The first article I read this week was A Discipline-Based Approach to Information Literacy by Ann Grafstein. Grafstein argues that information literacy instruction is the responsibility of both librarians and faculty members, and that their roles are complementary in teaching students "both knowledge about the subject-specific content and research practices of particular disciplines, as well as the broader, process-based principles of research and information retrieval that apply generally across disciplines." This seemed like a strong point to me, particularly as it relates to my own field of law librarianship. The principles of searching for information can be applied broadly, but applying those principles to searching for cases, statutes, law review articles, etc. in legal databases like Lexis and Westlaw is a skill that is almost exclusively taught in law schools. Librarians have the responsibility for teaching those strategies, but faculty members have to model good strategies in the classroom when they're relevant, and should take advantage of "teaching moments" when they appear.
This collaborative approach was discussed in its practical application in On Solid Legal Ground: Bringing Information Literacy to Undergraduate-Level Law Courses by Kenneth H. Ryesky. This piece had what I considered the most ambitious proposals for information literacy instruction. Ryesky not only supports the collaboration between librarians and instructors to maximize students' information literacy development, but also proposes introducing students to legal information search and retrieval strategies in undergraduate-level law courses. Since it's widely accepted among law faculty that students come to their 1L year with little to no knowledge of research strategies that are specific to the study of law, the idea of an incoming class with students who already know their way around Lexis and Westlaw is a little mind-boggling.
Ryesky acknowledges potential problems with his proposal, including the unique citation conventions of legal writing and the lack of standardized pre-law curricula. Although he mentions plenty of other issues as well, these two really stuck with me. Legal citation is tough, requiring strict adherence to a set of standardized formats, commonly the ones from the Blue Book. The average 1L spends many hours struggling with case, statute, and law review citations, and many of them shed a few frustrated tears as they struggle through it. I actually think that forcing undergraduates to grapple with legal citations would cut down on the number of law school applicants pretty significantly, since it's one of the most technical and least rewarding aspects of the first year of law school. That might not be a bad thing; it would be an opportunity to weed out potential law students who would not ultimately enjoy or succeed in studying law.
The lack of standardized curricula could likewise be a problem, although it's possible that increasing information literacy instruction related to law would help to standardize pre-law coursework. As of now, there is no requirement for pre-law education; law students come from disciplines ranging from engineering to English to medicine to anthropology. If students with a designated pre-law background really came to law school with some information literacy already established by their undergraduate coursework, those students would have a clear advantage, and I think that pre-law programs would quickly become more desirable for aspiring lawyers.
Ryesky also presents his own practical approach to implementing information literacy instruction in his undergraduate business law courses. It's helpful and interesting to see how an instructor's approach to information literacy can complement the instruction provided by an academic law library.
Finally, I read Information Literacy Plans: Does Your Law Library Need One? by Judith Gire, which specifically addresses information literacy in the academic law library. This short article made some excellent points about the value of an information literacy plan, including some of the positive outcomes that the law librarians experienced as a result of their plan: greater faculty participation in information literacy education for students, easier program planning for legal research instruction, and (the original motivation for the creation of an information literacy plan in this law library) compliance with accreditation requirements. As a sidenote, I think it's interesting that an accrediting body would require an information literacy plan, and wonder whether that will become a widespread requirement in coming years.
Gire's article also laid out a very practical plan for creating an information literacy plan, and is frank about the lack of available resources for information literacy planning in academic law libraries. I like this article very much, and could see myself returning to it as a resource when I begin my own career as a law librarian.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Week 2 Reading Reflection
The issue of instruction in various mediums is one that's of great interest to me. For almost 10 years, I've been involved in the standardized test prep industry in different roles. I've taught and tutored in person and created curricula, and in the past couple of years I've also been involved with an online test prep start-up that has been experimenting with different modes of teaching. It's this last endeavor that I thought of as I reviewed this week's readings.
