Some people think the word "literacy" means the attainment of a specific reading level.
They may have heard that literacy is where an elementary student should be at the end of fourth grade. (Fourth grade does indeed appear to be that crucial year when somebody "gets" print, or needs a little extra assistance at just that moment.)
Or they think it means someone can follow newspaper headlines and get the gist of a story. Or maybe they think literacy is what helps someone decipher the instructions on a prescription.
And of course, those things do involve literacy -- of the most basic kind. But it's like defining "art" as "can sharpen crayons."
These things are the beginning of literacy, not the end. Literacy is not a state, a minimum skill, like learning to zip a zipper or even ride a bicycle.
Instead, literacy is an activity. It means many things.
* to actively engage in the world of print, media, and conversation. Some people read the newspaper. But others also read the reviews: not just for books, but for movies and music, too. They track what's going on in many different formats. They attend concerts and plays. They enjoy arguing about it with their friends.
* to use a variety of information sources skillfully and in a sophisticated manner. Let's take just one example. Lots of folks use Google. Some folks use it well -- and understand that Google doesn't even know about at least 75% of Internet resources. Such people are deft at using both the public Internet, and the many treasures available through subscription sources, like those of the public library.
* to apply that information to one's life for personal growth or understanding. Literacy isn't just about passively absorbing information. It's about picking and choosing things that will add real value to your life.
* to think critically about statements, artistic accomplishments, and society.
This idea of "critical thinking" comes up a lot in the field of education. In my more cynical moments, I wish I thought somebody in our society had a clue what this might mean.
As I have lamented in this space before, just spouting the party line -- ANY party line -- in response to some topic isn't really much of a contribution. Critical thinking means an openness to new information, even if it doesn't fit your preconceptions.
But it doesn't stop there.
Critical thinking is about combining all those things mentioned above to assemble a framework of facts, to probe that information for real insight and knowledge, and to test the conclusions in your own life.
To my mind, the exercise of literacy moves you from being a passive consumer to being an active producer. What's the product? Ideas! Or more print, more music, more theater, more art.
If all the world is a stage, we need more than an audience. We need players. Or to switch metaphors, literacy is a series of experiments and explorations. And the public library is the laboratory.
Literacy is more than a life skill. It's a life.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Monday, May 8, 2006
May 11, 2006 - wild parrots, right livelihood
Recently, my wife brought home a fascinating film from the library called "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill."
It told the story of a man, Mark Bittner, who had once tried to start a life as a musician. That hadn't worked out. He wound up in San Francisco, where he spent a lot of time studying various Eastern philosophies, and reading poetry, particularly the works of Gary Snyder.
On the basis of that study, he decided that he needed to make a stronger connection to nature. At that moment, he was not quite squatting in a small rental house on Telegraph Hill.
Just below him was a flock of wild parrots, known variously as the cherry-headed conure, the red masked conure, the red-masked parakeet, and the red-headed conure. The birds are not native to the area. Nobody is quite sure how they got there.
Over the next six years, Bittner earned the birds' trust, feeding them as often as five times a day. He began to make very detailed notes, based on his close observation of their habits and personalities. Now he even has a book, also called "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill."
I recommend them, mainly for their surprisingly spiritual awareness of the natural life going on all around us, and to which most of us are oblivious.
But the thing that sticks with me was one of the comments Bittner made about why he had time -- a lot of time -- to be devoted to this peculiar connection to wild parrots.
Bittner said that he had not yet found what the Buddhists call "right livelihood."
Bittner was in fact living a pretty marginal life back then, a life utterly unconnected to the workaday world.
That seems to have changed for him. His amateur naturalist status, the success of the film, the success of his book, have kept him on the lecture circuit for a number of years now.
Bittner seems now to have found a way to turn his natural interests, his loves, into a way to "earn a living."
The Buddhist idea of right livelihood isn't just about WHAT you do. It's about how.
The "right" job might be almost anything, at any level of society. But "wrong" livelihood is characterized by scheming, a lustfulness to win at the expense of others, a grasping for illusory power.
