Value Frameworks

Here's some good reading:
http://museumtwo.blogspot.com/2013/10/who-counts-grappling-with-attendance-as.html

And it does bring up the question: is attendance our main measurement for success? I work in event planning, so let's use that as an example. Are the most popular events the best ones?

In terms of what we report and measure, we certainly act as though popularity is the only thing that matters. But we know, we know in our hearts, that it's not. An event where 100 people watch a skateboarding dog is NOT a "better" event than a class where 20 kids use Lego to learn about science. I think most library people would feel like the science class was more valuable, and a better use of taxpayer dollars, than the skateboarding dog.

Which means that we need to use another framework to define our success. To put it another way, when someone asks, "How did the Lego program go?" we need an answer that doesn't relate to attendance. "It was wonderful, the kids had fun and learned a lot!" is a good start.

But of course, that's just a start. Most of the time, when we are explaining why something is valuable, it's important to be professional and convincing. Which means that you need to take that statement and turn it into something you can tell your boss, and maybe something you can tell the board, or tell the taxpayers.

My quick and dirty method for doing this is to find one thing to measure that isn't attendance. Use your library's mission statement, your strategic plan, or your department's goals to figure out what this should be.

For example, if your mission has to do with learning, think about doing a quiz question at the end of the Lego class. Did the kids get it right? You can report that 90% of the kids in the class displayed an understanding of the such-and-such principle after your class. If your mission has to do with inspiration, try asking them instead if they plan to go home and use what they learned to make more Lego creations. If your mission has to do with providing opportunities, ask the parents whether they would have been able to do this with their child at home.

If you don't have a stated mission or goals, then just find some commonly-agreed-on Good Thing to support. If your boss is always happy to hear that people are checking out books, try setting up a display of Lego books in the classroom. Count how many of the items get checked out, or count how many kids take books from the display. Then you can say "75% of attendees checked out Lego books after the program!"

This is going to help you in several ways:

First of all, it will help you express the value of what you're doing. Right away, your projects will sound more purposeful and more impressive. If you work in a library (or other non-profit) then you probably believe pretty strongly in your work. This is going to help you get other people on board.

Second, it will actually add value to your projects. Here's a recent example from my job: I was using this method to think about a "Hunger Games" party the library is hosting. I wanted something besides attendance to measure, and I wanted it to be related to reading. Maybe we could measure book checkouts somehow? Then I had the idea to create a cool read-alike book display that would encourage the teens to check out books. What a fun idea! And it doesn't just articulate the value - my program is better because of this idea. In a small way, I am better expressing our mission.

Third, it will help you prioritize. You'll be able to sit down and say, "What should I schedule for this summer? A Lego science class, or a skateboarding dog?" You won't have to guess which would be "better" - you'll have a framework that helps you evaluate which program fits with your organization and helps you accomplish your mission and goals.

Wonderland: The Library Experience for Book Lovers

Do you remember reading Roald Dahl's Matilda? (if not, go read it now. Dahl is still very good reading for adults.) Remember her library experience? For book lovers, that story still rings very true - the world of wonders just waiting in books. It's the same reason we love The Never-ending Story movie, and we identify with Belle in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Books are magical for us, and libraries are wonderlands.

I've posted before about the clash between this nostalgic affection and the image of the "modern library." But I've come to realize that while our wonderland libraries do clash with the library-as-consulting-agency model, they are delightfully consistent with another new idea of libraries: the library-as-destination.

Library-as-destination is really a beguiling vision. Libraries from this vision are community centers, coffeehouses, hubs of literature and conversation. We'll have concerts and storytimes and philosophy discussion groups and many, many book clubs. One of the high points of this vision is that we don't have to give up our love of books! Literature will be a focal point of our passionate community centers. Our teen areas will be cool to hang out in, and our children's areas - well, they will be wonderlands! Bright, magical spaces with toys and climbing furniture and walls of bright, colorful books.

The best thing abut this vision? It's appealing to our most passionate users, our "core" group - book lovers. Book lovers would flock to this library. And it makes more sense, really, to build a library that appeals to the people who already love us, rather than trying to build libraries that will draw in people who are currently indifferent.