The online start-up began by providing students access to an interactive "game" in which they solved mock questions from their chosen exam either alone or in a group. There is a chat function that allows for discussion as the students proceed through the questions, and "badges" for achievement provide motivation. The company soon branched out into online seminars taught live by teachers, using the same chat function, and eventually incorporated Skype into tutoring sessions as well. Now they've progressed to offering live classes taught by an on-camera instructor. Although the online games are still offered, they are no longer the focal point of the company, and I think that's a shame.
The online format allowed for a kind of hands-on learning that's often absent in test prep, but because students were unfamiliar with it, feedback on the company's offerings (consistent with the Evaluate step from ADDIE) led to the gradual move toward the more conventional aesthetic of a teacher in front of a whiteboard; the only difference between this model and normal classroom-based test prep is that the internet aspect allows the classes to reach a much greater number of students. While students in the early days of the company's launch often requested FAQs or tutorials on how to use the site, administrators chose to forgo any kind of instruction along those lines, citing the constant evolution of the games' aesthetic and functionality as a barrier to providing up-to-date tools for learning how to navigate the games and the site as a whole. They maintained that the constant revision required for FAQs or tutorials would be too great of a burden. As a result, interest in the games plateaued and in order to remain competitive, the company had to shift its focus from collaborative, self-paced games to instruction-based learning.
I think that this kind of scenario is the perfect application for screencasts and online tutorials, and is also really illustrative of the possible consequences of not incorporating those technologies. The use of internet learning tools can provide a huge boon to budget-constrained libraries, but patrons won't take advantage of those tools if they're not made intellectually accessible to them. Even if the subject of a tutorial is frequently updated, requiring that the tutorial itself be monitored and updated in response, this is still more cost-effective than conventional live instruction. As future librarians, we need to consider not only the programs and tools we offer to our users, but also the ways in which we can make those programs and tools easily comprehensible and maximize their value.
The online start-up began by providing students access to an interactive "game" in which they solved mock questions from their chosen exam either alone or in a group. There is a chat function that allows for discussion as the students proceed through the questions, and "badges" for achievement provide motivation. The company soon branched out into online seminars taught live by teachers, using the same chat function, and eventually incorporated Skype into tutoring sessions as well. Now they've progressed to offering live classes taught by an on-camera instructor. Although the online games are still offered, they are no longer the focal point of the company, and I think that's a shame.
The online format allowed for a kind of hands-on learning that's often absent in test prep, but because students were unfamiliar with it, feedback on the company's offerings (consistent with the Evaluate step from ADDIE) led to the gradual move toward the more conventional aesthetic of a teacher in front of a whiteboard; the only difference between this model and normal classroom-based test prep is that the internet aspect allows the classes to reach a much greater number of students. While students in the early days of the company's launch often requested FAQs or tutorials on how to use the site, administrators chose to forgo any kind of instruction along those lines, citing the constant evolution of the games' aesthetic and functionality as a barrier to providing up-to-date tools for learning how to navigate the games and the site as a whole. They maintained that the constant revision required for FAQs or tutorials would be too great of a burden. As a result, interest in the games plateaued and in order to remain competitive, the company had to shift its focus from collaborative, self-paced games to instruction-based learning.
I think that this kind of scenario is the perfect application for screencasts and online tutorials, and is also really illustrative of the possible consequences of not incorporating those technologies. The use of internet learning tools can provide a huge boon to budget-constrained libraries, but patrons won't take advantage of those tools if they're not made intellectually accessible to them. Even if the subject of a tutorial is frequently updated, requiring that the tutorial itself be monitored and updated in response, this is still more cost-effective than conventional live instruction. As future librarians, we need to consider not only the programs and tools we offer to our users, but also the ways in which we can make those programs and tools easily comprehensible and maximize their value.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Week 1 Reading Reflection
Chapter 1
Since I've only completed one semester at SI, my tendency when I read chapter 1 was to evaluate it in the context of my experience as a law student prior to coming to SI. While most law schools have clinics in which students can get hands-on experience, the vast majority of legal education still follows the Socratic lecture method, even in small classes. The approach is pretty much the opposite of that advocated in our text: classes are lecture-based, there is a great deal of pressure to memorize and spit out information on the spot, and most courses base the entire semester's grade on one final exam. There is no opportunity for students or the instructor to evaluate how well the material is being understood during the semester; law school is a high-stress, low-retention experience, particularly in the beginning. Based on these factors, one might assume that legal education fails to do what it has set out to do: create competent lawyers.
