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Righting the Balance
Scott Bennett
© Scott Bennett, 2005. Readers of this essay and librarians
may copy it without the copyright owner's permission, if
the author and publisher are acknowledged in the copy and
the copy is used for educational, not-for-profit purposes.
This permission does not apply to the first four paragraphs
of this essay, which the author wrote for a report for the
Ohio State University Libraries. This material is used here
with the permission of the copyright owner, the Ohio State
University Libraries.
Making a Paradigm Shift
Over the last decade, colleges and universities in the United
States have invested almost a half-billion dollars every year
in new and renovated academic libraries. At that level of investment
and with the long life cycles demanded of library buildings,
we need to know what we are doing. While there is much to celebrate
in recent library architecture and few stories of design failure,
we nonetheless confront a sobering uncertainty. Architect Craig
Hartman describes it as follows:
Because libraries today are in transition, both as
institutions and as a building type, every library that embarks
on a building program is in a sense on its own. While there
is a long tradition to draw on, there is no agreed-on paradigm
for the library of the future. Getting to this paradigm is
the task before us (Hartman 2000, 112).
Two factors in particular drive the need for a new paradigm.
The more obvious of the two is the revolution in information
technology that has been gathering speed since the 1960s and
that took off in 1993 with the debut of the World Wide Web.
The second factor, somewhat quieter but no less profound, is
the move in higher education away from a teaching culture and
toward a culture of learning.
In its briefest form, the paradigm that has [traditionally]
governed our colleges is this: A college is an institution
that exists to provide instruction. Subtly but profoundly we
are shifting to a new paradigm: A college is an institution
that exists to produce learning. This shift changes everything.
. . . We are beginning to recognize that our dominant paradigm
mistakes a means for an end. It takes the means or method—called
"instruction" or "teaching"—and makes it the college's end
or purpose. To say that the purpose of colleges is to provide
instruction is like saying that General Motors' business is
to operate assembly lines or that the purpose of medical care
is to fill hospital beds. We now see that our mission is not
instruction but rather that of producing learning with every
student by whatever means work best (Barr and Tagg 1995).
Librarians and library designers need to join faculty in this
paradigm shift. We need to understand that the success of the
academic library is best measured not by the frequency and
ease of library use but by the learning that results from that
use. Our purpose is not to circulate books, but to ensure that
the circulation of knowledge produces learning. Reconceiving
our purposes involves a fundamental shift for librarians trained
in a service culture—one that is comparable to the shift that
faculty are making as they move from a teaching to a learning
culture. Academic librarians need to make a paradigm shift
from a service to a learning culture.
The dominance of the service culture in current library space
planning is strikingly evident in how academic library directors
characterize their planning methods. Describing 240 construction
and renovation projects completed between 1992 and 2001, these
directors reported conducting systematic evaluations of library
operations 85 percent of the time, while doing systematic assessments
of student learning and faculty teaching behaviors only 41
percent and 31 percent of the time, respectively. The latter
two figures are probably overstated. Follow-up interviews with
a number of library directors revealed that even when they
had reported doing a systematic assessment of modes of student
learning, they had in most cases simply surveyed student preferences
regarding group study space and types of seating (Bennett 2003,
20–22, 33–36).
The knowledge base that guides library space planning is thus
poorly balanced, tilted heavily toward library operations and
away from systematic knowledge of how students learn. A case
in point is the redesign of the learning commons at one large
North American research library. While the library's planning
principles invoke the social dimension of learning, the diversity
of learner needs, and the wish to foster self-sufficiency and
lifelong learning, the information on which planning actually
drew was operational: library program and service descriptions
and statistics, inventories of public computing facilities
in the library and of current staff spaces, and the results
from a user survey.1
One could provide more stories illustrating the mismatch between
what we wish to achieve in libraries and the knowledge we bring
to bear on library space planning. However, it is important
to balance such reports with stories about the considerable
success of libraries built or renovated between 1992 and 2001.
In interview after interview done as part of a national survey,
library directors and chief academic officers pointed to significantly
increased student use of their libraries as one of the clearest
and most gratifying marks of the success of their projects.
Responding to changing patterns of student learning was in
fact one of the most powerful motivators for library construction
and renovation in the 1990s (Bennett 2003, 7–8 and Table 3a).
