Practitioners vs. LIS Educators: Time to Reconnect

Positions are hardening in the growing rift between the educators and the practitioners in the library field. Many practitioners are convinced that the library and information science (LIS) schools have either abandoned educating librarians or that they are not educating them well (or both). Library educators are persuaded that many practitioners are out of touch with what goes on both in the programs and in present-day higher education. Folks from each side talk at the other, but few of their messages are heard. It is time to end the argument and find ways to work together.

Attempting to address common issues and concerns of practitioners and educators, the American Library Association (ALA) has convened two Congresses on Professional Education. The first, in 1999, dealt with the MLS degree. The second, in 2000, focused on continuing professional development. New ALA task forces were formed to define core competencies and core values; to reexamine the ALA accreditation process; and to look at other issues. All of this action led to useful discussions, but so far there are very few concrete results. In some ways the attempts to reach consensus seem to have increased the rancor. Among practitioners, discontent about LIS education is reflected in the literature and in platform statements of candidates seeking office in professional organizations. Some library educators seem to disdain the library profession and its values. They boast of being information specialists, not librarians, and appear ready to discard any lingering allegiance to libraries.

The lack of consensus is not totally bad. The contention over LIS education has an encouraging side, in that dispute is far better than disregard. However, the misunderstanding and mistrust have gone on too long. It is time for the two sides to bridge the gap between them—to listen as well as talk to each other. We need genuine dialog. Since practitioners and educators live in separate worlds, each group is much more aware of the needs and demands of its immediate environment than those of the other's.

Practitioners who are dissatisfied with LIS education have a number of legitimate concerns. Some graduates complete LIS degrees without taking what they believe are essential courses such as reference, cataloging, and collection development. The schools are not supplying the number of new librarians needed, and the libraries foresee even more severe shortages as large numbers of baby boomers reach retirement age. There is a persistent scarcity of LIS graduates in certain specialties such as cataloging and children's librarianship. Many LIS graduates are choosing to pursue careers in nonlibrary settings.

The educators argue that changes that have taken place are not only necessary but advantageous. They too are concerned about the supply-demand problem. They assert, however, that they have no way to force students to enter specializations that do not appeal to them. Often, they point out, recruits are turned away by unattractive salaries and few opportunities for advancement in libraries.

In the two decades since I became part of what was then called library education, the field has been reshaped. The current forms of LIS education can be understood by viewing the forces that precipitated the transformation. The changes have resulted in stronger but different schools. Currently LIS enrollments are up, and, overall, LIS schools are more robust than they were—both in terms of the marketability of graduates and the intellectual content of the curricula.

The decade of the Eighties was marked by the closing of one school after another. Fifteen LIS schools, almost 25 percent of the total, closed between 1978 and 1993; many others were threatened. Library education was in dire straits. Every time a school closed, it posed a threat to those remaining. There was talk that there would be no schools left.

There were many explanations for the closings. Although the financial pressure that beset all of higher education at that time was a primary rationale, it remained to be explained why schools of library science were closed instead of other units.

LIS schools were vulnerable because they shared certain characteristics. The first was their size. Typically, the schools were the smallest independent units on most campuses. That worked against them because administrators faced with the problem of eliminating programs often opted for closing those with fewer students and faculty.

The LIS programs lacked campus visibility. Most programs had no undergraduates and thus were unknown to the majority of students. Because the faculty was so small, it was hard for even the most active faculty to achieve the level of campus visibility possible in schools or departments with larger faculties.

They also lacked influence. Library science graduates did not typically go into the type of position—for instance, the state legislature—where they could be strong champions of their schools. They did not command compensation at levels that allowed them to make large contributions to development campaigns or to promise large bequests.

The schools were not central to the university's mission. They had a difficult time explaining why it was essential to have such a unit on campus. Although a university must have a department of English or biology, most universities were getting along just fine without a school of library science. The schools certainly could not argue that they were an indispensable part of undergraduate education since few undergraduate students ever took their courses.

The cost of library education was increasing. Graduate education has always been more expensive than undergraduate education, but the library schools were becoming more and more costly owing to their need to provide students with access to up-to-date information technology. The schools found it difficult to attract outside funding from research grants or individual or corporate donors to offset these increasing costs.

The school closings had a tremendous impact upon the profession but an even larger impact upon library educators. Obviously, those in the schools that closed had their professional careers disrupted and, in some cases, ended.

The perceptions and assumptions of the educators in the schools that remained—the LIS educators who taught during the period—were changed forever. It suddenly became apparent that the continued existence of LIS education was not a certainty. Even a very good school could be closed, as some were, if the university in which it was located did not comprehend its value.

