March 31, 1993 - Controversial books for kids

After three years of renting, my wife and I have bought a house. In just a few weeks, we'll be resettling in Castle Rock.

Along about now, most people would start packing. But my wife and I are librarians. So what's our top priority? -- Check out some books on moving.

I don't mean the kind of books that guide you through the mechanics of relocation, although the library certainly has plenty of books on the subject.

The kind of books we're piling up concern something far more important: how to talk about moving with your child.

We could tell Maddy was a little worried about it. Being librarians, we are of the firm and united opinion that whenever Maddy is working through something, there are some five hundred books that will give Maddy a way to think about, talk about, and otherwise imaginatively anticipate change. So we start showering her with books, and spend as many evenings as it takes to poke through them with her.

You know what? It works. After reading that one of the Berenstain Bears had trouble getting used to the idea of leaving the family cave in the mountains, Maddy felt freer to talk about her own feelings. A score of other titles later, she was able to articulate her concerns: would we take all of our stuff with us? Would we still be able to visit friends in the old neighborhood? What if it was noisy at the new house? What if she couldn't find new friends?

So okay, our stuff isn't ready. But our daughter is. You have to pack your family first.

There's a word for the use of books to counsel your children. It's called "bibliotherapy."

Bibliotherapy is based on a few simple premises. First, there is nothing so strange that millions of other people haven't gone through exactly the same thing. Second, the more you know about something, the less power it has over you, and the more likely you are to survive it. Third, sharing books not only helps provide liberating information, it can also pull families together.

Here's just a sample of books for younger (elementary age) children, all available from the Douglas Public Library District, about all kinds of potential or actual traumas.

For instance, are you worried that your child might become one of the approximately 1.8 million children who disappear annually in the United States? Then take a look at Who Is A Stranger and What Should I Do? by Linda Walvoord Girard for some very practical, down-to-earth advice.

Is your daughter coming to grips with a divorce? Try Linda Girard's At Daddy's on Saturdays for an insight into the things that matter to a child -- and what grown-ups ought to do about it.

I know a woman in Douglas County whose husband left her -- for another man. When she was trying to help her young children understand the situation, she asked us to get a book called Daddy's Roommate, by Michael Willhoite. We did, and she says it helped.

My Sister, Then and Now, by Virginia L. Kroll, concerns a girl whose older sister is schizophrenic, another traumatic family situation that children can find hard to talk about.

The Auction, by Jan Andrews, is a sad but lovely book that describes the auction of a farm, and the efforts of a young boy to help his grandfather come to terms with it.

Another book dealing with partings is Saying Good-bye to Grandma, by Jane Resh Thomas. It's the story of seven-year-old Suzie, who goes back with her parents to attend her grandmother's funeral.

There are many titles about tough family situations, such as Tight Times, by Barbara Shook Hazen, which concerns a poor family whose husband loses his job. Judith Vigna's I Wish Daddy Didn't Drink So Much is an uncompromising look at the effects of alcoholism on a family. The Piggybook by Anthony Browne is a cautionary and occasionally hilarious tale about a working wife who finally manages to get a little respect -- and help around the house.

An especial favorite of mine is Mrs. Katz and Tush, by Patrica Polacco. This is the beguiling story of an old Jewish widow, and the young African American boy who befriends her, and restores her zest for life through the person of Tush, a tailless cat.

There are many people in America who take such children's books - - focusing on everything from the plight of the homeless, to the behavior of the mentally retarded, to environmental concerns, to dealing with nightmares, to the awkwardness of wearing glasses -- as further evidence of the moral decay of America. They believe that children's books should show only homes that are happy, lives that are uncomplicated, and a society that is just and fair.

But some homes are not happy, some lives are extremely complicated, and our society is often cruelly unjust.

The vicarious experience of fiction can inoculate our children against the larger threats of our culture. By reading about the choices others have made, children can learn to make better choices for themselves. Of equal importance, they can begin to develop a trait sadly lacking in too many Americans -- compassion based on knowledge.

So the next time you find your family facing some large -- or even not so large -- crisis, remember that a visit to a library just might be a move in the right direction.

March 24, 1993 - the importance of public institutions

Two weeks ago, I wrote a column about the challenges faced by public schools and public libraries. Some of those challenges are technological -- as in the increasing presence and power of personal computers and "teaching software."

