Twitter Turnaround and Reading Recovery

Just had to admit I learned something this week. Once I downloaded TweetDeck and could sort out the twits by hashtag or person, I actually got seriously hooked for all of one evening. At least I could see how someone could get seriously drawn into reading it constantly, both for feedback and opportunities to say something clever to their growing fanbase. (Kristin's slide on that was spot on.) So yes, I do sorta get it, but do I want it? Maybe someday.  Back when I was a stay at home Mom I spent quite a bit of time chatting with other mothers, either on the phone or while our kids played. I don't do that anymore, but it would be nice to fit that kind of connectivity back into my daily routine. It makes sense for working adults to chat online if they can't hang around playgrounds anymore.  

Connectivity is a great way to pass the time, no doubt. Until recently the primary computer activity at my house was centered around gaming, but not so much these days. My teenage son checks 12 websites (we counted) every evening before he goes to bed, trolling for new material on sites like Failblog and Graphjam, as well as the usual messages on Facebook and iGoogle email. I recently pointed out he doesn't read anymore, meaning he isn't picking up those paper and print books I love to see kids reading. He just looked at me and laughed while his older brother patiently reminded me that they read all the time, just online. Is the quality better in print? Probably only in my rose coloured imagination. Are Calvin & Hobbes and Conan the Barbarian graphic novels the stuff of intellectual growth (well, C & H is, but definitely not C the B). The point is, I need to recognize online reading is still reading. And tweeting is still old fashioned chatting.

Twitter Trials

I really am trying.  I've had a Twitter account for over a year and have taken stabs from time to time at figuring out its appeal, with little success.  I get that it's a fast-response tool that keeps groups of people tightly connected, that it allows professionals to pass on relevant information throughout a network, and that it's entertaining to a surprisingly vast number of people, but this is one bandwagon I can't find secure footing on. Yet. And I feel the same way about Facebook, which makes me a virtual Luddite in America.  (Well, actually I'm more of a lurker, since I do check in look around occasionally. Sounds creepy, doesn't it?) I do use the news feeds, but RSS works better.  Many of the tweets are for links, and  if I used a desktop instead of my mobile it would be easier to follow up on them; as it is, downloading to a cellphone is hardly ever worth the time and magnification needed.

If you haven't read Lara's SI 643 Blog yet, don't miss it, since she does an excellent job summing up the reasons Twitter is not the universal love child of this generation; in fact, I was surprised at how many fellow students were not Twitterpated, as Kim and her Bambi friends call it. Right now, three new twits have come up about taking a nap, having brunch, and "contemplating what to do tonight, Hmm " all by people I don't know.  Adding to the clutter, people I chose to follow for this class are sending streams of personal twits to other people I don't know, and frankly I feel left out of the conversation.  Maybe I'm just not managing it efficiently.  I'll try a couple of organizational tools before giving up-- I've been told Tweet Deck and Hoot Suite will help sort out the chaos.  In the meantime, I'll be interested in a class discussion on this experience.

iPads for Everyone

In a fit of double dipping, I chose to view the Education Week webinar entitled "The 1-to-1 Computing Challenge: Overcoming Barriers" because my SI 623 team project  is researching the feasibility of a 1-to-1 iPad program for students at Skyline High School in Ann Arbor. As a webinar it was not particularly interesting or even instructional, but as an informational resource it did touch on issues and solutions to problems that would be useful to school administrators considering such a program.  I registered for the live webinar on March 4th, but of course missed the scheduled time and ended up watching the archived presentation instead.  The slides were completely dull, heavily text and data laden and the buffering was a nuisance, but the voice over presenters made the information digestible.  The edtech coordinator for a 1-to-1 laptop initiative in the state of Maine explained why they believe the program is improving test scores and how they began the comprehensive statewide support for the technology needed. (So far all 7th and 8th graders and 55% of 9-12 graders in Maine are issued laptops.)  The superintendent of  an Ohio school system talks about how and why his district researched the possibility of a 1-to-1 initiative that will begin this fall, and a Vail, Arizona administrator described different approaches used in two high schools there, one traditional (a term I found interesting, as it implies historical precedence) in that the school supplies the laptops, and a BYOL (Bring Your Own Laptop) initiative that I think would work well at Skyline.  Only the last presenter mentioned tablet computing, which already dates the webinar somewhat as this year iPads are the fashion rage in 1-to1 computing circles. Seriously, get used to the idea. We will all be carrying iPads or something similar as PEDs, and for schools to get on board now is unusually prescient considering how they are usually behind in tech trends.  Our group is recommending that Skyline go for it, and I suspect they will.  It's a progressive, tech savvy school and well equipped to impement a successful 1-to1 iPad initiative, scoring high on nearly all the recommendations suggested in the webinar.  If only the webinar had been more progressive and tech savvy in its own presentation,  the message might have been more effectively demonstrated.

