#lis student

Mr. Green argued that...

"...librarians must be more than mere guardians of books; they should be educators of the public and advocates of the library to the broader community."

Think of it like the human version of a Google search bar yet more empathetic and guiding. This technology is amazing yes, and it has made finding answers much easier and faster. However, the problem lies in its lack of caution and guidance to the undeveloped mind (and also the dangers of misinformation).

Such is the case, for example, when looking into matters of opinion. Google does not warn you of anything, it just spits out all the information and articles it can come up with regardless of truths and falsehoods hidden among those texts.

However, were one to inquire at a library, a librarian will be there, and in respect of his/her profession will follow Mr. Green's words:

"If a reader ask you for your own views regarding some matter about which there is controversy, give them to him if you choose. Decline to give them if you choose. Remind him, however, in either case, that if he wishes to have an opinion of his own, he must study the subject in its different aspects and form one for himself. Say gently to immature persons that they can not expect to have opinions upon profound controverted questions, and that they must wait until they grow in knowledge, and until their reasoning powers develop, before their views on such matters will be of value."

This, what I feel, is the problem with the modern query-type technology, whether they be search engines or AI-language models. As the algorithm relies heavily on what is "trending" (often manipulated behind the scenes), views and opinions that gain more traction are the only ones that enter the inquirer's circle.

Yes, with all this new technology, answers are found more quickly and efficiently, but this in turn has stunted the growth and development of individual minds to think, to investigate, to inquire for themselves, since all that is being done is "cramming".

"Avoid religiously the practice of cramming the minds of young inquirers with one-sided views in regard to questions in dispute."

As embarrassing as it is to admit, when I read Mr. Green's paper, I quite literally burst into tears. It felt like I was able to find a kindred soul, one that called to the ideals that dwelled deep in my heart, and at the same time, a loss at the realization that I was born much too late for his time. I would have loved a chance to meet him at least once.

Through his efforts and the fellow librarians of his time, they were able to reconnect the library to the hearts of the people, not just to the privileged, but to all those who are seeking answers in this life that is full of questions. Treating and answering each query with sympathy and enthusiasm, yet not too much as to impede individual thought and learning, giving them the freedom to inquire and find their own answers for themselves. That paper seemed to beckon and call upon all that I have always wished could be, and to find the same thought and the same ideals right here from minds centuries past quite literally brought me to tears. It felt like proof that my ideals aren't just “dreams” — they’re part of a much larger hope that has always existed.

Records are amazing... It’s like Mr. Green reached across time to say, “Yes, I see the world the way you do too.”

And I suppose that is why I have always wished to become one — a librarian, a keeper of the records... so that I may be able to share this wonderful feeling that can only be found through the timeless records of human minds with many others.

As this post would end up quite longer than I'd usually like, I'll end it here with with the same words as those of Mr. Green, but with a small addition of my own:

Years ago, when I still was a student at uni, I sat one day in the library doing an assignment - when a relatively young dad and his daughter walked passed me where I sat. The girl was probably about 3 years old and she walked by her self albeit quite unsteady. Anyway they walked passed me and you could see how they strolled in-between the shelves. I resumed my work until I heard the little girl calling for her dad (who probably just had walked around a corner or something but anyway) ‘Daddy! Daddy, you have to come out now…wherever you are!’ ‘Daddy! Daddy, it’s time to come out!’