In response to these external threats on campus, faculty in most of the schools began to plan methods to defend their programs. It was obvious that changes would have to be made to survive. Some of the changes in LIS education would have occurred even without the impetus of closings. Many changes, however, were the result of strategic decisions by LIS faculty members and administrators to ensure that their schools were kept viable. Schools responded in various ways, seeking to find a successful niche for themselves within the larger university. They factored local conditions and needs into the reshaping of many of the programs. These new approaches have changed the schools, usually strengthening them. They are not the same schools as the one I graduated from in 1973 (at Emory, now closed) nor the one I came to as a new faculty member at Chapel Hill in 1981.

The new LIS programs are more complex and varied. Often librarianship is just one program among several. Nonetheless, from the point of view of most faculty and administrators in LIS education, these changes were necessary to maintain the viability of the programs. In the changing world of higher education, no program can survive if it merely maintains the status quo.

The continued existence of LIS education depended on the schools making changes. They had to become more competitive in the number of students they recruited, the amount of research funding and corporate and individual support they attracted, and in the campus partnerships they forged. LIS educators had to become entrepreneurial to survive, and the schools changed as a result.

The growing importance of information technology was the other major force for change. Technology gave the schools a way to be responsive to local needs and still become more competitive. Just as the academic library was ahead of most other units on campus in incorporating new technologies, the LIS schools were ahead of most others in including technology as a part of their curricula. They had begun teaching courses in automation and information systems in the 1970s. It became apparent in the Nineties that technology, especially the personal computer and the Internet, were going to transform everyone's lives. Most of the LIS schools were ready to take advantage of the need for computer and systems expertise. Units campuswide sought these skills. Suddenly they were in demand in a way never experienced before. The courses became central to the needs of large numbers of outside students and faculty.

Many of the schools began to expand their course offerings and programs. It was this demand for information technology education that allowed many of the schools to grow larger, more central to the mission of the university, and more visible on campus. We had learned our lessons from the closures of the 1980s, and, like Scarlett O'Hara, we were 'never going to be hungry again.'

The closings and the impact of technology resulted in a reshaped system of education for librarianship. There is no longer one model, there are several. A few schools still have library science education as their sole focus; more have it as one program within a larger unit containing other programs such as information science and network management. All of the schools are approaching education for librarianship differently and emphasizing different facets. There is a great diversity, but some trends are common to all.

The first is a move toward offering degrees in addition to the MLS. A number of schools (Rutgers, UCLA, Kentucky, and most recently Buffalo) have been consolidated with other units on campus. Many of the still-independent LIS schools are offering degrees in areas such as information studies and related fields. A growing number are offering undergraduate programs in information studies. As a result, library programs are now commonly part of a larger unit, and students preparing to work in libraries often share classes and facilities with students going into related careers.

In most cases this is healthy. Schools where librarians are educated can also educate other information professionals. In fact, students benefit from sharing some elements of their educational experience. The education of the students is enriched by the greater variety of courses and these students learn from one another. Students can be well prepared to work in the special environment of the library and can learn about the politics, philosophy, and ethics associated with librarianship within a larger unit.

The traditional values of librarianship can be upheld as long as there is a discrete set of courses dealing with the topics that need to be covered. The students preparing to work in a library would take those core courses. They would share other courses with students preparing to work in other environments.

There will be more mergers and more LIS schools seeking to expand the programs offered. The day of the small, single-purpose, freestanding unit to prepare librarians is nearing its end. Larger schools and units provide economy of scale. The knowledge base of librarianship has expanded so greatly that many different types of faculty members are required to cover all the facets, and the number of MLS students alone is too small to justify the needed faculty numbers. Faculty, especially in the information technology area, can teach students preparing for multiple information careers. Faculty members will still be needed to teach the core courses for MLS students. Those faculty will be supplemented with others, some without a background in librarianship. That is, after all, the same staffing pattern that is found in many libraries where the MLS is not the only professional degree recognized.

All schools have had to expand; some have done it by adding new programs and others by instituting initiatives such as distance learning that also increase the number of students. In all cases the overall objective is the same: to have sufficient faculty and students to maintain the critical mass necessary both to teach the variety of courses required and to remain competitive within the university. The schools that will remain most vulnerable to closing are the very small ones—the ones with five and six faculty members. Such small units can too easily be marginalized.

The MLS curriculum has necessarily been revamped as the scope of librarianship itself has changed. Many new courses have been added because of the need to prepare students to work in the ever more technologically sophisticated libraries of today.

At the same time, the traditional skills of librarianship, e.g., reference, cataloging, and classification, are still needed by new graduates. The schools are trying to provide a comprehensive education for new professionals—a difficult task considering how much the knowledge base of the field has expanded in the past 20 years.

The increasing number of technology courses has meant that there is not enough time for many students to take more advanced courses along with some of the courses that were considered basic a few years ago. For most students the MLS program consists of 12 courses.

The schools also try to incorporate both theory and practice. They attempt to balance the competing demands of preparing students to perform well as professionals over the long term and to function at top effectiveness from day one in a specific job.

