One Small Thing

I had an instruction session this week. Just one. It may not sound like that big of a deal, but it was one of the best sessions I've ever had.

I don't do nearly as much instruction as I did at Ye Olde University. Why? A bunch of reasons. But what I do little of is general instruction, and by that I mean a general intro to the library for a lower-level class. And after working with upper-level students who are in the thick of their majors, working with freshman and sophomores can be though.

I wasn't supposed to teach this class. It fell in my lap because the person who normally would've taken it was on sabbatical and his back-up was at a conference. It was easier for me to take it than to find someone else to.

So, I grumbled and mumbled and got ready. It was on a topic I didn't know much about, so it forced me to think outside my normal search mode. I began to develop a game plan. But just thinking about the basic, this-is-a-database, this-is-the-catalog crap just made me sad. I wasn't looking forward to it.

In the midst of all this, I had to meet with a consultant brought in to talk about this, that, and whatever. Also not something I was looking forward to. But you know what? It was awesome. She was a English professor who had worked closely with the librarians at her university and was very interested in the ERIAL (Ethnographic in Research Illinois Academic Libraries) Project. This lead to a broader discussion about the difference between information literacy and academic literacy and the role of the library in both. She talked about what she learned from the librarians she worked with. When she teaches students how to research, she starts in Google, because that is where her students start.

I'd heard this before, but had never really thought about it. And while I usually do instruction sessions totally off the cuff, doing something new without planning is weird, and it can be a complete disaster. But really, is starting an instruction session in Google really all that weird? No. But some professors would scoff at it, because, you know, it's Google.

When I walked into the instruction session I told the instructor I wanted to try something new--I wanted to start in Google and go from there. Her response: "I love it. It's organic."

In fifty minutes, I talked about developing a thesis statement and how we had people in the library to help them work through this stage. Then I started searching in Google. We evaluated sites. We went to the Wikipedia. We did an advanced search. I showed them the page I created for their class. I showed them the databases, the catalog, our consortia catalog, and how to use one book or article to find others on a similar topic. We ended in Google Scholar where I showed them how to find sources they find there in the library's databases and print collections. And along the way, everything lined up and one search led to something else that turned into something else.

One small change in my normal process changed the entire course. The students paid attention and they took notes. I felt like I had made a difference by giving them a teeny intro into research and how not only how to find things they needed but how to interpret what they need.

And it was awesome.

What's Making Me Happy This Week

Stealing this from both the Pop Culture Happy Hour and Mary.

Mad Men. If you aren't watching this, you are missing out on some of the best television on TV right now. And before you say something stupid like, "Given what's on TV right now, that's not saying much," let me just say this: Shut up. This season of Mad Men, each show has been better than the last. Also, if you are watching it and not following the discussion over at Slate's TV Club, please start.

This Post on NPR: Wanted: Mavericks and Missionaries to Solve Mississippi's MD Shortage. I went to the Mississippi coast a few months after Hurricane Katrine hit Mississippi and Louisiana. After seeing that, I decided to donate money instead of buying presents for my family. I looked at what people lost and thought, "We have everything. We need nothing." I sent money to the Mississippi Library Commission, a children's center on the coast, and an organization for volunteer fireman. The reaction from my family was so great, I did it again the next year. The next year I sent a check to a Jonestown, Mississippi health clinic. Why? After seeing the documentary short Bodies and Souls at my local film festival, I had the same feeling I had after seeing the MS coast after Katrina: We don't need anything. I put a check in a card, mailed it with a note saying it was sent in the name of my family. A few days after Christmas, I received a phone call from a doctor at a Mississippi Delta health clinic. He told me he wanted to thank me personally for the check I had sent. They didn't get a lot of support from the community. When he opened up my card, he had to leave the room in order to regain his composure. I was flabbergasted. My phone number wasn't listed. And while it probably wasn't too difficult to track me down, it still took some effort. But we talked for a bit. He told me he had grown up there but went to med school and had done his residency in the Midwest, but he was really happy to return to his home and help his community--much like those in this NPR story. This all happened almost six years ago. My mom sent a check to the same place last year and it was returned. I fear the clinic closed. Some days I question whether the clinic that received the check was the one featured in the film, as the doctor didn't seem to have any clue what I was talking about when I mentioned it. But you know what? I don't care. It went to an organization that needed it and it made a difference. Even now, I get a little choked up when I think about it.

Stephen Colbert's Speech at Time's 100 Most Influential Shindig. If you haven't read this yet, read it now. Thank me later. Best parts? Colbert's comments on the Koch brothers and Cardinal Dolan.