Embedded Jewels

Unfortunately there's something about the term "embedded librarian" that makes me think of salacious novels or craft kits--you know,  the kind that press fake jewels into plaster molds. Which on second thought isn't such a bad analogy: the librarian as an attractive addition to the department or classroom.  As Matos, et al., points out, the term is newer than the concept, and I wondered why they didn't just call a subject librarian a subject librarian.  But whatever the terminology, it's an excellent idea, both for services and collection development. Students are much more likely to ask for help from someone they see regularly and consider a part of their environment; part of the disconnect in university libraries is that students don't always know who or what exactly to ask. For disciplines like medicine, music, business or law there have always been librarian specialists, and I can imagine they are invaluable resources for faculty, staff and students.  Although school libraries are constrained by staffing and logistics, the idea of embedding the librarian into departments and programs is a good way of thinking about collaboration, perhaps, if it helps the media specialist to feel a part of the community, as Matos puts it. Often the librarian is considered an outsider, a guest speaker, instead of a joint member of the teaching team. 

Both Matos, et al., and Susan Montgomery really want to talk about using online tools to better embed librarians into academic programs, however, and their articles advocate taking advantage of chat, webinars, social media, etc. to become a valuable resource to faculty and students.  While on the one hand an online presence seems impersonal and less connected than a face to face encounter, the point is well taken that students are far more likely to take advantage of online communication and may find it easier to reach out for help if  the whole body language/social interaction element is removed. As both authors point out, there is a potential increase in interactions. What is new, then, is not the idea of embedded librarians in academic departments or programs, but the embedded librarian as a virtual jewel.

Weak and Wicked Women

Our book club met this week, and what a great discussion. I'm pretty sure it went well, because we talked nonstop for two hours and could have gone on longer if time and biology had allowed.  Everyone brought excellent questions to the table and seemed comfortable sharing ideas and opinions.  The cookies were delicious works of art.  At first glance the stories we selected were a mix of style and genre: science fiction by Isaac Asimov, a Grimm fairy tale, a Neil Gaiman fable, a Christmas love story and a morality mystery.  But by the time the session was over I realized we had a theme after all: images of women in short fiction.  With the exception of the sci fi story which neutered women entirely--it was, after all, about the recreation of Man--the stories featured disturbingly unflattering images of women in almost every disfunctional female role imaginable: the girlwife emotional wreck comforted by her sensible husband in The Gift of the Magi; the jealous, shallow princess in The Lady and the Tiger willing (I think) to send her honest lover to his death rather than see him marry another; the shrewish old aunt and the personality zero girlchild Cinnamon brought to life (and maturity) by an overtly masculine tiger, and the vacuous Goose Girl with long blond hair betrayed by her wicked lady in waiting.  Not a grown-up, clever female in the lot.  To be fair, the men are no prizes either unless you have a fondness for strangely oversexed tigers, but they at least represent admirable qualities like power, intelligence, justice, and trust.  Yes, the stories were all written by men.  But Neil Gaiman, et tu?

To E- or not to. . . oh, never mind.

