The end of the semester is inching ever closer. We're all suffused with fearful anticipation!
To that end, the Library, in its infinite beneficence (and you'd better believe it, buster), is offering free coffee starting this Sunday, April 25, through Wednesday, April 28, from 8-10 p.m. on the first floor by the Service Desk. We offer sweeteners of varying chemical compositions, creamer, stirrers, a little candy, and while they last, free travel mugs!
I'll admit something shameful: we actually offered coffee earlier this week, from Monday until Wednesday. It totally slipped my mind last week when I was writing my post then. Still, our coffee hour does not seem to have suffered in popularity thereby -- it seems we are not the only ones not getting much sleep in the face of finals week.
Speaking of not getting much sleep, I read The World According to Garp by John Irving. That book's a "yikes" all around. It's about T.S. Garp, a fellow who was raised by a woman who impregnated herself upon the carcass of a comatose (and terminal) soldier specifically so she would not have to deal with the father of her child while she raised him, a tactic that roils 1950s America: as she rears Garp, she writes an autobiography that almost becomes her own hagiography and carries her to worldwide fame. With such auspicious origins, it is no wonder that Garp, in a bildungsroman covered by most of the novel, grows up to become a highly-accomplished novelist himself. This part of the story is accompanied by a couple of framed narratives -- nearly the full text of one of Garp's own short stories is incorporated into the book about his life -- that bespeak a certain surrealist sentiment.
In any case, Garp grows up, falls in love, gets married, and fathers children of his own, only to have tragedy strike. Remembering the details of this particular tragedy still makes me shudder. Anyway, it's all very sexy and is a good read in general. Highly recommended, as long as you aren't prudish about some things.
At this point in the semester, I'm going to go ahead and answer a few Significant Questions floating around, mostly regarding the Library, graduation, and the summer.
I got an e-mail from the Library saying I have fines to pay before I can graduate. Is that true?
Yes, it is, especially if you're one of those who have managed to ride your balance into the upper atmosphere. You can't officially graduate without paying your fines. You can walk at graduation, sure, but that's little comfort if, when you're applying for jobs or graduate school, you need an official transcript, which you won't get. If you owe us a lot of money, don't be shy; we're not going to arrest you and throw you into the debtors' prison behind the Echo360 classroom downstairs. Come in and talk to us!
If I come in to pay my fines, what do I need to bring?
Your Gallaudet ID. I can't emphasize this enough; we do not accept driver's licenses, passports, military IDs, baby photos, or your mom's ultrasound. It has to be a current, valid Gallaudet ID. Also, bring cash or a checkbook. We understand that it's a pain in the neck, but we can't take plastic -- cash or check only.
What if I don't bring enough money and have to come back? Can I do that?
Yes, you can do that. You can pay down your balance on any schedule you'd like -- just pay it before graduation. Also, please try to stick to normal business hours, especially if you owe fines at other universities like George Mason or Georgetown -- the librarians that are usually around between 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. are pretty good at sorting these things out.
If I owe fines on books I got through CLS, how do I pay them? Do I have to go to those schools and pay there?
No, you don't. You can pay all of your fines right here.
Last question, I promise: What's up with the summer hours?
They're here! Scroll down to the bottom and take a look. One thing you'll notice are the hours for Reference Librarian service; there won't be a librarian here after 5 p.m. all summer, and weekends will also not have a librarian at all. This is an important thing to keep in mind! If you need help, come in before 5 p.m. Before 4, even, if you think you won't be the only one seeking help. If you still can't make it, get in touch with us via the contact information on this page to make arrangements to meet.
That about wraps it up for this session. No Question of the Week this week; there will also probably not be a post next week, as most of my time then will be consumed by the National Academic Bowl and time off. The following week, though, will see a quick preview of what you may be able to expect upon your return in the fall.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Why does research take time?
We're just about three weeks away from the end of the Spring semester. Wow. Where'd the time go?
Part of it probably went to all the traveling I did for the Academic Bowl. Chances are good that the rest went into the Library. We've been busy this semester! Summer will be a good time to relax a little bit and focus on other projects that don't have a rapidly-approaching deadline.
Either way, I'm still plugging away at those ol' books. I just finished The Dream of Perpetual Motion by Dexter Palmer, and it was an interesting book. Told mostly through flashbacks, the story covers a sort of alternate 20th Century where things are pretty different from our own world. Most of the changes seem to stem from a single person, Prospero Taligent, a mechanical genius who builds robots, flying cars, and other such wonders without going anywhere near an electronic circuit. Because of this, the world of the novel is more technologically advanced than ours, but ours is more scientifically advanced. They haven't discovered the atom, how to manipulate electrons, or progressed much further than basic electrical generation.
It's an interestingly different universe that bears some eerie similarities -- the art world there is an almost exact copy of our own, for instance, with artists being lauded as geniuses for creating large canvases that have only single words painted on each. The effect is a weird sense of bleed-through between our 20th Century and theirs, which is exacerbated when the author himself appears in the novel. There are also a few little jokes, like when one character muses on the possibility of developing a mechanical system that relies on switching between "open" and "closed" in order to think or accomplish tasks -- which is the basis of binary code itself.