I've known a lot of people who never felt like they had found the right work. Or maybe, they never figured out how to make the kind of work they had INTO the right livelihood. There are so many false measures of success, and some are seductive.
I got lucky. I found an institution whose values, whose purpose, made sense to me, and that I was proud to serve. Moreover, I've learned a lot from it. But everyone doesn't get lucky.
The message of Bittner and the wild parrots of Telegraph Hill is this: you start where you are. You use YOUR talents, YOUR insights, to do the things that make sense to you.
And then, just maybe, your life takes flight.
It told the story of a man, Mark Bittner, who had once tried to start a life as a musician. That hadn't worked out. He wound up in San Francisco, where he spent a lot of time studying various Eastern philosophies, and reading poetry, particularly the works of Gary Snyder.
On the basis of that study, he decided that he needed to make a stronger connection to nature. At that moment, he was not quite squatting in a small rental house on Telegraph Hill.
Just below him was a flock of wild parrots, known variously as the cherry-headed conure, the red masked conure, the red-masked parakeet, and the red-headed conure. The birds are not native to the area. Nobody is quite sure how they got there.
Over the next six years, Bittner earned the birds' trust, feeding them as often as five times a day. He began to make very detailed notes, based on his close observation of their habits and personalities. Now he even has a book, also called "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill."
I recommend them, mainly for their surprisingly spiritual awareness of the natural life going on all around us, and to which most of us are oblivious.
But the thing that sticks with me was one of the comments Bittner made about why he had time -- a lot of time -- to be devoted to this peculiar connection to wild parrots.
Bittner said that he had not yet found what the Buddhists call "right livelihood."
Bittner was in fact living a pretty marginal life back then, a life utterly unconnected to the workaday world.
That seems to have changed for him. His amateur naturalist status, the success of the film, the success of his book, have kept him on the lecture circuit for a number of years now.
Bittner seems now to have found a way to turn his natural interests, his loves, into a way to "earn a living."
The Buddhist idea of right livelihood isn't just about WHAT you do. It's about how.
The "right" job might be almost anything, at any level of society. But "wrong" livelihood is characterized by scheming, a lustfulness to win at the expense of others, a grasping for illusory power.
I've known a lot of people who never felt like they had found the right work. Or maybe, they never figured out how to make the kind of work they had INTO the right livelihood. There are so many false measures of success, and some are seductive.
I got lucky. I found an institution whose values, whose purpose, made sense to me, and that I was proud to serve. Moreover, I've learned a lot from it. But everyone doesn't get lucky.
The message of Bittner and the wild parrots of Telegraph Hill is this: you start where you are. You use YOUR talents, YOUR insights, to do the things that make sense to you.
And then, just maybe, your life takes flight.
Monday, May 1, 2006
May 1, 2006 - Libraries Will Close to Convert
The public sector is not the same as the private. In business, if you move more products, you get more money. In libraries, it doesn't work like that.
We recently took a look at the last five years of one of our main activities: checking out library materials (books, DVDs, CDs, VHS and audiotapes, magazines, etc.). And in the past five years, our business has grown by 124%.
But our money doesn't come from that activity. The revenue of the Douglas County Libraries comes mainly from property taxes. The good news is, the county has grown. But our business has grown way faster than our revenues.
I've written recently about a deep retooling of your public library. To try to keep up with our demand, we've been exploring ways to shift some of the more mechanical work over to computers. So we've rolled out self-checkout stations at our libraries.
Here's the good news: within our first week, most of our libraries reported that 85-90% of our checkouts were going through the new system. Our people were, and are, still around to assist, but for the vast majority of our transactions, no assistance was necessary.
That would seem to have freed up a lot of labor, right? But it didn't, really. Because we were still looking at a 20-30% increase in business -- and we still had to check everything back in. And in some of our libraries, we're just about out of space.
So that pushed us to the next step. To use our technology to handle both sides of the checkout process, we needed to replace our old barcodes with RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tags. We opened our Roxborough Library using this technology, and it works.
So since January, we've been adding these tags to every item we own.