There's little to say about the Harper Collins fuss that hasn't already been eloquently, or at least vehemently, said. I appreciated Bobbi Newman's moderate approach, and agree that allowing librarians to participate in the decision-making process of marketing e-books to libraries would ease some of the tension.  Most of us agree that 26 checkouts just isn't optimistic enough, at almost any price.  While it's true that some poorly bound books do wear out after a year of continuous lending (which is the assumption made by HC in setting its limit), librarians purchase print books without knowing their termination date, and circulate them optimistically with hope each copy will survive one more checkout.  Skillful repairs can coax them to last even longer. But the limited e-book lease takes the art out of service and circulation, pushing librarians to act more as gatekeepers than providers.  The BBC article from our readings mentions exactly what I have feared all along: that as readers increasingly download e-books from home, they have a decreasing interest, or need, in visiting the library. I've often wondered at the public library's enthusiasm for e-books, which to me undermines the library experience. But the ALA Code of Ethics might explain it: We distinquish between our personal convictions and professional duties and do not allow our personal beliefs to interfere with fair representation of the aims of our institutions or the provision of access to their information resources. Access trumps tradition. Which means boycotting a publisher's book selection because we are disappointed with its e-book policies is not an ethical response. It also means libraries will have no choice whether to be or not to be distributors of e-content; it's how information is increasingly distributed, driven by user demand, and the trick is to stay in the game.

Consider the short stories we chose for the Book Club. All of us chose stories available online because they were free and instantly available.  Right now.  Anything else looks inaccessible to us, though only a few years ago it would not have been out of the question to expect us to distribute paper copies or even (!) check out a few books.  We librarians have no qualms about bypassing the library for information we want, nor does anyone else.  Kristin is trying to prepare us for a changing environment, or better yet, to be part of the changes made, but none of us really know where this is going.  Isn't it an exciting ride?

Ring the Bell!

In the classic movie It's a Wonderful Life, ZuZu tells us that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.  That's just how I feel when a kid reads a book, that a heavenly bell rings and the world is a slightly better place.  Nope, it doesn't matter what kind of book--a classic, a comic, or a badly written piece of kid lit, as long as it's reading.  Yes, I know that's old school, has nothing to do with critical thinking, and doesn't address the need for assessment.  It ignores quality and substance, moral and social transformative influence, and cognitive development attained through leveled reading and differentiation.  My heavenly bell ringer just doesn't seem to care.   

Which may explain my attitude about book clubs.  I approve of them all, whether it's a group of serious readers plunging the depths of literary analysis or old friends using a Danielle Steele novel as an excuse to get together and talk about their grandchildren.  Anytime books bring people together, the bell rings, without judgement.  In this class we're introducing each other to short works of literature and I'm already pleased to have met stories I haven't read.  The Lady and the Tiger is an excellent story for speculative endings, the Goose Girl is a classic fairy tale of justice and The Gift of the Magi asks us to consider the cost, or value, of love.  I'm at a complete loss what to make of Cinnamon, however, so hearing other comments can only help.  The story Carmen, Andrew and I have chosen is much longer than most selections, for which I take the blame.  I've been waiting years to reread The Last Question with a group of critical readers and the opportunity to talk about it with SI students is too good to pass up.  What will they bring to the reading that I haven't thought about?  Can they help clarify questions I have?

As you might have guessed, we're planning a book club format instead of the seminar to help explore these questions.  While the Socratic Seminar as demonstrated in class might serve instructional goals, it seemed more of a quiz than a discussion of ideas and probably isn't something participants would volunteer for, at least not without careful preparation.  If asked in a Socratic Seminar next week what deep significance Cinnamon has to the human condition, I'm in trouble.  I could browse outside criticism for ideas, but that would defeat the purpose of a group reading; likewise, in presenting The Last Question as a book club topic, it would be pointless for us to ask readers what they thought about it if they came prepared with canned answers from outside sources.  We hope readers will feel free to offer their own responses to the story, without privately worrying about giving the correct answer.  My hope is that some bells will ring.