Oh, right. I forgot. The plot. The main character is a writer of greeting cards who has a long association with Prospero Taligent and his daughter, Miranda. Prospero is the wealthiest man in the world, but is incapable of relating to an actual human being until he adopts Miranda. Unfortunately, he has an engineer's need for a sense of control and predictability, and as Miranda grows up and begins to rebel, Prospero descends into madness, drives Miranda insane, and drags the main character down with him into a surprising and tragic conclusion. Or maybe it's not tragic; it's so bizarre, really, that I'm not sure what to make of it.
And, of course, all of this takes place in Xeroville, an alternate New York that continually haunts the novel with its decaying gloom. Usually when reading one of those other-dimension novels, it's pretty clear that the premise stems from the basic question: "What if that happened instead of this?" What if Napoleon had won at Waterloo, what if the Confederacy had won the Civil War, what if Franz Ferdinand had survived? None of this is clear with Dream of Perpetual Motion; I thought maybe it was the emergence of the Taligent empire, but there are indications that the differences go back further than that, including frequent references to an "age of miracles," where angels and demons shared the world with humans until industrialization came and killed them all. So who knows?
Either way, it's an absorbing novel. It reminds me a lot of Gears of the City in some ways (which I'll get around to reviewing in here someday -- I read faster than I blog).
So last week, I promised you some words about the nature of research in general.
This is mostly because I've encountered some students in the last couple of weeks who are surprised to find out that there is no magic bullet that will bring up everything they need in a single try. When I explain that research takes time, effort, and a little mental footwork, they look at me as though I'm an alien.
Questions regarding my status as an Earthling aside, the students' reaction is both unsurprising and regrettable. Unsurprising because they're used to Google, which has become incredibly good at finding you what you want based on your initial search query. Regrettable because it predisposes those students to give up quickly, turn in substandard work, and contend with either a low or failing grade. Sometimes, if they don't learn how to handle the research process soon enough, they wash out altogether, even though some actually have enough smarts to go pretty far once they have that diploma in hand.
Here's the thing: Academic databases are not Google. Google uses an algorithm that's so secret no other search engine can use it without going through Google, even for academic purposes, and so advanced it nearly qualifies as an artificial general intelligence, relying on contextual clues that most ordinary machines can't understand in order to figure out what you mean.
Okay, so why can't an academic database use Google to run its search, as Gallaudet does when you want to search through its website?
Because to do so, Google's algorithm and ancillary programs -- like the spiders that comb the Web and index everything they come across so it can be searched -- would need to be copied into the (copyrighted and subscription-only) database itself, something Google never permits. Even when you see a Google-based search on a Web site that's not Google, it's using the same resources as google.com; you can see this by clicking on the search I sent you to in the last paragraph and looking in the address bar of your browser. The first thing you see: http://www.google.com.
This is a lot of technical stuff. The upshot: Academic databases just aren't as easy to search as Google, so that's the first reason why it can be a little more difficult to find what you're looking for and why it takes time.
The second reason can be chalked up to vocabulary. There are two different ways your vocabulary can make research take some time:
The nose job example also illustrates the third, and probably most significant, reason why research takes some effort: It requires some detective work. You have to figure out your starting point, and use whatever clues you find to proceed from there, step by step. Sometimes it's easy, especially if you pick a well-studied topic like the Maginot Line in World War II, but when you're working on more esoteric topics -- like the effect of rhinoplasties on a specific psychological model of self-perception -- this strategy is invaluable. However, it's also time-consuming and can take a few hours.
That's why you learn about time management in your First Year Seminar course when you arrive at Gallaudet as a freshman. School takes time, and it always will, especially if you decide you want to do the best work possible.
One final note, and this is something I say to a lot of the courses I present to: There will be times at which you hit a wall. You can't figure out how to proceed any further with your research. Maybe you've run out of terms to try, or there simply isn't anything in the databases you've been looking in. At this point, ask a librarian. It's what we're here for.
Question of the Week
Are you open during the summer?
We're open year-round! Our hours are usually reduced during the summer -- we generally close at 8 p.m., for example -- so things will be a little bit different, but we're open nonetheless. We'll be releasing our summer hours pretty soon; keep an eye on this blog, and I'll let you know when you can find out!
Part of it probably went to all the traveling I did for the Academic Bowl. Chances are good that the rest went into the Library. We've been busy this semester! Summer will be a good time to relax a little bit and focus on other projects that don't have a rapidly-approaching deadline.
Either way, I'm still plugging away at those ol' books. I just finished The Dream of Perpetual Motion by Dexter Palmer, and it was an interesting book. Told mostly through flashbacks, the story covers a sort of alternate 20th Century where things are pretty different from our own world. Most of the changes seem to stem from a single person, Prospero Taligent, a mechanical genius who builds robots, flying cars, and other such wonders without going anywhere near an electronic circuit. Because of this, the world of the novel is more technologically advanced than ours, but ours is more scientifically advanced. They haven't discovered the atom, how to manipulate electrons, or progressed much further than basic electrical generation.
