Teenagers and libraries. These are two words that are not often used in the same sentence, least of all by teens. Libraries are not cool places. Only losers hang out in them. The people who work there are unfriendly and unhelpful. Libraries do not have enough technology. They need to provide better books and magazines. Libraries have too many restrictive rules and fees. Libraries are more like morgues than like places you want to be.
How did we come to deserve such a bad rap? We pride ourselves on our collections, carefully assembled to support curricular and independent learning needs. We buy popular fiction, subscribe to trendy magazines, and organize activities to encourage reading and to support the social and emotional needs of our users. We make interlibrary loan services available and work with our counterparts in other types of libraries—school, public, and academic—to enlarge the information world for teens. Unfortunately, though, we have not always been completely successful in our delivery of these services.
Despite professional guides and standards and our good intentions, libraries do not have a great track record when it comes to welcoming teenagers. Mary K. Chelton (1999) found that school librarians actually spend a relatively small proportion of their time on information service encounters. Instead, “service” often signifies rote activities—such as helping with equipment—that have nothing to do with real human interaction and can be performed by staff with less education and training. Most distressing, the substance of most student-library staff interactions is enforcement related, being “directed toward traffic control, compliance with the district-mandated pass system, and conformance with behavioral rules” (106). Chelton concludes that teens remember more about how they were treated in the library than they do about the specific outcome of the visit.
Teenagers have long been marginalized in the public library setting as well, relegated to a “problem patron” category all their own (Chelton 2001, 2002). Yes, teenagers arrive in hordes when school is dismissed, appearing to use the library only as a place to socialize until dinnertime. During those few hours, many of them create havoc with the equipment and disturb “legitimate” library patrons. In one controversial case, New Jersey’s Maplewood Memorial Library closed its two buildings on week-days from 2:45 p.m. to 5 p.m. after failing to find a way to manage the daily influx of rowdy middle schoolers (Kelley 2007). Chelton reminds us that adolescence is a distinct developmental stage of life, characterized by social learning. A teenager’s “work” is to challenge authority, to find a balance between what one is told to do and what one wants to do, and above all to learn how to be a communicator in order to build social relationships and feelings of belonging (Grinter and Palen 2002). Library staff, however, often seem to expect learning in the library to be a solitary pursuit. Interactivity should occur only with library resources or staff. Chelton argues that this prevailing attitude “flies in the face of one of the most important maturation processes of adolescence, namely, social competence” (2002, 27). Her view is reflected in the widely cited Search Institute’s list of “40 Developmental Assets for Adolescents,” which includes interpersonal and cultural competence and confirms the importance of community involvement in the raising of a child (Search Institute, 1997, 2007).
Teenagers have personal as well as academic needs that ought to be met by library services. Up to 60 percent of a typical midsized public library’s users are under the age of eighteen (Walter 2003). The teenagers among these young users are in the library to do homework and research but also to check out CDs, to read magazines, and to see and be seen. Librarians do not need to compromise their professional standards or personal values to accommodate teenagers. Teens are better served when librarians simply employ the same courtesies that they would use when working with adults. For example, Chelton (1999) witnessed school library staff asking students questions like “What do you need?” Although there is nothing technically wrong with this question, as phrased it rings out like a challenge. The emphasis is on the “you,” on the inherent otherness of the new arrival. Chelton suggests simple adjustments in tone and language to indicate respect and caring, such as asking “Hello, how can I help?” The emphasis is then on the “I,” the implication being that the institution and the staff exist to serve the new arrival. Besides alterations in verbal tone, there are nonverbal ways to indicate welcoming and to instill a sense of belonging. Libraries can create social spaces for teens. They can purchase overstuffed chairs as easily as straight-backed ones. The collection can be built to reflect teen interests. Library staff can even reach beyond their personal expertise to create a welcoming environment. The Queens Library in New York City chose to use its financial resources to hire youth counselors rather than security guards (Shell 2008; O’Connor 2008). The counselors’ job is to create programming and engage teenagers when they are in the library. Instead of receiving regular visits from the police to break up fights, library staff has seen circulation skyrocket.