We ran into problems. It is NOT a time-saving process to run two systems side by side, not knowing in advance whether an item may have had the RFID tag attached.
Remember, items are coming in and going out all the time. This is much like trying to change a flat tire on a bicycle -- while you're riding it.
So we started to run into backlogs. In a time of rapid business growth, you do not need backlogs.
I thought about this for awhile, consulted my many advisors, and finally took a proposal to the Library Board of Trustees. In brief, I asked for permission to close the Parker Library for one week, from May 16-22. Then, from May 24-May 31, we would close the Philip S. Miller Library in Castle Rock.
They have granted that permission.
Some services will continue. Of course, all of our other branches are still open, and you're encouraged to visit them. You can still call Parker and Philip S. Miller with reference or checkout questions. Even during the closings at these two libraries, you'll still be able to return items, pick up holds, and attend most the meetings you may have scheduled (check at your branch if you have questions). Meanwhile, we'll have teams of staff and volunteers moving through the stacks, just pounding away at the conversion process till we're done. (It's not too late to sign up to help!)
Our library faces two choices: stretch out the conversion to a new system through October, facing daily jam-ups of work, or focus on the conversion, get it done, and use the technology we've tested to help us keep up.
I apologize in advance for the inconvenience of these closures -- but I do believe it's less inconvenient than the alternative.
By the bye, as problems go, this is a good one. Douglas County patrons really use their libraries.
And even though we don't make money on these literally millions of checkouts, we do try to do what any thoughtful business would do: invest enough back into the operation to make sure we're running as efficiently as possible.
We recently took a look at the last five years of one of our main activities: checking out library materials (books, DVDs, CDs, VHS and audiotapes, magazines, etc.). And in the past five years, our business has grown by 124%.
But our money doesn't come from that activity. The revenue of the Douglas County Libraries comes mainly from property taxes. The good news is, the county has grown. But our business has grown way faster than our revenues.
I've written recently about a deep retooling of your public library. To try to keep up with our demand, we've been exploring ways to shift some of the more mechanical work over to computers. So we've rolled out self-checkout stations at our libraries.
Here's the good news: within our first week, most of our libraries reported that 85-90% of our checkouts were going through the new system. Our people were, and are, still around to assist, but for the vast majority of our transactions, no assistance was necessary.
That would seem to have freed up a lot of labor, right? But it didn't, really. Because we were still looking at a 20-30% increase in business -- and we still had to check everything back in. And in some of our libraries, we're just about out of space.
So that pushed us to the next step. To use our technology to handle both sides of the checkout process, we needed to replace our old barcodes with RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tags. We opened our Roxborough Library using this technology, and it works.
So since January, we've been adding these tags to every item we own.
We ran into problems. It is NOT a time-saving process to run two systems side by side, not knowing in advance whether an item may have had the RFID tag attached.
Remember, items are coming in and going out all the time. This is much like trying to change a flat tire on a bicycle -- while you're riding it.
So we started to run into backlogs. In a time of rapid business growth, you do not need backlogs.
I thought about this for awhile, consulted my many advisors, and finally took a proposal to the Library Board of Trustees. In brief, I asked for permission to close the Parker Library for one week, from May 16-22. Then, from May 24-May 31, we would close the Philip S. Miller Library in Castle Rock.
They have granted that permission.
Some services will continue. Of course, all of our other branches are still open, and you're encouraged to visit them. You can still call Parker and Philip S. Miller with reference or checkout questions. Even during the closings at these two libraries, you'll still be able to return items, pick up holds, and attend most the meetings you may have scheduled (check at your branch if you have questions). Meanwhile, we'll have teams of staff and volunteers moving through the stacks, just pounding away at the conversion process till we're done. (It's not too late to sign up to help!)
Our library faces two choices: stretch out the conversion to a new system through October, facing daily jam-ups of work, or focus on the conversion, get it done, and use the technology we've tested to help us keep up.
I apologize in advance for the inconvenience of these closures -- but I do believe it's less inconvenient than the alternative.
By the bye, as problems go, this is a good one. Douglas County patrons really use their libraries.
