To be sure, part of this was sheer necessity. The sun went down, and the horses were stabled for the night. Short of conversation and innocent recreation, there really wasn't much else to do.
But now even when we gather in our "family rooms" we tend to sit in front of the passive entertainment of television. When was the last time you read aloud to your spouse, or had your child read aloud to you?
The odds are good that there's more than one TV in your house. When was the last time you looked up and realized some members of your family were watching TV in one room, some in another? Or perhaps every one in the family was occupied with some other device -- telephone, computer, CD player, etc. But even if your family members were talking to somebody, they probably weren't talking to each other.
I'm not knocking technology. Give me the automobile and the indoor toilet over the horse and outhouse any day, particularly in bad weather.
But while statistics indicate that there's plenty of good news about American families these days (fewer divorces, for one), there's plenty of bad news, too. If you're interested in making your own family stronger, you probably have to put some time and attention into it.
At any rate, I was in a receptive frame of mind when I got a visit from some long time library friends. Linda Brimhall and Laura Beauchamp came to me with a proposal for a couple of programs. They both revolve around collecting and preserving family history. This strikes me as a brilliant response to the increasingly isolated family life of most of us.
The first program -- "From Story to Family History" -- will be held at the Highlands Ranch Library, February 13, from 3 to 5 p.m. There will be light refreshments. Using skits and engaging speakers, the program will focus on how to get older members of the family to start talking about their memories, then how to get the history organized.
A week later, February 20, we'll move to the Parker Library (also from 3-5 in the afternoon). This time the focus will be on family heirlooms. The title for this one is "Grandpa's Mustache Wax." All families pass mysterious objects from one generation to another. Too often stashed in dark corners of basements, garages, and attics, these items can and should be dragged into the light.
The programs are co-sponsored by the library and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. But there won't be any proselytizing (and no, I'm not a Mormon). Just as no nation or political party has a monopoly on "family values," neither does any religion. Exploring our family history is a worthwhile task for all of us, the sort of activity that aids in the important process of defining what families, and the people in them, hold most dear.
If you'd like some ideas about how to get started, I hope you'll join us. And bring the family.
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