Are we there yet? Facing the never-ending speed and change of technology in midlife

Library Trends, Spring, 2002 by Linda Loos Scarth

ABSTRACT

THIS ESSAY IS A PERSONAL REFLECTION on entering librarianship in middle age at a time when the profession, like society in general, is experiencing rapidly accelerating change. Much of this change is due to the increased use of computers and information technologies in the library setting. These aids in the production, collection, storage, retrieval, and dissemination of the collective information, knowledge, and sometimes wisdom of the past and the contemporary world can exhilarate or burden depending on one's worldview, the organization, and the flexibility of the workplace. This writer finds herself working in a library where everyone is expected continually to explore and use new ways of working and providing library service to a campus and a wider community. No time is spent in reflecting on what was, but all efforts are to anticipate and prepare for what will be.

INTRODUCTION

One of the strange and whimsical things about entering a profession in middle age is that one's baggage is very different from that of those who were socialized into the profession while young. I became a librarian just as library literature was blossoming with laments about the demise of traditional librarianship. Would reference work disappear? Is copy-cataloging a proper choice? Do we need more or less storage space? Are we all suffering from burnout? Even those who were putting into print their worries and their advice about ameliorating the consequences of change seemed to be contributing to the uneasiness and uncertainty. Self-fulfilling prophecy is a strong force and one which seems to be dissipating in this decade. Other occupational groups were and are undergoing similar technological changes and are not generating as much angst about the technology itself. This angst seems to have lessened in the last year or so, but was very much in the literature and electronic discussion groups in the 1990s.

The very thing which attracted me seemed to be the source of heightening anxiety. I became a librarian just as the electronic age of librarianship was coming into full bloom. I am not experienced, nor perhaps burdened with having practiced librarianship any differently than I do now. The baggage I carry includes studying and teaching about human development and a personality which enjoys novelty and constructing intellectual, physical, and virtual objects. I confess to an academic bent, already possessing three degrees before adding the master's in library and information science in 1993.

In fact, I have truly enjoyed every job I have had. My work life has been spent in academia where I taught at all levels from preschoolers through medical residents, working in the U.S. and Australia. Along the way, I did paid and unpaid library literature reviews for several researchers because I enjoy the process. I never felt I was leaving a job or occupation because it was no longer satisfying, but instead I felt I was taking advantage of new opportunities and ways to contribute that built on past experiences. Perhaps some might say that I was not as committed to a single occupation as I should have been, although I am very committed to my discipline. Human development is my discipline, and all my jobs, including my current occupation, have been about understanding how humans develop over their life spans and about assisting them with the academic and intellectual part of that journey.

After living in Australia for a number of years, we reached a point where we needed to decide to stay or return to the U.S. Family responsibilities pulled toward the U.S., while love of the Outback kept us in its thrall. We finally decided to return and then planned for our reentry. One thing I had long had on my list to do one day was add a degree in library and information science. As there seemed to be many library reference jobs advertised in the Chronicle of Higher Education in the early 1990s, we decided that I pursue an M.L.S. while we were deciding where to live. I completed the degree in eleven months in 1993, started my present job three weeks later, and have not felt the need to go on to something new. Shortly after I became a reference librarian, one of my sisters commented, "Well, I see you are finally doing what Mother suggested while you were in high school."

THE SITUATION

I wonder and marvel at what is possible because of computer technology in libraries. How many times do most workers in this world get to construct their own job descriptions? Librarians are fortunate that the ever-changing technologies with which we work are not immutable but allow our jobs to be described not in tasks, but in products and services produced by skills and tools which are forever evolving. My job description is very short. Essentially it says that I am the reference librarian and that I provide research services, ready reference, and instruction to the college. The details change from day to day and minute to minute. Thank goodness.

Perhaps some of the anxiety being expressed in the library literature of the 1990s was due to job descriptions. The very narrow, uninspired job requirements, which are said to stultify workers and cause burnout, could be eliminated. Narrow job descriptions involving a limited set of tasks are (or in my opinion, should be) replaced with the possibility of using, matching, and changing tools and tasks to accomplish the larger goals of librarianship. These are collecting, organizing, preserving, and providing access to cumulative knowledge, all the time teaching about the process, its importance, and the uses of this knowledge. What could be more intellectual fun than creating and solving the puzzles these tasks involve? Yes, there are legitimate worries about budget, space, and materials, but I do like the tools at our disposal to create and solve these problems and provide service to our users. I often wonder if job descriptions or control and separation of tasks into fiefdoms may have created the milieu in which people became uncertain about their work identity in midlife.