And even though we don't make money on these literally millions of checkouts, we do try to do what any thoughtful business would do: invest enough back into the operation to make sure we're running as efficiently as possible.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
April 27, 2006 - for positive change, think positive
Someone told me about a recent study of long term survivors of open heart surgery. They were surveyed to find out what motivated them to recover. The reason was not, as you might suppose, "to avoid death."
It was for some more positive outcome: to spend time with their grandchildren. To tour Europe. To learn to play a musical instrument. To finish the garden.
It makes you think. Many people work in businesses that have problems, too. At some point, the question becomes, "how do we get better?" In some cases it might well be "to avoid bankruptcy."
But it's hard to for people to really enjoy their jobs with that attitude. You may work hard to avoid losing your job, but you're probably not doing your BEST work.
One typical planning exercise has the friendly acronym of SWOT. What are the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats faced by an organization? And when I've participated in or even lead such exercises, I find that people often relish the weaknesses and threats discussion. We're in trouble! We're in terrible, terrible, trouble!
You can almost see the energy drain from a group.
Just possibly, the way many organizations choose to plan, undercuts the best motivations for accomplishment.
I'm willing to bet that most of my readers work in places where MOST of their time is spent solving "problems." Maybe the focus is on one cranky customer, or one surly employee. That customer, that employee, almost certainly represents a tiny fraction of the whole business -- but they somehow get first call on your resources.
That approach minimizes the aspects of the organization that work well. It says that what's wrong is more important, more worthy of managerial attention.
A new alternative is emerging, called "Appreciative Inquiry." Appreciative Inquiry, or AI for short, is based on the idea that creating positive change is easier when you take a positive approach.
So instead of a SWOT exercise, the exercise begins with this question: what are we doing RIGHT?
I've tried this with a couple of groups, now, and the difference is striking. With this question, you begin to discover the things that people are justifiably proud of, the real accomplishments.
The next question is: what could we do better? It may sound like a small difference. Isn't this just like, "what's wrong?"
No. Now people have just described things that they're good at. And they can see the gap between the things they did right, and things they haven't brought that same level of care or attention to. But now they want to.
I've tried to carry over this insight to other parts of my job. When somebody brings me a problem so dire that it strikes to the very heart of the organization, I try to sit back long enough to see if the essentials of the organization are still right. It puts things in perspective.
Any organization will have things go wrong. And those things do have to be dealt with, preferably when they are still small enough to fix relatively easily.
But we need to remember that most of our customers are terrific. Most of our employees are bright and painstakingly conscientious. The more time and energy we spend with these people, the more we'll enjoy our jobs, and the more we'll get done. We'll let those people know that THEY are the ones we value most.
Most of the time, the issues faced by an organization are nowhere near as life-threatening as open heart surgery. But the lesson is powerful.
The right question is not, "What are you afraid of?" It's, "What's worth living for
It was for some more positive outcome: to spend time with their grandchildren. To tour Europe. To learn to play a musical instrument. To finish the garden.
It makes you think. Many people work in businesses that have problems, too. At some point, the question becomes, "how do we get better?" In some cases it might well be "to avoid bankruptcy."
But it's hard to for people to really enjoy their jobs with that attitude. You may work hard to avoid losing your job, but you're probably not doing your BEST work.
One typical planning exercise has the friendly acronym of SWOT. What are the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats faced by an organization? And when I've participated in or even lead such exercises, I find that people often relish the weaknesses and threats discussion. We're in trouble! We're in terrible, terrible, trouble!
You can almost see the energy drain from a group.
Just possibly, the way many organizations choose to plan, undercuts the best motivations for accomplishment.
I'm willing to bet that most of my readers work in places where MOST of their time is spent solving "problems." Maybe the focus is on one cranky customer, or one surly employee. That customer, that employee, almost certainly represents a tiny fraction of the whole business -- but they somehow get first call on your resources.
That approach minimizes the aspects of the organization that work well. It says that what's wrong is more important, more worthy of managerial attention.
A new alternative is emerging, called "Appreciative Inquiry." Appreciative Inquiry, or AI for short, is based on the idea that creating positive change is easier when you take a positive approach.