So what's in the way? Mainly conflicting visions. A library cannot brand itself as both a cool modern library of expertise and professionalism and as passionate literary hub. We have to pick one. And sadly, there are practical concerns at work here. Our governing body (also our source of funding) is the county government, and they are eager to prioritize economic development - which means that the consulting-library is easier to sell than the wonderland-library. We would need an amazing amount of community support to work towards a different vision. And I think we could get it- it's just a matter of selling the dream.

Long-term Planning for Library Programming

My former boss (actually, like 3 bosses ago) used to make everyone who wanted to suggest a library program fill out a form. This form asked why we suggested the program, how it helped fulfil the library's mission, and more stuff like that. At the time, I thought it was the DUMBEST FORM EVER. And maybe it was, but since then I've come to appreciate the impulse that went into that form: the idea that we ought to be thinking hard about every single program we plan.

Since right now we are trying to increase overall program attendance, it's easy to approach this by trying to schedule more programs. At times, it seems like this becomes rather haphazard. People contact us, and we schedule a program. We have an idea, so we go for it.

But this approach has serious problems. Here are some of the issues that can (and do) arise when we fail to create a long-term plan:

1. Events not spread equally between branches.
Some libraries in our system are larger than others. Some have nicer facilities, some are more centrally located, and some staff express more enthusiasm. It's easy for events to develop a drift; we get in the habit of putting our large events at one or two branches, or a particular manager is always clamoring for children's events, and before you know it, some branches are slammed with events while others are ignored.

2. Seasonal ebb and flow.
Summer is a crazy-busy time for our department, because of the Summer Reading Program. So here is how our year usually goes: We are crazy-busy in May and June, getting the summer straight. We're so exhausted from that effort that we plan very little for September. But in August/September, we bring out all our new ideas, and plan TONS OF STUFF for October and November. Then we get busy publicizing that stuff, so we don't plan anything for December and January, until we get busy with the Winter Reading Program and Black History Month. Enthused from our winter break, we go NUTS with the events for April and May. WE get so caught up in our April and May stuff that we don't plan for summer as early as we should, so May and June are crazy-busy...and it all begins again.

If we had a clear map of how many events should be held each month, and a sufficiently long-term calendar, we could create a nice spread of events, with something great happening every month.

3. Competition between events.
When we all just schedule whatever we feel like, it's easy to get into a situation where each person in the office has a pet project needing to be publicized in May. Then we end up in competition for budget and advertising. What event will be the newsletter cover story? What will be the first slide in the slide show? We could plan these things in advance, and we would not only market more effectively, we would reduce office tension.

4. Haphazard or slapdash array of program topics.
This is key. What percentage of our time and budget goes to children's programming as opposed to teen programming? How many of our programs are interactive instead of lecture-style? How much money are we spending each year on musical events vs. author events?

Not only do we need to know the answers to these questions, we need to know what we WANT the answers to be. We need to know if our behavior is in line with definite goals and guidelines. In short, we need a long-term plan.

Of course, a plan for distributing efforts across months, geography and genre is only a subgoal. The true issue, the true beginning of such a plan, is the role of events in the library's mission. But that's a topic for another day.

Is this a library?

There's a lot of talk about the changing notions about libraries. Here's an interesting article: http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/42339223/ns/today-books/?GT1=43001

Basically, this describes a "library" with a computer lab, comfortable seating, wi-fi, and meeting space - but no stacks. It's an interesting idea, and my imagination takes off as I think about what we could do with a large library space like that. A job search center? Large-group performance space? A teen area, where we could put out the Wii? Space to run art programs? There are a lot of fun possibilities.

One big question comes to mind: would you call that space a library? It's really more of a community center, and I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "Free books" has been our primary function for many years, and it's still our single most unique service. However, in the age of the internet and the ebook, libraries are struggling to define and redefine themselves, and this is a definite redefinition.

But is it really a good idea? Is it justifiable to use taxpayer money allotted to libraries to open a computer lab/community center/performance space? Would a space like that help us fulfill our mission, and help our community?

Are we thinking outside of the right box?

Consistency and Excellence: The Customer Service Debate

Here's a scenario:

On a quiet day at the library, you bring in your résumé. You come to the desk and ask me, "Is there someone here who can look at my résumé?"

Now, résumé proofreading is not a service that the library normally offers. However, I used to do résumé critiques in the Career Services office at UVA, so I'm completely qualified to look at your résumé and offer comments.

How do I answer?

The obvious answer is "Say yes!" Do whatever you can to help your customer, right?