It's an interestingly different universe that bears some eerie similarities -- the art world there is an almost exact copy of our own, for instance, with artists being lauded as geniuses for creating large canvases that have only single words painted on each. The effect is a weird sense of bleed-through between our 20th Century and theirs, which is exacerbated when the author himself appears in the novel. There are also a few little jokes, like when one character muses on the possibility of developing a mechanical system that relies on switching between "open" and "closed" in order to think or accomplish tasks -- which is the basis of binary code itself.
Oh, right. I forgot. The plot. The main character is a writer of greeting cards who has a long association with Prospero Taligent and his daughter, Miranda. Prospero is the wealthiest man in the world, but is incapable of relating to an actual human being until he adopts Miranda. Unfortunately, he has an engineer's need for a sense of control and predictability, and as Miranda grows up and begins to rebel, Prospero descends into madness, drives Miranda insane, and drags the main character down with him into a surprising and tragic conclusion. Or maybe it's not tragic; it's so bizarre, really, that I'm not sure what to make of it.
And, of course, all of this takes place in Xeroville, an alternate New York that continually haunts the novel with its decaying gloom. Usually when reading one of those other-dimension novels, it's pretty clear that the premise stems from the basic question: "What if that happened instead of this?" What if Napoleon had won at Waterloo, what if the Confederacy had won the Civil War, what if Franz Ferdinand had survived? None of this is clear with Dream of Perpetual Motion; I thought maybe it was the emergence of the Taligent empire, but there are indications that the differences go back further than that, including frequent references to an "age of miracles," where angels and demons shared the world with humans until industrialization came and killed them all. So who knows?
Either way, it's an absorbing novel. It reminds me a lot of Gears of the City in some ways (which I'll get around to reviewing in here someday -- I read faster than I blog).
So last week, I promised you some words about the nature of research in general.
This is mostly because I've encountered some students in the last couple of weeks who are surprised to find out that there is no magic bullet that will bring up everything they need in a single try. When I explain that research takes time, effort, and a little mental footwork, they look at me as though I'm an alien.
Questions regarding my status as an Earthling aside, the students' reaction is both unsurprising and regrettable. Unsurprising because they're used to Google, which has become incredibly good at finding you what you want based on your initial search query. Regrettable because it predisposes those students to give up quickly, turn in substandard work, and contend with either a low or failing grade. Sometimes, if they don't learn how to handle the research process soon enough, they wash out altogether, even though some actually have enough smarts to go pretty far once they have that diploma in hand.
Here's the thing: Academic databases are not Google. Google uses an algorithm that's so secret no other search engine can use it without going through Google, even for academic purposes, and so advanced it nearly qualifies as an artificial general intelligence, relying on contextual clues that most ordinary machines can't understand in order to figure out what you mean.
Okay, so why can't an academic database use Google to run its search, as Gallaudet does when you want to search through its website?
Because to do so, Google's algorithm and ancillary programs -- like the spiders that comb the Web and index everything they come across so it can be searched -- would need to be copied into the (copyrighted and subscription-only) database itself, something Google never permits. Even when you see a Google-based search on a Web site that's not Google, it's using the same resources as google.com; you can see this by clicking on the search I sent you to in the last paragraph and looking in the address bar of your browser. The first thing you see: http://www.google.com.
This is a lot of technical stuff. The upshot: Academic databases just aren't as easy to search as Google, so that's the first reason why it can be a little more difficult to find what you're looking for and why it takes time.
The second reason can be chalked up to vocabulary. There are two different ways your vocabulary can make research take some time:
- Academic jargon. Some fields are very specialized and use words you've never heard to describe a common thing. For instance, in a medical journal, don't go searching for "nose job." Doctors don't use that term in scholarly work.
- Synonyms. This is sort of the opposite of the first reason; often, especially in so-called "soft" sciences like psychology and sociology, different terms can be used to refer to the same thing, like "domestic violence" or "spousal abuse."
The nose job example also illustrates the third, and probably most significant, reason why research takes some effort: It requires some detective work. You have to figure out your starting point, and use whatever clues you find to proceed from there, step by step. Sometimes it's easy, especially if you pick a well-studied topic like the Maginot Line in World War II, but when you're working on more esoteric topics -- like the effect of rhinoplasties on a specific psychological model of self-perception -- this strategy is invaluable. However, it's also time-consuming and can take a few hours.
That's why you learn about time management in your First Year Seminar course when you arrive at Gallaudet as a freshman. School takes time, and it always will, especially if you decide you want to do the best work possible.
One final note, and this is something I say to a lot of the courses I present to: There will be times at which you hit a wall. You can't figure out how to proceed any further with your research. Maybe you've run out of terms to try, or there simply isn't anything in the databases you've been looking in. At this point, ask a librarian. It's what we're here for.
Question of the Week
Are you open during the summer?
We're open year-round! Our hours are usually reduced during the summer -- we generally close at 8 p.m., for example -- so things will be a little bit different, but we're open nonetheless. We'll be releasing our summer hours pretty soon; keep an eye on this blog, and I'll let you know when you can find out!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Some words on the Little Paper Family
Ah, spring is here to stay! It's been a warm, sunny week and that just makes me extra happy to have a long weekend.
Adding to the so-called "happy," of course, is reading How to be Inappropriate by Daniel Nester. Truthfully, I'd have been happy with this book based solely on its cover. Go to the linked Discovery record and take a look at the Google Books-linked cover image, down there on the right. Lord knows plenty of other folks on the Metro during my morning commute did, and I got to enjoy an abundance of raised eyebrows and disgusted glares.
