Caveat Lector

Don’t listen to me; I talk the talk, but I’m not a real usability expert.

These guys got a real usability expert to go over their library interfaces, OPAC included. What they found out is fascinating, and I want to see the results when they’re done.

One thing I especially liked was the expert’s obvious imperative to reduce the clicky-clicky. IRs in general and DSpace in particular is really horrible about the clicky-clicky; it’s impossible to find anything in fewer than four or five clicks, even—especially!—if you know it’s there. Coming in from an external search interface is even worse, because you get presented the same set of metadata twice, once from the search aggregator and once from the repository.

Clue: Patrons don’t want the metadata. They want the item. Get them to the item as quickly as may be.

Now, there are implementation issues here that I won’t go into… but suffice it to say the problem can to some extent be ameliorated, and if I end up running a DSpace install, I’m certainly going to try.

I want this one. Oh, yes, I do. I had a great day yesterday at Perdóndaris, and I’d be thrilled past all reason to land that job.

My preparation paid off handsomely; I didn’t get caught short even once, and I even felt prepared and confident the whole day. I liked everybody I met, I agreed both in principle and on a pragmatic level with every strategic decision that was explained to me, and I continue to be highly impressed with the library and the school.

As at Ruritania, there’s one other candidate. Two weeks or so before they meet with him/her. I think I set a reasonably high bar… but honestly, I must admit to hoping that s/he lands the job of his/her lifetime somewhere else before s/he goes to Perdóndaris…

That said, I do seem to be popular suddenly. Two calls while I was gone; once I’m coherent (yesterday was a very, very long day) I’ll call everybody back.

The duster I was planning to wear for tomorrow’s interview turned out to be sadly torn, so I mended it—and stuffed another two or three in my travel bag just in case it tears again. Fewer and lighter clothes are definitely the nice thing about interviewing in May as opposed to February.

I’m wrapping up the last few edits to my talk notes preparatory to printing them, and I fixed a glaring omission on the last slide. (Really glaring. Not making that point would have been horribly stupid of me. I’m thanking my lucky stars I thought of it beforehand, and not as l’esprit d’escalier.) I need to find my proper librarian shoes and give them a polish, run to the ATM for a bit of cash, package up the Silver Surfer after I make sure the presentation migrates to my USB drive, and call a cab to the airport.

Crossed appendages and other expressions of goodwill would be appreciated. I really want this one, y’all.

Many photons have been spilled lately on we blogroll-less folk. Many photons, and the usual meed of vitriol, some of which has splashed on the comment-less and the TrackBack-less among us.

(CavLec, you see, has no worth for many because it is blogroll-less, comment-less, and TrackBack-less. Some go so far as to say it is not a blog because it lacks these features. I wish I could sound like Ian Richardson: “You might well think that. I couldn’t possibly comment.”)

I ditched my blogroll quite some time ago, when I discovered that revising it was a social act with social consequences. One of the principals in the current blogroll debate had swamped my (often inadequate, conceded) ability to cope with moodiness, angry chaff, incessant conflict, and “if you’re not 100% with me you’re 100% against me—AND YOU SUCK!” all-or-nothing thinking. Nice person (fundamentally), excellent blog, but I’d had all I could deal with and more. So I de-blogrolled the blog, admitting both then and now that it was a speech act; I did indeed mean to send a message by it.

In my own defense, I meant more of a “help would be a good idea” message than anything else. But naturally enough, I caught purest hell (private and public) from the blogger involved. Who is, I note, now in the “blogrolls suck!” camp. As I’ve repeatedly said here, I have low conflict-tolerance, though I’m better than I used to be. The blogroll had caused a nasty conflict, and seemed not unlikely to cause more. So I ditched it.

(And them’s all the clues you’re getting; I’m not going to link to a long-buried fight. If you’re willing to dig, you can find the fracas. I tell you up-front it’s not worth the effort.)