Accommodating student learning was sometimes an explicit goal
of a project, as happened at one liberal arts college where
the dean believes the library is "probably the most important
place for learning on campus." At other times, the result was
achieved without conscious design, as for instance at a doctoral
university where the library director reported significant
growth in group study:
We're seeing that virtually all of [some 250 tables
seating four to six students] are filled with students working
together, and . . . the thing that makes us happiest is that
we somehow stumbled into a really high-use kind of thing here
that reflects how people function within their classes and
work with their fellow students. . . . [This space] will be
filled, literally every chair, . . . and they're all talking
at the same time. And the hum that rises above this is just
amazing. And they don't care. . . . There's all this din that
occurs [from] hundreds of students in the same space, all working
together and all talking at the same time. . . . Somehow it
just all came together as a very useful space for students.
. . . We just beam with pride (Bennett 2003, 16–18).
So while we face some sobering facts about the heavily skewed
knowledge base that often guides library space design, we can
also point to some notable accomplishments in building libraries
as learning spaces. The question is, Can we do better? Given
the immense sums spent every year on library construction and
renovation, we surely cannot afford to "somehow stumble" into
our successes.
Asking the Right Questions
How can we get better value for our investment in library
construction and renovation? As librarians, we must start by
asking the right questions. This will be challenging, because
those questions require a basic and deeply unsettling shift
in professional outlook. We are unlikely to make this shift
so long as space design is guided primarily by knowledge about
library operations and only infrequently, if at all, by knowledge
about learning. We need to focus on learning issues with at
least the same intensity and sophistication that we bring to
the analysis of operational issues. We need to ensure that
choices about operational issues—the design of reference areas,
for instance—are strongly guided by what we know of student
learning. When a choice must be made, we may well need to give
preference—dare one say it?—to learning needs over operational
needs. What would happen, for instance, if the delivery of
reference services were designed not around a service desk
but around lounge seating? What would be the consequences for
learning if the design elements asserting the librarians' authority
(e.g., the queue, the desk, the shelves of reference books)
were abandoned in favor of design elements (e.g., lounge chairs,
computers designed for collaborative use) that suggest the
reference librarian is the student's partner in the learning
enterprise?
Jeanne Narum reinforces the importance of asking the right
questions by pointing to the wrong questions that prompt many
construction and renovation projects. To ask first about the
amount or size of the space that is needed is to start wrong,
Narum suggests. Instead, "questions about the nature of the
educational experience [that is desired]—about quality and
the nature of the learning community—are questions that must
be asked first and asked persistently throughout the [planning]
process" (Narum nd).2 How
many librarians can say they started space planning in this
way and, equally important, kept educational issues at the
center of their planning activities as they progressed?
In truth, we have little experience in asking the right questions
in a focused, thoughtful, and purposeful way.3 Happily,
I am able to report on a notable example of library planning
that has begun by asking questions about how students learn.
An opportunity to renovate the heating, ventilating, and air
conditioning systems at the Jessie Ball duPont Library at Sewanee:
The University of the South has prompted a large-scale inquiry,
led by Daniel S. Backlund, chair of the Theatre Arts Department.
This inquiry pursues several vital questions about the library
using a set of subcommittees, one of which is concerned with
information literacy and is chaired by Richard A. O'Connor,
who codirects the Center for Teaching at Sewanee.4 O'Connor
is systematically studying student learning behaviors at Sewanee
intending that this knowledge will inform planning for library
space and services.5
The right initial questions for library design should include
two factors known to be critically important to successful
learning: time on task and educationally purposeful activities,
such as discussing ideas from classes or readings outside of
class.6
Increasing Time on Task
The more time that students spend on learning tasks, the more
likely they are to learn effectively (National Survey of Student
Engagement 2002, 2003). One probable implication of this for
library design is that inviting spaces that honor study are
likely to encourage students to study longer. This conviction
surely underlies the view, so often expressed by those interviewed
for the national survey, that the success of library construction
and renovation is best measured by a project's ability to draw
students to the library.7 Libraries
are not just study halls; they should be purposefully designed
to promote study and learning.
In an independent-study course in anthropology, Richard O'Connor
collaborated with five students to learn about the campus culture
for study by interviewing students individually and in small
groups.8 The interviews
were just one part of their collaborative work, which also
included observations and class discussions that shaped an
evolving understanding of what the investigators were looking
for and what was implicit in the questions they were asking.