Of course, being the kind of person I am (I always seem to find unusual books), How to be Inappropriate turns out to be less irreverent than it sounds. Granted, it devotes an astounding number of pages to a cultural analysis of mooning and the author goes out of his way to chronicle every single inappropriate thing he has done or said, but it's actually a bait-and-switch job. See, you're kind of tooling along through the book, which is easy enough to do (it's full of things like conversations with Gene Simmons of KISS that switch Gene's side of the conversation with a chatbot), and then you hit something unexpectedly literary, like an in-depth analysis of the history of farting in poetry. It turns out a lot of classical poets had a finger pulled here and there and didn't mind including it in their work.
It's not so much the subject matter as Nester's approach to it; it turns out you're actually reading a book written by someone who's spent over a decade as a poet, and who's studied language and literature all his life. Although a good deal of the book is screamingly funny -- as in his misadventures while learning how to tan in his pale, doughy late 40s -- there are also sections where he gets his point across in subtler ways, as in the part where he lists every comment he writes in his students' papers as an example of what he encounters daily as a college professor. It's never mean-spirited or woebegone, though -- it's just funny.
This week, we've seen a lot of students coming in to do research on the Little Paper Family, which I thought would make a decent discussion here, starting with an explanation of what the Little Paper Family (or LPF) actually is and ending with how to do Research to it.
First, the LPF's name isn't nearly as self-explanatory as one would hope. When I first heard the term, I thought it was some kind of project where people cut out families from paper and put them together into a collage or something. Maybe I'm just weird like that.
The LPF actually refers to a group of deaf residential schools' newspapers and magazines that were published and traded among those schools for over a century. This lasted until the 1970s, when most of the LPF died out for various reasons; the rest persists today in some form. The publications included information on recent events at the school, student standouts, and other important events in deaf culture and history. They represent a tremendously valuable resource for understanding deaf history and the origins of what we see today.
For some more detailed information, including a listing of most known LPF publications, check out our Web page on the LPF. A surprisingly decent amount of LPF material's been preserved in one form or another and is available for research, particularly here at the Gallaudet University Library.
The only thing is that it's all been mostly preserved on microfilm, which is an obsolete medium by any standard. It requires a big old machine to read what's on it, and most of our students have little or no frame of reference for it.
It's okay. It happens. That's what we librarians are here for.
In any case, nearly all of our LPF stuff is kept in a bright-orange microfilm cabinet on the first floor, at the end of the Deaf Periodicals, behind the atlases. There's a sign on it that says "DEAF Microfilm." Although most of the cabinet is dedicated to deaf-related theses and dissertations, the LPF takes up a corner of its own, and is alphabetized by the name of the publication, not the name of the publishing school (which throws some people off). Each reel of microfilm can contain a few years' worth of issues, depending on the school's publishing schedule.
So that's fairly simple, until you hit the machine. I'm not going to explain how to string the reel on the thing because it's fairly picayune. Suffice it to say that when you pull on the handle that moves the glass tray toward you, you should notice a horizontal spindle pointing right at you on the left-hand side, where the reel goes. Above that spindle, you'll see a cute little diagram that tells you everything you need to know, if you follow it exactly. Then gently slide the glass tray back under the lens, turn the machine on, and press the obvious buttons to rewind or advance the film. It's also possible to print directly from microfilm, which is incredibly useful if you need to have specific pages to refer to later; it's 10 cents a page and requires the same copy card you use for our photocopiers.
On a less professional note, the sheer novelty of the experience for people who've never used microfilm before is pretty fun to watch. Of course, they get tired of it quickly and wish it were easier to sift through the thousands of pages each reel contains. When I get complaints or rueful "suggestions" on how to improve the way microfilm works, all I can do is let them know that it's called "old-school research," and they go back to their computers, grateful for our databases.
But I digress. In general, the LPF is an incredibly valuable thing to have, and we're proud to have it here and make it available to everyone (format notwithstanding)!
It's a short post this week because it's been a rather short week. Next week, I'll discuss research itself and what's really involved -- most people think you just enter a keyword and bam: You've got Research. Not true, and I'll explain why. Tune in next Friday!
Question of the Week
I checked out a DVD from the Library a few days ago, and just realized that I can find the disc, but not the case. What do I do?
First, tell a staff member at the service desk (or contact us) so we can give you another few days to look. Then look for it. It's usually in your room, your friend's room, your bag, or your friend's bag. Those are the four most common places these things usually wind up. Then check your dresser, behind your bed, in your freezer (you'd be surprised), and under your cat. If you come up empty-handed after performing due diligence, let us know. We'll take the video off your record (though any fines you might have accrued as a result of not returning the video on time before we renewed it for you will have to be paid) and add a $10 charge to replace the case.
Don't worry, we can replace the case. We have mysterious librarian ways. No need to buy a whole new film if we have at least the disc, but the cost of the new case, reprocessing, and adding the appropriate liner needs to be addressed. We do strongly encourage that you at least look as hard as you can to make sure the original case is well and truly lost.
