silveradept: A head shot of a  librarian in a floral print shirt wearing goggles with text squiggles on them, holding a pencil. (Librarian Goggles)
[It's December Days time! There's no overarching theme this year, so if you have ideas of things to write about, I'm more than happy to hear them.]

collection_name = gets.chomp

books = Array.new

Book.where(collection: collection_name).find_each do |book|
books.push
end


weed_candidates = Array.new

books.each do |book|

if book.type == fiction && book.publication_date <= 2.years_ago && (book.circ_ytd < 4 || book.circ_lastyear < 4), weed_candidates.push
end

if book.type == nonfiction && book.publication_date <= 5.years_ago && (book.circ_ytd < 4 || book.circ_lastyear < 4 || (book.circ_lifetime / (Time.now.year - book.publication_date.year)) < 4),
weed_candidates.push
end

end

After that, it requires a certain amount of human intervention, looking at condition of the material, whether it has friends in a series that are going well, whether it's an award-winner (which doesn't necessarily save it from its fate) and so forth. There's also some looking on things that escape this algorithm to catch the things that are circulating but in bad condition or that have circulated sufficiently that they may need replacement copies. But that's the basic way that I handle making decisions about which books are to be considered for dismissal based on their circulation. Other material types have different baselines, but the idea is the same.

A thing we always have to remember is that the computer can make suggestions, but the humans always have the final day on whether something stays or goes. Always.
silveradept: A dragon librarian, wearing a floral print shirt and pince-nez glasses, carrying a book in the left paw. Red and white. (Dragon Librarian)
[It's December Days time! There's no overarching theme this year, so if you have ideas of things to write about, I'm more than happy to hear them.]

If I haven't mentioned it yet, I detest reading level systems like Accelerated Reader and Lexile, when they're not being used strictly as assessment tools. The general purpose of these systems is to assign, based on length, complexity, and density of text, a numerical score to any given work of prose. The higher the score, the more complex the text is, generally speaking. There's also a framework around the scores set so that each major division of score (single point for AR, 100 points for Lexile) roughly corresponds to what the average child of a given grade level can read. So a 3.0 AR score or a means a child entering third grade should be able to read the work without trouble. (Lexile explicitly disclaims this use, saying their system is just for classification, but providing what they consider to be the ranges of the 25th-75th percentiles for each grade level.)

As an assessment result, it's probably helpful for seeing who is reading at grade level and how far behind some percentage is. That way, those who need it can get extra instruction on reading in an attempt to bring them up to level. (Only for many of those behind to get struck by another Summer slide - enrichment and practice and books are often in short supply where they are needed most.)

One of the things that fosters enjoyment of reading and the commensurate amount of practice with text it takes to become fluent and able to read well is free choice of books. Being able to select materials according to interest, enjoyment, and format ensures that a reader has the best chance of a positive experience with books. Especially nonfiction text - interest trumps just about anything when it comes to learning facts, figures, statistics, and so forth.

There are fewer things more effective at killing someone's interest in reading than to tell them they can only read materials within a restricted range. And yet, that's what these systems are used to do in the service of reading practice when implemented poorly.

They are all implemented poorly, whether by teaching to tests that are supposed to reward comprehension, or by restricting reading, or by the very act of taking a complex child and their relationships to text and reducing it to a single number, one that can be posted for their peers to see and pass judgment on. Or for the teachers to pass judgment on.

How horrible it is that we take the act of acquiring knowledge and stories and reduce it down until we have distilled all of the fun out of it and eliminated any desire for someone to do it on their own.
silveradept: A head shot of a  librarian in a floral print shirt wearing goggles with text squiggles on them, holding a pencil. (Librarian Goggles)
[It's December Days time! There's no overarching theme this year, so if you have ideas of things to write about, I'm more than happy to hear them.]

In case you were wondering, this is the life cycle of materials for many library systems. It doesn't quite have as much visual imagery as your nature documentary, but it is hopefully interesting.

Materials start with a purchase order or decision from the librarian in charge of the collection the materials will end up in. In larger libraries, these selection duties may be divided up among multiple librarians. In smaller libraries and in school libraries, selection is often the provenance of one person and their often-underfunded budget. The selector has to be pretty widely read on which materials their community would want to have in their library. The exponential growth of publishing, both online and in print, makes total knowledge a near impossibility, and the people that suffer the most are usually independent presses and publishers and authors, because their works do not always appear in the review publications used as a time-saver, and because those places are also not often in the databases of the large companies that help libraries do the work of buying and preparing their materials.

Each item that has been selected, once bought, will need to have an appropriate record created for it in the library's catalog. Original cataloging these days is mostly farmed out to companies like OCLC, and records (almost always in the MAchine Readable Cataloging format (MARC)) are purchased from them so that there can be mass importation of the new items into the catalog, once each item has the unique barcode attached. So, items bought from distributors, records bought from the same. Each item will need to be prepared with a spine label indicating the call number for the item, any additional information, like genre, attached to the spine, and then a barcode attached. This work is often done by hand, which can sometimes serve as a first quality check on the materials.

