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Match Game

9 Jul
One of my all-time favorite shows of the 70s, The Match Game!

One of my all-time favorite shows of the 70s, The Match Game!

I found out yesterday that a friend and colleague has accepted a new job and heading off to a different city, different library, different adventures. For a long time, I looked at job announcements. Sometimes I still do, particularly when they pass across social media sites (Did you know that Queen Elizabeth is looking for a librarian to oversee her personal library?) or on professional listservs (It’s hard to ignore a job opening in France – the cafes, the coffee, the atmosphere. Tres bien.) But I don’t actively seek out the sites that post jobs and I don’t think about the possibility of doing something else. I do have a mobile coffee cart that I’m working on – a 3-wheeled bike that I’m outfitting to sell coffee at festivals and farmers markets – and on occasion I play in a band, but those things are fun. I have no dreams of quitting my day job to do either of them full-time. 

And that, folks, is a first. 

I have worked at a whole slew of different jobs ever since I was 15 years old, earlier if you count mowing lawns and babysitting. I earned a bunch of degrees at a bunch of schools, always trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my vocational life and thinking that if I only had the education, I’d be all set. For the past 8 1/2 years, I’ve been a librarian. Like putting together your fantasy team, it looked good on paper, me and the library. We were a good match. I love libraries (their physical forms) and research and looking stuff up. I love the feeling of finding an article or a citation or some quirky fact or figure that eludes most others. I love looking, looking, looking and going down all of the many paths of the many things that you come across while you search. I love having a whole brain-full of trivial facts; the result of browsing through so many different subjects. I love that I do well on “Jeopardy!” (at least in the comforts of my living room).

Still, even after a number of years being a librarian, I could find myself too regularly wondering what it might be like to work in another library, in another place, in a different discipline. I eventually came to accept the fact that this was just my nature. I’d always be a little unsettled in work.

I also always believed that promotion was the way of success in a library. Like lots of kinds of work, I just assumed that I’d start off at one level and then work my way up, accepting more responsibility along the way. Libraries are fairly flat organizations, at least the ones I’m most familiar with, and so you basically move from being a librarian to being some kind of administrator. If you’re really good, you become a library director.

A few years into my career, I figured that’s the path I ought to pursue. Things worked out in my library that I got a supervisory role, overseeing our Research and Scholarly Communication services. I was the head of a group, even if the group consisted only of two or three people. It was a step in the upward direction. 

But despite that “right path,” I found out that it wasn’t me. I’m not much of an administrator. Some of this I learned pretty easily. Some was more than a little difficult and took a good bit of a toll over time. Eventually, I began to think that it was time for me to look for something else. I just figured that I’d reached that time – like lots of other times before – where it was time to try something new. Time, time, time. Time’s up.

I began to look at job ads. I began to look around my own campus at other opportunities, places and positions where I could maybe use the knowledge that I had, but do something different. I thought about applying to be a project manager or project coordinator. I thought about how I could persuade a research department of the benefits of having a project manager who also knew how to be a librarian. Think of how they’d never again have the headaches associated with NIH Public Access compliance. They’d never have to worry about calling someone from the library to help them with difficult searches or bibliographic management. I could manage projects AND do that. That’s what I was thinking. That, along with job opportunities in really fun cities.

But then fate struck (better fate than lightning). The supplemental grant awards for informationist services were announced. My library director thought we needed to apply for one. As the story goes, we did, we got an award, and I got a new job. Bing-Bang-Boom. Kind of.

I’m not sure that my library director has always known what to do with me. I can admit that I was probably something of a frustration from time to time. What do you do with a librarian that doesn’t quite fit the mold of the work that needs to be done? What do you do with an employee who you know is always kind of feeling a little out of place? What do you do when skills and interests don’t match with the usual progressions and/or promotions? These are the kind of questions that directors and administrators have to struggle with, which might be why I’m not very good at it. I don’t have that much patience.

