AcadEmi

I couldn’t resist the cheesy pun for my title.  Feeling slightly ashamed, I was curious about how many had used it before me, so I googled the phrase and came up with a Wikipedia article about the real quote.  This was hardly surprising, given the ubiquity of Wikipedia in Google results lists, but it was appropriate: Wikipedia, like puns, frequently leaves a sense of inevitability and mild shame in those who indulge.

I find Wikipedia simultaneously maddening and fascinating, guilty and glorious, a dichotomous reaction probably shared by most of its users.  Information couldn’t be more accessible; on the other hand, it often couldn’t be less authoritative, at least in the early days.  But beyond the ease of use and need for corroboration, Wikipedia is appealingly postmodern.  In its purest form, the wiki abolishes the mirage of authority: why shouldn’t we all have a vote in what constitutes knowledge?  Who better to compile human knowledge than…all humanity? 

If I could fully embrace post-modernism, I suppose I’d stop feeling frustrated with Wikipedia.  But we aspiring librarians are understood to be rather a pragmatic bunch, and I wonder how many of us could ever stop believing in concrete, underlying truth: some explanations are overly simplistic, some answers are simply wrong.  And it’s a good thing, too.  I pity the patron who encounters a post-modernist reference librarian. 

Although I have observed plenty of errors in Wikipedia, I’ve never been able to bring myself to make an edit.  Thinking it would be a useful exercise to demonstrate my respect for the democratization of knowledge, I determined that I would try my own edit before writing this entry.  So did I conquer my wiki fear?  Alas, no - I came, I saw, I wimped out. 

When it comes down to it, I suppose I’m more comfortable reflecting knowledge that has been authoritatively compiled by others.  A nagging voice of doubt underscores my belief in facts, even when I know I know.  Today I claimed in passing that Schumacher used to race for Ferrari.  I knew my claim was true: I have an F1-obsessed, German boyfriend and I know way more about Schumacher than my curiosity could ever have required.  But when somebody expressed doubt, I immediately began questioning myself.  So perhaps I’m more postmodern than I thought.  Perhaps the key to Wikipedia is postmodern readers and old-school editors.  Perhaps I’d never make it as a reference librarian.  Perhaps the reference desk and Wikipedia will always be at ideological odds.  But I’ll bet even reference librarians succumb to the ease of Wikipedia once in a while, if only during off-hours.

Upon learning a new online research skill or technology, I always feel a shade of embarrassment at the lengths I had previously taken to avoid acquiring it. Why had I expected podcasts to be daunting, when I took for granted the ease with which so many other Internet goals could be accomplished? My first experience of podcasts – to my knowledge, anyway, for I now recognize that I may have been using them all along without realizing it – was typical. My mother emailed me about an NPR segment on the mysterious bee disappearance, and offered to download it to her ipod for me. Naturally the experience didn’t differ much from listening to the same segment on the radio, and this was my first hint that podcasts were perhaps less intimidating than I had assumed.

Bolstered by the growing realization that I had again been rather silly, I set out to find podcasts related to academic libraries. Having so little experience with podcasts, I hadn’t really foreseen how they could be useful for librarians, besides providing a way to broadcast book readings to those who couldn’t attend in person. I quickly found a podcast of Chris Kretz’s address to the HigherEd BlogCon in 2006 that changed my mind, however. In it, Kretz discussed Omnibus, the podcast program he had created for Dowling College. He described the program as a way to create a unique voice that served as a continuing conversation between the library and the college, as well as the larger community. When he mentioned that he had patterned it after This American Life, I became especially intrigued – I’ve always had a weakness for stories. In addition to discussing the niche his podcast filled at the library, Kretz remarked on many of the practical aspects of podcasting, including getting guests beyond their fears of public speaking and how easily podcasting can be accomplished with some very basic equipment. Kretz also noted that his podcasts were a way to physically lure the people he interviewed into the library.

Next, I listened to a couple of podcasts of Omnibus itself. Kretz’s debut program aired in October of 2005 and is perfectly comprehensible, although he has worked continually to improve the audio since then. In this first podcast, he strove to create a balanced program in three parts that reflected his various goals: a segment on technology held practical value for college students, while a segment about a woman working to help victims of Hurricane Katrina drew in the larger community. The final segment, which Kretz described as a ‘primary source theater,’ was especially intriguing. In this, various voices read from documents in the library’s special collection about Idlehour mansion, built by Vanderbilts and now part of Dowling’s campus. By highlighting a piece of local history in a unique way, Kretz hoped to draw curious people into the library and its archives. Kretz’s format struck me as particularly appealing and well adapted to both the technology and his community.

And yes, for those of you keeping track – that’s three NPR allusions and two mentions of my mother over the course of two posts. I promise to get some new reference points for the next one.