Failure to follow through with appropriate service to teenagers is only part of the story. Even without the sting of insensitive or inadequate treatment, teens are still unlikely to want to spend much time in libraries. Loertscher and Woolls (2002) ask some tough questions in their overview of the research on teenage users of libraries. What do we know about when and why teens use libraries? Do teens regard libraries as an essential service in their lives? Do teens feel that the library, even a “perfect” one, is important to them? Loertscher and Woolls speculate that the paucity of research on this topic is because scholars already know what they would discover, what the library’s ratings would be. “Even if we limited our questioning to ‘things in school that help me succeed,’ would the school or public library rank in the top five?” (31). The authors are doubtful.
Libraries are places that can easily induce feelings of inadequacy in adults as well as teenagers. One is supposed to know how to use libraries, supposed to hunger for the knowledge all those books represent. The teenagers who do not go to the library on a regular basis may avoid it because of the “supposed-to” factor as well as the hostile reception they have received in the past. Any efforts to make amends have met with less than outright success, in part because teens’ primary experience with libraries is in the context of schooling, of information needs that are imposed by others.
Melissa Gross (2006) has developed an intriguing line of research on the “imposed query,” information seeking that is externally imposed rather than self-generated. The imposed query, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. We often very much want to find the thing we have been asked to find. But for a young person, the imposed query is often linked with unhappy circumstances—homework, a difficult teacher, a weekend with no free time. And it follows that libraries are often associated with the unpleasantness of imposed queries. Libraries become places to look for information other people want you to find, not for information that you yourself find intrinsically compelling or valuable.
Interestingly, Gross found that younger children ask a preponderance of self-generated questions in the school library, but that older children (upper-level elementary) primarily ask imposed questions. Again, our good intentions as educators seem to go awry. If imposed queries rule the day, what has happened to the notion that true education begins with the curiosity of the learner? The importance of inquiry-based learning was first articulated by John Dewey (1902, 1915), and its value continues to be widely recognized and discussed (Stripling 2003; Aulls and Shore 2008). But in practice, we seem to be actually killing the instinct to satisfy natural curiosity in the library. Extrapolating from Gross’s research, one can assume that the imposed query phenomenon continues to escalate through the teenage years. So even in the best, most teenager-friendly library, teens are bound to approach the library with caution, even attitude.
What about the everyday “stuff” that people need to find out? The self-generated query? Contemporary researchers now study “everyday life information seeking” (ELIS), a relatively new branch of information studies (Savolainen 1995; Spink and Cole 2001). There is a difference in how people go about meeting everyday life information needs and how they approach information needs that are associated with occupational or school-related contexts.
In occupational or school information seeking, the user is seeking information in a controlled environment with a definite end product that has some sort of paradigmatic quality to it. ELIS, on the other hand, is fluid, depending on the motivation, education, and other characteristics of the multitude of ordinary people seeking information for a multitude of aspects of everyday life. (Spink and Cole 2001, 301)
Can library information systems cope with the unpredictable demands of everyday life information needs? It is easy to make the case that there has always been a disconnect in how library users, teenagers included, have viewed “library” information as opposed to “real” information, the kind of information that is necessary for managing one’s everyday life. For example, I think it is unlikely that my mother would call the library for help with a recipe, even though the library’s shelves are stocked with cookbooks. She would call a friend first. And the typical teenager working on a car is much more inclined to seek information from a friend, a relative, the local garage, or Google before checking the auto mechanics collection at the library. When information needs are more deeply personal, such as when lesbian and gay teenagers first begin the process of self-recognition, libraries are not likely to be on the radar. In these cases, questioning teens turn to sources like online message boards and chat rooms, the “queer” section of the local bookstore, and positive stories about gay public figures (Mehra and Braquet 2007).
