[important]Maria Gould is in her second semester of the online Simmons GSLIS Archives Management program. She was drawn to the MLIS degree as a way to bring together her interests in education, scholarly research and publishing, usability, and access. She lives in San Francisco, where she works by day for PLOS and by night for Meatpaper.[/important]
The first weekend in April, I had the opportunity to visit the Simmons campus while I was in Boston for the weekend. When I stumbled off the plane after a red-eyed night in the air and made my way to Palace Road, I wasn’t fully prepared to feel at once so out of place and so at home.
Before heading in to my first meeting, I spent some time walking up and down the hallway of the second floor of the Palace Road building, taking note of all the things I recognized but only knew from listserv announcements–Brown Bag talks! Student group meetings! The Tech Lab! The feeling of belonging was so strong I almost started trying to figure out which locker in the hallway was mine. At the same time, I felt like an intruder, worrying that at any moment I’d be spotted and asked for credentials. My makeshift “online student” ID card would surely give me away as a fraud.
In theater, when actors on stage acknowledge or interact with audience members, it is known as breaking down the “fourth wall.” Emerging from behind the online student’s virtual curtain was a similar disruption. It made my identity visible in a new way, and it made me more accountable–to my professors (now that they know who I am I can’t ever slack off!, I realized), to my fellow students (online and otherwise), to GSLIS, and to myself. This feeling is less about undue pressure and obligation to measure up, but rather more about experiencing the motivation to, as much as possible, take advantage of the school’s resources any way that I can, and continue reaching out to what I recognize as an extraordinary community.
While my graduation is still more than a year away, this visit sparked my thinking about life after Simmons and how graduates stay connected to each other, to faculty members, and to the program. Being an online student resembles this experience of negotiating community from afar. When I graduate, I will already know what this feels like. The challenge for me will lie in living out my Simmons experience–online as well as in-person and out-loud whenever possible–fully enough that when my last courses are completed, it will actually feel like some sort of conclusion and transition.
Residencies and campus visits are not a component of GSLIS’s online program, but I encourage anyone enrolled–either at Simmons or elsewhere–to make a visit if it is possible to do so. I hope that this past visit for me was just the first of several.
When it came time for the last talk of the last panel of the Simmons GSLIS 2nd Annual Graduate Symposium, presenter Eva Rios-Alvarado took a moment to acknowledge her presence: “It’s hard to be a librarian in a roomful of archivists,” she quipped. The statement served to lighten the late-afternoon mood and also set the tone for the talk that followed.
I was not in the room when this happened. I was 3,000 miles away in my San Francisco apartment, watching the Symposium via livestream as part of my ongoing efforts as an online student to remain connected to a campus that happens to be on the other side of the country.
As I have been processing my thoughts about and reactions to the Symposium over the past week, this particular moment stands out to me for several reasons: Rios-Alvarado’s spontaneous remark encapsulates a number of themes that emerged from the panels; it pinpoints what I understand to be a complicated distinction in LIS programs between different types of students, and it at once confuses and clarifies my own experience as someone new to these fields who interacts with them from a distance.
These thoughts can be expressed with a single question:?what does it mean to be in the same room together??For several of the panelists, this question might take different forms: for Elizabeth McGorty, these means building bridges between the archival and performing arts communities, whereas for Jessica Bennett, it could be the potential opportunities in exploring new ways to cultivate the public’s engagement with art. Astrid Drew’s talk on cultural identity among the Swedish-American community in Rhode Island outlined the particular contours of an in-between territory in which the distinctions are blurred between subject and scholarship. Kristen Schuster extended this idea of the “third space” to the architectural history of public libraries, explaining how the spatial orientation of libraries has evolved relative to librarians’ relationships with patrons as well as changing practices and priorities of information organization.
The conversation took a more theoretical turn with the final panel of the day. Genna Duplisea challenged fellow archivists to think critically about the idea of activism–to identify their own positionality and recognize that the archival process never occurs in a neutral space. Rios-Alvarado and colleague?Ren?e Elizabeth Neely sought to move the conversation beyond activism, focusing on the complex dynamic between memory, history, and archives.
