Knowledge emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other.
—Paulo Freire
Tradition in the field of librarianship has a strong hold in the collective consciousness. While most people not in the field could not give you specifics about what that tradition is as it relates to the field itself, they will be able to run off the list of stereotypes, still perpetuated to this day, much to the consternation and irritation of many librarians. Since we know that perception and language shape reality, we are often hesitant to innovate out of the (once comfortable, but now suffocating) box which skews what so many would think of as disturbing the comfortable version of librarians that most have: bun wearing, shushing, legs crossed at the (thick) ankles women, with a perpetual scowl—to say nothing of the many men in the field. But the good news is that when we begin to innovate, we can call the change into existence, and begin doing.
There is no end to the debates about the various and new roles that librarians seem willing and able to take up, particularly in academia. Are we professors? Are we simply capable of teaching a skill set not valued by most students and, sadly, by some academics? Has the Google age set us on the path of obscurity, along with our dusty books? Are we simply in the field as the curators of knowledge? Are we the smiling, cardigan-wearing support people in one-shot instruction classes?
I have had many discouraging conversations with otherwise very intelligent people about my chosen career, in which I have attempted to dispel the gross inaccuracies and, frankly, often insulting descriptions of the work that I not only do every day, but am wholly dedicated to. What I found is not surprising: people will believe what they want to believe no matter what you tell them, and so I simply just stopped talking. Not long after I became a librarian, just a few short years ago, I remember myself and two of my colleagues walking over to the dining hall at our university for lunch. The provost and one of the academic deans were walking on the path toward us. The provost and the dean both put up their hands like they were afraid of our approach toward them: “Oh no! Somebody let the librarians out! Run for cover!” We demurred a bit, embarrassed, maybe laughed half-heartedly so that we would not seem like “poor sports.” They laughed themselves silly and so did a few stray students who overheard the little scene too. Well-respected and smart men, neither of them could know the effect their behavior, well-meaning as I like to believe that it was, would have on me that day. I was so proud to be a librarian—genuinely excited to have a career I could dedicate myself to, versus a job that would pay me while I marked time dreaming of something better. It was eye-opening to see (and other evidence would be consistently presented later) that perhaps others did not see me or my profession in the same way. This bears mentioning since I have felt and sometimes still feel that some of us may be held back by tradition—that innovation is good for someone else, but not for us in our profession, though evidence of dynamic change is evident everywhere in our field. We are hurt by the negative stereotypes that are perpetuated about us because, in essence, it misrepresents us as both people and professionals and prejudices us among the very people it is essential that we collaborate with and teach: faculty and students.
Every new implementation needs groundwork to be done, needs a clearing of the path. This can be difficult if the organization or library structure that you work within has fixed ideas about a librarian’s role, most especially in the classroom. My colleagues and I, for instance, worked quietly and diligently for quite some time on various initiatives such as serving on more committees, giving presentations, diligently attending faculty meetings, making one-on-one connections with faculty both in our liaison areas, but also in a gesture of collegiality. In addition, we increased our reference outreach to students by encouraging more one-on-one consultations, which are now the majority of the reference outreach that we do. I mention this because making these subtle and not so subtle shifts both benefits the work that we do with our students and increases our professional profile on campus. In my experience, this is no small feat. The effort is definitely worth results. When I saw the need to embed in two of the classes in my liaison department, I felt that I was respected and situated academically in order to approach the head of the department as well as the two professors whose classes I wanted to embed in. I laid the groundwork and felt that, for the most part, although initially the professors did not have a very clear picture of what I wanted to do, how I would do it, and how it would benefit the students, they trusted me enough to agree. Then, of course, the real work began, but it started with a conversation and a plan. Things usually go better with a plan and I had one. But I was also cognizant of the fact that while going in with a plan, anything could happen. I decided I would be both flexible and reflective within and toward the process so that I was not only being as helpful as possible to the students in the class, but that I could assess myself in the process. Older or traditional faculty may seem agreeable, but may meet you with slight resistance, since they may not yet be able to see your place in the classroom, most particularly your place in their classroom.
Evan Farber, college librarian emeritus at Earlham College, did a considerable amount of work in the field of librarian and faculty relations—most specifically in the area of cooperation with teaching faculty. In his own words, he expressed what he believed would be the ideal: “where both the teacher’s objectives and the librarian’s objectives are not only achieved, but are mutually reinforcing—the teacher’s objectives being those that help students attain a better understanding of the course’s subject matter, and the librarian’s objectives being those that enhance the students’ ability to find and evaluate information.”1 In “A Report on Librarian-Faculty Relations from a Sociological Perspective” the authors assert that, owing to a variety of factors, there is an “asymmetrical disconnect” that keeps librarians and teaching faculty, for the most part, apart.2 But, and this but is important, only librarians view this disconnect as problematic. This fact, in and of itself, is very telling—teaching faculty are where they need and want to be, while librarians aspire to a deeper role with and among faculty in order to fully realize the work that they do for the fuller benefit of the students. The authors go on to explain, as their research proved, that faculty really do not have a full understanding of what it is that librarians actually do, besides collection development and access to that collection. The authors stress that this does not seem to be a result of disrespect, but rather of perception, which influences the reason why faculty are not so eager for contact with librarians. Librarians, they say, perceive this disconnect through various factors such as a faculty member’s protectiveness toward class time, and assumptions about lack of expertise in any given field (librarians are perhaps best known in the common consciousness as generalists, etc.). All of these factors not only influence access to the students (the common goal) but opportunities missed. There are many other factors that influence this disconnect which are beyond the scope of this book, but, suffice it to say, strides have been and continue to be made.