For public schools and public libraries both, this new technology holds great promise. On the other hand, new tools are only useful if people can get to them.

This leads me to a second category of challenges: the issue of access to information.

Some parents choose to educate their children at home, and are able to dedicate sufficient time and resources to that end. And as I've mentioned in previous columns, home schooling parents do a strikingly good job.

Too, some fortunate families have enough money and expertise to purchase and make use of various kinds of computer equipment and services. These families will have an "information edge" -- a powerful path to personal and professional advancement.

But some parents are not able to teach their children at home. Some households have only one parent -- and that parent must work. Sometimes parents have their own severe educational deficiencies. There are many other economic, educational, or personal factors that might make homeschooling -- or private schooling, for that matter -- impracticable or impossible for a particular family.

Similarly, many parents will find the costs of computers, modems, phone lines, and electronic subscription fees, far beyond their reach.

For such people, public schools and public libraries are essential if we don't want to create a new subclass of society -- the "information poor," the people who will only know what TV tells them.

There is yet another challenge. In brief, I believe we have lost a clear national consensus on the role of our public entities. The national trend toward tax limitation, the new focus on "entrepreneurial" or business-oriented government, the increasing involvement of the business community in public education, all reveal a profound dissatisfaction -- or misunderstanding -- of the purpose and processes of the public sector.

Nowhere is this crisis as obvious as with our public schools.

In many respects public schools have become the dumping ground of our national conscience. If children aren't fed well enough at home, then schools must launch nutrition programs. If there's a problem with parental work schedules, then schools must provide extended daycare.

Yet somehow, schools are still expected to teach, to provide the basic cultural knowledge necessary to communicate with others, and to thrive.

Before any institution can succeed, it must maintain a clear focus on just what its job is. I fear that we have overloaded our public school system with unrealistic expectations, made of it a mishmash of conflicting purposes.

Yet I remain optimistic about public education -- whose fate, I believe, is closely tied to public libraries.

Public schools and public libraries remain the keys to self- improvement. They provide a series of opportunities for accomplishment -- whatever the socio-economic background or age of the individual. Alone among our public institutions, they help level the cultural and economic playing field.

There is certainly room for improvement in both public schools and public libraries. But as we poke and prod these institutions, we must also remember to preserve their inherent democracy, and to resist the many attempts to confound their purposes -- because there is nothing in the private sector that will or can replace them.

March 10, 1993 - Pronouncements of doom

When I was 25 years old, I shared a house with a man named Bill. He worked as a clerk for an academic library. I was going to library school.

Bill was a big believer that Things -- world peace, race relations, American politics generally -- were headed for total collapse. Probably by the weekend.

Bill was no dummy, either. He could reel off some fifty or sixty recent events -- which he always followed closely -- that strongly suggested not only that global disaster was imminent and unavoidable, but that we probably deserved it.

The trouble was, Bill had been carrying on like this for over 10 years. And although things weren't exactly looking up, by his 30th birthday it dawned on him that maybe they weren't that much worse, either. In the decade Bill had been predicting doom and living in near-poverty, most of his friends had pushed on to good careers, and were busily making house payments and kids.

In short, Bill had a life crisis. His girl-friend, tired of his endless cynicism, walked out on him. He started to drink too much. He became a chain-smoker. If I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, there was Bill, sitting bleak and barren in the middle of the living room floor, staring blankly into the darkness.

I'm pleased to report that he snapped out of it. These days he's married, raising a son, working at a decent day job, and writing an astonishingly good science fiction novel on the side.

But I always think of Bill when people start predicting the imminent decline of some big institution.

Take public schools. A few years back, I got interested in home schooling. After doing some research, I was surprised to discover that most homeschooling parents don't have teaching degrees, and only spend an average of one to two hours per day per child on instruction.

Even more surprising was how well their kids did. As documented in numerous studies about home schooling, homeschoolers consistently outperform public school students. Often, homeschooled children are some one-to-three grades ahead academically. They also test higher on "self esteem" and social skills.

In other words, parents with no formal training tend to do better in one hour than trained professionals can do in six. When I first read that, it struck me as a scathing indictment of our educational system.