The subject of inquiry was the connection students make, or
do not make, between their academic and social lives. Responses
to this question revealed a great deal about the social dimension
of study and how students managed their study time and their
study environments.
In these interviews, Sewanee students distinguished sharply
between their academic and social lives, saying little that
indicated a deep mingling of the two. These students were proud
of Sewanee's strong academic reputation and the way the life
of the mind often colors campus social life. But the distinction
nonetheless remained powerful, as evident in one student comment:
I've definitely had intellectual sorts of conversations
outside of class, but I don't necessarily characterize them
as academic. They're learning, but I don't really think of
them as academic pursuits. Academic pursuit should require
effort, dedication, and energy. With those [intellectual] kinds
of conversations you talk about [a subject] for 30 minutes
and you learn something. It's probably important and matters
to your life, but you're not going to follow through. And,
there's not really anything riding on that conversation. I'm
not getting tested later, so I don't think of it in the same
way.
This student characterized study as involving focused, disciplined,
consequential effort. Other students frequently commented that
they chose to go to the library for particularly serious, sustained
study. At the same time, Sewanee students clearly regarded
study as having a strong social context. As one student put
it:
I think the library is conducive to studying and
to socializing; it depends what you're looking for. The good
thing about it is I can take a study break while walking around
and finding some of my friends who are in the front and obviously
not working that hard. But you can find little holes in there
where you're not going to get found very often if you don't
want to be.
This comment indicated a need to manage the social aspects
of study. Other students expressed this need in terms of a
need to take frequent breaks and a need for the right amount
of personal seclusion, which varied significantly from student
to student and from time to time for a given student. One student's
observation made plain just how changeable the definition of
a distraction is:
If I've been sitting down there [in the library basement]
for hours, the littlest things can distract me. Like somebody
talking or the doors. . . . And a lot of times, somebody'll
walk by that you know, so you stop and have a conversation.
When other people do it, it gets on my nerves . . . especially
when I can't join in on the conversation! But if I'm doing
it, then I'm constantly thinking we're getting on somebody's
nerves. But you're not gonna not talk to somebody.
Another student described the study options provided by the
library explicitly in social terms, casting them as largely
negative options he rarely chose for himself:
And especially you cannot study on the second floor
in those carrels or on the main floor unless you WANT to be
distracted. And I think . . . the people who have open carrels
are the ones that realize they're gonna be talking a lot, and
they're not always in the library. And it's more of a social
thing. Especially the main floor. It's more of a social gathering
than it is a study area. I'm not gonna do that.
As O'Connor observed in private communication with the author,
"we found [in both the interviews and the class discussion
of them] that students adjusted the level of distraction to
fit the task and its importance. . . . [M]any students have
learned to vary where they are in the library to control their
level of distraction."
This active management of the study environment by controlling
social distractions was also evident in the comments of several
students on a small study space in Snowden Forestry Building,
home of the geology and environmental studies departments at
Sewanee. Snowden and the duPont Library present many of the
same issues for students wanting to control their study environment.
The difference is that student comments on Snowden are untouched
by the faint praise that so often damns the library. For instance,
one student said, "I really like the library. The boring environment
forces me to pay attention to my work, since there is nothing
else to do." By contrast, another student described the mix
of academic and social activities at Snowden as follows:
I spend a lot of time hanging out in the reading
room in Snowden, so academic and social come together there.
[Interviewer: When you say "hanging out" in Snowden, do you
mean hanging out in the same sense that you would hang out
in someone's dorm or at a fraternity house, or something else?]
Well, we're definitely there to do our work, so it's not the
same hanging out as getting together to play video games or
something. But we all talk about our work and sometimes the
conversation will shift to social stuff, like what everyone's
doing this weekend.
Another student described the study environment at Snowden
at length:
The reading room in Snowden is the best place to
study around here, in my opinion. For one, the light is good.
