In Theory…

4 Dec
Pythagorean Theorem

Pythagorean Theorem

Last Friday, I attended the 2nd annual Community Engagement Research Symposium sponsored by the section of the same name that is part of the University of Massachusetts’ Center for Clinical and Translational Science. The Community Engagement and Research Section is the arm of the CCTS charged with helping researchers from the University work with the local communities and community leaders to address issues related to public health.

We do this by helping university researchers and community leaders form equal partnerships for health research. This approach is called community engaged research. Other names for this type of approach include Community Based Participatory Research (CBPR), Community Collaborative Research, Community Partnered Research, and Participatory Action Research. (CCTS website)

The program featured an excellent keynote address by Elmer Freeman, Executive Director of the Center for Community Health Education Research and Service, a community-based organization that provides research funding and support for issues related to professional development and education for community healthcare providers, community advocacy programs, health disparities and inequities, and health policy. Freeman is a veteran of the trenches, an individual who has spent his career at the forefront of community-based health care and who never shies away from speaking frankly about the realities of healthcare in poorer neighborhoods, the gap between health research and medical practice in community health, the politics of funding bodies and academic institutions, and the frustrations that come with trying to address the many challenges of doing community partnered research. Among the many great, quotable lines he spoke (and I tweeted) was this one, “Health care providers in community health centers want practice-based medicine, NOT evidence-based practice.”

As I listened to Freeman and the other panelists of the day, and as I looked at the many poster presentations from projects around the state, and as I took note of comments from the audience, I couldn’t help but draw a whole bunch of parallels between the situation(s) they were describing and much of our own in the world of academic librarianship. Several times, I overheard people say, “We need to create research methodologies that work for a community, not just publication.” Another UMMS leader said, “Academics need to integrate themselves into the community.” Many spoke of the big difference between theory and practice.

Today I had lunch with a friend and colleague who is working to develop curricula for teaching data management practices. I described for him a task that I’m beginning to tackle in my informationist role, i.e. the creation of a data request form with an integrated (or perhaps attached) data dictionary. He asked, “Where is the data for this project stored?” To answer, I began to describe how some data comes from insurance claims (claims data), collected and maintained by the insurance company. Other data comes from electronic health records (staging data), managed by different health care providers. Another source is the system used by schedulers and counselors, the database where they input all of the information that they collect while making their phone calls (intervention data). Lastly, there is analytic data, kind of a collection of the relevant data that comes in from these other sources, ultimately used by our analyst for statistical analysis.

As I talked on, I could see a crinkle form on my friend’s forehead. “There isn’t one dataset?” he asked. Technically, I guess I can say that there is. The analytic dataset is probably the closest to that, but that dataset is derived from others. It’s dependent upon others. As we talked more about other “data” – things like minutes from meetings, progress reports, email correspondence related to the study – he said, “I imagine data management as creating this one neat file folder. You click it and it opens to have everything related to a study organized, accessible, easy to share.”

What a nice image.

And then I told him about last Friday’s meeting and how I’d been thinking about the huge gulf between theory and practice, not necessarily in healthcare, but in our own profession. Library school was all about theory. I remember sitting in classes when I was earning my LIS degree and the faculty member would say that grad school was about learning the theory of librarianship and information science. We would learn how to BE librarians on the job. I feel a lot like this is what’s happening to me now as an informationist. We’ve been talking about eScience and data management for a few years now, in theory. We keep saying that when it comes to managing data, librarians can do this and this and this. We talk about best practices, yet have a bit of a gap in our knowledge base when it comes to knowing what the current practices are. I feel, in a way, like the academic researcher who’s come up with an interesting hypothesis about what an informationist is and now I’m all about testing it.

So far though, what I’m finding is that our theory of what an informationist is and does, and the reality of my day-to-day work is not quite on the same page. I do believe we’re on a good path to figuring out the answer to our “research question” and ultimately, to knowing what our role can be here in the research process. I also think that the researcher who implored her fellow academics to integrate themselves into the community was speaking to me, too. Embedded librarians and informationists are trying to heed the message. I am integrated into this study and it’s a huge step towards putting our theories into practice, in a truly meaningful way.