I’m thoroughly unimpressed by prescriptivist bloggers, just as I’m unimpressed by gender essentialists and grammar prescriptivists. Don’t tell me CavLec must have a blogroll, comments, or anything else. Don’t tell me I have to have children (or be capable of becoming pregnant) to be counted as a woman. Don’t tell me what to end my sentences with. I don’t listen to that rot, and I’m not sure anybody else should, either.

I have, however, read with interest some descriptive discussions of the social meaning and effects of blogrolls. Actions have consequences, and it’s worthwhile to chew on what those might be; there’s a significant difference between the prescriptivist “do X because it’s right!” and the descriptive “if you do X, Y will happen.”

One argument ended up speaking to me: an argument for diversity of voices. If folks like me hide their blogrolls, then only echo-chambers will have blogrolls, or something like that. I’ve got plenty of blogs on my Bloglines subscription that other people ought to read, and I’m missing out on a chance to connect those good blogs with good readers. That is, indeed, regrettable.

So one of the things I’m going to do in my copious post-graduate-school spare time is figure out how to fix it. I’ve got to upgrade to WordPress 1.5 one of these days anyway, so that’s an excuse to do some fiddling.

It’ll be a few weeks. There’s still that pesky job search (I’m hiding from packing for the Perdóndaris trip this very minute). But stay tuned.

Library schools don’t usually tell students that public speaking is an important librarian skill. So I’m telling you: public speaking is an important librarian skill. If you can’t do it, or you’re scared of it, do whatever you have to in order to get better.

When Ruritania asked me to do a presentation, I was surprised but not at all displeased. I happen to be one of those bizarre souls who is basically introverted but doesn’t at all mind getting up in front of a roomful of people and yacking her fool head off. Largely because I’ve done it so often in the last five years, I’ve even gotten reasonably skilled at it. (Well, all right, the last eight years if one counts my teaching experience, I suppose. But teaching and speaking, while certainly allied skills, aren’t entirely congruent either.)

What I didn’t know then but know now is that presentations are a common, near-universal part of the academic-librarian hiring process, presumably analogous to the lecture every candidate for a non-library tenure-track faculty position has to give. From what I’m reading on other library jobseekers’ blogs, public libraries often ask for presentations also.

If you’re about to go on the library job market, I recommend working up one or two presentations in areas of interest to you (as always, picking a “hot topic” in your field is a good idea), because some places will let you decide what you’re going to present. Be prepared, however, for employers to come to you with topics of their own. The standard length for these is 20 to 25 minutes, and don’t go over, because your time and theirs on an interview day is stringently scheduled.

You don’t have to be Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or S.R. Ranganathan to give a good presentation. (I’m certainly not. If you want to see a sample of me extempore, hop over here and watch. See? I told you, the bar is not that high.) Remember, the folks you’re up against are librarians too. If you’re not a natural speaker, the best thing you can possibly do is pick a topic you’re interested in (if, of course, you have the choice), and let your interest shine through what you’re saying. That will do wonders for how your listeners perceive you and your talk.

This is so important, and I see so little addressing it (publishing? lots. speaking? not so much), that I’m tempted to write it up more formally and at greater length for liscareer.com or similar. You guys get the preview. Do take it to heart, if you’re searching.

In lieu of Friday cat pictures… those who live with cats are aware that cats’ biorhythms are out of synch with housemonkeys’. The Goths have learned that I will not get up to feed them at 3 am. However, I have learned to live with Didi coming in at 5:30 or 6 to walk up and down the bed a bit and settle down for a snuggle if there’s space.

Occasionally I shut them out of the room, wanting to sleep in. Most of the time they don’t bother mrowling or scratching at the door about it; they know I mean business. This morning I didn’t think to do that, though, and I regret it exceedingly, because at 4:30 Dream hopped down from the headboard of our bed, and being parsimonious with jump energy, landed on my head, claws-out.

I woke abruptly from a sound sleep to yell “OW!” which woke my husband from a sound sleep to gasp inarticulately amid many repetitions of “wha’?” I hurled the cat to the foot of the bed (no damage done save to cat ego, and that he bloody well deserved) and got up to inspect the damage and shut them both out.