However, I think it's worthwhile to reframe the evaluation. A point in chapter 1 that I found particularly interesting was the idea of pre-existing knowledge and its implications for education. Most legal professionals will admit that they learned the real skills of lawyering during their early years as practicing attorneys. While this sink-or-swim approach can be nerve-wracking for young associates, it actually DOES address most of the key findings discussed in the text. Because attorneys must pass the bar exam to practice in a state, senior lawyers can assume that the associates working below and learning from them have a minimum level of knowledge. Attorneys must also have some idea how to contextualize and organize ideas; again, the law school experience and the bar exam weed out would-be practitioners who can't meet minimum standards. Once they're engaged in the actual practice of law, associates have hands-on, community-based learning experiences that provide them with frequent opportunities for evaluation and growth. Therefore, I think it's valuable to view law school as a means by which to attain a standard body of pre-existing knowledge with which to enter the REAL educational experience, which is the actual practice of law, ideally under the eye of a skilled mentor.
I know that this might seem a little off-topic, but my first reaction upon reading chapter 1 was that it was too narrow, and viewed certain teaching and learning practices that are sufficient for understanding as necessary. To put it plainly, I didn't agree with the book, because my experience as a law student incorporated very few of the things that the text deems important, and yet I consider myself well-educated on the legal issues I've studied. By viewing education as more than just the classroom experience, and incorporating into it the "apprenticeship" phase of a legal career, I was able to reconcile the values from the book with my own education.
Chapter 2
I enjoyed this chapter a lot more than I did chapter 1; the discussion of novices versus experts was interesting and articulated some of the things that I've observed about teaching and learning. Over the past nine years, I've done a lot of work in the standardized test prep industry. It's a very specific kind of teaching, and it tends to focus on concepts that aren't necessarily helpful in a broad educational context, but accomplish the goal of improving one's test scores. This chapter made me think about the different kinds of students I've worked with; I've often been able to predict who would perform well on a test based on classroom interactions, and I think that has a lot to do with the students' fluent retrieval of information and their adaptive expertise. I really liked the metaphor about driving; it's one I've often used the explain how the steps for solving a particular problem would ideally become automatic and fluid.
One issue in this chapter that gave me pause was the idea of the artisan versus the virtuoso. I think it's implicit in the phrasing of the discussion that the virtuoso is the superior learner. But viewed in a real world context, virtuosity is not always preferable. If I order a spicy tuna roll, I don't actually want the sushi chef to use my order as a "point for departure and exploration": I want him to make me a spicy tuna roll, and I want him to do it quickly and skillfully. Similarly, a software designer who is a virtuoso might create a more interesting program that would fulfill a client's needs, but if he's charging by the hour, the client might prefer the artisan's approach to simply delivering what the client requested. I do agree that virtuosos are better learners and as intelligent, creative people, probably have a great deal to offer. I think it's important, though, to note that outside of an educational arena, artisans are just as valuable.
Core Competencies
The American Association of Law Libraries has only four general core competencies: 1) Reference and Research Services; 2) Library Management; 3) Collection Management; 4) Organization and Classification. I think that all of them are important; my experience in the reference department of the UM Law Library has especially driven home the value of the first and second competencies, which I see frequently. However, reflecting on the text, it seems noteworthy to me that there's no emphasis at all on instructional skills as a core competency. This is especially interesting because I keep an eye on the job postings in my field, and I've noticed that many of them ask for a librarian who can teach legal research and writing. Considering that law libraries are looking for librarians with teaching skills, the AALL might well want to revise its core competencies to include that skill.
