She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

February 8, 2012

The Professional Retention and Recruitment Committee of the Medical Library Association (my professional association) posted on MLA’s “Linked In” site the questions: Do you think you make a difference at your organization? Do you still feel valuable as a librarian? I wrote a response there, but wanted to put it here on my blog, too. As I state, it’s a bigger question; one that can be directed to a lot of other professions and institutions than librarians and libraries.

—–

This is an awfully timely discussion as I just went to a workshop on Monday on embedded, personal and liaison librarians. The audience consisted of librarians from many types and sizes of institutions; state and private colleges, junior colleges, companies, medical schools. It was repeated by practically every soul there (perhaps indicative of the theme of the program) that neither students nor faculty really know what the library and librarians can do for them. Working in an academic health sciences library, I can include clinicians and staff of the hospital to that list, too. It was hardly a new cry, “Nobody knows our value!” but it got me to thinking – and especially, questioning – what’s behind this phenomenon.

It covers the gamut, from young students straight out of high school to those working on a PhD. It applies to all faculty, whether they finished their degree and began teaching 3 years ago or 30. It crosses every discipline, from medicine to history. Faculty do not refer their students to the library (read, they don’t know what we can do) and students don’t come to the library (read, they don’t know what we can do).

So… I started to think about this in a historical context. When the heck did the shift happen? When did people stop knowing what’s available through their library? If you have faculty who don’t know this, 30 years into their profession, have they always not known? Have they never taught their students the value of the library? If that’s the case, how have we gotten on this long? If they did once teach them the value of the library, when did they stop? And why? When you think that we’ve been promoting information literacy in schools (K-12 + college) since the 70s, as that term, and library instruction, as that term, since the late 1800s, when did it get lost? OR what have we been doing to miss the mark in this charge we’ve been given (I’m willing to take some of the credit/blame as a profession)?

Today’s students, doctors, nurses, patients, we all say, do a lousy job at effectively finding and accessing the best quality information. They do not know how to do this. Why not? If it is our mission, as a profession, to teach them how, where and why have we failed?

These are the questions that I’ve been asking myself since Monday. Truthfully, before Monday, but they’ve been at the forefront of my thinking and it’s interesting to see the discussion here, too. Maybe I’m not the only one thinking it.

SO… I did a very quick look through the literature for the history of academic libraries and found a nice review of the literature published in “Library Philosophy and Practice” in 2005. I highlighted a bunch of interesting thoughts on my copy. I had a career before libraries that was based on “big thinking” like this – the meaning of life and such – so this type of questioning is always appealing. But digression aside, here are a few pieces that I think are most relevant to the topic and discussion and questions:

  • “Their (academic libraries, though I think we can include medical libraries, too) history is one of evolution and change that parallels the history of their parent institutions.”
  • There exists “a historic desire by librarians to be accepted equally by faculty” (insert clinicians, med students, etc.), but “the acceptance of librarians by the community has not improved very much” over time.
  • And finally, “libraries tend to reflect rather than create intellectual trends.”

No doubt, there are people who have and always will value libraries and librarians. They love us and the work we do, but more and more, I’m becoming convinced that this is much more a reflection of those individuals rather than the library and/or librarians. These people tend to be people who are willing to ask for help. They are often both intelligent and creative. They value reading (yes, reading – it will ALWAYS be tied to the idea of libraries and librarians) and they like asking questions. They are, in a sense, our people. They like us and we like them. They ARE us and we are them. But sadly (or perhaps, it’s a good thing in the larger picture of the universe) they (we) are the minority.

I think there is something to be said for and recognized in the quotes from this historical perspective (meaning, the above-referenced article). Our own history does reflect our parent institutions. It reflects our society. Education, learning, health care, medical research – these are all things that have ebbed and flowed in their importance throughout history. If you think about it, we may give a lot of lip service to these things as a society, but are they truly the heart of what we’re about in medical education and health care? I wonder. There’s a bottom line – in education, in research, and in health care – and I think we all know what that bottom line is. It is clearly reflected in many of the decisions that are made today, and ultimately the value that we place upon things in our society.

I’ve no idea on how to counter this in a large sense. Like others, the personal thanks that I regularly receive from a portion of students and researchers do make me feel better about the work I do. They make me feel like I make some small difference. But like others in this string of comments, too, I wish they happened more and reflected more a different set of values displayed by our institutions, hospitals and society at large. Something other than the literal bottom line.

 

[Weiner, S.G. (2005) The History of Academic Libraries in the United States: A Review of the Literature. Library Philosophy and Practice 7(2). Available online.]


I Do

February 2, 2012

Seven years ago today, my partner, Lynn, and I went to Worcester City Hall, chatted for awhile with the City Manager, learned a bit about our new town, then repeated a few words after him and walked out with a signed and sealed document legalizing the partnership we had known for the previous eleven years. That was it. I often refer to this event as our “shotgun wedding”. We did it because we had to. It was the only way that I, as a state employee, could carry Lynn on my health insurance plan. The Commonwealth of Massachusetts never recognized the unions between couples of the same sex, however when same-sex marriage became legal in the State, the State had no choice but to abide by its own laws. Anyone wanting family insurance coverage has to be legally married.