Also, there are comfortable chairs if you're just reading and
don't need to be sitting up straight. Plus, it helps that there
are always other people from the department wandering through,
so if you need help or don't understand something, there's
usually someone around to help you. And I really like the table
in there. I like to be able to spread out all of my books and
notes at once in front of me. I can't use the tables in the
library because they're all pretty much on the ground floor
and there's too much distraction, people moving around and
talking and stuff. And I hate carrels: They box you in, the
lighting is bad, they're really metallic, and they don't actually
prevent you from distraction, because they're all in rows and
you can tell that there's someone in front of you or next to
you. It's just too distracting. I like Snowden because there's
room to spread out without being distracted and if someone's
talking, they're talking about a related subject.
One of the group interviews touched on the powerful learning
environment achieved at Snowden as a function of the building
itself creating a community for learning:
M: I feel like it's because they have buildings to
go to. The natural-resources kids have Snowden, the other sciences
have Woods [laboratories]. All the classes and the professors
are in the same building, and so you see people in the halls
and stuff. The other departments, like English and languages
and history, etc., . . . are more spread out in different buildings,
so it's harder to just see people around.
B: Space for each department is definitely important.
If you don't have classes together with the people in your
major, you're not even going to figure out who they are. I
think the Snowden people get to know each other so well because
even when they don't have classes together, they have that
great building to study in.
These student comments suggest that good study space is responsive
to the academic and social dimensions of study in ways that
allow students to control them both. Such space encourages
study and fosters learning by
- supporting a distinction between studying and socializing
that does not deny the social dimension of study
- favoring learning functions in the space's mix of academic
and social functions
- providing choices of place, ranging from personal seclusion
to group study, that variously reinforce the discipline
needed for study
- permitting territorial claims for study that enable students
to govern the social dimension of their study space
- fostering a sense of community among students, allowing
them to be seen as members of that community while they
take strength from seeing other community members.9
None of the interviewees described study space in the duPont
Library nearly as enthusiastically they described Snowden.
This contrast draws attention to the general challenge for
library space design: Is it possible to design a library so
that it functions as a powerful learning space—one that encourages
students to devote more time to study—as well as an effective
service space?
Fostering Active Learning
One of the markers of active learning is the discussion of
class content outside of the class (National Survey of Student
Engagement 2003). To get some measure of this activity at Sewanee,
O'Connor formally polled students, asking a series of written
questions, including "Has what you were studying in a class
this semester led to a lengthy conversation with others not
taking that class? If 'yes,' please choose a memorable example
and describe where it happened and how it happened." The surveys
were conducted at the end of class sessions by cooperating
faculty; the surveys reached 19 percent of the Sewanee student
body and yielded nearly 100 percent return rates.
There were 169 affirmative responses to this question, or
65 percent of the 260 responses to the survey. Students identified
200 locations for their discussions:
- 86 locations (43 percent) involved domestic spaces (i.e.,
dormitory or fraternity/sorority space, the student's familial
home)
- 42 locations (21 percent) involved the central dining
facility for the Sewanee campus, McClurg Hall
- 23 locations (12 percent) involved campus spaces other
than the dinning hall (e.g., classrooms, faculty offices,
campus walks, a campus coffee shop, the gym)
- 23 locations (12 percent) involved a variety of "other"
spaces (e.g., cars, phone conversations, electronic messages,
bars, and coffee houses)
- 2 locations (1 percent) involved the library
- 24 locations (12 percent) were unspecified
Domestic space was by far the most frequent venue for conversations
about class content with others not taking that class. Food
and beverages were clearly a part of many of these conversations.
A number of respondents located the conversations at family
meals, and the campus dining hall (and coffee houses and local
bars) were mentioned frequently.10
The library should also be congenial to conversations that
share knowledge gained in class. It is the one place where
all the academic practices of the campus are brought together,
making it one of the best places for students to grasp both
the integrity of knowledge and the idea of knowing as a collective
ongoing practice. But conversations that share knowledge gained
in class almost never happen in the library. To change this,
one might ask how library space might be domesticated. The
objective, of course, is not to turn libraries into residence
halls. We should instead try to understand what characteristics
make domestic space so congenial to the desired academic behavior
and discover how those characteristics might become part of
the library ethos.
One might hypothesize that the library, like faculty offices
(which are also rarely the locale of the desired conversations),
are "work spaces" where one subordinates, rather than expresses,
self. Restating this point in terms suggested by Kenneth Bruffee,
these are spaces that affirm the foundational or cognitive
view of knowledge, where "knowledge is an entity formalized
by the individual mind and verified against reality," often
by a person with expert knowledge of the topic. Classroom and
office space design typically underscores the authority of
the teacher,11 just
as library space often reinforces the authority of library
staff. Domestic spaces, by contrast, affirm a nonfoundational
view that holds knowledge to be "a community project. People
construct knowledge working together in groups, interdependently.