Vegetarian Pho Starter from Pacific Foods. I have no clue how this tastes, but I was happy to find it. I love pho. We have many pho places in town and I have my favorites. But sometimes I feel like throwing some rice noodles in some broth with tofu and veggies and having some pho. I found what I would call pho bouillon cubes at one of the local Asian grocery stores... but it's all in Vietnamese. I assume you just throw it in a pan with some water, but I've still never made it. So finding premade pho broth? This makes me happy.

Wonderwall

I hate the band Oasis. Seriously hate. Their songs are damn close to pure torture. And the all-around douchey-ness of the Gallagher brothers doesn't help. But what it comes down to is their whiney, nasally, god-awful horrible voices and those terrible songs that make me twitch.

Tonight I was at the grocery store and some dude was listening to Oasis' song Wonderwall. How do I know? Because the dude were listening to it on a speaker. There he was, pushing the grocery cart, listening to Oasis, turned up so everyone could hear it. It was like an ice pick to the ear drum.

At first I thought it was the musak. Then I realized it wasn't. I had to restrain myself from telling him that that song made me physically ill. And who the hell did he think he was to put all those around him through such horrible torture? Instead I just got what I needed and got away from him as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, everywhere I went, no matter how far away I got away from him, all I could hear was that damn song.

Cell Phone Talkers

I've been spending more time than usual at the reference desk lately. Long story why, and since that gets into work stuff, I won't get into it. But, if the fifteen hours I put in last week are any indication of the health of the reference desk, it is on its last breath. But, since libraries are the slowest thing to change (but not as slow as higher ed in general), our desk isn't going away anytime soon. I have mixed feelings about that. But that's not what this post is about. This post is about cell phone talkers.

Since I've been sitting at a counter, bored out of my mind, I have a lot of time to watch students on their cell phones. This is what I have seen over the last week:

Circle Walkers: They walk in repetitive circles while talking non stop. And they don't just walk in a circle in the middle of nowhere. They walk around something: A pole, a fountain, a desk. Whatever it is serves as the nucleus to their electron. I find these the most annoying... yet mesmerizing. 

Sulkers: They try to get out of the way, but they tend to sulk in corners that also serve as echo chambers.

Pacers: They just as annoying as circle walkers, but still not as mesmerizing. 

Leaners: They lean on counters, tables, etc. The world is their hangout space. To me, they are the cockiest of the cell phone talkers. 

Losters: They have no clue where they are or where they're supposed to be. They either wander aimlessly or stand in one place while looking in all directions. They're the ones who call someone and say. "Where are you? Me? I'm in the library. No, the library. By the, uh, let's see... ref-er-ence desk. By the computers. You are? Wave."

Stage Whisperers: They're the ones who whisper, louder than they would talk: "I'm in the library" or "I already told you I didn't love you anymore. Leave me alone. Stop crying."

Confessors: Thy call their doctor from the bus and talk, in a far too loud voice, about their health problems. 

Oversharers: Just that. They Overshare.

It's not uncommon for Stage Whisperers to also be a Confessor or an Oversharer. Confessors don't seem to realize what they're doing. Oversharers seem to do it to show those around them how popular/cool they are.

Actually, I would say that most people having public cell phone conversations to be more than one type of cell phone talker. 

Thing is, at some point, I have been all of these people, but I usually default to being either a Circle Walker or a Sulker. 

Something to Say

I'm in the mood to write. Thing is, I really don't have much to say. I just feel like writing. About nothing. I really don't live an exciting life, so I don't have much to write about. But who cares. It's my blog and I'll write if I want to.

I guess I'll write about my boring weekend:

I went to the farmer's market. It runs from April to December and yesterday was the first Saturday of the season. I got coffee from the coffee guy. I don't drink fancy coffee, but since it is the Pacific Northwest, black coffee is "drip, no room." So my coffee order is a 16 oz drip with no room. Sometimes it is a three-shot,16 oz Americano with no room. But drip is easier. Every Saturday, the coffee guy knows. When I'm not there for a couple of Saturdays, he always mentions it. Once, last year, I walked by on my out and he asked me to try a newer brew. "Be honest," he said, "your opinion is what we want." Thing is, I am not a coffee aficionado. I am kind of a coffee snob. But, mainly, I just want dark, strong coffee. That's it. And that batch? Too weak. And that's what I told him. Anyway, yesterday he told me he only remembers the orders of a few people and I am one of them. Remembering someone drinks drip coffee may not seem that special, but it probably stands out since the others around me are ordering latte, machiato, soy, steamed something or other coffee drinks. I told him that I was going to take all this to mean I was special instead of horribly, terribly predictable. But, my main point, is that the market means Ethiopian food for breakfast, strong coffee, bumping into friends and acquaintances, fresh vegetables, and if we're lucky, sun. There was lots of glorious sun. I came home with fresh brussel spouts, radishes, potatoes, kale, collards, and bread. I picked up some basil and asparagus at the co-op and made asparagus pesto salad. And holy fuck, it was amazing.

