This is one of my favorite hashtags ever. I told a colleague before – there’s a great undergraduate learning experience buried in here somewhere, but mostly… it’s just funny.
So it is probably not shocking that sometimes I can’t express myself in one tweet.
(It is probably more shocking that I ever can)
I was talking about the ACRL-OR/WA Fall Conference, which was hosted this year by ACRL-OR at the Menucha Retreat in the Columbia Gorge, and about which I went on in this post.
(View from Menucha)
Jim Holmes from Reed College did an amazing job running technology at the conference – and captured all of the amazing women noted above while he was doing so. The results are available now. If you weren’t able to join us (or even if you were) —
Barbara Fister gave an inspiring and thoughtful opening keynote. Ignore the fangirl giving the introduction.
Rachel Bridgewater put together a two hour program called Fair Use as Advocacy Laboratory, integrating a remote talk from Brandon Butler at ARL (who was also fantastic)
And Char Booth wrapped up the conference with a closing keynote that built on and wrapped around the themes of the previous two programs. It was like magic.
Thanks again to everyone who put so much work into this conference, which means every single member of the ACRL-OR Board. Interested in being a part of the next one? ACRL-OR elections will be happening in the next few months. Watch the ACRL-OR blog for the announcement.
Impact factor. No, not that impact factor – impact factor for news. What would that look like? In particular, what would that look like beyond “was it seen?”
The New York Times is hosting a Knight-Mozilla fellow to tackle that question. I read today on Twitter that that fellow is going to be Brian Abelson.
I took a look back at the job description to see what “impact factor” looks like in the mind of someone not immersed in academia, and found this language, which could apply just as well to research (or to teaching, really, but this is not a learning assessment post):
What’s interesting is the implication here that the obvious solution is the data, particularly the immense amount of it now available:
But the math changes in the digital environment. We are awash in metrics, and we have the ability to engage with readers at scale in ways that would have been impossible (or impossibly expensive) in an analog world.
No, I am not doing NaNoWriMo, DigiWriMo or AcWriMo this year. Given my heavy reviser writing style, I’m not sure that a project that is focused so much on getting words on the page would work for me – getting words on the page is never my issue. Getting words on the page that I want to keep on the page – that’s a different story.
But more than that, I think of these as projects kind of like those fitness bootcamps – intended to kickstart you into figuring out new habits and workflows. I might be wrong about that – see above re: never done any of these before – but that’s how these projects make sense to me.
And so they don’t seem appropriate for just doing what I would be doing anyway. And I have a ton of writing to do this month, but it’s writing with hard deadlines that are in December, so it doesn’t really matter if this is NaNo- or Ac- or Digi-i month – I’m going to need to be writing a lot of words anyway.
But still, all of the project posts I’ve been seeing have me thinking about process, and about being more proactive about setting time aside. So here’s the heavily revised and rewritten version of Chapter 6 of The Academic Writer as it exists after 3 hours of focus today.
Of course, given the heavy-reviser-ness of my writing style* there is little to know chance that the manuscript I turn in in December will bear much relation at all to what’s up there on the wall. But at least now I have a starting point to start writing – so I can figure out what I really have to say, and how to say it.
*Meta alert. I learned about composition styles, including heavy revisers, in an earlier version of a textbook by Lisa Ede, which is now… The Academic Writer.
In our strategic planning meetings there has been some pushback against the phrase (not the idea) of lifelong learning – the feeling exists that we’ve been using this phrase so long in libraries that it’s starting to lose some meaning.
I saw a couple of things today that got me thinking about this phrase more concretely – not just in terms of what it should mean, but also in terms of what it really means for a university (or a university library) to support it.
First, Karen muses on Coursera, not from an “OMG the future of higher ed” and not from an “OMG the sky is falling” perspective — but from the perspective of someone actually taking one of the courses as a, yes, lifelong learner:
It’s funny, we pretty much give up on learning things once we graduate and get jobs. Or at least, there’s no further cultural support for continuing to take classes unless they’re Crossfit or cooking. When really, taking classes is one of the most awesome things in the world.
Then, a little bit later you’d think I was reading thoughts from Ta-Nehisi Coates about football fandom at The Atlantic, but really, I’m reading about lifelong learning again.
I’ll be pulling together a bibliography of sources which I hope to consult while pulling together this piece. I started with Clifford Geertz’s “Notes On The Balinese Cockfight.” This is the sort of thing that normal educated people read in undergrad. But again, I would not have been ready for this at 18. I am delighted to take it in at 36, an age where my tastes are a little broader, and my excitement flames high.
I did read this article as an undergrad and while I remember it, and I’m pretty sure I liked it, I didn’t get as much out of it as I got out of other texts and conversations. I understand that one of the reasons why I was required to read lots of stuff as an undergrad was that every piece isn’t going to have that impact on you at the moment when it’s assigned and the best way to ensure that students do get those life- and perspective-changing moments is to make sure they read lots and lots and lots of potentially transformative stuff.
But it got me thinking – how great would it be if there was a way we could revisit some of the stuff we read as undergrads, to think about it again with all of the experience and perspective we could bring to it now?
Those of us who think and write about learning think and write about the importance of reflection, and metacognition, on the learning process. On my campus we talk about figuring out how to get students to reflect on their gen ed experience, to reflect on their major experience, to reflect on all of the different learning experiences they have in college — because that reflection is essential to the learning process.
So much of what we try and teach and do in higher education is create a framework for lifelong learning – so many people say to me that they didn’t really understand the point of a particular course, or assignment or even whole field of study until long after they left school. That’s one of the things that makes assessment in higher education so tough. It makes me wonder how much the conversations recently about how higher education must change – should be focusing less on today’s students and more on what we could be doing for yesterday’s.
We live in interesting times. From experts, pundits, and next-door neighbors, we hear that the future of academic libraries is uncertain, that the future of higher education itself is uncertain, and that libraries in general are in crisis. Faced with this narrative, it is tempting to change who we are and what we do in order to remain relevant, and to demonstrate our value to our schools and communities.
We must realize, however, that it is precisely who we are – and who we have always been – that makes us even more relevant and valuable in the face of changing times. We are committed to creating informed, literate citizens; to advocating for free speech and access to knowledge; and to creating spaces where intellectual curiosity and individual expression are welcomed and fostered. Our tools, techniques, and buildings may have changed, but our core identity remains – and remains vital to our communities. We must not change who we are; we need only change how we communicate our value.
Join us for two days of conversation about the value and importance of academic libraries in these interesting times. You’ll leave energized, inspired, and with some good ideas about new ways to share your library’s story.
So this summer has been all kinds of crowded in terms of my schedule, but one of the best pieces has been working with the executive board of the Oregon chapter of ACRL to plan the fall conference we host every other year (trading off with our friends in ACRL-WA).
Things are finally coming together (largely because the Board is just an awesome group of people to work with) and I’m getting so excited for the final result.
We have a title! Libraries Out Loud: New Narratives of Enduring Change
(Two people who, if you asked me “name 10 people you would choose to provoke your thoughts” would totally be right up at the top half of the list).
Local copyright maven Rachel Bridgewater is going to lead everyone in a meaty, substantive discussion and activity about the Code for Best Practices in Fair Use for Academic and Research Libraries, and we’re going to be (virtually) joined in that by the people from ARL and the Center for Social Media who put that document together).
There will be poster sessions, and lightning talks and a party- and it all happens in one of the most beautiful places on earth, the Columbia River Gorge.
October 25-26, 2012. Registration opens soon!
(Photo by flickr user Nietnagel)