All knowledge is therefore the 'property' not of an individual
person but of some community or other, the community that constructed
it in the language spoken by members of that community" (Bruffee
1999, 180, 294–295).12 The
argument here is that campus work space, be it faculty offices
or the library, usually reinforces inequalities of authority
in knowing—inequalities that strongly inform the accepted social
norms of academe. By contrast, in domestic space it is possible
to manage inequalities of authority (which of course often
still exist) in ways that at least partly neutralize them.13
How is this done? How do students come to claim a learning
space as their own, as distinguished from, say, the classroom
space managed by faculty experts? How is knowledge space domesticated?
Surely food plays a significant role in domesticating authority,
as it does in so many other realms. It is good that food service
of one sort or another has become a standard feature of library
design (Bennett 2003, 18–19). However, food service needs to
be seen not as an end in itself but as a means for creating
community among learners. It is useful to return to the student
interview comments (not formally associated with the survey
responses being reported here) to see how learning communities
are built at Sewanee. The language of domestic space figures
prominently, for instance, in the way students see congenial
feelings among faculty shaping powerful learning environments.
One student made the following observation about the French
Department:
All the teachers get along and if one of them has
a question in the middle of class, they can just run into the
class next door and ask it. They're all really excited when
someone joins the department, even if it's just to take one
class. And they get everyone to eat lunch together and have
stuff at the French house, and they're always having fun. The
French house is sort of a center for the department where everyone
can get together.
Sense of community figures importantly in a comment made by
another student during the same group interview:
The [religion] department is smaller [than many other
departments], so you get to know everyone. I think that getting
to know people happens in most of the majors, but in departments
like religion it just happens later than like in natural resources.
The religion kids start coming together junior year. Like anthro[pology]
kids start coming together after social theory. But the professors
in the religion department all get along, and I think that
helps to keep things together. That's part of the reason why
I want to switch over there [from another major] sometimes.
I think the professors are really cool and everything, and
I like how everyone knows each other.
Sewanee students are strongly attracted to domesticated public
spaces as learning spaces.14 The
domesticating behaviors of those who occupy such space, especially
faculty who model these behaviors, account for much of the
attraction. Such behaviors are exceptionally powerful, as these
student comments indicate, in drawing people into a community
of knowledge. Thoughtful space design can foster a number of
behaviors that help domesticate public space, which may be
characterized as space where
- one knows something of the others who use the space
- little is alien to the community that uses it
- there are few threats to one's ability to be oneself,
to grow, and to learn
- activities are often spontaneous and responsive to the
learning tasks at hand
- the occupants' identities and activities are celebrated.
Libraries are one of the most widely shared public spaces
at colleges and universities. Should they be designed as domesticated
spaces, in the sense voiced by these Sewanee students? Surely,
we must answer this in the affirmative. It makes little sense
for higher education to invest millions of dollars every year
in library construction and renovation without designing for
active learning behaviors, including the kind of conversations
asked about in O'Connor's survey. Library designs that fail
to do this may achieve little more than making library operations
convenient and efficient for readers and staff alike. That
is not a bad thing, but it mistakes the library's core responsibilities,
which lie not in the efficiency of its operations but rather
in the effectiveness with which students learn.
Achieving Design Objectives
This essay argues that in designing library space we attend
too exclusively to library operations and pay too little attention
to student learning. We know, for instance, that we want to
provide seats for readers. To ask students what kind of seating
they prefer, or to give them sample chairs to evaluate, while
useful, is to remain focused on the operational issue. To ask
first how students learn and then to design environments, including
seating, to foster that learning is to focus on learning. The
latter approach sets right the balance between operations and
learning. It gets right the relationship between means and
ends.
Studies that attempt to understand the impact of libraries
on student learning are often not instructive for space design
for reasons well illustrated by George Kuh and Robert Gonyea.