It is true that the library is full of people using cookbooks, auto mechanics guides, and even books about the coming-out experience. The two information realms are not mutually exclusive. But they tend to be used in different ways. My mother might go to the library in advance of an event to browse cookbooks and get ideas for recipes. But in the heat of battle, when a vital ingredient is missing or the cake is not rising the way it should, other information resources may be more appropriate. For many sound reasons, teenagers and adults have always used and will continue to use informal, nonlibrary information networks for immediate, everyday life information needs.
I have discussed two basic motivations for seeking information: the imposed query and everyday life information seeking. Such divergent needs require different types of information-retrieval environments: formal systems and informal systems. Formal information systems are intended for the finite, definable scope of occupational and school information seeking. Library catalogs, databases, and their companions are examples of formal information systems. By contrast, informal information systems are generally context-specific, varying widely in appearance and manifestation. The local barber shop may host an informal information system, as does the bulletin board in the college student union. Today’s world offers online versions of these informal information systems, packaged with liberal doses of advice and opinion. For example, Amazon helps users find books (and other products) but also provides user-generated book reviews. Such networks generally have formal attributes (e.g., search functions and topical hierarchies), but they respond to everyday life, context-dependent information problems.
Brenda Dervin (1976) identifies several false assumptions that information professionals hold about user information needs. One of these assumptions is that information is acquired only through formal information systems. In fact, people generally report that their use of formal systems is low. Even highly educated individuals rely heavily on interpersonal sources like friends and colleagues. Dervin disagrees with our professional habit of labeling this behavior a symptom of the “law of least effort” in the acquisition of information. Instead, she points to another faulty assumption—that “objective” information is the only valuable information. Users need information that is both objective (i.e., factual, datalike) as well as interpretive, contextual, and subjective, such as the information provided by so many of today’s web-based services. Angie’s List (www.angieslist.com), which provides consumer reviews of contractors, and “recommender” communities like eOpinions.com are examples of thriving information resources that provide other than “objective” information. In sum, to satisfy both types of information needs, we require both formal and informal information systems and services.
Formal information systems are developed to be consulted and queried in purposeful ways, meaning that users must have some idea of what they need to know. This last phrase sounds facile, but anyone who has worked with teenagers (or other information seekers, for that matter) has learned that this knowledge of the destination cannot be assumed. Formal systems are designed in top-down fashion by experts who use highly defined rules for classification and retrieval. The rules may or may not be fully understood by users but are the key to successful information retrieval. Users must take some responsibility for learning an information system’s attributes, adapting their queries to match the system’s functionality. Formal systems, though ordered and generally intended for universal access, are not perfect. Their boundaries and characteristics often elude users, who then have difficulty translating their information needs into forms that can be processed by the system.
We are surrounded by formal information-retrieval systems in modern society, not just in the library. The yellow pages of the telephone book are organized by topic and provide cross-references that guide users to system-defined categories. Users must be able to navigate the alphabet, follow hierarchical subdivisions, and produce alternative terminology when cross-references are not adequately supplied. Hospital directories are fairly simple formal systems, typically listing doctors and departments by specialty and possibly offering an alphabetical name index. Still, the consumer looking for an ear, nose, and throat specialist may need to know to consult the directory under “otolaryngology.”
Informal information-retrieval systems generally evolve from the bottom up rather than the top down, emerging directly from the community of users. The local barbershop clique forms over time, relying on the participants themselves to be information providers. In such cases, users do not search so much as they share. When consulting informal sources of information, users (wittingly or unwittingly) acquire auxiliary information. The teenager who visits a local mechanic for advice also discovers what the garage smells like and which tools the mechanic actually uses on the job. My mother, in consulting a friend, finds out how a finished dish should feel to the touch and what happens if one ingredient is substituted for another. The young lesbian hears the confidence in the voice of an “out” teacher at her school’s Gay-Straight Alliance meeting. Informal information seeking also encompasses habits of information consumption, such as reading a daily newspaper or having the radio playing while going about one’s household chores.