So instead of a SWOT exercise, the exercise begins with this question: what are we doing RIGHT?
I've tried this with a couple of groups, now, and the difference is striking. With this question, you begin to discover the things that people are justifiably proud of, the real accomplishments.
The next question is: what could we do better? It may sound like a small difference. Isn't this just like, "what's wrong?"
No. Now people have just described things that they're good at. And they can see the gap between the things they did right, and things they haven't brought that same level of care or attention to. But now they want to.
I've tried to carry over this insight to other parts of my job. When somebody brings me a problem so dire that it strikes to the very heart of the organization, I try to sit back long enough to see if the essentials of the organization are still right. It puts things in perspective.
Any organization will have things go wrong. And those things do have to be dealt with, preferably when they are still small enough to fix relatively easily.
But we need to remember that most of our customers are terrific. Most of our employees are bright and painstakingly conscientious. The more time and energy we spend with these people, the more we'll enjoy our jobs, and the more we'll get done. We'll let those people know that THEY are the ones we value most.
Most of the time, the issues faced by an organization are nowhere near as life-threatening as open heart surgery. But the lesson is powerful.
The right question is not, "What are you afraid of?" It's, "What's worth living for
Thursday, April 20, 2006
April 20, 2006 - generations need to talk
When I was growing up, there was a lot of talk about the "generation gap." Mainly, it was conflict between the GI generation and the Boomers -- the Veterans and the War Protesters. Nowadays, the conflict isn't quite so obvious.
But you know it's happened to you.
You're a Gen-Xer talking to a Baby Boomer, who is being so maddeningly circular that you have no idea what she is trying to tell you. Or you're a Boomer, wondering why the Gen-Xer doesn't seem to have any loyalty to the company.
You're a grandparent, a member of the "Greatest Generation," uneasily aware that all of the public institutions you fought to preserve and build upon, are being dismantled before your eyes.
You're a member of the "Silent" generation, the generation that never had a president -- but did have Martin Luther King, Jr. -- and whose dreams of social justice seem submerged by our culture's consumerism.
Or you're a Millennial -- whose lives of technically assisted multitasking (iPod, cell phone, Instant Messaging) and overscheduled days seem utterly new.
The generation gap is alive and well, gumming up communications within your business, flummoxing family discussions, and leading to mixed messages, hurt feelings, and all-too-frequent dysfunction.
It doesn't have to be like that. "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it," said Santayana. When it comes to generations, each believes that it is unique and alone. And each is mistaken.
In fact, there is a rhythm and a logic to the generational cycle. Once discovered, it enriches those encounters between the generations, and provides a strong connection to our national history.
On May 5, 2006, I'm going to be giving a public lecture on this topic. I call it, "Four Generations: How to Talk ... and to Listen ... to Everybody." The talk will be held at the new Sanctuary of the Christ Episcopal Church, 615 4th Street, Castle Rock, from 7-9 p.m. There is a modest donation at the door -- $10 for one person, $15 for two -- which goes to defray the construction costs of the church. (I'm not a member of that church, but I do admire this beautiful new addition to the architecture and cultural life of the town.)
After my talk, which I hope to keep lively with audience interaction (questions and comments welcome), we'll have a short break for wine and snacks.
The second hour of the evening will be devoted to live music. The theme is simple: what are some of the distinctive songs of each generation throughout American history?
My research into this has been fascinating. The songs most associated with a generation were most frequently written by .... the PREVIOUS generation.
When you look at a list of those songs that most influenced you as you were growing up, you realize that you discovered them in the first 15-20 years of your life. There are few successful musicians who are 15-20 years old, so you are of necessity listening to your predecessors in time, who somehow had the ability to capture the emerging spirit of the culture.
Our musical performances will feature a number of talented locals, of several generations.
So if you're interested in learning more about the people dear to you, and in exploring the cultural contributions of the generations, do consider bringing a friend or family member to the evening.
It should give you something to talk about.
But you know it's happened to you.