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Apples and Oranges

28 Nov

Funny Aside: I was reading some articles on Monday and, while doing so, jotted down the phrase “comparing apples to oranges” in the small notebook that I carry around for just such note-jotting. It was a seed for this week’s post that I wrote there to hopefully germinate into a full-fledged thought. Thus, I found it quite funny yesterday when one of the co-PIs of the project I’m working on said, in a completely different context, “This isn’t comparing apples to oranges. It’s comparing apples to … humus!” Though totally unrelated to anything I’d thought of writing about, I figured it a good sign that I was on to a good title. I’m going with it.

I bought two books on metadata yesterday. Personal books for my personal collection. I’ve borrowed several books on the subject over the past few months as I’ve tried to get a better understanding on the subject of metadata – what it is, how it works, and why it’s important in information systems. I know the answers to these questions in theory, of course, but I lack the nitty gritty. I needed to buy some books so that I could write in them, like most of my old textbooks of the past. Fulfillment of the tasks that I’m given as an informationist isn’t going to happen in theory. This is where the rubber hits the road, so to speak. I need to know how to analyze metadata requirements, select and/or develop necessary schema, create a controlled vocabulary, and ensure that what I come up with, propose, and implement works – more importantly, makes a difference. If it doesn’t do the latter, it’s a pretty hard sell to any researcher, let alone our profession overall, that my being on the team is worthwhile.

In the great discussion that is the discussion of eScience, i.e. the discussion of libraries and librarians and our role in working with data, we continually stake claim to the fact that information management, organization, and retrieval are our areas of expertise. Implied within this is the idea that since our profession (1) developed complex cataloging systems and has maintained them for lo these many years, and (2) that we oversaw the transition from physical card catalogs to OPACs (online public access catalogs), then we (3) know all about how to make different sources of information and/or data inter-operable. We know how to describe information in such a way to allow easy access, easy retrieval, easy sharing. This is our expertise. In fact, this expectation of expertise is stated quite clearly in Aim 1 of the approved proposal for my position:

Leverage the skills of an embedded informationist to allow the research team to more effectively and efficiently communicate about the data derived from multiple sources.

By applying indexing and metadata expertise, the informationist will develop and implement tools that allow the producers of project data analyses (data analyst and statistician) to understand exactly what the consumers of the analyses (PIs, project director, operation managers) are asking for when they request analyses and to create and format analyses that effectively respond to the requests.

I guess at this point it is only appropriate for me to make a confession: I have never created a metadata schema in my life (though I do think I could right a song about it, considering how those words go together so well; metadatA, schemA). I’ve never created a controlled vocabulary. I have indexed things. I have abstracted things. I’ve created tools to improve the organization and sharing of information. But to claim that I have metadata expertise is a bit of a stretch. I have a thorough understanding of some related areas, but I am far from an expert when it comes to creating and/or managing metadata.

So, did we pull the wool over the researchers’ eyes when we signed off on this aim for the grant? Did we claim something that we thought they wanted to hear to convince them of my place on the team? No, I don’t think so. I think that it’s more appropriate to say that we – as a profession and in this particular incident – co-opted a trendy term, “metadata”, (it sounds so techy-important, after all) and inserted it into our own professional vocabulary to give us a toe-hold into an area where we eventually want to be. Librarians doing literature searching, teaching information literacy, and/or providing citation management are not new services. We’ve been doing these all along, outside of the venue of any research team. We have to bring something new into the team, a skill(s) that demonstrates our presence on the team, as an active and engaged member, is significant and important and vital. This will insure our place there in the future. So we pick a word that no one is really all that clear about and say we’re experts with it. The fact that no one is really all that clear about it in the first place allows us to do this.

The truth I’m seeing though, is that I don’t really need to know metadata, per se, to create the outputs (a data dictionary and data request form) that are required of me in Aim 1. So why am I reading books – even more, spending my own money on books – about metadata? Why do I care? In the introduction to his book, Metadata for Information Management and Retrieval, David Haynes states:

This book is aimed at two principal audiences: the information professionals who want to develop their knowledge and skills in order to manage metadata effectively, and managers who are faced with strategic decisions about adoption of IT applications that use metadata.

The intention of this book is to help specialists and professionals who manage information resources to become easily conversant with this important and rapidly developing area … including … library and information professionals who want to educate themselves about a core area of skills as part of their continuing professional development.

The bigger truth for me is that understanding metadata, really knowing how to develop and apply it, will ultimately allow me to address Aim 2 of the proposal, “Assist investigators in identifying and reporting information technology issues that have arisen in the implementation of the study that may be of use to others.”