And that is why I am legally married. I wish I could tell you that there was another reason, but there isn’t. Lynn and I were forced to get married in order to receive something that, for whatever reason in our nation, is deemed a special right. Health insurance.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about the fight for marriage equality. I’m certainly all in favor of equality and work and/or stand for justice whenever I can, but I remain unconvinced that having my relationship with Lynn recognized legally grants either of these things, in their true sense. Being married in the eyes of the law grants couples a whole host of rights and privileges that single people, people who choose to live together, or even certain familial relationships, say siblings, do not enjoy. At least not together.

There are tax benefits, estate benefits, employee benefits, medical benefits, housing benefits, and death benefits. Married couples can enjoy family rates on automobile insurance. A legal spouse can receive time off from work to take care of the other legal spouse. A married couple can have and/or adopt children. And in the literal end, the survivor of a married couple has the right to make all of the decisions regarding funerals and burials.

One might wonder, “So what in the world is wrong with all of that? Why would you NOT want those rights?” The reason is really pretty simple. My enjoying these rights with Lynn, because of our married status, puts us in a place of privilege over others. Why does the GBLT community work so hard to get same-sex marriage legalized? Because without it, same-sex couples feel as if they are treated “less than”. Married couples have things that they do not.

And that, to me, is the problem. Why does the state grant any one group certain privileges over another? Why does it recognize some relationships as being worthy of tax breaks or health insurance, and others not? I agree with Alisa Solomon, longtime writer for The Village Voice and now journalism professor at Columbia University, “The question isn’t whether the state should marry gays, but whether it should marry anyone.” (“Get Married? Yes, but Not by the State,” Village Voice, 01/09/96)

As I’ve said on any number of occasions, I got a piece of paper and health insurance in Massachusetts, I got married years before in Maine. Lynn and I got married on a beautiful summer day in August, 1996. We got married in a church – the church I happened to serve in at the time – surrounded by about 100 dear friends and family members. Dina, my closest friend from seminary and a woman I’d have gladly partnered up with years earlier had she only been a lesbian, officiated and spoke beautiful words of what it means to find another person to share a part of your life with; what it means to love and care for another soul to the degree that you’d want to share part of yourself. Other friends spoke words of encouragement and love, and when the service was over, we enjoyed the most wonderful party put together by a group of friends. There was food from people’s kitchens, flowers from the farmer’s market, music by another good friend’s band. There was dancing and singing, hugs and kisses, tears and laughter. It was one of the best days of my life.

Lynn and I had lived together for almost two years before that day, but that was the day we chose to stand before and with our friends, to celebrate with them, our relationship. To me, it’s the day we got married, because it’s the day where we, along with our friends, affirmed our relationship. Not the State of Maine, not the State of Massachusetts, not the United States of America. I don’t particularly care if any legislative body affirms my relationship with Lynn. The people most important to us already did.

And so, added to the aforementioned exclusionary nature of the legal institution (not even mentioning the sexist, patriarchal, property-holding history of it), to ask an anonymous government to recognize something that’s long been affirmed by those closest to it, to me smacks of patronizing condescension (purposeful redundancy). There’s that popular saying, “marriage is between a man and a woman” to which I say “yes and no”. Marriage IS between people. Period. The government has no place in it, neither to privilege it nor refuse it. Let the government worry about treating each of us, individually, fair and just.

But all of that said, I’m both blessed and grateful to share a part of myself with someone who brings me so much joy and love and support. Lynn gives me a groundedness that I never knew on my own. She carries more faith in me than I ever have in myself alone. She helps me to dream bigger dreams and encourages me every faltering step towards them.

I’ve been blessed with many good friendships, a handful of truly special relationships, and one person that I partnered up with for a longer journey. My life would be less without any of them, but today on another Groundhog’s Day Shotgun Wedding Anniversary, I say “I do” to Lynn. Again.

And here’s a little song that I played in the car on the drive home from dinner out. It reminds us of the early days together, innocent days of falling in love no matter what.


Occupy Leap Day

January 26, 2012

Carpe Leap Day

Every four years we’re given a present, an extra 24 hours that we bundle up into one day that we call “Leap Day”. Where does this time come from? Well, astronomically speaking, it takes the earth approximately 365 days and 6 hours to travel around the sun. Add up those 6 hours for 4 years and you’ve got 24 (thank you Ms. Summers for all of those multiplication flashcard drills in 4th grade). To keep our old calendars in line, we add that extra day in during that 4th year and call it “Leap Year”.

It dawned on me this morning that if there is one day that should really be given to people as a bonus day, a day to do whatever you wish, a holiday if you will, it is Leap Day. It only seems fitting as (1) we get by just fine without it 3 out of every 4 years and (2) since it’s in essence a “catch up day” for time, we should all be allowed to catch up. Catch up with some time you’ve missed with your kids. Catch up on a good book you’ve been wanting to read. Catch up on a project around the house. Catch up on a trip to a museum that you’ve not had the chance to get to yet. Catch up on some thank you notes, phone calls, or coffee with a friend. It’s a bonus day. Do something with it that you don’t have the chance to do on all of the other regular, feet-stuck-in -the-mud days. Take a leap!

I guess, if you wish, you could use it to catch up at work, but I’d like to propose we do anything but that. Work is a constant catch up. Everyone is overworked these days. People continually feel pressured to get one more thing done yesterday. It seems like in this everyday environment, the one thing we could all use is a day away from that. And again, since we don’t have it the vast majority of the years, who will miss it in the work calendar this year?

Come on, everyone! Carpe Leap Day! Seize your day. Tweet it (#OccupyLeapDay). Share it on Facebook. Pass this post along on Tumblr. +1 it for Google. Whatever gets the word out. Take back your day!