Today’s reference user wants help doing things rather than finding things
By Brian Kenney
| Sep 11, 2015
For years, we’ve been hearing that traditional
library reference service is dead. In reality, reference just
disappeared, like Jimmy Hoffa. But unlike in the case of Hoffa, no one
in the library field seems intent on figuring out what happened to
reference. In fact, many librarians are intent on carrying on as though
little has changed.
Sure, librarians are quick to
acknowledge that library reference is different in the digital age. But
even the innovations in reference service today are predicated on the
same, age-old definition of a library reference transaction: people have
information needs, and it’s our job to resolve them. And come hell or
high water, no matter how desperate we may look, we are going to find
people with information needs and, damn it, resolve those needs, because
that’s what we librarians do!
That’s the problem. The library today is still a trusted institution,
but the public is coming to us with different expectations. Clinging to
an outdated reference mission has left many libraries struggling to meet
these new expectations.
A History
Let’s
pause for a moment and recall the general arc of reference services.
Pre-Internet, a librarian would sit at a usually imposing desk
surrounded by vast print collections. These reference librarians were
true gatekeepers, and chances were that if you had research to do, or
even just a nagging question, you had to approach the desk and ask for
help. Those who did usually discovered that reference librarians were
valuable partners who could help them with myriad challenges, from
completing degrees to creating travel itineraries or writing books. But
the dynamic was so intimidating that most patrons never approached the
desk.
As the Internet expanded, there was growing
anxiety among librarians about losing control over knowledge. Librarians
first responded with efforts to vet web content, which resulted in the
Librarians Internet Index, or to catalogue it, with projects like OCLC’s
ambitious Cooperative Online Resource Catalog. The idea was to harness
digital content and continue to approach digital reference much like we
did in print.
In the 1990s, virtual reference blazed across the
library sky, generating huge interest among librarians, and a new
business for publishers and vendors. But virtual reference in public
libraries never took off like we expected it to. In public libraries
today, the service draws little interest from patrons and little
enthusiasm from librarians.
For a while we tried
to sell the public on the notion that they’re terrible at search and
need librarians to show them how to properly seek and evaluate online
content. It turns out that adults are as excited about information
literacy as they are about flossing.
More
recently, there’s been lots of attention paid to the reference desk
itself, as though better interior design will buck up declining
reference usage. Desks are being reinvented to be less like impenetrable
fortresses and more like nonthreatening kiosks. Reference librarians,
meanwhile, are experimenting with roving service—basically, walking
around the building and trying to drum up business, rather than waiting
for the public to come to a designated area. It’s not clear that roving
reference is at all helpful to our patrons. But with doctors now saying
that sitting is more dangerous than smoking, it may at least extend the
life of some library staff.
Today, there’s talk
about “community” librarians: basically, reference librarians who leave
the building and embed themselves in groups—such as the Common Council
or the Business Improvement District—providing them with information
services. It’s the same simple idea behind roving: if users won’t come
to us, we’ll go to them. It doesn’t hurt that the services ends up
supporting some of the most influential members of the community. But
few citizens would consider this a good use of their tax dollars.
A Case Study
Where
are we now? I offer my library, the White Plains Public Library, as a
pretty typical example of public libraries across the country. In the
past three years, my library has purchased one reference book: the fifth
edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.
I look in wonder at all the new reference publications on display at
the American Library Association conference. Yes, they’re darn handsome
books. But who’s ordering these?
Over the past four years, I can recall using only three reference resources with the public. One is Consumer Reports, which the over-55 crowd still asks for.
The second is Black’s Law Dictionary,
which a gentleman recently asked for. Surprised by the request, I
commented that we don’t get asked for this title much anymore. “Oh, I
don’t really need it,” the patron said. “This is just an old friend I
met in prison, and I like to read it every now and then.”
Third,
an adult came in wanting to learn about the Mayan civilization and
needed to know where to start—a classic reference question! I suggested
some titles, beginning with an essay in an encyclopedia. I advised him
to use the bibliography at the end of the essay for more resource
suggestions. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he quietly
abandoned the encyclopedia a few minutes later.