The research project I’m working on involved the creation and implementation of a tracking system for collecting a great deal of data that is essential to determining the outcomes of the study. This process took place long before I became a part of the team, but what I’ve learned from questions and observation is that this part of the project took much more time, energy and effort than anyone originally anticipated. Conversations between the research team and the IT people building the system didn’t always go well, not because people didn’t get along or didn’t want to work together, but because they spoke different languages.

ENTER THE INFORMATIONIST! If I can become “easily conversant” in this area, if I can take on the role of interpreter between these two groups, then I will have a truly valuable and unique place on the team. So it behooves me to read and learn and absorb and practice – to become proficient in creating and managing metadata (and other aspects of information systems), because this is the area with the “vacant” sign hanging over it. Further, others on the researcher team are not looking for new roles. Neither are people in IT. Librarians are the ones seeking to redefine themselves. We are the profession looking for new ways to do (sometimes) old and (sometimes) new things. We are the profession not doing things we once did, thus we are the profession with the opportunity to explore some new and different things. The others in this mix are not in the same place we are. In other words, they don’t have this great opportunity that we have right now.

However, there is a real need for our profession to step up and do this now. There is a good reason to say that we are experts in metadata, even if we aren’t, and it goes back to something I typed earlier, “The fact that no one is really all that clear about it in the first place allows us to do this.” No one yet knows who or what an informationist really is. No one is all that sure what a data specialist or a data librarian does. As we’re not sure what the role is, we’re not sure the qualifications we’re looking for when we’re seeking to fill such a position. This became really clear to me earlier in the week when I saw a couple of advertisements for job openings in this area. See for yourself. Do a quick search of job descriptions and job postings for this field. You’ll quickly find that there exists no one (or two or three or six) name for the job. There is no one entity where these job openings arise (some come from libraries, some from research centers, some from the private sector). And most notably to me, there is no one set of qualifications – not even one degree – that is required to fill the positions. Postings require everything from a BS to a PhD.

It is this last part that really got me to thinking about – made me really aware of – how wide-open this entire field is.  A recent posting for a Data Management Specialist by Johns Hopkins University states that the qualified candidate will have a Masters of Science in Engineering or Library Science. It wasn’t the first time that I’ve seen this particular coupling, but for some reason this time it struck me and I thought… My brother has a graduate degree in engineering. I have one in library science. What in the world did we ever learn in our schooling that’s similar?! What skills do we mutually possess?

Answer: Zippo! Though to be fair, my brother’s degree is in civil engineering, not computer science, the type of engineering degree I presume JHU means.

But this thought led me to spend a bit of time looking at the requirements of these degree programs. I chose a school that offers both degrees – my own alma mater, Syracuse University. SU is a national leader among information schools and they’ve also recently initiated a certificate of advanced studies program in data science, likely the closest we come in librarianship to computer science. I determined, in my non-scientific way, that it was a suitable choice.

In a nutshell, an MS LIS from Syracuse University requires completion of the following core classes:

Introductory Core

  • Intro to the Library & Information Profession
  • Information & Information Environments

Information Resources Core

  • Reference and Information Literacy Services
  • Library Planning, Marketing, and Assessment
  • Information Resources: Organization and Access

Management and Policy Core

  • Management Principles for Info Professionals
  • Survey of Telecommunications & Info Policy

In addition to this, students can choose from a variety of electives, focusing their work in the areas of Information Services and Resources, Information Organization, Retrieval, and Access, or Information Systems Design and Management.

An MS in Engineering, Computer Science from SU requires these course as an introductory core:

  • Structured Programming and Formal Methods
  • Computer Architecture
  • Principles of Operating Systems
  • Design and Analysis of Algorithms

After this, students complete coursework in abstract mathematics, computer organization and programming systems, data structures, programming languages, and software specification, design, and implementation.

In my humble opinion, these two programs are apples and oranges, and the candidates coming out of them are apples and … humus. Or perhaps brothers and sisters.

HOWEVER, please don’t read this as me bemoaning our degree or saying we are much less prepared to work in a computer-heavy, technology-driven world than our engineering counterparts. That’s not what I see when I see a university like Johns Hopkins post a job opening that will accept applications from candidates with such disparate educational backgrounds. To the contrary, I see it is a sign that when it comes to this area of data management and data services that even a university like Johns Hopkins, a world-renowned research institution, doesn’t know what or who the heck it’s looking for to fill the role.