Fortunately, I do have a director who saw an opportunity and who said, “I think that you’d be really good at this.” Doing this job meant that I had to give up the supervisory role. It meant that I had to accept that my best skills don’t lie in the areas that will lead me up the promotional ladder. But it really is okay, because while I might not be going up any traditional ladder of success, I’m finding the kind of success that I really can’t imagine I could find in any regular route. I feel like I get many of the benefits of working as a solo librarian, without having to leave the nest altogether. I can be entrepreneurial without having to risk losing my health insurance and retirement. I can gain a whole lot of new colleagues without having to leave behind old ones.

In many ways, I’m working the same way that researchers and project managers and analysts and others on the research teams work. It’s the best of both worlds. Everyone is a team player, but with somewhat subtle differences from being on organized teams within a larger structure (like the library). Everyone is also a bit of a renegade. It reminds me of Russell Crowe’s character in that movie where he plays the cop who takes down Denzel Washington, the drug dealer. He’s a really good cop, but he doesn’t work so well with others, that is until he finds the right “others.” When that happens, he ends up leading a pretty formidable team. 

Now I’m no Russell Crowe (I don’t look nearly as good in a skirt, gladiator or no), but I do think that I work for a few people who are like him. Or at least like that character. The PIs I’ve come to know and work for over the past few months are people who need to do their own thing. They can work within a set of guidelines, but they’re all freelancers, a bunch of really smart and inquisitive people who want to figure out the answers to a lot of questions that interest them. And to do that, they build teams of people around them who, I think, might be kind of like them. They look for people who complement their skills, while also matching their personalities.

Library directors do this too, though they might not always have quite the latitude and flexibility of the PIs. Over time, a library can take on the personality of its director. It can certainly follow the directions and interests of him/her. Two of the library directors that I respect most are my own, Elaine Martin, and Jean Shipman, the director of the Eccles Health Sciences Library at the University of Utah. They couldn’t be much more different in terms of their outward personalities and they each have different passions in terms of the services and directions that they want their libraries to provide and go. But they are both extremely successful and effective in their roles. 

In the same way, I see all sorts of personalities and visions and work styles and leadership styles and more in the different researchers that I’ve come to know. Principal investigators who have successful labs and studies build good teams around them; teams made up of people who match what they need. (As an aside, both Elaine and Jean are PIs on major grants from the National Institutes of Health, National Library of Medicine. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.) It really is a lot about finding and/or making the right matches.

And all of this is a really rambling way of saying that if and when we’re lucky enough, persistent enough, stubborn enough, and/or any combination of these, we can find the right position where who we are and the skills that we possess match up with someone else’s needs and skills and personality. I also think that this particular phenomenon (for lack of a better word) is really difficult to define and quantify, and as such makes it hard when it comes to telling anyone how he/she/they might find success in this informationist role. People ask, students ask, colleagues ask, other library directors ask, the grant funders ask… but as of yet, I’m not quite sure what the answer is. I do know, however, that I’m for once not even thinking about what another job could be like. This one is pretty great every day. 

 

Someday is TODAY!

1 Jul
A Tiger by the Tail! (Photo: Kimberly Brown-Azzarello, http://www.flickr.com/photos/kb-a/)

Grab a Tiger by the Tail! (Photo: Kimberly Brown-Azzarello, http://www.flickr.com/photos/kb-a/)

Several years ago, I was invited to be a part of a journal club that discussed topics related to exercise physiology. It was here at the Med School where we have no such formal program and/or research taking place, but there was still a group of researchers and doctoral students with an interest in what happens to the body when it exercises. Not that surprising, they were mostly cyclists. I’ve often found cyclists to be among the most curious group when it comes to ex phys. They’re completely absorbed in the whole lactate threshold thing.

The first day that I attended the group, I was greeted with, “Oh good, Sally is here! Sally is the expert. She’s the one with the degree.” At the time, this said a lot to me in terms of how researchers view one another. You know what you’ve studied and you’re an expert in the discipline that you know best.

I’ve gotten a lot of traction out of this story since that day. I’ve often used it when asking my colleagues how often, if ever, they’ve been invited to a research meeting and called out as the information expert. Sadly, it doesn’t happen nearly enough. I’ve often wondered if that day would ever arrive when I was seen as the expert from the Library.