Since I've only completed one semester at SI, my tendency when I read chapter 1 was to evaluate it in the context of my experience as a law student prior to coming to SI. While most law schools have clinics in which students can get hands-on experience, the vast majority of legal education still follows the Socratic lecture method, even in small classes. The approach is pretty much the opposite of that advocated in our text: classes are lecture-based, there is a great deal of pressure to memorize and spit out information on the spot, and most courses base the entire semester's grade on one final exam. There is no opportunity for students or the instructor to evaluate how well the material is being understood during the semester; law school is a high-stress, low-retention experience, particularly in the beginning. Based on these factors, one might assume that legal education fails to do what it has set out to do: create competent lawyers.
However, I think it's worthwhile to reframe the evaluation. A point in chapter 1 that I found particularly interesting was the idea of pre-existing knowledge and its implications for education. Most legal professionals will admit that they learned the real skills of lawyering during their early years as practicing attorneys. While this sink-or-swim approach can be nerve-wracking for young associates, it actually DOES address most of the key findings discussed in the text. Because attorneys must pass the bar exam to practice in a state, senior lawyers can assume that the associates working below and learning from them have a minimum level of knowledge. Attorneys must also have some idea how to contextualize and organize ideas; again, the law school experience and the bar exam weed out would-be practitioners who can't meet minimum standards. Once they're engaged in the actual practice of law, associates have hands-on, community-based learning experiences that provide them with frequent opportunities for evaluation and growth. Therefore, I think it's valuable to view law school as a means by which to attain a standard body of pre-existing knowledge with which to enter the REAL educational experience, which is the actual practice of law, ideally under the eye of a skilled mentor.
I know that this might seem a little off-topic, but my first reaction upon reading chapter 1 was that it was too narrow, and viewed certain teaching and learning practices that are sufficient for understanding as necessary. To put it plainly, I didn't agree with the book, because my experience as a law student incorporated very few of the things that the text deems important, and yet I consider myself well-educated on the legal issues I've studied. By viewing education as more than just the classroom experience, and incorporating into it the "apprenticeship" phase of a legal career, I was able to reconcile the values from the book with my own education.
Chapter 2
I enjoyed this chapter a lot more than I did chapter 1; the discussion of novices versus experts was interesting and articulated some of the things that I've observed about teaching and learning. Over the past nine years, I've done a lot of work in the standardized test prep industry. It's a very specific kind of teaching, and it tends to focus on concepts that aren't necessarily helpful in a broad educational context, but accomplish the goal of improving one's test scores. This chapter made me think about the different kinds of students I've worked with; I've often been able to predict who would perform well on a test based on classroom interactions, and I think that has a lot to do with the students' fluent retrieval of information and their adaptive expertise. I really liked the metaphor about driving; it's one I've often used the explain how the steps for solving a particular problem would ideally become automatic and fluid.
One issue in this chapter that gave me pause was the idea of the artisan versus the virtuoso. I think it's implicit in the phrasing of the discussion that the virtuoso is the superior learner. But viewed in a real world context, virtuosity is not always preferable. If I order a spicy tuna roll, I don't actually want the sushi chef to use my order as a "point for departure and exploration": I want him to make me a spicy tuna roll, and I want him to do it quickly and skillfully. Similarly, a software designer who is a virtuoso might create a more interesting program that would fulfill a client's needs, but if he's charging by the hour, the client might prefer the artisan's approach to simply delivering what the client requested. I do agree that virtuosos are better learners and as intelligent, creative people, probably have a great deal to offer. I think it's important, though, to note that outside of an educational arena, artisans are just as valuable.
Core Competencies
The American Association of Law Libraries has only four general core competencies: 1) Reference and Research Services; 2) Library Management; 3) Collection Management; 4) Organization and Classification. I think that all of them are important; my experience in the reference department of the UM Law Library has especially driven home the value of the first and second competencies, which I see frequently. However, reflecting on the text, it seems noteworthy to me that there's no emphasis at all on instructional skills as a core competency. This is especially interesting because I keep an eye on the job postings in my field, and I've noticed that many of them ask for a librarian who can teach legal research and writing. Considering that law libraries are looking for librarians with teaching skills, the AALL might well want to revise its core competencies to include that skill.
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