You're a Gen-Xer talking to a Baby Boomer, who is being so maddeningly circular that you have no idea what she is trying to tell you. Or you're a Boomer, wondering why the Gen-Xer doesn't seem to have any loyalty to the company.
You're a grandparent, a member of the "Greatest Generation," uneasily aware that all of the public institutions you fought to preserve and build upon, are being dismantled before your eyes.
You're a member of the "Silent" generation, the generation that never had a president -- but did have Martin Luther King, Jr. -- and whose dreams of social justice seem submerged by our culture's consumerism.
Or you're a Millennial -- whose lives of technically assisted multitasking (iPod, cell phone, Instant Messaging) and overscheduled days seem utterly new.
The generation gap is alive and well, gumming up communications within your business, flummoxing family discussions, and leading to mixed messages, hurt feelings, and all-too-frequent dysfunction.
It doesn't have to be like that. "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it," said Santayana. When it comes to generations, each believes that it is unique and alone. And each is mistaken.
In fact, there is a rhythm and a logic to the generational cycle. Once discovered, it enriches those encounters between the generations, and provides a strong connection to our national history.
On May 5, 2006, I'm going to be giving a public lecture on this topic. I call it, "Four Generations: How to Talk ... and to Listen ... to Everybody." The talk will be held at the new Sanctuary of the Christ Episcopal Church, 615 4th Street, Castle Rock, from 7-9 p.m. There is a modest donation at the door -- $10 for one person, $15 for two -- which goes to defray the construction costs of the church. (I'm not a member of that church, but I do admire this beautiful new addition to the architecture and cultural life of the town.)
After my talk, which I hope to keep lively with audience interaction (questions and comments welcome), we'll have a short break for wine and snacks.
The second hour of the evening will be devoted to live music. The theme is simple: what are some of the distinctive songs of each generation throughout American history?
My research into this has been fascinating. The songs most associated with a generation were most frequently written by .... the PREVIOUS generation.
When you look at a list of those songs that most influenced you as you were growing up, you realize that you discovered them in the first 15-20 years of your life. There are few successful musicians who are 15-20 years old, so you are of necessity listening to your predecessors in time, who somehow had the ability to capture the emerging spirit of the culture.
Our musical performances will feature a number of talented locals, of several generations.
So if you're interested in learning more about the people dear to you, and in exploring the cultural contributions of the generations, do consider bringing a friend or family member to the evening.
It should give you something to talk about.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
April 13, 2006 - O'Hern is "just" a teacher
Several years ago, I was visited by Duane, a friend of mine from back in Illinois. Before I came to Colorado, Duane and I worked together in a group called Illinois Writers, Inc. -- a motley crew of poets from the central part of the state.
While Duane was here, we were visiting about important early influences in our lives. Duane started talking about one of his teachers back in elementary school. "Dr. O'Hern was incredible!" he said.
"Interesting!" I replied. "We have a Dr. O'Hern who writes a column for the paper. Come to think of it, he is from Illinois, but I think he was a superintendent."
I dug up a paper, Duane looked at O'Hern's picture, and said, "It's him!"
So we went over to visit Dr. O'Hern, and Duane got to see what had become of one of his favorite teachers.
Recently, O'Hern published a book on much the same theme. It's called "Just a Teacher: How One Person CAN Make a Difference."
A good deal of the book, as you might expect, has to do with O'Hern's experience with public education. Yes, he was a teacher. He was also a principal. He wasn't a superintendent, but he ran for, and handily won election to, the Board of Education in Galesburg, Illinois.
These days, O'Hern spends every day at either Sand Creek or Eagle Ridge Elementary schools as a Senior Volunteer. The children are lucky to have access to an ace geographer.
Along the way, he's gathered some opinions, and sometimes, some strong ones. For instance, he starts one sentence, "When Colorado began its CSAP program (Colorado Student Assessment Program, or 'C-Crap' as I prefer to call it)...."
But he also does something of inestimable value for this community. He presents slices of the history of Douglas County Schools. Some of that history is from a hundred years ago.