Adding to the so-called "happy," of course, is reading How to be Inappropriate by Daniel Nester. Truthfully, I'd have been happy with this book based solely on its cover. Go to the linked Discovery record and take a look at the Google Books-linked cover image, down there on the right. Lord knows plenty of other folks on the Metro during my morning commute did, and I got to enjoy an abundance of raised eyebrows and disgusted glares.
Of course, being the kind of person I am (I always seem to find unusual books), How to be Inappropriate turns out to be less irreverent than it sounds. Granted, it devotes an astounding number of pages to a cultural analysis of mooning and the author goes out of his way to chronicle every single inappropriate thing he has done or said, but it's actually a bait-and-switch job. See, you're kind of tooling along through the book, which is easy enough to do (it's full of things like conversations with Gene Simmons of KISS that switch Gene's side of the conversation with a chatbot), and then you hit something unexpectedly literary, like an in-depth analysis of the history of farting in poetry. It turns out a lot of classical poets had a finger pulled here and there and didn't mind including it in their work.
It's not so much the subject matter as Nester's approach to it; it turns out you're actually reading a book written by someone who's spent over a decade as a poet, and who's studied language and literature all his life. Although a good deal of the book is screamingly funny -- as in his misadventures while learning how to tan in his pale, doughy late 40s -- there are also sections where he gets his point across in subtler ways, as in the part where he lists every comment he writes in his students' papers as an example of what he encounters daily as a college professor. It's never mean-spirited or woebegone, though -- it's just funny.
This week, we've seen a lot of students coming in to do research on the Little Paper Family, which I thought would make a decent discussion here, starting with an explanation of what the Little Paper Family (or LPF) actually is and ending with how to do Research to it.
First, the LPF's name isn't nearly as self-explanatory as one would hope. When I first heard the term, I thought it was some kind of project where people cut out families from paper and put them together into a collage or something. Maybe I'm just weird like that.
The LPF actually refers to a group of deaf residential schools' newspapers and magazines that were published and traded among those schools for over a century. This lasted until the 1970s, when most of the LPF died out for various reasons; the rest persists today in some form. The publications included information on recent events at the school, student standouts, and other important events in deaf culture and history. They represent a tremendously valuable resource for understanding deaf history and the origins of what we see today.
For some more detailed information, including a listing of most known LPF publications, check out our Web page on the LPF. A surprisingly decent amount of LPF material's been preserved in one form or another and is available for research, particularly here at the Gallaudet University Library.
The only thing is that it's all been mostly preserved on microfilm, which is an obsolete medium by any standard. It requires a big old machine to read what's on it, and most of our students have little or no frame of reference for it.
It's okay. It happens. That's what we librarians are here for.
In any case, nearly all of our LPF stuff is kept in a bright-orange microfilm cabinet on the first floor, at the end of the Deaf Periodicals, behind the atlases. There's a sign on it that says "DEAF Microfilm." Although most of the cabinet is dedicated to deaf-related theses and dissertations, the LPF takes up a corner of its own, and is alphabetized by the name of the publication, not the name of the publishing school (which throws some people off). Each reel of microfilm can contain a few years' worth of issues, depending on the school's publishing schedule.
So that's fairly simple, until you hit the machine. I'm not going to explain how to string the reel on the thing because it's fairly picayune. Suffice it to say that when you pull on the handle that moves the glass tray toward you, you should notice a horizontal spindle pointing right at you on the left-hand side, where the reel goes. Above that spindle, you'll see a cute little diagram that tells you everything you need to know, if you follow it exactly. Then gently slide the glass tray back under the lens, turn the machine on, and press the obvious buttons to rewind or advance the film. It's also possible to print directly from microfilm, which is incredibly useful if you need to have specific pages to refer to later; it's 10 cents a page and requires the same copy card you use for our photocopiers.
On a less professional note, the sheer novelty of the experience for people who've never used microfilm before is pretty fun to watch. Of course, they get tired of it quickly and wish it were easier to sift through the thousands of pages each reel contains. When I get complaints or rueful "suggestions" on how to improve the way microfilm works, all I can do is let them know that it's called "old-school research," and they go back to their computers, grateful for our databases.
But I digress. In general, the LPF is an incredibly valuable thing to have, and we're proud to have it here and make it available to everyone (format notwithstanding)!
It's a short post this week because it's been a rather short week. Next week, I'll discuss research itself and what's really involved -- most people think you just enter a keyword and bam: You've got Research. Not true, and I'll explain why. Tune in next Friday!
Question of the Week
I checked out a DVD from the Library a few days ago, and just realized that I can find the disc, but not the case. What do I do?
First, tell a staff member at the service desk (or contact us) so we can give you another few days to look. Then look for it. It's usually in your room, your friend's room, your bag, or your friend's bag. Those are the four most common places these things usually wind up. Then check your dresser, behind your bed, in your freezer (you'd be surprised), and under your cat. If you come up empty-handed after performing due diligence, let us know. We'll take the video off your record (though any fines you might have accrued as a result of not returning the video on time before we renewed it for you will have to be paid) and add a $10 charge to replace the case.