As these panelists demonstrated (and I should note here that I’ve only highlighted a portion of the day’s talks–my West Cost time zone got in the way of my participation in the first half of the Symposium), it certainly does mean something to be in the “same room,” although what this means is constantly in flux and contingent on local conditions. What remains the same, however, is the idea that both archivists and librarians are always operating within and among a community–or communities. We must understand the shapes that these communities take, the inherent promises and challenges the contain, and the unique but overlapping?responsibilities?of each person in the room. From my room in San Francisco, I thought about my own space and my own role and about the memory and positionality I will bring with me as I make the transition from a student into what comes next.
Review the Symposium program here.
Panel broadcasts are available here.
In my last post, I wrote about the changes unfolding this spring in the realm of research funding and access to scholarly output. Today?s post is also spring-themed, although it takes its inspiration from a different source and has a more personal bent. I am distracted this week by some important milestones in my near and dear one?s lives: my parents? anniversary; a best friend?s wedding; a cousin?s new baby on the way; and my own birthday on the horizon.
As we mark these moments, the archivist–or archivist-to-be–in me wonders how technology is changing not only what and how we document our personal lives, but also how this documentation will be preserved, accessed, and interpreted?both now and by generations to come.
Digital tools allow us to attain proximity to people and events far away. They make it possible to be at once everywhere and nowhere. They provide a sense of both immediacy and permanence in our fast-paced society, and they help us to achieve a sense of order and control over complexities in everyday life.
These ideas are not new. But the conversation is not yet finished when it comes to the question of what is being lost or sacrificed as more and more of our lives are lived online. Will the ease of documenting today come back to haunt us tomorrow? Does the mobility that technology affords make us more vulnerable as we become more dependent on digital tools and platforms whose technical infrastructure and intellectual properties are beyond our control?
I am thankful to be able to use these tools to stay connected to people and to keep my personal life in order. But I want to emphasize here that I do not fully understand the scope of archival tasks ahead of me, on a personal as well as professional level. For the archivists, there are looming questions about preservation technologies, about copyright, and about the context of creation, among other issues. For all of us, the question might be boiled down to what we can do to retain some degree of control over our digital lives? now as well as in the future.
As a recent Library of Congress blog post put it, ?personal digital archiving is easy to put off, easy to forget, and easy to make excuses for avoiding,? much like mundane household organization tasks that are so frequently postponed until later. What might make this work easier? A good starting point is the Library of Congress?s website offering a comprehensive overview of basic tips and resources for personal digital archiving. In preparation for upcoming events around personal archiving, the American Library Association has announced a couple of webinars that will be held in the next month to help libraries promote better awareness of the issues at stake and also educate individuals on how to care for their digital assets. Last year, in a New York Times ?Room for Debate? forum, Smithsonian electronic records archivist Lynda Schmitz Fuhrig recommended a ?spring cleaning? for personal digital archives. This month, I will be paying close attention to this advice as I work on building a strong professional foundation for a career in twenty-first-century librarianship, at the same time that I celebrate and document the personal moments and objects that give our lives meaning.
Spring is coming, and it is going to be an exciting one.
Last year, the scholarly publishing world witnessed the “Academic Spring,” during which scientists boycotted?traditional subscription-based publishers (specifically, Elsevier) and encouraged their colleagues to make their research freely available by publishing in open access journals. Calling attention to a range of issues related to information access, the protest pushed forward the debate on who should govern access to research, and who should pay for it.
Now, as spring rolls around again, the debate is picking up more steam. It might have begun with the suicide of computer programmer and Internet activist Aaron Swartz in January, as Swartz was facing decades of prison time as part of a federal investigation involving alleged downloads of thousands of JSTOR articles. On February 14 (on the eleventh anniversary of the Budapest Open Access Initiative?), Senators John Cornyn (R-TX) and Ron Wyden (D-OR) and Representatives Mike Doyle (D-PA), Kevin Yoder (R-KS), and Zoe Lofgren (D-CA) introduced The Fair Access to Science and Technology Research Act (FASTR), which mandates that federally-funded research be made available to the public no later than six months after publication in a peer-reviewed journal. Shortly after FASTR was introduced, the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP) issued a directive?calling for federal agencies to develop the infrastructure for providing public access to federally funded research within the next six months. Broadening the scope of FASTR?s mandate, the White House directive would affect approximately nineteen federal agencies (those which spend more than $100 million a year on extramural research and development funding) and require public access to federally funded research within one year of publication.