Drawing on highly regarded survey data gathered for more than
20 years, they conclude that
library experiences of undergraduates positively
relate to select educationally purposeful activities,
such as using computing and information technology and interacting
with faculty members. Those students who more frequently
use the library reflect a studious work ethic and engage
in academically challenging tasks that require higher-order
thinking. Although certain student background characteristics
(race, major, year in school, transfer status, access to
computers) affect the nature and frequency of students' library
activities, the library appears to be a positive learning
environment for all students, especially members of historically
underrepresented groups. At the same time, library use does
not appear to contribute directly to gains in information
literacy and other desirable [educational] outcomes [emphasis
added].
The difference here is between correlation and causation.
Looking at student behaviors that register in library operations,
one discovers a correlation between use of the library and
successful learning, but one does not find evidence that engagement
with these library operations causes desirable educational
outcomes. The situation facing librarians and library space
designers is the same as that confronting faculty. There surely
is a correlation between good lectures and effective learning,
but there is little evidence that lectures cause learning.
Kuh and Gonyea note that the situation regarding libraries
"is not surprising, as rarely does any single experience or
set of activities during college affect student learning and
personal development one way or the other; rather, what is
most important to college impact is the nature and breadth
of a student's experiences over an extended period" (Kuh and
Gonyea 2003, 269–270).
The character of the study environment matters immensely,
and that environment must in direct and tangible ways foster
effective learning. This essay argues that space that allows
students to manage the social dimensions of learning, that
domesticates the foundational character of knowledge (the character
that dominates at most colleges and universities), and that
celebrates the communal (i.e., the nonfoundational) character
of knowledge will indeed foster learning.15
Good planning can produce striking results. The most dramatic
planning accomplishment of academic libraries over the past
decade or so has been the creation of wonderfully rich digital
information resources for readers. Information commons are
a principal architectural expression of this achievement, and
they have even spawned their own professional literature.16 Academic
libraries have no comparable record of creating wonderful learning
spaces. Aside from the provision of group study space, libraries
have acted as if the challenge of creating excellent learning
spaces would be met, if at all, elsewhere on campus. The self-directed
student learning discussed in this essay has not inspired library
design or propagated a professional literature in the way that
digital technology has inspired the information commons.17 As
long as this imbalance persists in our conception of libraries
and in our ambitions for them, academic libraries will continue
to accommodate learning rather haphazardly—sometimes stumbling
into success (to use the words of the library director quoted
earlier) and sometimes not. We will change our record of lopsided
accomplishment only when we begin systematically to build an
understanding of how students learn and apply that knowledge
with at least as much purpose as we apply our knowledge of
library operations. We know how to design library space that
is operationally convenient and efficient. There is ultimately
nothing but our own inattention that prevents us from designing
library space that fosters effective learning.
The argument that we must domesticate the public spaces of
libraries and enable students to manage the social dimensions
of learning in library space employs some ideas and words not
frequently encountered in the literature of library design.
These ideas are incomplete, and the words are likely to be
inadequate for what we need to do. The chief merit of these
ideas and words is that they come from listening to students
who were asked not operational questions but questions about
how they learn. The listening involved only a handful of students
at just one institution; without question, there are other
voices to be heard and much else to be learned. One can only
hope that any dissatisfaction prompted by the arguments of
this essay will engender other, more-instructive inquiries
into student learning. We must not just fall back comfortably
on what we know of library operations. As Hartman (2000, 112)
cautions, "While there is a long tradition to draw on, there
is no agreed-on paradigm for the library of the future. Getting
to this paradigm is the task before us." The tradition to which
Hartman points builds primarily on knowledge about how libraries
operate. There is no paradigm for the academic library of the
future because we have not yet brought what we know of student
learning to bear on library design. When we do so, we will
be able to align library operations and library space with
the fundamental learning missions of the colleges and universities
that sponsor them. It is by realigning libraries with institutional
mission that the paradigm for the future will be found.
References
Banning, James H. and M. R. Canard. 1986. The Physical Environment
Supports Student Development. Campus Ecologist 4:
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Barr, Robert B., and John Tagg. 1995. From Teaching to Learning—A
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(November/December): 12–25.
Beagle, Donald. 1999. Conceptualizing an Information Commons. Journal
of Academic Librarianship 25: 82–89.
Bechtel, Joan M. 1986. Conversation: A New Paradigm for Librarianship. College & Research
Libraries 47(3): 210–224.