Now consider that around the country, there are fifteen times as many homeschoolers as there were last year. Here in Colorado, a ballot issue for school vouchers made it to last November's general election. More recently, there's a strong push for "charter" schools -- or "schools within schools." And there are also many computer pundits who believe personal computers and good educational software can completely supplant real, live teachers.

Given all this, you have to ask: Are public schools doomed, destined to be swept away by a combination of private alternatives? And is that good or bad?

A similar issue arises in public libraries. It happens that I have an electronic account on something called the Internet -- a "network of networks," linking big academic and computer systems around the world.

About a year ago, I had a personal computer problem -- I couldn't get DOS 5.0 to correctly display a menu screen. I spent three weeks hunting for the answer in books and magazines. I -- a trained information professional -- couldn't find it. I flat-out failed.

So for a lark, I posted the question on the Internet. And in just under half an hour, I got the answer. Actually, I got it twice. One of them was from a teenager in the Netherlands, still in high school. The other was from a professor in New Zealand.

To look at it another way, the shortest distance to a right answer was -- all the way around the world.

If you're inclined to have an attitude about such things, you might easily assume that this is a "scathing indictment" of public libraries -- as profound a challenge to libraries as that of homeschooling to public education.

So it's only fair to ask: Are public libraries doomed, too? Some of my colleagues think so. And a lot of the people on the Internet do, too.

I'm inclined to be flip about this -- maybe because I'm about to leave on vacation for a week. Or maybe it's because I still have this image of Bill, all depressed because things weren't falling to pieces as fast as he'd said they would .

Or maybe (WARNING, bad pun about to follow), Armageddon too old to believe much of anything people tell me until I've thought about it for awhile.

See you in two weeks!

March 3, 1993 - volunteer data project

To some people, moving to a new town is a lot of fun. They like the challenge of change. They enjoy figuring out how the streets run. They get a keen pleasure from puzzling out a new batch of faces and personalities.

Other people -- especially those folks who moved because their spouses got new jobs -- find it very difficult to get settled. They may spend long, lonely years before they even begin to feel that they know their way around, or can go some place and be recognized.

There are many strategies for getting rooted in your new home town (or county, or state). The first, and to my mind the most important, is to read the newspaper. Of course, those of you who are reading this, already know that; and those who don't read the paper, sure won't find out here.

A second strategy is to join something: a church, a social group, a school committee, a civic club, even a library. Such organizations provide a ready mix of people, with a high probability that many of them will care about the same things you do.

A third approach -- and one of the most rewarding -- is to become a volunteer.

No one really knows for sure just how many volunteers there are in the United States. A 1989 Gallup Survey showed volunteer hours totaled 20.5 billion. More important than the numbers of volunteers is the fact that many organizations absolutely depend on them.

One such organization is the Adult Center for Training, or ACT. ACT is a Douglas County literacy program, currently serving Castle Rock, Parker, and Highlands Ranch. In brief, it pairs people who don't know how to read with people willing to donate their time to teach them.

But ACT isn't alone. Throughout the county are many other worthy organizations performing a variety of useful and interesting tasks. And volunteering for such organizations can provide a fascinating introduction to the people and services of an area.

Volunteerism can also lead to jobs. It often does lead to positions on Boards of Directors. For instance, our newest Library Trustee, Sue Meacham, volunteered in the library's Technical Services Department for several years. Now she's one of my bosses.

I'm thinking about volunteers lately for several reasons. First, the indefatigable Beryl Jacobson (Douglas County Extension Agent and fellow News Press columnist) has secured a grant to gather information about volunteer opportunities in the county. Second, it happens that Suzanne LaRue, a librarian who happens to be my wife, is the project director.

Third, after all this information is gathered, the Douglas Public Library District will add it to our Community Information Referral system. People will be able to search this database either at the library, or by "dialing in" to it via a home computer.

We'll design the system so people can search for volunteer opportunities either by a subject that interests them ("gardening," for instance), or the location ("Parker"), or both.

So if you happen to work for a not-for-profit organization located in or serving Douglas County residents, and you'd like a little electronic solicitation of volunteer assistance, give Suzanne a call at 681-3405, or at the Extension Office (688-3096).

And if you happen to be someone looking to BE a volunteer, watch this space for more information soon. In the meantime, give Kathy Walsh of ACT a call at 841-8615. Evenings are best.