Don't worry, we can replace the case. We have mysterious librarian ways. No need to buy a whole new film if we have at least the disc, but the cost of the new case, reprocessing, and adding the appropriate liner needs to be addressed. We do strongly encourage that you at least look as hard as you can to make sure the original case is well and truly lost.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Research paper award, Dutch painters, baseball, and free stuff
A couple of last-minute additions have made this particular post a little long and confusing -- to me, at least -- so I'm breaking it up into discrete sections.
The part where I plug our research paper award
First off, let's start with a Shameless Plug: The Library's Undergraduate Research Paper Award. It's quite a mouthful and maybe it'd be neater if we called it the Lurp Award (or ... not), but if you ever wanted to be rewarded for good writing with more than a simple letter -- I assume that letter is an "A," right? -- this is your chance.
Why? We're giving away $200 to the best paper. There isn't an extra zero there; that's how much money we'll give you for a good paper. Of course, it's in the form of a gift card to Barnes & Noble, so if you like books, DVDs, and a whole lot of Starbucks coffee and pastries, this is the one for you. Plus, it'll be announced at the Awards Day ceremony toward the end of the semester, so everyone'll know about your writing chops.
The Web page with all the info is here; the deadline's 9 p.m. next Tuesday, April 6th, so if you want a chance at that two large, get hopping!
The part where I plug Hendrick Avercamp
I was thrilled to hear earlier this week that the National Gallery here in town is hosting an exhibition on Hendrick Avercamp. If you don't know him, shame on you; he's one of the earliest known deaf people! And a fantastic artist to boot; he's famous for his scenes of life in 17th-Century Netherlands, which also allow us a glimpse at that period of time known as the Little Ice Age, which occurred sometime between 1400-1900 (estimates vary based on local conditions). During that period, global temperatures dropped significantly for no apparent reason for about four hundred years (again, estimates vary), and the world became a much colder place until the Industrial Revolution kicked into gear, started polluting, and got the world to warm up again. Or the Industrial Revolution actually had a negligible impact -- they're still trying to figure that one out.
In the Netherlands, though, unlike the rest of Europe, the incredibly harsh winters were actually welcomed; remember, this is the country where ice skating as we know it (with an edge on the skates so they cut into the ice instead of gliding on top) was invented in the 13th or 14th Centuries. Avercamp was known even in his own time for his beautiful depictions of wintertime ice skaters on the local canals; folks of the time found his talent especially notable because he was deaf and couldn't speak at all, which is why we know as much about him as we do today.
This is a unique opportunity: the Dutch museum that usually holds his paintings is undergoing a major renovation, so Avercamp's paintings and those of his countrymen are on a tour around the world until 2012 or so. They're bunking down at the National Gallery until July 5.
The part where I talk about what I read this week
Now, what did I read this week? Interestingly, I wandered a bit further afield and got a book delivered from George Mason University using our CLS service, mostly because it's a book I'm considering purchasing for the Library and was curious about what it really entailed. It's called Museum by Danny Danziger, and it's a collection of interviews with a total of around 50 employees of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
The book is fascinating; all of the Met employees interviewed work in different departments, from one of the cleaners to a few trustees and the then-director himself, Philippe de Montebello (he retired in 2008). They come from all walks of life, from Harlem and baseball cards to extraordinarily wealthy families that hung Picassos and Monets in their living rooms. The paths that led them to the Met vary from twisty -- as in the case of the Central Park cop with two degrees in history -- to ruler-straight -- like the trustee who inherited her love for, and deep involvement with, the Met from her parents -- and every single one is interesting. A large number of curators from a few of the Met's collections are represented, from 20th-Century American textiles to 16th-Century arms and armor.
Overall, the effect is one of intimacy; you really get a terrific snapshot of the people behind the art and the building, and you gain an idea of the world that lurks behind all museums. It adds a nice significance to the whole idea of preserving and exhibiting cultural artifacts, and lets you see a few nuts and a handful of bolts. It's just fantastic on general principle. As far as adding it to the collection, I'm ambivalent. On the one hand, it's a terrific read and really does give you a good idea of some of the things that go on behind the scenes to ensure that you have access to some tremendous history and culture. On the other hand, it's more anecdotal than I'm quite comfortable with as an addition to a collection of practical utility. I'll probably end up getting it anyway -- many of our books have interest and value beyond simple education, like many of the ones I've covered in this blog over the past year or so.
The part where I acknowledge this blog's birthday a month late
Oh! That reminds me. Somehow I managed to completely overlook the fact that this blog's first anniversary passed a month ago. Happy belated birthday, blog!
The part where my baseball-obsessed director told me to remind you of an upcoming important national celebration
Opening Day. April 5. Next Monday. ESPN or be square. Although I joke around a little bit about my director and her all-consuming mania for cowhide, I'm busily planning out my schedule of Saturday games through October, and you probably should too. To do otherwise would be un-American.
The part where I inform you about useful resources for research
As for this week, a recent comment on this blog -- which is a rare event! you guys are quiet -- got me thinking about the different resources that are available out there. This is also partly prompted by some students who've been coming in over this past week asking about how to find information related to government programs, thinking that academic databases are the only way to garner any useful insights, and that any research worth looking at carries a price tag.