Inevitably theory often takes precedence over practice. In educating for any profession, it is the long-term effectiveness of the education that must be the focus. That dictates emphasis on basic principles, theory, and foundations, not on the details of practice. These details should be woven into the fabric of courses that focus on the design and structure of information and access to it. If LIS schools wish to remain part of academe, they must emphasize education, not training.

Another trend apparent in LIS education is the growing use of multiple means of delivery. Almost all the courses have been enriched with the use of computer modules, web pages, and other high-tech methods to improve the way learning is accomplished. Many schools nationwide are also experimenting with a number of delivery methods to make education more accessible, and some schools are now providing all or almost all their master's degrees through distance learning. There are large areas of the country without LIS schools. Giving students the opportunity to get degrees without going to campus will bring more people to the profession. The growth in distance education will help answer some of the supply-demand problems currently confronting us.

Education for librarianship began in libraries; it was only after the 1923 Williamson Report that it was moved to the universities. The location of LIS education within higher education is the cause of much of the tension that exists between educators and practitioners. LIS schools, like all other professional schools, have to serve two masters. The first is the profession. Obviously, the schools need to be responsive to librarianship—it is the profession from which most of the faculty came and the one that will hire many of the graduates.

There are many educational issues that can only be addressed by practitioners and educators working together. LIS curricula should be influenced by the reactions of those working in the field. The schools send students to libraries of all types for internships and preprofessional job experience. They need their graduates to be supporters and advocates for LIS education. Any school that cuts itself off from the profession is doing itself a larger disservice than the one it does to the profession.

LIS schools do not exist because they decide to do so or because the profession says they should. They exist as a part of the university and thus also serve that second master: their home academic institutions. If they are not seen as responsive to local academic needs, values, and interests, they will certainly not prosper and may disappear entirely. If the top administration in a particular university decides that the school is not essential, it is likely to be abolished despite the best efforts of its graduates, employers, and the profession as a whole.

LIS units are in competition with other academic programs for scarce resources. They will not continue to be funded just because they provide practitioners for a profession that does worthy things for society. Within the university context, these programs have to show their value continually in a competition against well-established and emerging disciplines. The faculty in LIS schools have to conform to the standards and values of their home institutions.

LIS schools serve two masters, but only one pays the bills. It is not surprising that that one's message has been listened to a bit more attentively. Although keeping a balance between the needs of the profession and the demands of academe is difficult, most LIS educators realize that both must be satisfied if the schools are to succeed.

Librarians and educators operate in their separate worlds. There is too little interaction between them. Many librarians have little firsthand experience with library education after they graduate. They don't go back to the schools for alumni functions, and often their knowledge of what is happening in the schools comes to them second- or thirdhand.

On the other hand, library educators have not succeeded in communicating well with the profession. Most do not have recent work experience in libraries. They often move in new directions in the schools without fully explaining the rationale. Owing to limited resources, they have not been sufficiently responsive to some legitimate needs of the profession. Yes, there is an ongoing attempt in most schools to keep in touch with practice. Schools use advisory boards and contact with alumni and employers, both as part of accreditation and at other times. Obviously, they are not doing enough.

As a result, we have arrived at the current debate. On one side, many practitioners believe that the schools are failing to provide the type of education needed for new professionals. On the other, the educators are defensive about the criticism from the profession. They feel that practitioners are often unrealistic about what they expect from graduates emerging from what are still primarily one-year master's programs.

Inadequate communication has resulted in misunderstanding and hard feelings on both sides. The tension between practitioners and educators is not unique to librarianship. Indeed, it is found in many fields ranging from law to education to psychology. It can be healthy as long as both sides are committed to engaging in ongoing communication and to working together.

What we must do more than anything else is connect. There are real differences in what each side of the debate does at work each day. The two fields are, however, joined in a common purpose—to ensure that the libraries of today and tomorrow are the best that can be provided. Too often we have failed to realize that education and practice are inextricably linked and share both common interests and similar threats. We need to work together to solve the problems, such as the low salaries being offered in most libraries. Ultimately, we will succeed or fail together.

There are also people of good will on both sides. Some people from both the practice and LIS education have a 'circle the wagons' mentality and a propensity to fight to preserve the status quo (or sometimes the status quo ante).

Both sides also claim large numbers of individuals who are willing to alter their positions and to change for the common good. These are the people who will need to work together to repair the rift. Then they can continue and build upon the conversations begun as a result of the Congresses on Professional Education. They made a beginning, but we need to follow up.

Educators and practitioners must reconnect, reestablish their common cause so that the traditions and values that libraries and librarians brought to society in the past will be there tomorrow. Libraries will continue to change, and the knowledge and skills demanded of tomorrow's librarians will also change. If the profession is to succeed, practitioners and educators must work together to embrace that change and solve the problems it brings. That cooperation must begin now.