But even more interesting to me is more recent. O'Hern was a close observer of a lot of former Superintendent Rick O'Connell, former Assistant Superintendents Pat Grippe and Bill Reimer, Denny Hill, the former District long range planner. There are many others: principals, teachers, volunteers, and more.
Douglas County has grown so fast that it's easy to forget that just a few years ago, things were very different in this county. O'Hern manages to give a vivid sense of those times as a contemporary and participant.
The Douglas County Libraries have bought a handful of copies of "Just a Teacher." You'll find them in our collection.
O'Hern is an original, and this is a book with character. If you'd like to buy one for yourself, call 1-877-843-1007, or order it online at www.authorstobelievein.com.
Let's face it: O'Hern is right. The people who have made the big differences in your life probably weren't famous politicians or movie stars. They were teachers. It's worth remembering.
While Duane was here, we were visiting about important early influences in our lives. Duane started talking about one of his teachers back in elementary school. "Dr. O'Hern was incredible!" he said.
"Interesting!" I replied. "We have a Dr. O'Hern who writes a column for the paper. Come to think of it, he is from Illinois, but I think he was a superintendent."
I dug up a paper, Duane looked at O'Hern's picture, and said, "It's him!"
So we went over to visit Dr. O'Hern, and Duane got to see what had become of one of his favorite teachers.
Recently, O'Hern published a book on much the same theme. It's called "Just a Teacher: How One Person CAN Make a Difference."
A good deal of the book, as you might expect, has to do with O'Hern's experience with public education. Yes, he was a teacher. He was also a principal. He wasn't a superintendent, but he ran for, and handily won election to, the Board of Education in Galesburg, Illinois.
These days, O'Hern spends every day at either Sand Creek or Eagle Ridge Elementary schools as a Senior Volunteer. The children are lucky to have access to an ace geographer.
Along the way, he's gathered some opinions, and sometimes, some strong ones. For instance, he starts one sentence, "When Colorado began its CSAP program (Colorado Student Assessment Program, or 'C-Crap' as I prefer to call it)...."
But he also does something of inestimable value for this community. He presents slices of the history of Douglas County Schools. Some of that history is from a hundred years ago.
But even more interesting to me is more recent. O'Hern was a close observer of a lot of former Superintendent Rick O'Connell, former Assistant Superintendents Pat Grippe and Bill Reimer, Denny Hill, the former District long range planner. There are many others: principals, teachers, volunteers, and more.
Douglas County has grown so fast that it's easy to forget that just a few years ago, things were very different in this county. O'Hern manages to give a vivid sense of those times as a contemporary and participant.
The Douglas County Libraries have bought a handful of copies of "Just a Teacher." You'll find them in our collection.
O'Hern is an original, and this is a book with character. If you'd like to buy one for yourself, call 1-877-843-1007, or order it online at www.authorstobelievein.com.
Let's face it: O'Hern is right. The people who have made the big differences in your life probably weren't famous politicians or movie stars. They were teachers. It's worth remembering.
Thursday, April 6, 2006
April 6, 2006 - LaRue's Views
Effective today, this column has a new name. It's not just a title. It's a disclaimer.
First, I thought about adding a more formal statement to the end of each column. It would read something like this: "The opinions expressed in this column, unless stated otherwise, are not the official views of the Library Board of Trustees."
Does that mean some of the things I say are NOT endorsed by the Trustees? Yes.
While I have never tried to push a position they have voted against, the Trustees simply haven't reviewed what I write ahead of time, so shouldn't be held responsible for it -- particularly if it irritates or angers members of the public.
That doesn't happen as often as you'd think. But it happens sometimes.
I might also point out that my thinking doesn't necessarily reflect that of other library staff, either although Lord knows life is easier when it does.
Now that I think of it, even I don't always support the arguments I make here. Sometimes, I'm just trying on an idea for size. A week later, I may have learned something new, seen the error of my ways, and moved on.
Or I may discover there is a deep thread of truth, and that leads me on.
There's no denying (indeed, it is my great pleasure) that I am the director of the Douglas County Libraries. In my columns I try to set an administrative tone: about our commitment to service, about fundamental values affecting our operations, about my expectations for myself and staff.