As a new student in library and information science (and–full disclosure–as an employee of the open-access publisher and advocacy organization PLOS), I have been watching these developments with enthusiasm, curiosity, and also a little trepidation.
In the first place, it is exciting to see the open access movement gaining momentum. I am proud to be in the middle of this movement and witness these historic changes as I deepen my own professional and academic work.
Second, I am curious what this legislation might mean for students like me who are heading into (if not already into) careers in information management. The current and future shifts in publishing methods, copyright issues, and digital storage and preservation (among other changes) will likely impact not only what and how we study, but also what knowledge will be needed for our jobs.
I am also anxious to see what comes next in this optimistic yet uncertain spring. Will the massive federal spending cuts that went into effect on March 1 impact the ability of funders to support open access publishing, and the ability of authors to deposit their work in open repositories? What kinds of developments in technology and preservation are needed to support the growth of open repositories, and how will responsibility fall upon archivists to steward this research? How will publishers, librarians, and archivists negotiate issues of access, copyright, and privacy as lines become increasingly blurred? When the open access movement spreads beyond scientific disciplines (which is already beginning to happen) and goes beyond the journal format, what new considerations will need to be taken into account?
These are just some of the questions I have been thinking about; fortunately, there are others far more equipped than I am to answer them. As a start, I will be building up my knowledge base by reading background information and analysis on FASTR, the White House directive, and other issues. Among others, I recommend the following helpful sources:
It is an interesting and important time to be in library school, especially this spring. I consider learning about these recent developments and what they mean for librarianship and archives management to be as crucial to my education as my regular coursework. While they have been years in the making, and while there are clearly more challenges and triumphs ahead, the shifts that have taken place this spring will leave a lasting mark.
Last week, I kicked off this series by putting the GSLIS online archives cohort on the map-virtually and geographically. Now that I’ve discussed where and who we are, I want to turn to the question of how, exactly, one goes to school online. What can be done to create a sense of community among classmates in different places, or to create a sense of proximity to a campus on the other side of the country? What can make it easier to get schoolwork done while also holding down full-time employment? If geography and jobs make it difficult to take on extracurricular activities or attend conferences, are there other ways to pursue new avenues for intellectual and professional development?
There is an abundance of advice online about strategies for getting through library school. Hack Library School has good recent coverage on this topic. As enrollment in online courses and degree programs increases, people are paying more attention to the unique challenges presented by virtual education environments. Again, the bloggers at Hack Library School are leading the way. Rather than repeat the helpful tips they offer,?I?ll try to focus here on some of the lessons I?ve learned as I make my way through my second online semester at Simmons. This list is by no means exhaustive, nor intended to offer a one-size-fits-all formula, but I hope it will resonate with all types of students and learners and provide some guidance not just for surviving, but thriving.
Lesson 1: Control your own pace.?Although online programs are largely self-paced, the pace is different than in an in-person program. As an undergraduate, I could wait until the night before an assignment was due to finish the reading and write the paper. I don?t have that luxury now. I try to do a little bit of work every (well, almost every) day. I handle lighter tasks early in the morning before work and during my lunch break, and I set aside longer blocks of time in the evenings to work on readings and assignments. ?I map course syllabi onto a calendar and look at the calendar multiple times a day. Keeping busy in this way has the surprising effect of making me feel as if I actually have more time?or at least have more control over it.