I read Nick Horby's Juliet, Naked. In, like, four hours. I love Nick Hornby. Did I ever mention I saw him read in Ye Olde College Town? In that effing bar where it seemed like anyone who was anyone played... but they were all ruined by the incessant talking of sorority girls. Why anyone would pay a cover to sit at a table, talk about their over-dramatic lives and ruin the evenings of others when they could do that for free anywhere else was always beyond me. Anyway, he was touring with the band Marah. He'd read a short story, usually revolving around music, and then Marah would play. It was one of my favorite music/book moments in Ye Old College Town. I love Nick Hornby. To me, he just gets it. He understands what is important to me and can express it in a way that just works. I can read one of his books in a few hours becuase 1) I get lost in them, and 2) they are easy to read. I think the only one of his books I haven't read is Fever Pitch. I want to.

Today, being Easter and me being a basic non-believer, I didn't have plans. I didn't go to the gym because I didn't know if it was open, and I didn't feel like making the effort to find out. I made pancakes (I loooooove this recipe). I listened to the most recent Pop Culture Happy Hour. I listen to this every Sunday morning while making breakfast (talk about being predictable). I love it. I love it because it is just up my alley: Over-analyzing pop culture. And getting into heated arguments about stupid shit. This week they talked about teen sex comedies, and part of this required defining teen sex comedy versus teen comedy versus raunch. But it also involved discussing the "high points" in history of teen sex comedies, why there aren't many made anymore (spoiler: because it's easy to find boobs on the internet), and what role teen sex comedies play in adolescence. And then there was a heated discussion about the best Easter candy. Seriously, people, if you are not listening to this podcast, you are missing out.

Because I didn't go to the gym, I went for a long walk. And the sun was out. For a second day in a row. I walked down to the waterfront park close to my place, wandered, got some coffee, sat and read, perused the newest yarn store in town, and then walked home.

I settled in for an afternoon of laziness and stupid movies, when I hear a high-pitched "eeeeeeee" followed by, "Fire Fire. Leave the building immediately." I knew that wasn't the alarm in my building, but I wasn't sure about the one next to me. I live in an older building, and I live next to an even older one. But it sounded like it was coming from the condos below me. I could see others outside their places, looking confused. After grabbing my keys while wondering if I should throw the cat in the carrier just in case, I went outside and found out it was indeed from one of the condos below. Looking outside, I could see them standing around. Judging by the lack of fire trucks and the nonchalant-ness of the people down there, it was probably burned food.

This whole thing was a bit unsettling since we had a big fire here a week ago. A boathouse in the marina, along with ten boats, went up in flames. It was called into 911 about 5:30 that morning. I was up just after 6:00am and could see the flames shooting into the air and the thick black smoke. Every so often I would see a bright flash. it was obvious that something extremely flammable, probably a gas-filled boat, had just burst into flames. Then there were news and Coast Guard helicopters flying low over the bay all morning. Tragically, the person who reported the fire, along with her husband, didn't survive. So, when I heard the alarm going off this afternoon, it was one of the first times in a long time--if ever--that my first thought wasn't, "Someone turn that damn alarm off, it's annoying." My first thought was to grab the cat and get the hell out.

And.... that's about it. See, I don't live an exciting life. But I'm okay with that. The older I get, I've found I appreciate my quiet, hermit-ish weekends and wish they could last longer. I think it's because I have a job where I have to interact with a lot of people. And having time just to myself is just, you know, nice. Plus, my favorite thing to do is whatever I want to. And usually what I want to do is something easy and lazy.

The Killing

So I watched the first half of the second-season premiere of The Killing. I only saw the second hour last week because I forgot it was a two-hour premiere.

I still have mixed feelings about this show. I want to like it. I loved it when it started. But then I began reading the recaps. Recaps can kill a show for me. The people recapping The Killing began pointing out the ridiculousness of many, if not most, of the plot points. I tried to watch the first hour but I kept thinking about the things that didn't make sense or just seemed stupid.

I'll probably stick with it because I want to know who the murdered Rosie, but, you know, I'm just not that into it.

But Mad Men? I AM SO HAPPY YOU ARE BACK.