I have two fairly impressive gouges on the side of my nose. Three days before a job interview. Thanks ever so, O Alarm Cat.

I don’t know what I can possibly add to this somber examination of entry-level prospects in librarianship (thanks, Mark, hadn’t seen it), except to ask everyone to read the author affiliations at the bottom of the story carefully, and ponder them.

I’m sure the ALA will ignore the current plight of new librarians with its customary panache. I’m sure they’ll go on thinking the cure for deprofessionalization is recruitment. I’m sure they’ll go on pretending that retirements mean job openings instead of job eliminations. I’m sure they’ll keep arguing that teaching advanced technology to future librarians is pointless.

All I can do is keep disagreeing with them, as loudly and stridently as I know how.

ETA: Should have read the blogs first. Meredith’s take, and Jessamyn’s, are more useful and temperate than mine.

Seems only right I should finish up library school right where I started it, sacked out on a sofa in the SLIS lab library with the Silver Surfer in my lap and Lake Mendota making ripply blue-on-blue patterns in front of me.

Went to my last class this morning. It’s all over but the shouting. (Lots of that, admittedly. Shindig for graduating students tomorrow, an interview with Carol Berger for a press release—a press release, how bizarre!—Tuesday, a farewell shindig for the departing Ed Cortez and the Beta Phi Mu initiation Thursday, graduation Saturday… lots of shouting.) I am the Fat Lady, folks, and I’m commencing to sing.

I’ve known people who despise graduations in general. I know plenty who despise library school, along with the accomplishment of graduating from it. The chap from Avalon who telephoned me asked if I felt that I learned something from library school, and he seemed decidedly nonplussed, even unnerved, at the enthusiasm of my affirmative.

These people? I’m going to be vulgar and say they can bite me. I’m proud of myself. I wasn’t at all sure I could do this. As much as I knew it was the right thing for me to do, I couldn’t help the occasional nasty skin-crawly sense that I’d screw it up, land back in the despondent brain-drained pit where the Department from Hell left me.

Didn’t. Didn’t screw it up. Didn’t land in any pits. Did learn. Did grow. Did jump on opportunities with both feet. Did do good work. Did give a little back.

And no matter what happens in the job market, no matter where I end up or what I end up doing, as of a week from Saturday, I’ll be a librarian. I’m proud of that, too.

That sound you would have just heard if you were in my home office instead of, well, wherever you are? Was my trusty Xerox XD100 printing out the RFP that is my last graduate-school assignment ever.

Well, okay, maybe not. It’s not entirely out of the question that I would take a graduate-level course or two in order to learn something. But degree-seeking? No way. Not ever again.

It is very, very good to be done, yes indeed. I’m even all caught up on thank-you notes for contributors to the class gift. I think I shall go indulge in chocolate-covered almonds now (and no, not those nasty Hershey’s things, either; I got the good stuff from the crunchy-granola store this morning).

By the way, I unearthed last year’s graduation-ceremony program and learned from it that the Berger Award is voted on by faculty on the basis of leadership and leadership potential. That makes me just silly happy; I have been working rather hard on my attitude toward and understanding of management and leadership, and it’s just nice to see that somebody noticed.

Yesterday I got my third or fourth notice that Something That Isn’t Me went awry with a search process. This time they aren’t cancelling the search, just delaying it. (Or so they say.) But I wonder, I do…

I’d be frothing at the mouth about this in my usual fashion if I had a benchmark to compare it to. For all I know, though, this level of search cancellations is perfectly normal. I’d like to suggest that an academic librarian who needs a publication credit could survey academic-library directors about job searches cancelled or postponed in the last year or three.

I’d sure like to see the results. My guess is they’d put another big spoke in the ALA’s “librarian shortage” bicycle wheel. Remember, ladies, gents, and librarians: just because somebody retires from a job doesn’t mean somebody else gets one.