In the informal environment, information often comes to the user rather than the other way around. When we open the daily paper, read the day’s dose of blogs, or check our Twitter feed, following various links embedded in the entries (and then hyperlinking in serendipitous ways from those), we are not so much looking for specific information as we are letting information come to us. We then filter this information through the perspective of our current needs and interests, some of which may not have even reached our consciousness. Finally, formal information systems can be used as informal systems. People search library catalogs, but they also browse the shelves and select materials they might not otherwise have thought to look for.
Where do teenagers fit into this formal-informal information-systems picture? Most research on adolescent information seeking has been applied to the imposed query environment, whether the object of that searching has been traditional formal information systems or newer, electronic systems (Neuman 2003). Although it continues to be important to understand teens’ information use in the context of formal learning, there is little research that describes teenagers’ self-directed information needs (Walter 2003). We do not know much about what teens search for and why, although some researchers have looked at specific topics of teen interest like health and sexuality (Burek Pierce 2007; Mehra and Braquet 2007). It certainly appears that formal information systems are losing out with the teen audience. Teens generally use them only when required to, in the context of the imposed query. At the same time, it is not entirely apparent that teenagers differentiate clearly between informal and formal information environments.
Dresang (1999) opines that “researchers have not been accustomed to studying competent youth in serious yet informal information-seeking situations, largely because such situations have rarely existed” (1124). Her view is that we need a new paradigm for studying teenagers’ productive informal information-seeking behavior in today’s nonhierarchical, matrixlike information environment. Some are responding to this challenge by developing models for studying teen information behavior (Fisher et al. 2007; Hughes-Hassell and Agosto 2007). Although it seems self-evident that teenagers overwhelmingly favor informal systems, how they use those systems may be much more purposeful than has previously been understood.
Because of its association with formal school learning, the library is typically regarded as a land of formal information seeking. True, people go to the public library to find a good book to read, keep up with financial news, work on their résumés, or use the copier machine. But when it comes to finding Information-with-a-capital-I for imposed query situations, the library is what comes to mind. However, the times are changing. For everyday life information needs, and increasingly for imposed query information needs, many people—adults, teenagers, and children— are going elsewhere. And where is that elsewhere? These days, elsewhere seems to be the Internet, which has become both a boon to library service and a source of competition.
Is the Internet part of the formal information world or the informal information world? People tend to think of the Internet as an informal information system, perhaps because intermediaries (e.g., the library and librarians) are not required, so individuals are in control of their own search processes. But the reality is more complex than that. The Internet is a multifaceted global information system made up of interconnected local, national, and international computer networks and their associated services. Each service has a different technical structure and functional application, which gives it formal or informal information-retrieval attributes. The World Wide Web (“the Web”) is but one of those Internet services, albeit the most ubiquitous one. Therefore, when people refer to “the internet,” they often mean “the Web.” the Web itself is home to formal and informal information systems, as will be discussed in the next chapter.
The Internet is generally an excellent vehicle for everyday life information seeking. Its content and access tools are fluid, ever-expanding, and infinitely variable. Inquirers can use the Internet to quickly find answers to highly specific, arcane, or personal questions. The library, on the other hand, has highly structured information systems, which make it seem plodding and inflexible. On the surface, the library primarily provides an information function, while the Internet does many things. The Internet is both the end and the means because of its nature as a system of systems, an überproductivity tool that allows consumers to manage their banking, catalog and store their personal photos, and shop without ever leaving home. The Internet has extraordinary value as a communications tool. E-mail, still the “killer app” of the internet, remains its most-used online tool (Pew Internet and American Life Project 2009). Searching for information is the first runner-up to e-mail, followed by activities ranging from checking the weather to making travel reservations.
In the Internet environment, communication and information-retrieval functions are increasingly indistinct. Students e-mail documents to themselves, taking notes in one window while reading source material in another, instant messaging all the while. Consider the plethora of “Ask an Expert” services that are available online, which personalize high-quality content using communication channels. There is no library counterpart except for chat reference service, which came along relatively late in online communication history.