For many librarians it is a frustrating dynamic, this disconnect. So many of us know that if a teaching faculty member is not a regular library user, is not fully aware of the services both our brick-and-mortar buildings as well as ourselves as library professionals can offer, how can their (our) students know? The old adage that “relationships are everything” seems germane here. Those who would like to begin any initiative within our profession, particularly in academia, cannot discount the role and importance of relationships that begin with conversation, common ground, and a plan. Embedded librarianship is an invested experience and a time-consuming one, well worth the effort, but it is highly collaborative and will demand open and honest conversation between teaching faculty and librarians in order to not only map out logistics but to recognize and acknowledge each other’s goals, separately, and then create goals together. Common goals are an absolute necessity, otherwise, not only will students perceive a disconnect, but faculty and librarian may begin to work at cross purposes—or worse, not be effective together in any meaningful way at all, which is just a waste of everyone’s time.
William B. Badke, writing about the rigors of getting faculty to understand the importance of information literacy in the classroom (which is a salient argument for any collaboration with faculty), hits just the right nerve in his assertion that we need to be proactive in our approach and position ourselves in order to demonstrate to faculty our worth in both helping them with their research needs, in addition to, of course, their students:
Beyond helping faculty learn how to navigate the complexities of new information tools, we are in a position to put ourselves forward as information experts who can help them with many aspects of their research. This may smack of a tactical maneuver but actually represents a genuine contribution that no one but information professionals can make. If the eyes of faculty are opened to what we can do for them, we have a much better chance of convincing them that their students need to benefit from our experience as well. We are, after all, affirming the very thing that faculty most value—their ability to serve their own discipline as well.3
• Strategize and socialize. Becoming recognizable and accessible to faculty on campus, as well as students, is good for the library, the students, your colleagues, faculty, and your mission.
• Look for opportunities to engage in both friendly and meaningful conversation with faculty.
• If you liaise with one or more departments, arrange, if you have not done so already, to attend at least one department meeting which will allow you to see how the group functions and to get an idea of what their preoccupations and concerns are.
• Prearrange time with the department chair to address faculty with your ideas about embedding.
• Keep it brief but well-structured, with room for collaboration and the teaching faculty’s vision, as well.
• Be prepared to offer a rationalization for why such collaboration would be a good idea. Creating talking points and anticipating questions are good ideas.
• Don’t feel the need to answer every question on the spot. Stop, consider your answer, and offer to get back to someone with an answer or an opportunity for further discussion.
• Keep notes on others’ thoughts and ideas.
• Follow-up with an e-mail to those in attendance with the offer of further conversation.
All in all, I truly believe that librarians must socialize others, particularly in academia, to the true nature of our field including our education, our research interests, and our daily activities, not as a way of justifying ourselves, but as a way of showing teaching faculty our strengths and commonalities so that the groundwork can be laid for collaboration. We also need to be able and willing to assert our knowledge of best practices in our discipline in instruction sessions that can be more than just, for instance, the “one-shot” variety or the way they have always been done. As professionals, we have the agency to assert our views to faculty and present our ideas and proposals in the spirit of collaboration—and we should. It does not mean that we will always be rewarded for our efforts or be anointed on our heads for coming up with such good ideas, but professionalism dictates that we can say, for instance: “This doesn’t work anymore, but this might. How about if we try?” The aforementioned strategies are offered as a wave of paving the road, and are especially designed for the individual librarian who has a vision that is fairly begging to be implemented, but who may be the first person in the department to do so. That was the position I was in. I learned a lot along the way.
Planning is essential, of course, but when you decide to be innovative, particularly with embedded librarianship, you may not end up in the same place you started out—we really do make our road by walking it, but that is the way it should be. Before you begin, you may want to lay some careful groundwork to increase the chances that your ideas will be met with enthusiasm and careful consideration. When librarians and faculty collaborate, all around, everyone wins.
NOTES
1. Evan Farber, “Faculty-Librarian Cooperation: A Personal Retrospective,” Reference Services Review 27, no. 3 (1999): 229−34.
2. Lars Christiansen, Mindy Stombler, and Lyn Thaxton, “A Report on Librarian-Faculty Relations from a Sociological Perspective,” The Journal of Academic Librarianship 30, no. 2 (2004): 116−21.
3. William B. Badke, “Can’t Get No Respect: Helping Faculty to Understand the Educational Power of Information Literacy,” The Reference Librarian 43, no. 89–90 (2005): 63−80.