Lesson 2: Use available technology. Cloud-based collaboration and communication tools are free, user-friendly, and back up your data. Why aren?t you using them? I?ve relied on Google Docs to collaborate on projects with classmates in multiple locations, or to get my own work done on multiple computers throughout the day so there?s no need to lug a laptop around, email attachments back and forth, or carry a USB drive with me.??Dropbox performs the same functions. Skype and Google Hangouts can host one-on-one or group meetings, and Doodle can help with group scheduling.?Again, why aren?t you using these tools?
Lesson 3: Take online learning offline.?Despite enrolling in an online program, I actually prefer to read on paper and take notes by hand, and I retain more information this way as well. While I can?t print out everything and while I have found it easier to keep track of notes on my computer now, I try to balance my online time with offline enrichment, whether it?s planning an essay outline with pen and paper or thinking about a discussion response while I?m out for a walk. I am also spending more time talking out loud?oral communication is one of the hardest things to replicate in an online classroom, yet it is through this communication that we learn how to use the vocabulary of the material and defend our ideas on the spot, rather than having advance time to prepare a written response. ?
Lesson 4: Networking doesn?t just happen on campus?it can take place anywhere. Joining a professional organization is a great place to start, but it doesn?t have to stop there: set up meetings or informational interviews with librarians and archivists in your area; start tweeting or blogging to extend your online presence beyond your cohort; talk about your studies with friends and colleagues or strangers. You never know where you might find a connection or lead.
Lesson 5: Go easy on yourself.?School is hard. But worrying about it doesn?t make it easier, and letting it consume everything only leads to resentment and exhaustion. Step away from the computer. Take a walk around the block. Eat a nice dinner, and get a good night?s sleep. There?s always tomorrow.
Does anyone else out there have tips to share or lessons learned?
Being an archivist means being equally comfortable in solitude as among a community. The navigation of these two realms takes on a different meaning online. As a member of the first-ever Simmons GSLIS online cohort, dedicated exclusively to the archival management concentration, I am learning how to be an archivist at the same time that I am learning my way around a world that exists solely inside my computer.
I write with this dispatch to introduce myself, tell you a little bit about the online cohort, and discuss how I have been adapting to life in a virtual classroom.
If it?weren’t?for with a colleague in Tonga, I may be able to claim unofficial credit as the online cohort’s most far-flung member. I am doing the program from San Francisco, and for my fall semester 438 internship I processed and wrote the finding aid for a collection at UC Berkeley’s Bancroft Library. The online degree was not an option at the time I applied to Simmons, but sometimes being indecisive and deferring for a year can open up new opportunities: just before I needed to notify Simmons whether I would be showing up or not, I received the announcement about the online program, and I immediately solved the problem of how to go to Simmons, stay in San Francisco (sorry, Boston!), and keep my job all at the same time.
Going to school online (and 3,000 miles away from campus) presents a number of interesting challenges. Using the library. Attending office hours. Working on group projects. For most of my colleagues, this is our first experience with a full-time e-learning program. For Simmons, too, this is an experiment. As we set up our internships last semester, we were venturing beyond GSLIS’s established network. Remember, you represent Simmons! we were exhorted before the internships began. And while I was relieved to have the Simmons name backing me up as I walked into the Bancroft on my first day, I also thought: How can I represent a school I don’t actually go to?
And here we come to what is important about Simmons and unique about online education: learning to be a scholar and a professional and a citizen in an increasingly diffuse and digitized world. Although my 438 coursework prepared me for what to expect in my internship project, I still arrived on my first day with as many questions about the Simmons degree as my supervisors had. But I also came prepared to represent the current face of library school students–specifically GSLIS students–today. Students who are all over the country and beyond. Students who are doing internships at large research universities, in small archives, at museums, and on military bases. Students who are raising families and holding down jobs and finding their way, both personally and professionally. Students who are also learning how to manage time effectively, how to leverage e-learning platforms, how to use online collaboration tools, how to network virtually, how to build relationships with colleagues they may never meet face-to-face.
It is unfair to expect an online program to deliver the same experience as an on-campus one, and I am sometimes disappointed to miss the rich offerings available on campus, but as I begin my second semester, I am more aware now of how online learning is equipping me with an unexpected yet valuable set of skills and tools to survive and thrive in an ever-changing profession.