Editorial: What's Up, Doc?

Last month, I completed a milestone of sorts: I received my Ph.D. in information science. I bring this up not to congratulate myself (OK, maybe a little!) but because the experience has sharpened my thinking about the importance of doctoral studies for practicing librarians and the education of future librarians.

For most librarians, getting a doctorate seems out of reach. First of all, the entire process is both confusing (what's with these people who take eight years?) and intimidating (what's a qualifying exam? Or a defense?). Plus, it's expensive. And it usually requires that you quit your day job and move halfway across the country. No wonder so few practicing librarians pursue this goal.

But that's unfortunate for two reasons. Yes, we in LIS need faculty members trained in a variety of disciplines (from computer science to education to anthropology). But we also need experienced librarians in the mix. “Duh!” you say? Well, among some LIS faculties, librarians are darn scarce. The bottom line? If you are preparing to become a librarian—whether at an “I” school or an LIS school—you need to meet librarian-scholars as faculty members and possible mentors.

The other reason it makes sense to pursue a doctorate is because of what we bring to the table. Since we're actively involved in school and public libraries, our research questions are more likely to be rooted in everyday reality—and that makes us especially well suited to applying theory to the rough-and-tumble world of information seeking. And as a result of the vast changes happening in today's libraries because of the rapid pace of developments in technology, communication, and publishing, we have a wealth of opportunities for research.

In many ways, I was fortunate. I was a member of a cohort of 10 students—all school and public librarians—at the University of North Texas (UNT). Supported, in part, by funding from the Institute of Museum and Library Services' Laura Bush 21st-Century Librarian Program, this was a blended program: each semester we spent some time on campus—from several long weekends to a week—but pursued most of our work online.

Not only did we keep our jobs, we were able to draw on our daily experiences. In fact, much of what I learned in the program—both formally and informally—was through rubbing elbows with this enormously talented group of librarians.

UNT's program supported only two cohorts. But since then, other universities, most notably San Jose State, have also introduced nontraditional paths to the doctorate, and other programs are being developed.

Of course, programs that veer from the full-time, residency-only model inevitably come under attack from a minority within the LIS establishment, who believe that online learning is somehow lacking rigor and that students who don't reside on campus miss out on mentoring, teaching experiences, and research opportunities.

The debate over online learning and rigor is too big to tackle here, but I think most people who have participated in online LIS programs would agree that online learning isn't more or less rigorous, it's just different. In my experience, as both a student and a teacher, online programs can be far more rigorous than traditional ones.

Nor do students in a nontraditional program have to miss out on the rich experiences of being a teaching assistant or a participant in a research project. A well-planned online program can allow for these experiences. I was a teaching assistant, helped to design curriculum, and took part in a research project—all online. The fact is, nearly every industry today is changing and adapting because of what's possible online. Why should LIS doctoral education be any different? I bet what we call “nontraditional” today will, in a few years, be the norm.

Thinking of getting a doctorate, but dismissed it as impossible? Look around at what's available. Do your homework. And think again. We need you.