Once cataloged and prepared, items can be circulated, and are usually distributed first to fill requests made by users for the item when there was a record, but no items. After the initial flurry of requests, items eventually settle into the locations where they have been assigned, to be requested and sent around or checked it at their leisure. It's usually at this step - checking in for requests and the shelves - that I actually see materials in my branch. More often than not, new things go to a particular shelf or display to try and catch the eye of novelty-seekers for a quick checkout, or they join a thematic display to catch the eye of someone interested in a particular thing. After they've spent time as the new hotness, most material then settles down for the rest of its life in the proper place on the regular shelves, arranged on the order prescribed for its material type. Popular things get checked out repeatedly, sometimes not having a lot of time on the shelf before going out again, at least while they remain popular.

Some of our materials suffer wounds from usage, both intended and not, at this stage. Some things can be patched, other damage isn't enough to pull the object, and some of our materials remain popular enough that the sheer volume of usage ages and harms them. More than a few of the initial run of any given title suffer fatal damage, whether all at once or over time. Some of the genius involved in selection is knowing how much attrition there will be and allowing it to happen such that the amount of copies that are left after the wave is exactly the right amount that was desired for the long-term.

Those that are not sacrificed at the maw of the public in their desire are then subjected to the back side of the life cycle of the material - deaccession, or more informally, weeding. Every library has a limited space available for its materials. Only, perhaps, the Library of Congress would have sufficient space and mandate to house every work produced. To make room for the new things that will be coming, old things and unpopular things must make way. Not everything that is old or unpopular will be sent off - the "classics" are often spared such a fate, until a new edition with a different cover arrives as an attempt to be attractive to the current audience. Items with relevance and information that is unlikely to change may be kept on for years, even if they only go out on school assignment times. But the majority of things will eventually fade away from popularity, and will not turn out to be classic works, and ask they will effectually be caught in the weeding process and removed from the shelves. Depending on the policy and the material type, some things are recycled, others are sent onward to a Friends of the Library sale, and still others are sent to a surplus warehouse, where they are often resold on Amazon or other websites and eventually become part of someone else's collection until their eventual inability to be used any more.

Sometimes certain books get reordered for another to in a new copy, but for some books, that stint is the only time they will sit on a library shelf. The constant pressure of new materials always beckons and demands that only that which is either really good or really popular stay.
silveradept: A head shot of a  librarian in a floral print shirt wearing goggles with text squiggles on them, holding a pencil. (Librarian Goggles)
[It's December Days time! There's no overarching theme this year, so if you have ideas of things to write about, I'm more than happy to hear them.]

The title is part of how I would translate the special skills of librarianship into some sort of role-playing game.

Also known as "the librarian is a freaking expert, listen to them." Not just because every full-qualifications librarian has at least two degrees, but the average librarian has seen and responded to queries that are weirder than what you would think of as weird. Yes, weirder than that. Yes, that too.

[personal profile] jenett has a tag that indicates the true nature of the librarian, a nature that only Night Vale has come close to scratching the surface of - Secret Masters of the Universe. (No relation, as best I can tell, to the cartoon starring Prince Adam, nor to the fanfiction that would eventually become Fifty Shades of Grey.) Libraries and archives and museums are the outward manifestations of our abilities, but the real magic is in the people themselves.

In the era of big data aggregating everything it can about you so as to more effectively predict your behavior, usually as a consumer, but also as an activist, political figure, or person of interest, it seems like machine learning and algorithm can create a profile of you that knows you far too well for your own liking. Those systems fail, of course, on a regular basis by suggesting inappropriate things, or by placing you on a list that restricts your movement without your knowledge or without the ability to appeal. Or, more chillingly, it cheerily exposes secrets of yours without your consent or knowledge, often by data breach. Your public library may be one of the few places where you can talk to humans about preferences and be assured that they will not be fed into some sort of corporate or governmental database. We keep a minimal amount of requestable records at all times.

Beyond that, librarians are skilled at human-computer interactions, which allow us to leverage a bevy of tools and materials to assist you in your information requests, and with much less risk of running into fake news, unsubstantiated rumor, opinion masquerading as fact, and paywalls as one might with general Internet access. Undergirding data at large are classification systems, indexes, catalogs, taxonomies, and finding aids. Metadata webs, triples, annotations, and other ways of making meaning out of the sea of possibilities. We know about them, and therefore can use them to produce what you are looking for, often at higher quality and speed than you will spend looking for it yourself. And we're willing to teach you how it's all done, if you like.

And that's before we get into the part where we're often better than the algorithms about what kinds of materials you might enjoy after you finish your current crop.

And there's also the programming, where we're giving teenagers space to grow into themselves and pursue their interests, telling students that it's okay to crush gender stereotype, or to tell gender to go get fucked.

And there's also the part where librarians are likely responsible for helping you get to literacy, through evidence-based Story Times and other options that teach language, script, and other important aspects of communication to the very smallest.

And in between all of those things, we also check out, buy, maintain, and refresh our collections to make sure they're appealing and relevant.

Librarians are experts at so many things that are invisible infrastructure. Cross them, or remove them, at the peril of seeing how much they actually did for your community.

Profile

silveradept: A kodama with a trombone. The trombone is playing music, even though it is held in a rest position (Default)
Silver Adept

April 2025

S M T W T F S
   12345
6789101112
131415 16171819
20212223242526
27282930   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Apr. 23rd, 2025 08:14 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios