NextGen: Making the Big Decisions

By Christine Schutz -- Library Journal, 7/15/2005

It was the dream of my professional infancy: to be in charge, to make the big decisions, to be a library director and change the world, or at least one little bibliographic corner of it. In fall 2004, I got my chance. While still clinging to my youth (though soon to leave my early thirties for good) and my status as a member of Gen X, I was promoted to the position of library director at a small, private liberal arts college.

For a dream come true, it isn't very glamorous. The college hit rough financial times a few years ago, and I don't have much of a budget to work with (though the outlook is more promising). The administration elected not to fill my previous position immediately. Now maybe I'm a doormat, but I saw the budget numbers and there was little room for discussion. So I took on the director's responsibilities while continuing to perform all of the research assistance, instruction, interlibrary loan, and government documents-related duties of my previous title. Now the only professional librarian at the college (which has about 800 students), I have a staff of three with over 30 years of combined library experience and a willingness to get their hands dirty.

I officially became director in September, but my predecessor had taken most of the summer off, so my staff and I spent the time changing things. The library building presented a number of challenges to modern and efficient library service, not the least of which is its late 1960s color scheme of orange, gold, and olive green. On a shoestring, we did what we could.

One resourceful staff member found a bolt of fabric at a bargain price and recovered 12 chairs. We found a couch at a thrift store and spent an afternoon or two dragging furniture around to create comfortable gathering places for students. We painted the walls around one seating area and installed a low-cost picture hanging rack (designed by one of our art faculty) as a gallery space for student and faculty artwork. I hatched plans for a massive shift of materials that will make it much easier for students to find what they need: periodicals will be all in one place, and government documents will be in a publicly accessible area. If only it were as simple to accomplish. We're still working on the "big shift."

I changed every policy we had. I lengthened loan periods (from three to six weeks for students) and grace periods (from three to ten days). I changed the schedule for sending out overdue notices. I made it really hard for students to get fined, though some have still managed to pull it off. I eliminated the no-food/drink policy. Spills have not been a problem, but we did have to invest in a few trash cans large enough to hold pizza boxes.

I eliminated the searching of bags as students leave the library. I'd rather throw technology at the problem, but not being able to afford to, we have adopted a policy of trust. With all of the other changes, I hope students will find it so easy to borrow materials legitimately that they will not be tempted to otherwise remove them from the collection. There's no remarkable jump in missing items, but I'm still holding my breath.

Does all of this have any bearing on the discussion of NextGen librarianship? Here I am, a NextGen librarian in a leadership role, albeit an underfunded and undersupported one. Does this put me in a position to speak to others of my generation who are struggling to move up (or enter) the professional ranks? I wish it did, but I'm not sure. I manage three staff members of approximately my mother's age. This has not been an issue. They're right there with me, painting walls and changing policies. Outsiders—vendors, alumni, etc.—sometimes balk when they see me, saying that I don't seem old enough to be in such a job. I've grown accustomed to responding simply, "I'm older than I look." That usually shuts them up.

As much as I identify with the Gen X label (oh, how I wept when Kurt Cobain and River Phoenix died), I don't think it is a defining element in my career. My "style"—the way I deliver library instruction sessions, the way I speak to students when I'm helping them with research, and now the way I manage the facility—is not necessarily a function of my age but merely a function of my personality.

In ten years of experience, I've discovered my own, somewhat quirky, I hope, "librarian style." And my perhaps-not-quite-profound message to all librarians who are new to the profession, regardless of age, would be to do just that. Find your voice, your style, and make librarianship your own. Forget labels and stereotypes or embrace them; whatever works for you. And someday soon, I'd love to hire one of you. But not yet. I don't have the money, or, alas, the time.