February 24, 1993 - DC Media Center annual report

Sometime back, I reported on a study that found the most reliable predictor of academic success (grades K-12) was a well-funded school library or media center. That surprised some people, especially those grown-ups who used to get sent to the school library as punishment.

As for me, there was no punishment I bore more gladly.

Fortunately, today's school media center has a much better image than in the old days. In the most successful schools, the media center is a full and active partner in the teaching and learning process. Rather than being a sort of mini-public library, the vital school media center is a collection of materials and technologies that directly supports the curriculum.

I recently had the opportunity to review the annual report of Douglas County's Media Program, as prepared by Carol Paul, District Media Coordinator. It tells an impressive story.

In the K-6 level, the number of items checked out went up by 4,825 items -- a 6.5 percent increase over the previous year. In grades 7 through 12, the percentage increase was 1.8 -- 300 items more than last year. The collection of the District Media Center (located in Castle Rock) rose by 277 items, representing a jump of 67 percent.

As Carol notes, "In short, the circulation statistics reflect a consistent increase in use K-12 and a substantial increase in the use of District Media Center materials."

I was very interested in the pattern of use at the various grade levels. Based on a statistical count conducted over a 2 week period in November, Carol extrapolated some annual figures.

She found that in grades K-6, print materials (books, magazines, pamphlets, etc.) were used far more than non-print materials (filmstrips, videos, computer software). In fact, slightly over 96 percent of the materials used by students were print-based.

At the 7-12 grade level, however, the numbers are slightly different. Non-print materials make up a little over 17 percent of the circulation activity -- filmstrips, videos, and "miscellaneous" (software, records, books with tapes) accounting for most of the difference.

Another interesting difference is reflected in the use of non-fiction versus fiction. In grades K-6, the children checked out over twice as much fiction as non-fiction. But in grades 7- 12, things had swung around. Non-fiction accounted for almost 60 percent of the circulation.

Carol calculated another interesting figure. In grades K-6, the average number of items checked out per student was just under 9. For the older students, it dropped to just under 3.

All of this makes good sense, of course. You would expect younger children to spend more of their time soaking up good stories, although it's clear that they're finding some non-fiction of interest, too. And as children grow older, they naturally spend more time using non-fiction materials to work on school projects. And it is well known in the library profession that even avid readers tend to slack off in their teen years.

Carol also details the number of visits by students to the school media centers: a 66.2 percent increase at the K-6 level (or 12,507 students); a 95.3 percent increase at the 7-12 level (or 8,898 students); and various class visits.

At Douglas County, it would appear that the teachers and students have come to recognize the great value of a lively school media program, serving, as Carol puts it, "as the focal points of our instructional programs."

Congratulations, Douglas County Media Center staff, on a very good year!

February 17, 1993 - in praise of competence

The secret to success is to surround yourself with competence.

This week we're pulling together all the final pieces of our Oakes Mill and Philip S. Miller renovation projects.

To a certain extent, it's been, well, why mince words? It's been Chaos. Just by way of example, for a couple of weeks, I had no ceiling. I lived in a gentle rain of (non-asbestos) fire retardant dust.

Just beyond my office, the reference collection, periodicals, and paperbacks were crammed into a new center aisle. In many respects, working at the Philip S. Miller Library was much like moving all the stuff from a large house into a small apartment, while simultaneously remodeling the apartment, and holding a formal party every night.

At the Oakes Mill Library, a quarter of the library was without shelves for weeks. And there were people pounding under the floor. The wall behind the circulation desk -- where most of the library's business is condcuted -- was being patched, then painted. By the time this column comes out, the library will even have been without power for an entire day -- if not more.

And yet, somehow, the DPLD went on.

Throughout it all, the staffs at the two libraries mostly kept good humor. Most important of all, they kept providing service -- keeping the library open, maintaining story times, answering reference questions, helping people find a good mystery, ordering new books.

Sure, there was some grumbling and confusion, on the part of the public and staff alike. Some people don't deal well with utter messiness.

The way I see it, it's an acquired taste. I like Chaos. There's an energy about it, the strange glimmer of unsuspected possibilities. More often than not, it brings out the best in people.

Take Gina Woods, Oakes Mill Branch Manager, who pulled in her husband one night to assemble some temporary metal shelves. And laughed when in the middle of a particularly cacophonous story time, one young patron pulled the fire alarm.