Bennett, Scott. 2003. Libraries Designed for Learning.
Washington, D.C.: Council on Library and Information Resources.
Bransford, John D., Ann L. Brown, and Rodney R. Cocking, eds.
1999. How People Learn: Brain, Mind, Experience, and School.
Washington, D.C.: National Academy Press.
Bruffee, Kenneth A. 1999. Collaborative Learning: Higher
Education, Interdependence, and the Authority of Knowledge.
2nd ed. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press.
Characteristics of the Ideal Spaces for Sciences. nd. A Project
Kaleidoscope document available at http://www.pkal.org/template2.cfm?c_id=598.
Chism, Nancy Van Note. 2002. A Tale of Two Classrooms, in The
Importance of Physical Space in Creating Supportive Learning
Environments. Edited by Chism and Deborah J. Bickford,
in the series titled New Directions for Teaching and Learning,
No. 29. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Hartman, C. W. 2000. Memory Palace, Place of Refuge, Coney
Island of the Mind: The Evolving Roles of the Library in the
Late 20th Century. Research Strategies 17:107–121.
Information Commons: a directory of innovative services and
resources in academic libraries. nd. A Web site available at
http://www.brookdale.cc.nj.us/library/infocommons/ic_home.html.
Kuh, George D., and Robert M. Gonyea. 2003. The Role of the
Academic Library in Promoting Student Engagement in Learning. College & Research
Libraries 64 (July): 256–282.
Narum, Jeanne. nd. Building Communities: Asking the Right
Questions. A PKAL document available at http://www.pkal.org/documents/Building%20Communities%20-%20Asking%20the%20Right%20Questions.pdf.
National Survey of Student Engagement. 2002. 2002 Psychometric
Framework. Bloomington, Ind.: National Survey of Student Engagement.
Available at http://www.indiana.edu/~nsse/html/psychometric_framework_2002.htm.
National Survey of Student Engagement. 2003. NSSE 2003 Annual
Report. Blomington, Ind.: National Survey of Student Engagement.
Available at http://www/iub.edu/~nsse/2003_annual_report/pdf/NSSE_2003_Annual_Report.pdf.
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FOOTNOTES
1 Planners looked
as well at the published literature on information commons
and visited a number of such installations. Project summary
privately communicated to the author, 2004.
2 Narum is the
director of Project Kaleidoscope (PKAL), which champions strong
learning environments, including classroom and laboratory facilities,
for undergraduate programs in science, technology, engineering,
and mathematics. For PKAL's programmatic activities relating
to facilities, see the PKAL Web page (http://www.pkal.org/template0.cfm?c_id=3).
3 See Banning
and Canard 1986, who argue that "among the many methods employed
to foster student development, the use of the physical environment
is perhaps the least understood and the most neglected." The
landmark report How People Learn: Brain, Mind, Experience,
and School (Bransford et al., eds. 1999), is silent on
space design and exemplifies the neglect of the physical environment
in understanding learning behaviors. See also Chism 2002, 8,
where it is observed that very little has been written that
applies learning theory to the design of learning spaces. An
important exception, Chism notes, is the chapter entitled "Physical
Environments: The Role of Design and Space," in Strange and
Banning 2001.
4 Richard A. O'Connor,
Biehl Professor of International Studies in the Department
of Anthropology at Sewanee, has been a generous and thoughtful
interlocutor in the writing of this essay. He observes that,
"the service paradigm can be corrosive" for librarians, just
as the teaching paradigm is for faculty. Librarians "do not
want to be clerks at Wal-Mart serving customers. Like faculty,
[librarians] are people who fell in love with books, learning,
and libraries long ago. They want to invite others to share
their passion. If we understand learning as not 'what's on
the test,' but [as a measure of] how well we draw newcomers
into communities of knowledge, then promoting student learning
means understanding what makes these communities 'joinable.'"
Righting the balance in library space design between service
and learning issues requires, as O'Connor observes, that "we
conceptualize learning correctly. It is not about providing
materials (books, databases—at your service!) but about structuring
motive and meaning to nurture the young" (private communication,
2004).
5 I am grateful
to Richard O'Connor for permission to use parts of his and
his students' research data. Because he so generously shared
with me the field data that he and his students had collected
(something not commonly done among social scientists), I became
a virtual, asynchronous participant in their independent study.