That's not always so. Here's a quick list of the three major free, little-known, high-quality academic resources available to everyone:
In addition, Congress is currently working on the Federal Research Public Access Act, which would mandate that all federally-funded research (with some exceptions, like certain classes of defense research -- ahem) be available online to the public for free within 6 months of publication in a peer-reviewed journal. For everything else, the funding agency has to at least come up with a policy of some kind that would make the research publicly available.
That's without going into public records, such as specific pieces of legislation, budget information, and governmental assets. Nearly everything the federal government does is available to look up; the only limitations are either time (it can take a while to post it online) and any issues with national security (classified research, for example, or troop movements in times of war).
In general, don't be afraid to think outside the box that ProQuest and Ebsco can build around your research habits. Those two databases, and others like them, are must-haves for any scholar worth his or her salt, but your work does not, by any means, need to be exclusively a product of the material contained therein. There's plenty of stuff out there!
Just one cautionary note, because it's come up before: Just because it's freely available doesn't mean you don't need to cite it. Cite everything and cite it properly and completely. In the spirit of this post, here are links to decent style guides available online for free, all thanks to Purdue University:
I think that's my good deed for the week. I'm off next Friday (yes ... again), so you'll see a new post on Thursday!
The part where I answer the question of the week
What's this Aladin Mobile thing I keep hearing about?
Pretty much what it sounds like -- something pretty fabulous.
See, I have this habit of buying books for myself. I like to read. What can I say? But I try to avoid buying for myself any books that the Library has, so when I'm in the bookstore, right in front of the bookshelf, I like to check the catalog to make sure I'm not spending money I shouldn't. The problem is, the catalog -- both the old version and Discovery -- ranges from extremely difficult to near-impossible to check on a cell phone. I've got an Android phone and even that struggles with the catalog; I've heard similar complaints from my Apple-cultist friends.
Aladin Mobile fixes all that and looks pretty too! It works for iPhones, Blackberries, Palm Pres, and, of course, Android. You can search the catalog at the university of your choice, check your account online, have notifications about CLS books or overdue warnings texted to you, request CLS books from your phone, and get access to library maps and hours (just in case you're in Georgetown and want to check out the university library ... because everyone loves libraries like I do, right? Right?). I was a beta tester for this, so take my word for it when I tell you it's just terrific.
Hit up m.wrlc.org on your phone and ooh and aah away!
The part where I plug our research paper award
First off, let's start with a Shameless Plug: The Library's Undergraduate Research Paper Award. It's quite a mouthful and maybe it'd be neater if we called it the Lurp Award (or ... not), but if you ever wanted to be rewarded for good writing with more than a simple letter -- I assume that letter is an "A," right? -- this is your chance.
Why? We're giving away $200 to the best paper. There isn't an extra zero there; that's how much money we'll give you for a good paper. Of course, it's in the form of a gift card to Barnes & Noble, so if you like books, DVDs, and a whole lot of Starbucks coffee and pastries, this is the one for you. Plus, it'll be announced at the Awards Day ceremony toward the end of the semester, so everyone'll know about your writing chops.
The Web page with all the info is here; the deadline's 9 p.m. next Tuesday, April 6th, so if you want a chance at that two large, get hopping!
The part where I plug Hendrick Avercamp
I was thrilled to hear earlier this week that the National Gallery here in town is hosting an exhibition on Hendrick Avercamp. If you don't know him, shame on you; he's one of the earliest known deaf people! And a fantastic artist to boot; he's famous for his scenes of life in 17th-Century Netherlands, which also allow us a glimpse at that period of time known as the Little Ice Age, which occurred sometime between 1400-1900 (estimates vary based on local conditions). During that period, global temperatures dropped significantly for no apparent reason for about four hundred years (again, estimates vary), and the world became a much colder place until the Industrial Revolution kicked into gear, started polluting, and got the world to warm up again. Or the Industrial Revolution actually had a negligible impact -- they're still trying to figure that one out.
In the Netherlands, though, unlike the rest of Europe, the incredibly harsh winters were actually welcomed; remember, this is the country where ice skating as we know it (with an edge on the skates so they cut into the ice instead of gliding on top) was invented in the 13th or 14th Centuries. Avercamp was known even in his own time for his beautiful depictions of wintertime ice skaters on the local canals; folks of the time found his talent especially notable because he was deaf and couldn't speak at all, which is why we know as much about him as we do today.
This is a unique opportunity: the Dutch museum that usually holds his paintings is undergoing a major renovation, so Avercamp's paintings and those of his countrymen are on a tour around the world until 2012 or so. They're bunking down at the National Gallery until July 5.
The part where I talk about what I read this week
Now, what did I read this week? Interestingly, I wandered a bit further afield and got a book delivered from George Mason University using our CLS service, mostly because it's a book I'm considering purchasing for the Library and was curious about what it really entailed. It's called Museum by Danny Danziger, and it's a collection of interviews with a total of around 50 employees of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
The book is fascinating; all of the Met employees interviewed work in different departments, from one of the cleaners to a few trustees and the then-director himself, Philippe de Montebello (he retired in 2008). They come from all walks of life, from Harlem and baseball cards to extraordinarily wealthy families that hung Picassos and Monets in their living rooms. The paths that led them to the Met vary from twisty -- as in the case of the Central Park cop with two degrees in history -- to ruler-straight -- like the trustee who inherited her love for, and deep involvement with, the Met from her parents -- and every single one is interesting. A large number of curators from a few of the Met's collections are represented, from 20th-Century American textiles to 16th-Century arms and armor.