The Internet is an open medium. It enables content producers as well as individuals to publish information without the services of intermediaries. In the read/write Web 2.0 environment, no editors, publishers, vendors, or catalogers are required to vet the information, reshape it, or contextualize it. Clearly, the Internet has profoundly changed the shape of the information landscape. Users flock to it because of its multiple attributes and its one-stop-shopping reputation. In an imaginary popularity contest, the Internet would certainly beat out the library, even in cases when the Internet may not be the most appropriate destination. But the competition is an artificial one because, for many reasons that will be addressed in this book, the two choices are not truly opposing ones. In fact, one is often a vehicle for the other, with the lines so blurred that users are not even aware of the true origin of the information they are accessing. At the same time, it cannot be denied that the Internet “side” is winning the teenage market. Let’s take a look at how that battle is going.
How do teenagers use the Internet as an information resource? Among the most prolific and reliable sources of information on how Americans use the Internet are the reports and presentations produced by the Pew Internet and American Life Project (www.pewinternet.org). Pew researchers report that though teens use the Internet for research, they are more likely than their older counterparts to seek entertainment through online videos, games, and virtual worlds; to download music; to read and write blogs; and to use social networking sites to stay in touch with friends (Jones and Fox 2009). Unfortunately, the Pew project has not really taken a hard look at how online teens use the Internet to do research for school since 2001, when data revealed a usage rate of 94 percent for this purpose (Lenhart, Rainie, and Lewis 2001). Of the teens surveyed, 71 percent report relying mostly on the Internet for their most recent big school project, 24 percent rely mostly on the library, and 4 percent use both equally. Reasons cited for online use were the Internet’s ease, speed, and accessibility. Teens also use the Internet for conducting research on personal interests, from fashion and music news to more sensitive topics that call for privacy while searching. The Pew report on college students (Jones 2002) shows an even greater disparity between Internet and library use, with 73 percent using the Internet more than the library for research and only 9 percent reporting that they use the library more than the Internet.
For the conclusions reached as well as the questions not investigated, the Pew project’s various reports are potentially frustrating for librarians. For example, in the report on teenagers, the teens do not seem to have been asked which Internet resources they were using for school research. Were they perhaps sometimes using subscription databases, which are web-delivered resources provided by the library? Students seldom differentiate among Internet resources to such a fine degree, especially when access is transparent and they can connect remotely.
The Pew report on college students (Jones 2002) is more explicit than the report on teens about the use of specific resources. However, the report is potentially more damaging to librarian egos. The researchers found that though academic resources are offered online, most students either do not know how to find them or have not been shown how to. The students are much more likely to go to commercial search engines to type in their research queries, using library computers primarily for web surfing, checking e-mail, and instant messaging. The study notes that “college students seem to rely on information seeking habits formed prior to arriving at college” (13), a finding that has interesting implications for school librarians. Yet the profession must be doing something right. The young adults of Generation Y (ages eighteen to approximately thirty) are the most likely to say they will use libraries in the future when they encounter information problems, with 40 percent saying they would do so compared with 20 percent of those above age thirty (Estabrook, Witt, and Rainie 2007).
At first glance, it looks like libraries are losing on two fronts. We are losing our traditional customers, the ones who would come in to use the formal information systems for which we have been the gatekeepers. And we are losing, or lost long ago, those who are engaged in everyday life information seeking. In this book I try to present the case that the situation is not nearly so simplistic. We are not facing an either-the-library-or-the-internet dichotomy, a future in which the choices belong to either the Luddites or the technonerds. The Internet is now in the library, and the library is in the internet. The card catalog, Readers’ Guide, and their descendants have migrated to a web environment. Librarians have dumped their vertical files in favor of links on their web pages. Reference sources are available both online and in print form.