I am, however, solely responsible for the interpretation of
the data reported here, an interpretation that does not necessary
reflect the views of Professor O'Connor or his students.
6 These questions
resonate closely with those posed in Kuh and Gonyea 2003, an
important article on the role of the academic library in promoting
student engagement in learning.
7 This view was
notably expressed by the president of a doctoral university,
who emphasized that the formal goals of the library project,
which he had made his signature project for the campus, were
to provide shelving for the collections and to enhance the
library's electronic capabilities. When asked about reader
accommodations, the president said the library had formerly
been little used by students, much to the detriment of "the
academic tenor of the institution." But two advisory committee
members made it their business to build excellent reader accommodations
into the project. The president said that this "has worked
out brilliantly. You go to the library now, and it is a very
active and alive place, and I think that may be the singularly
most important outcome of our project." He described this success,
not formally a goal of the project, as "some form of serendipity,
I guess" (Bennett 2003, 36–37).
8 The student
researchers were Beth Christian, Chris Honeycutt, Shawn Means,
Aimee Rogers, and David Zeman. They interviewed 22 students
in 13 interview sessions.
9 Some of these
characteristics of the Snowden study space resonate with a
PKAL document, Characteristics of the Ideal Spaces for Sciences.
nd.
10 Respondents
frequently mentioned exchanges about religion, current affairs,
historical events, and politics as prompting discussions of
class material with others not taking the class. Students also
frequently evaluated classes and instructors for their peers.
Sometimes, conversations begun in class continued afterwards
and involved students not taking the class. On occasion, a
respondent reported being so excited about a class meeting,
a reading, an assignment, or a course that he or she would
instigate a conversation about class content. O'Connor observes
implications for space design in these responses, in that some
locales invite inquiry and interruption. For instance, one
student said he had conversations sitting on his dormitory
porch when people noticed what he was reading. Commenting on
this situation, other students reported that certain locations
and behaviors combine to invite people to stop and ask about
what one is doing. The first floor of the duPont Library was
often described as such a space, at least for brief conversations.
11 Faculty figured
hardly at all in the interviews conducted by O'Connor's students
with their fellow students, except as academic authorities
and the source of grades.
12 Writing specifically
of reading and libraries, Bruffee observes that "reading is
one way to join new communities, the ones represented by the
authors of the texts we read. By reading, we acquire fluency
in the language of the text and make it our own. Library stacks,
from this perspective, are not a repository; they are a crowd"
(Bruffee 1999, 8–9). Libraries should be designed to facilitate
"conversations" within this crowd of voices. On this matter,
Bruffee cites Bechtel 1986.
13 O'Connor suggests
another set of concepts—"elevation" and "enthusiasm"—to understand
the domestication of space. Regarding elevation, "things are
right or wrong in foundational space, but 'domestic space'
accepts all thoughts as participation." As regards enthusiasm,
"being too enthusiastic in foundational space—a place that
carries authority—is like asking for extra work at the factory.
In community space, [enthusiasm] is welcome. It is a way of
sharing, of revealing yourself. I wonder if we should not talk
about formal, personal, and in-between or convertible space"
(private communication, 2004).
14 Is it possible
for learning space to become too domesticated? This same student
suggests so in observing students majoring in geology and natural
resources: "I definitely think the Snowden kids are the most
connected of the majors. They're together all the time, almost
like a little cult. They even sit together at lunch. Today
there was a whole table of them, and they were just sitting
there talking about rocks like they do all the damn time. Sometimes
they make me feel really inadequate because I don't have anything
to contribute to the conversation, even though I'm friends
with lots of them." O'Connor suggests that what is "wrong"
here is that the students are in a public space but are acting
too exclusively in domestic ways—just as "the proliferation
of cell phone use in public space bothers us" (private communication,
2004).
15 The word foster,
rather than cause, is used to avoid a deterministic
view of space design. The view espoused here is architectural
or environmental probabilism, where design features make certain
behaviors likely (Strange and Banning 2001, 13–15).
16 See, for instance,
Beagle 1999 and Information Commons, a Web site that contains
a useful bibliography.
17 There is,
of course, a rich literature on information literacy. Information
literacy is often conceived of as a library service, and it
has engendered no architectural response except for the provision
of electronic classrooms.
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