Let me start this post by introducing myself. I am a staff member of the scheduled to close CLP-Lawrenceville location, so to say my interest in this issue is immediate would be a profound understatement.
I have been reading this forum all this week and I want to offer my thanks to other self acknowledged library staff for providing information of which I feel the general public often to be ill-informed, e.g. RAD, the District Library, operating funds vs. capital funds, etc. Staff have known for many years that one key to a library savvy public is educating them about exactly what the library is (and what it isn't), how it does what it does, and how this information relates to them as users.
I also want to offer my thanks to those individuals who have made the many intelligent and thought provoking posts. Many of the inherent financial, organizational, and logistical problems in the library system are well known to staff, whom often share their frustrations with the public and vice versa. It is very reassuring for staff to know that there are people just as aware and attentive standing on the other side of the circulation desk.
One aspect of this issue that I think is important to keep in mind is the extreme uniqueness of the relationship between the library and each individual user. This has a great impact on the actuality of library use, the tangible results of which can be seen in things like operating costs per capita and core statisitcs (visitor counts, circulation, computer use hours, program attendance, etc.), in other words the numbers used as a measure of a location's vitality. The uniqueness of the relationship also has an impact on that individual's perception of what the library is and what it does. The relevance of the library to each individual depends on how much that individual uses the library and for what purpose.
Some perceive the library as a free computer lab, while others have no desire to touch a computer. Some perceive it as a babysitter, while others never leave their child's side as they explore the shelves. Some check out non-fiction on subjects from A-Z, while others live by the gospel of the NY Times fiction best seller list. There are once daily, once weekly, once monthly, and yes, even once yearly users. Judging by the expiration dates on some library cards I've seen, there are even a few once in a decade users. In other words, the spectrums of frequency of use and type of use go from one extreme to another.
Consequently, the individual perceptions have not only determined, and will not only determine, the cold hard numbers used to decide the futures of library locations, but those perceptions already have determined, and will continue to determine people's level of knowledge of the facts and their desire to be informed, their emotions and reactions, and their ability to comprehend the library in a way beyond their own use.
Consider the following:
On Monday, the day before the announcement of the closings, there was a public rally at the Main Library in Oakland. One of the rally organizers had posted a sign in my location on Saturday informing people of the rally. Many people that day and again on Monday, some of whom visit the library multiple times a week, and whom have done so since the start of the public awareness campaign earlier this summer, saw the sign and with an incredulous look on their faces, and surprise in their voices, asked staff members "Are they thinking about closing this library? Why? When did they decide that?"
In this case, how does one reconcile this perceived lack of awareness with the actuality of being a frequent visitor? (and on a personal note: Can you feel my frustration as a staff member through your screen?) Don't they seem contradictory?
I think this illustrates very well what I mentioned above regarding the vast spectrums of frequency and use precisely because of the contradiction. The range of library experiences, and therefore the range of attitudes and levels of understanding, are so specific to the individual that this even this type of contradiction could exist: that someone could be in the library for hour upon hour each week and never see, hear or comprehend the environment they are in, nor the information made available to them. Processing this type of information was deemed not relevant to their library experience, so, it wasn't processed. Can you see the kind of difficulties involved with tyring to cast an informational net large enough to catch everyone equally?
There are so many angles from which to tackle this issue, so many lenses to look through, and there's so much information to process besides. There's the Board of Trustees, the administration, the staff, the politicians, the community leaders; there's the individual locations and their statistics and demographics; there's geography and topography. And then there's the issue of money; how much, how to spend, where is it coming from, who should it come from, who shouldn't it come from. There's history involved too, concrete (literally), cultural, social, and personal.
Now imagine the spectrum of users. How does person 'a', with their unique experience digest all of this, if they are able, as opposed to person 'b' and their unique experience? What are the resulting opinions and are they similar enough to reach a consensus which then can be communicated to the necessary people?
Worse still, imagine how difficult it is for the library staff and administration in making the attempt at distilling this morass into anything resembling a coherent narrative with which to approach the public in the first place.
The idea of this post came out of a conversation I had with a customer in which I expressed the difficulty I have had of first trying to present to people what I feel is the most relevant pieces of information about this issue; second, trying to weed through it and organize it myself as I present it; and third knowing that a lot of it may not stick because of the level of library experience of the person I'm talking to.
I came to realize that I was focusing too much on trying to make people see too many things at once, that it was my way of venting instead of actually informing, and that what was getting lost in the specifics was the original message of public awarness of the problem of library funding and sustainability.
That's what it's all about. I encourage everyone to stay focused on this message. The remaining issues (and there are many) can, and will, be dealt with once we can be sure our libraries aren't going anywhere.
Thanks for reading.
Steve