You
may think we use so few print reference books these days because our
librarians are spending all of our time searching online. Sure, a few
patrons who don’t own computers will request things like addresses and
phone numbers. But that’s about it for librarians.
We
do license access to a few reference databases. But when I recommend
them to users their eyes glaze over. We mostly stick to the databases
purchased by our state library, which receive only modest usage. Our
digital spending is more often on services such as tutor.com and on
popular content such as Midwest Tape’s Hoopla.
There are two exceptions to the above scenarios: one
is the steady stream of questions we get for help finding stuff in the
library (print books and DVDs, for example), and for placing holds. But
that’s just because our online catalogue remains a conundrum for the
average user. The other is for local history and genealogy information,
most of which is locked away in print and microform and typically
requires some kind of mediation between librarian and patron to access.
But
here’s the interesting thing: even as traditional reference
transactions continues to decline, the use of our building is surging,
increasing about 20% every year. And even though users can now access
information online quickly and easily through devices they carry in
their pockets, we still interact with huge numbers of people at the
library.
What Patrons Want
So
what do people want from us? They want help doing things, rather than
finding things. You could argue that users have always wanted this, and
you’d be right. But the extent of this shift in recent years is
unprecedented in the history of library services.
A
lot of what people want help with involves technology. Sometimes it is
assistance with the technology we offer at the library—downloading
e-books for example. But often it’s more involved: creating and
improving resumes, conducting job searches, uploading files, seeking
insurance information. E-government has landed squarely in the library’s
lap, and we’re finding that citizens regularly need help utilizing
government sites.
And we’ve become the help desk
for the community. It is assumed that libraries mostly help bridge the
digital divide, assisting the poor and disenfranchised in getting
online. But it’s more complicated than that. Keeping up with the full
range technology today is a challenge for everyone, and when users have
to fill in a knowledge gap, no matter their educational level or
economic status, they’re showing up at the reference desk.
Helping patrons do things is radically different from
traditional reference. It requires different knowledge from library
staff, and greater flexibility in time and staffing, so that a librarian
can actually work with a patron for 30 minutes and not just refer them
to a book, or a class. It also requires a different relationship with
our users—to truly help a job seeker, for example, you may need to
follow up with a phone call in a week, and the week after that. It’s not
easy. The shifting boundaries, exposure to personal information,
unclear expectations, and the need for instructional knowledge is
creating anxiety among public service staff, rightfully so. But
librarians have no choice but to try their best and to face these
changes head on. Rigidly sticking to a reference service that no one
needs any longer is a recipe for obsolescence.
What to Do?
For
years, librarians have been poring over virtual reference transcripts
for clues to the future, and yet little formal research has been
conducted on what’s actually happening at reference desks today. It’s
time to acknowledge that something else—which we are only beginning to
understand—is taking the place of traditional reference service in
public libraries.
In The Atlas of New Librarianship,
author R. David Lankes writes about moving from traditional reference
transactions to “knowledge creation” as a model for librarianship.
Perhaps this is what I’m talking about. But the term “knowledge
creation” is still so ill defined and impossible to measure, I’ll resist
it for now. What I see happening is still too dynamic to codify.
Meanwhile,
most library and information schools either don’t discuss reference
services at all, or do so in a way that is more relevant to libraries 15
years ago. Check out this assignment from one of the top-10 library
school programs: “Examine the following bibliographies and be prepared
to discuss what kinds of questions you could answer with these reference
works: Books in Print, Ulrich’s International Periodical Directory,
Gale Directory of Publications and Broadcast Media, Literary Market
Place, WorldCat.” I can tell you right now what questions you’ll be
answering with these bibliographies: none.
Still, there is room for
optimism. A report released just last month from the University of
Maryland’s iSchool, “Re-envisioning the MLS: Findings, Issues and
Considerations,” acknowledges that offering “a more immersive and
transformative experience,” as opposed to simply recommending a possible
resource, “is a large challenge.”
That’s a start.
Where we go from here, I can’t say. But I know this: the challenge
isn’t going to get any easier until we start talking about it.
This article appeared in the 09/14/2015 issue of Publishers Weekly under the headline: For Future Reference
From: Publishers Weekly