Sometimes I also report on our budget, our statistics, and our plans. When representing the institution I serve, I strive to be as accurate and forthright as possible. Often I even solicit public comment on some service, or potential action.
On occasion, I do indeed represent the decisions of my bosses, and am proud to say so.
In all those ways, this has been, and will continue to be, a "library column."
But the reason I started writing this column in the first place is that, for me, libraries just won't stay put.
Public libaries connect to everything: urban planning, arts and culture, local history and global politics, public education and small business development. The deeper I get into librarianship, the richer those connections become.
My "views" are often based on something I believe in whole-heartedly: the EXERCISE of literacy. I read a lot, listen to and watch a lot. I talk to a lot of people.
To me the exercise of literacy also involves writing: making judgments about the information I sift through, trying to fit my conclusions into an always changing, but I hope always more coherent, worldview. I do this in a newspaper column; others may write blogs or websites.
One of the things I abhor about our current culture is that too many people are frantic to categorize everything into one of two camps. Something is either liberal or conservative, blue or red, black or white.
How small! How confining! As if our thinking, our lives, can, or should, be reduced to a binary choice.
One of the signs of our time is the idea that there must be a profound conformity of opinion -- in just one or two camps. But my own understanding of the world suggests that all the transformative ideas in our culture come from outside the norm.
Cleaving too close to one camp or the other means that you'll miss those big ideas.
So consider this both disclaimer and a promise to continue to poke around in the ocean of ideas. Isn't that just what a librarian ought to do?
First, I thought about adding a more formal statement to the end of each column. It would read something like this: "The opinions expressed in this column, unless stated otherwise, are not the official views of the Library Board of Trustees."
Does that mean some of the things I say are NOT endorsed by the Trustees? Yes.
While I have never tried to push a position they have voted against, the Trustees simply haven't reviewed what I write ahead of time, so shouldn't be held responsible for it -- particularly if it irritates or angers members of the public.
That doesn't happen as often as you'd think. But it happens sometimes.
I might also point out that my thinking doesn't necessarily reflect that of other library staff, either although Lord knows life is easier when it does.
Now that I think of it, even I don't always support the arguments I make here. Sometimes, I'm just trying on an idea for size. A week later, I may have learned something new, seen the error of my ways, and moved on.
Or I may discover there is a deep thread of truth, and that leads me on.
There's no denying (indeed, it is my great pleasure) that I am the director of the Douglas County Libraries. In my columns I try to set an administrative tone: about our commitment to service, about fundamental values affecting our operations, about my expectations for myself and staff.
Sometimes I also report on our budget, our statistics, and our plans. When representing the institution I serve, I strive to be as accurate and forthright as possible. Often I even solicit public comment on some service, or potential action.
On occasion, I do indeed represent the decisions of my bosses, and am proud to say so.
In all those ways, this has been, and will continue to be, a "library column."
But the reason I started writing this column in the first place is that, for me, libraries just won't stay put.
Public libaries connect to everything: urban planning, arts and culture, local history and global politics, public education and small business development. The deeper I get into librarianship, the richer those connections become.
My "views" are often based on something I believe in whole-heartedly: the EXERCISE of literacy. I read a lot, listen to and watch a lot. I talk to a lot of people.
To me the exercise of literacy also involves writing: making judgments about the information I sift through, trying to fit my conclusions into an always changing, but I hope always more coherent, worldview. I do this in a newspaper column; others may write blogs or websites.
One of the things I abhor about our current culture is that too many people are frantic to categorize everything into one of two camps. Something is either liberal or conservative, blue or red, black or white.
How small! How confining! As if our thinking, our lives, can, or should, be reduced to a binary choice.
One of the signs of our time is the idea that there must be a profound conformity of opinion -- in just one or two camps. But my own understanding of the world suggests that all the transformative ideas in our culture come from outside the norm.
Cleaving too close to one camp or the other means that you'll miss those big ideas.
So consider this both disclaimer and a promise to continue to poke around in the ocean of ideas. Isn't that just what a librarian ought to do?
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