And so I’ll exclaim again, ENTER THE INFORMATIONIST! It’s “make it up as you go along” mode; “learn as you go” mode; it is, to borrow again from Johns Hopkins, “entrepreneurial library programs” mode.

My first supervisor in this profession, the now-retired Jim Comes, was often heard saying, “These are not challenges, these are opportunities.” I find myself hearing Jim’s words in my head a lot lately, a reminder that the challenge of facing a task that I don’t know how to do is actually an opportunity for me to learn something new. And so I’m going to read two books on metadata – in between reading about happiness, because I’m still stuck on that topic, too. 🙂

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Thankful for Differences

21 Nov

I was going to start off this post with “Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!”, but then remembered that posting on the Internet means that one has a worldwide audience  and as Thanksgiving is an American holiday, not everyone who reads and follows my “Librarian Hats” blog celebrates it. All that aside though, being thankful is a universal act and we can all pause and give thanks for family, friends, colleagues, professional growth, good food, and banjos. (I’m picking up my new banjo – an early Christmas present – this afternoon! My mind keeps wandering in that direction.) As for me, I’ve much to be thankful for, not the least of which is gratitude for the many people who have shared with me, over the past couple of months, how much you’ve enjoyed this blog. I really do appreciate that – I appreciate YOU!

I read a commentary in The Chronicle of Higher Education this morning that also brought to mind something to be thankful for in my profession and that is the fact that the leadership, namely the National Library of Medicine and the National Institutes of Health, sought to celebrate progressive, out-of-the-box thinking, when they opted to offer up the administrative supplement grants to place informationists in funded research projects. We are a profession that talks a lot about the need to do things differently, yet we more often stay stuck in traditional roles and services because we either (a) can’t think of how to rearrange things enough to do different things or (b) cannot financially support new endeavors. By providing some funding for the informationist projects, NLM gave librarians and library administrators some real support towards their pitch to researchers. We could say to them, “Here is a funded person to support your team.” Like it or not (and I personally don’t), money talks.

The piece from The Chronicle speaks to recognizing those in the classroom who think differently, who approach problems differently, and who may not be the best students, as measured by grades or other standardized measures.

Shortly after Sir John Gurdon won the Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine this year, a report circulated that had been written by one of his high-school biology teachers. The report lambasted the young scientist, stating: “Several times he has been in trouble, because he will not listen, but will insist on doing his work in his own way.” This perfectly illustrates how teachers can fail to recognize a new way of thinking. In our most obstinate moments, the mere suggestion that a student can do something contrary to the way we teach it and still become successful is inconceivable.

As librarians, we instruct people on how to use information “the right way”; “Search PubMed like this,” we say, “Impact factors are essential for determining the best journals,” we believe, “We MUST have a reference desk!!” we cry. And many times, we are correct. I’m not suggesting we’re in the post-modern world of learning where there are no rules nor best practices, but like Anne Sobel, I do believe that we too easily get trapped by and in our comfort zones. Not having the money or the time or the staff or the resources to do something different becomes an easy fall-back excuse against trying new things. These realities (and they are realities), can lull us into staying put while our relevance walks right out the door. Sometimes, maybe we need to look to troublemakers and say to them, “Go ahead, make some trouble.” If it turns into something new and useful and great for our libraries, we can celebrate. If it turns into trouble, we can say, “Let’s try something else.” No harm, no foul (Or in the case of Thanksgiving, “fowl”. ba da bing!)

I’m personally not much of a rule-breaker and I also think that we’ve nurtured a generation of young people who believe that they’re geniuses because they’ve heard that they’re special from the day they were born. Not everyone is gifted, nor is everything we ever try a brilliant move. When Sobel states that an overactive mind may be a sign of gifted-ness or genius, my first instinct is to snort and think, “Or much more likely, just someone who never learned the discipline of paying attention.” Still, I appreciate the salient point of her piece, that “one remarkable student with progressive ideas can elevate an entire class.” 

Remarkable or not, let’s give thanks for the individuals in our profession who think differently and for the institutions, administrators and leaders who support them. When we work in a field driven by information and technology, and a world of continuing change, to do otherwise is to set ourselves up for a long road of frustrations and not much to be thankful for.

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