"Say yes" is not the prevailing answer in library-land. Many of my coworkers would suggest treating your question as a reference question: "Here are some books and websites that can help you, and the Virginia Unemployment Commission will look over your résumé," and so on. Why would they say this? Why direct you to an hour-long struggle with books and websites, when all you want is a 10-minute critique?

Consistency of service. This notion is so important that it has found its way into our library's mission statement. Not excellent customer service, consistent customer service.

Why is this so important? Let's have some variations of our scenario:

If you come to the library when it's busy, there's no way I will have time to spend 10 minutes critiquing your résumé.

If you tell your friends how helpful I was, and 20 of them visit the library expecting help with their résumé, there's no way I will have time to help them all, even if I happen to be at the desk when they arrive. It's even more likely that I won't be there, and your friend will walk up to the desk and say "I need my résumé looked at."

My coworkers will say "I can help you find some books and websites."

"I don't want books, I just want someone to proofread my résumé. My friend said you would do that here."

"No, unfortunately we don't do that here, but maybe I can help you find an organization that can help."

"But my friend got her résumé looked at here last week. Do you mean I drove all the way here for nothing?"

This is the point when my coworkers (and your friends) begin to feel that I haven't done anyone any favors by helping you with your résumé.

This is just a brief introduction to a long-running debate, and I want to make it clear that I understand both sides of the issue. But where do I stand?

I confess: my "scenario" was a true story, and none of my hypothetical downsides came to pass. All that happened was that I helped someone.

I'm on the "use your expertise and help the customer" side of this debate. Library workers aren't all the same. We have different areas of interest and expertise. If you want to chat about the latest fantasy novels, I'm a good person to talk to; if you want to chat about westerns, you might want someone else. We complement each other with our strengths, and we are all here because we want to share our information and knowledge with others. We should neither hide our differences nor waste our talents. If we can help, we should help. That's the route to customer service excellence, and personal excellence as well. That's my take on the issue.

Flailing: Why the Library is in Trouble

Modern librarians live in fear. If you tell a librarian that the internet (or the Kindle) is killing the library, they'll dismiss you, or laugh at you, or get angry, or some combination of the three. And yet, they are terrified. The very fact that we have to constantly shout "We are relevant, we are relevant!" speaks for itself.

So...why are we relevant? Ask a dozen librarians, and you'll get a dozen answers. Computer access! Job search assistance! Fiction books! Storytimes! Reference help! Online databases! Book recommendations! Community meeting rooms! Concerts! Video games for teens! Small business resources! Programs for senior citizens! Friendly, personal service! All library workers (including me) will inform you that libraries are not just about books. Now ask them what libraries are about. In fact, ask the people I work with what our library is about. I don't think you'll get any consistent answers, and therein lies the problem.

We've all got great ideas for what the library could do. We just don't know which ones to focus on. Two years ago we were rebranding ourselves as a cultural center. A year ago, we were raving about the value of libraries to job hunters. Three months ago, we were trying to launch ourselves as the primary resource for small business. The latest issue is Early Literacy.

"But those are all great things," you say. "What's the problem?"

The problem is that this haphazard list of "great things" leaves us flailing. Our ultimate goal is to help people, but we aren't really sure how best to do it. I feel like we're a store that sells car parts, yarn and shoes, with a space in the back for ballroom dance classes. It's the "Whatever-popped-into-my-head Emporium!"

We're flailing, and we need to not be. We need to know where to focus our energies, our event planning, and our marketing. We don't want people to see us as being just about books - well, how do we want them to see us?

Recently, a group at my library began to work on a new mission statement. They collected descriptive words and phrases that they felt applied to our mission. I've seen a part of that list: "Empower," "enlighten", "global citizen." These seem like Dilbert words to me, empty of actual content. If our mission is to empower through knowledge,* what are we talking about? Legal advice? Homework assistance? Helping battered women? Colon health awareness? In my opinion, the whole process needed more time, more thought, and most of all, more direction. Someone who gets paid the big bucks needs to stand up and say "This is what we're doing, this is our focus, this is who we are." They need to be specific and then they need to stick with it long enough to let people form a new image of the library.

Tune in next time to find out my plan for making libraries vital and relevant in today's world! (Most librarians have one, trust me.)

*Not our actual mission statement. Mission statement has been changed to protect the innocent.