Overall, the effect is one of intimacy; you really get a terrific snapshot of the people behind the art and the building, and you gain an idea of the world that lurks behind all museums. It adds a nice significance to the whole idea of preserving and exhibiting cultural artifacts, and lets you see a few nuts and a handful of bolts. It's just fantastic on general principle. As far as adding it to the collection, I'm ambivalent. On the one hand, it's a terrific read and really does give you a good idea of some of the things that go on behind the scenes to ensure that you have access to some tremendous history and culture. On the other hand, it's more anecdotal than I'm quite comfortable with as an addition to a collection of practical utility. I'll probably end up getting it anyway -- many of our books have interest and value beyond simple education, like many of the ones I've covered in this blog over the past year or so.
The part where I acknowledge this blog's birthday a month late
Oh! That reminds me. Somehow I managed to completely overlook the fact that this blog's first anniversary passed a month ago. Happy belated birthday, blog!
The part where my baseball-obsessed director told me to remind you of an upcoming important national celebration
Opening Day. April 5. Next Monday. ESPN or be square. Although I joke around a little bit about my director and her all-consuming mania for cowhide, I'm busily planning out my schedule of Saturday games through October, and you probably should too. To do otherwise would be un-American.
The part where I inform you about useful resources for research
As for this week, a recent comment on this blog -- which is a rare event! you guys are quiet -- got me thinking about the different resources that are available out there. This is also partly prompted by some students who've been coming in over this past week asking about how to find information related to government programs, thinking that academic databases are the only way to garner any useful insights, and that any research worth looking at carries a price tag.
That's not always so. Here's a quick list of the three major free, little-known, high-quality academic resources available to everyone:
- Education Resources Information Center (ERIC): It used to be an index/bibliography of education-related articles and publications, but they've been adding more and more full text over the years. Its name is fairly self-explanatory, but within the field of education, it's astonishingly comprehensive and has proven to be valuable for deaf education in particular. It's a federal project through the U.S. Department of Education. For more information, check out this page about their holdings.
- Directory of Open Access Journals (DOAJ): This one created quite a stir when it emerged a few years ago, mostly because academic publishers can be super-protective of the stuff they publish. This is partly because of copyright, because of intellectual property issues, and because of, well, the pursuit of profit. As a librarian, I support open access to research for everyone -- it's not fair that only people who can afford to go to college get to see the work that underlies much of what we know today -- but I'm realistic enough to really appreciate a thing like DOAJ. It's an online directory of journals that offer their content free of charge. Some might require registration, but won't ask you to pay a cent; you know this because DOAJ itself has a policy that states that anything linked to from their Web site must be free. They also require peer review or some kind of editorial quality control to be included, which means that most of the stuff in there is good to use for your academic work (see more information about their criteria here).
- The Federal Government
In addition, Congress is currently working on the Federal Research Public Access Act, which would mandate that all federally-funded research (with some exceptions, like certain classes of defense research -- ahem) be available online to the public for free within 6 months of publication in a peer-reviewed journal. For everything else, the funding agency has to at least come up with a policy of some kind that would make the research publicly available.
That's without going into public records, such as specific pieces of legislation, budget information, and governmental assets. Nearly everything the federal government does is available to look up; the only limitations are either time (it can take a while to post it online) and any issues with national security (classified research, for example, or troop movements in times of war).
In general, don't be afraid to think outside the box that ProQuest and Ebsco can build around your research habits. Those two databases, and others like them, are must-haves for any scholar worth his or her salt, but your work does not, by any means, need to be exclusively a product of the material contained therein. There's plenty of stuff out there!
Just one cautionary note, because it's come up before: Just because it's freely available doesn't mean you don't need to cite it. Cite everything and cite it properly and completely. In the spirit of this post, here are links to decent style guides available online for free, all thanks to Purdue University:
I think that's my good deed for the week. I'm off next Friday (yes ... again), so you'll see a new post on Thursday!
The part where I answer the question of the week
What's this Aladin Mobile thing I keep hearing about?
Pretty much what it sounds like -- something pretty fabulous.
See, I have this habit of buying books for myself. I like to read. What can I say? But I try to avoid buying for myself any books that the Library has, so when I'm in the bookstore, right in front of the bookshelf, I like to check the catalog to make sure I'm not spending money I shouldn't. The problem is, the catalog -- both the old version and Discovery -- ranges from extremely difficult to near-impossible to check on a cell phone. I've got an Android phone and even that struggles with the catalog; I've heard similar complaints from my Apple-cultist friends.
Aladin Mobile fixes all that and looks pretty too! It works for iPhones, Blackberries, Palm Pres, and, of course, Android. You can search the catalog at the university of your choice, check your account online, have notifications about CLS books or overdue warnings texted to you, request CLS books from your phone, and get access to library maps and hours (just in case you're in Georgetown and want to check out the university library ... because everyone loves libraries like I do, right? Right?). I was a beta tester for this, so take my word for it when I tell you it's just terrific.
Hit up m.wrlc.org on your phone and ooh and aah away!
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