I wondered it until today. TODAY I was invited to a meeting by a group of folks considering a grant application and several times during the meeting, people said that I was there because I was the expert in the areas that they knew nothing about, e.g. information management, information architecture, website design, and all sorts of other things related to technology. They used the word over and over, “Sally is the expert.” The others were experts in nutrition and public health and mindfulness. I was the expert in information collection, presentation, dissemination, and the technology necessary for this to happen.

Walking back across campus afterward, I remembered the journal club story and couldn’t help but think how far I’ve been able to reach into the research community, in a relatively short period of time, simply by getting out and meeting people, working with them, building a small portfolio of projects and deliverables, and building a small list of names that I can drop for effect. To me, more than anything, this is the goal of the informationist program. The specific skills and their associated value that we can bring to research teams is recognized from the very beginning. In fact, this particular team was stuck with writing part of their grant ~ even deciding whether or not to pursue it ~ without consulting an informationist. Down the line, if necessary, we can talk about the nuts and bolts of how I could be included in the team, but really I already feel a part of it. They needed my expertise now and knew to include me.

Someday has arrived and I’m convinced that our professional future is wide open for these type of experiences to happen more and more often. Let’s grab them!

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

25 Jun

I’ve been in Cambridge the past couple of days; two very long days at a Software Carpentry Boot Camp sponsored by Women in Science and Engineering (WiSE) of Boston. It was an intense time of learning, more akin to climbing the Mount Everest of learning curves than a classroom experience. Fortunately, the instructors divided the attendees (120 of us in all) into three groups based upon experience. I’m a novice in the realm of programming. I know my way around web design and its associated HTML, XML, and CSS, but when it comes to using “the shell” (as I’ve learned the terminal window is called), I’m a newbie.

Spending time writing out code to add numbers only makes me think, “Isn’t this why Thomas Edison invented the calculator?” Somebody already did this work for me. Still, I also once took an auto mechanics class so that I could learn how my car runs. I changed the oil a couple of times, then thought that there’s a reason Jiffy Lube exists, and let it go at that. There’s obviously a part of me that’s intrigued by how things work. There’s a part of me that definitely likes knowing that if I really wanted to, I could take the reigns (busted timing belts and erased hard drives aside).

It was that part of me that led me to sign up for the camp. In my work on research teams, I hear many of the same issues expressed when it comes to data management, information management, work flow and communication. I keep thinking to myself that surely there HAS to be a way to solve some of these problems, yet when I go hunting for the answer, I too often find myself limited by my abilities to work with open source programs that just might do the trick. My rationale for the self-inflicted alpine quest is that if I can learn enough to at least talk intelligently to someone who knows more about programming, then I’m better off than I was on Sunday.

And after the sprint to the top of the past two days, I’m happy to report that I’m at least there. Knowing more than I did on Sunday, that is.

Learning Curve

I learned many things that are – fortunately for you, my reader – available online at the Software Carpentry website. Beyond the classroom instruction, they offer many self-paced learning modules, links to more information, suggestions on groups to join and/or where to find support. This is a marathon (to switch sporting event metaphors) that we’re on. Those books might claim that they can teach me Python in a day, but … well, we’ve obviously never met, me and the authors of said books.

But I did learn a good bit about the shell, “an interactive interpreter: it reads commands, finds the corresponding programs, runs them, and displays output.” That last sentence alone was new to me. I’m on my way!

I also learned about the scripting program, Python. Python is a dynamic programming language that lets you write “small programs quickly, and be able to manage the complexity of larger ones;” programs like C++ or Fortran. I learned that there are a ton of Python programs (modules) available, all ready to be plugged in to help the knowledgeable person accomplish a task or two. And again, that was my goal going in, i.e. to become knowledgeable enough to know that somebody else has already written the tool that can help me. And after the practice of boot camp, I at least know how to play with them enough to not destroy my computer.