Or consider Donna Harrison, Technical Services Manager, who marshalled her crew to complete the move into new, barely refurbished quarters in a little under two days -- a feat matched only by the two day creation of a spanking new reference room, ramrodded by Holly Deni, Philip S. Miller Branch Manager.

I don't mean to leave anybody out. I could tell similar stories about everybody who works at the library. We had people slapping books on trucks, hefting computer equipment, running vacuum cleaners, and just generally getting the job done.

Then there were our contractors. Dennis Kovatavich, a Franktown resident, and Jamie Roupp, from the Lone Tree development, were responsible for most of the action. They were here every day, including most Saturdays, cleaning up, inspecting progress, doing things they hadn't even promised to do and never asked to get paid for. They have something you don't hear much about any more -- a fierce pride in their work.

There was Ernie the electrician -- possibly the most gentlemanly tradesman I've met in some time. There was Paul Preister, rolling in his highly customized furniture exactly on schedule. There was Curt Farmer, who even after a near fatal car accident showed up, a cane in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, to completely rewire the building for computers, vastly simplifying the support of the system.

I am surrounded by competence, and I suspect all the people who demonstrate this competence never hear it often enough.

So the next time you're in either of these vastly improved libraries, do me a favor. Ask for a tour, and when it's done, take a minute to thank the staff. And if you ever run across any of the contractors I've mentioned, shake their hands. Take it from me: they deserve it.

February 10, 1993 - Carl's retirement

Next week, my former boss, Carl Volkmann, will retire as director of Lincoln Library, the public library of Springfield, Illinois.

I served under Carl first as a Circulation Department Head (from 1982 to 1984), then as Assistant Director (1985 to 1987), when I went to Greeley, Colorado to assume my own directorship.

For five key years, Carl Volkmann was sage advisor to me, and friend, and mentor. He also played a mean game of tennis. He's still a friend, still a mentor. (I can't speak to his tennis these days.)

But the real story of Carl Volkmann's tenure as director of the Lincoln Library is this: Carl was a preacher's kid. I believe his father's father was a minister, too. And there was never any doubt in Carl's family that he, the oldest son, would follow in the family profession.

So Carl went off to Wartburg College in Waverly, Iowa -- a good Lutheran school. He soon became president of his dormitory. Even then, people looked up to him.

Just months from graduation, Carl faced an excruciating dilemma. He didn't want to be a minister. The thought of standing up in front of a congregation every week to deliver a sermon was more than this intensely idealistic, deeply religious, somewhat stage- shy young man could face.

But he confronted his father -- and his father's disappointment. Instead of the ministry, Carl chose another path.

Five jumps later -- from school teacher, to Aquisitions Librarian, to Young Adult Librarian, to Associate Director in charge of Personnel, to Director -- Carl had attained the prestigious position of leader of one of the country's finest libraries.

How did it happen? More than anyone I know, Carl has the rare ability to listen not just to people's words -- but to their hearts.

At my first interview with him, I was very impressed, and a little overwhelmed, by his attentiveness. He had this trick: he'd look at you with these big, unblinking eyes, amplified by his glasses. Like an owl, he'd ... blink.

But there was an expectancy about it. You could feel that he believed in you, believed you were just about to say something really important.

So you said it. You had to.

I remember the day I interviewed for the position as his Assistant Director."You'll find other people with more experience," I said. "But you won't find anybody better qualified."

It was an outrageous statement, with barely a shred of supporting evidence. But Carl took a gamble on me. He gave me the job.

Later, he was always there with just the right word to point out my inevitable beginner's mistakes.

And when I did something right, I could sense the pride radiating from him, as if he'd invented me. He did invent me.

But maybe that wasn't so unusual after all. He had promoted many others in the library, launching their careers with the same trusting yet thoughtful attention he gave to mine. I don't know of any time when Carl made a hiring MISTAKE. I wish I could say the same.

I'm struck by one irony of his career. It seems to me that throughout his painstaking and conscientious stewardship of the library, Carl has delivered a magnificent, beautifully articulated sermon on the value of public service, the importance of high professional and personal ethics, and the crucial role of the public library in the cultural life of a community.

I bet his father would have been proud of him. As for me, I'm privileged to count myself among Carl's grateful congregation.