The art of searching for information is evolving as well. Most users have not really grasped the distinction between the visible Web (searchable by standard web search engines) and the invisible Web (resources that are hidden behind subscription databases or other secondary search interfaces). They are more likely to search the invisible Web while in the library, where licensing agreements are transparent and skilled staff are present to assist. At the same time, everyday life information seeking is becoming more purposeful now that the Internet has made a body of “published” everyday life information available and search engines have provided a means of searching it. The Pew reports have documented levels and types of searching activity—the what—but have not really plumbed the why and the how. It is up to information scientists to follow up. Some trends, though, are clear. For teenagers, the really essential difference between the notions of “Internet” (visible or invisible) and “library” is the Internet’s unique ability to facilitate communication and connection to others. For teenagers, information is nothing without communication, interactivity, and the opportunity for direct engagement with content.
If communication is so important, how does it fit in with “information,” as libraries know and provide it? “Information” has a different meaning for information professionals than it has for information consumers, particularly teenagers. Dervin (1976) spoke of this difference in terms of the “functional units” of information systems. For the library, the functional unit might be a book or a document or a website. For the individual, the functional unit is generally a communication transaction, or, as Dervin puts it, “responses, instructions, reinforcements, solutions, answers, ideas, companionships, assistances wherever and however they may be found” (331). In other words, librarians conceptualize their services differently than their customers do. From the user’s perspective, communication properties are key to successful information-seeking experiences. Without them, information remains inert, devoid of usefulness.
Dervin developed this line of thought in the 1970s, long before the Internet as we know it was even imagined. But the functional units remain essentially the same today because they are made of the same building blocks: human knowledge and human communication. The difference now is the ubiquity of today’s information technologies, which makes the lines between information and communication blur almost beyond distinction. It is becoming difficult, even artificial, to speak about one without the other. In response, we now think in terms of information and communication technology (ICT) as a framework, or, even more broadly, social technology, which more concisely captures the notion of sharing as a defining characteristic. I will define these in some detail in chapter 3.
How does ICT look in the lives of teenagers? Is there a difference between Dervin’s 1970s model and today’s highly connected world? In pre-internet days, when students wanted to compare notes, work together on homework, or share secrets, they whispered together in the library, met at each others’ houses after school, or called each other on the phone. They also passed notes in class, wrote letters to pen pals, and kept diaries. Teens used formal information systems, primarily in the library, for school-based research projects. In today’s world, teenagers have much more technology at their disposal. They use both formal and informal information systems for school-based research, at the library and elsewhere. They communicate using landline and cell phones, handheld devices, and communications software. They send instant messages and e-mail, they maintain social network profiles on sites such as Facebook and Myspace, post to online forums, and share digital music. They have embraced the Web 2.0 credo that invites content creation as well as access to content.
With the availability of so much information and communication technology, these ought to be halcyon days in the library for teenagers. And yet, for a variety of reasons, libraries almost always have some prohibitions against the use of technology for communication purposes. These are important times to remember Chelton’s admonition that social interaction among teenagers is developmentally appropriate, even necessary, and has a place in the library. Information and communication technologies are ideally suited to facilitate that development, just as much as teen spaces and study rooms in libraries do.
In the conclusion of their book Teens and Libraries: Getting It Right, Walter and Meyers (2003) make a number of promises to teens on behalf of public libraries. One of these promises is that librarians will be adult professionals in all dealings with teens. This pledge means that librarians will respect teens by doing good work, by giving directions and advice but not being rigid or prescriptive, by providing structure and boundaries that promote development, and by having high expectations of them. This promise also means that librarians will simply be themselves, and not try to measure up to some (possibly ridiculous-looking) coolness factor. Librarians do not have to be cool themselves to provide cool library services.
Another promise Walter and Meyers make is that librarians will work with teens, not for them. This pledge has to do with shaping services that teenagers can own, that are informed by their habits and needs, and that they have had a voice in creating. Adolescence is characterized by a need to feel one can influence the world. Libraries can give teens an important opportunity to make a difference, to contribute to their communities, and to engage in meaningful participation. And everyone wins. By bringing their verve and insight to the library, teenagers have the power to make it cool in ways that librarians simply cannot.
But first things first. Let’s go back to the beginning and look at how libraries and their information systems affect teen users.