Quick aside: On Sunday night, I dreamt that my computer literally blew up in my face. Ka-BOOM!! Pieces everywhere. I ducked and covered my head, escaping any real injury. Pre-programming camp anxiety, Dr. Jung?

I learned about GitHub and how individuals and teams can use it to share and/or collaborate on projects that involve coding. I learned about version control, something we librarians know an awful lot about already. I learned about SQL and found myself dragging up old tricks from days of building databases in Access, back when I managed HR records for a company. I remembered how much I’d forgotten about writing queries in that format. I also couldn’t help but notice how much of what our instructors taught in this section is what I teach when I’m instructing students and researchers on using PubMed. Same principles, really. Good query construction is good query construction.

Which brings me to a really significant thing that I learned – perhaps the most significant, in terms of relevance to my work as an informationist and the whole world of embedded librarianship that is open to our profession. The boot camp was taught (with the help of a whole bunch of roaming helpers) by two PhD researchers (bioinformatics and biology) who learned most of what they know because they taught themselves. Why did they teach themselves? Because they had to do somethings for their work that they  just knew could be done easier, more efficiently, and better through the use of certain programs.

Hold it! Scroll back up the page and re-read what I wrote in the third paragraph. Go ahead, I’ll wait…

Did you see it? I took this class because I sit on research teams where people continually express the need(s) for something to get done, yet no one has the time and/or inclination to solve the problem. In other words, I am sitting in the exact same seat that the two women who were standing in front of the class for these days once sat. They are both scientists and neither one computer scientists. I doubt that when either of them began studying whatever their discipline is, they anticipated becoming programming instructors. But they did. They are. Because no one else could/would. They took the initiative.

This was an incredible insight for me. I knew that a lot of young students in the Graduate School of Biomedical Sciences know computing. I assumed it’s because they studied it formally. I assumed it’s because it’s something that came along in their tool kit as scientists. What I’ve now learned is that this isn’t the case at all – or at least not in the vast majority of cases.

Scientists learn things because they need to learn them to solve a problem. If we take the initiative to learn the same things, imagine the value we suddenly bring to a team that has no such person on it already. Both Tracy Teal and Sarah Supp, the lead instructors in my class, admitted that they had opportunities in their careers open up to them because they had taught themselves these skills. It’s not a skill set that every scientist automatically has. They added it to theirs.

The audience for this boot camp was scientists and engineers, colleagues of Tracy and Sarah and the other instructors in the other classes. They see the need to bring these lessons to other scientists, because it’s clearly (1) missing and (2) beneficial to both the individual scientist and research as a whole. As an embedded librarian/informationist, I wasn’t their target. I doubt that they could have even imagined why I was there (along with a couple of other familiar faces). But what they don’t know is that there are others out there, people like me and others doing similar work, who can take these same lessons and apply them to the research teams that we are part of.

Some of the teams where I’m working have programmers on them, but not necessarily to do the things that I’m brought on to do. Further, they are often computer programmers and lack the specific science background that an informationist brings to a team. They have a really advanced skill set in programming and I’m hardly one to take on that role, but for other projects; projects within the greater Research Project, I’m pretty sure that I can learn enough to bring something that’s valued to the team. That’s what I saw in the researchers who taught me the past days. And it was a great, unexpected lesson!

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One other thing that I was reminded of last night that also just happens to have some relevance:

As I was in the big city of Boston on the same evening that my friend, Suzy Becker (you might recall her as my hero from a post a few weeks back) was giving a reading / signing to promote her new book, One Good Egg, at Brookline Booksmith, I slogged across town on the hottest day of the year (because that’s what friends do) to enjoy the event. Plus, there was free cake. In a short documentary by Mollie West, Suzy mentioned that she tries to take advantage of the early hours of the day, writing and drawing before her inner critic is awake. I jotted down a note that it’s a good rule to follow in the context of learning something as daunting as programming, too. I need to try and set aside time during each week, preferably early in the morning, to work on honing my new skills before my inner “you’ll never learn how to do that!” self gets going. Message to heart.