Editorial: What Should a Librarian Know?

Unlike most people I know, I still make New Year’s resolutions. And every January, I resolve to pay more attention to the American Library Association. (I know what you’re thinking: How pathetic is this guy’s life?)

I make this commitment with the hope that it will make me a better editor. After all, two of the librarian/editors I most admire—Lillian Gerhardt, SLJ’s former editor-in-chief, and John Berry in the pages, and now blog, of Library Journal—have done a terrific job of “keeping them honest,” well before CNN’s Anderson Cooper coined the phrase. Critical commentary on the workings of the American Library Association (ALA), our largest professional organization, is a healthy thing for all involved.

But by January 15, my resolve starts to fade, just like with those low-carb diets. After two weeks of reading the ALA Council’s electronic discussion list, with its endless bickering about the same topics (ALA’s foreign policy) by the same people (don’t they have day jobs?), my mind starts to wander. By the end of the month, I end up sending these unopened emails to the discard bin, like so many Viagra ads.

But recently a document passed my screen that I couldn’t overlook: “ALA’s Core Competences of Librarianship,” prepared by ALA’s Presidential Task Force on Library Education, which is chaired by ALA’s former president Michael Gorman, an infamous blogger basher, and librarianship’s very own Marianne Williamson (see Our Singular Strengths: Meditations for Librarians [ALA, 1997]).

Although the guidelines were presented at a public meeting, I don’t think this document is widely available, but you could try searching ala.org. The document is predictably conservative—in the sense of preserving what exists—and covers what you’d imagine: the foundation of our profession, information resources, organization, technical knowledge, reference and user services, research, continuing education, and administration.

Likely the intent was to give ALA’s Committee on Accreditation, which accredits master’s programs in library and information science, a little more teeth—perhaps necessary in dealing with those “i-schools” where “i” (information) is thought to trump “l” (libraries) in the curriculum. If your university wants to offer an ALA-accredited degree, the document is saying, then students need to acquire the knowledge and skills of a beginning generalist librarian, whether they want them or not.

What’s interesting is what’s missing from this definition of a generalist librarian: any mention of school librarianship or youth services. The committee will argue that these are specializations, and, of course, they’re right. But let’s face it, if you don’t actually mention children’s services, then the default in library education will always be adult services. And the “Core Competences” even favors adult services by elevating “the role of the library in lifelong learning… and the use of lifelong learning in the promotion of library services.”

It’s essential for all beginning librarians to be exposed to school, children’s, and young adult librarianship. For some students, stumbling across these specializations early in graduate school can provide an “Aha!” moment that leads them into entirely new directions. Other graduates—no matter what their specialization—end up working, at least for awhile, in public libraries. Just try to avoid working with children in a public library! Even aspiring librarians committed to an academic career need to know about the work of school librarians in order to better understand that college freshman standing in front of them.

“ALA’s Core Competences of Librarianship” pays a lot of attention to “lifecycle of recorded knowledge.” How about giving a little attention to the “lifecycle of the library user?”

bkenney@reedbusiness.com