Pivoting to online avenues for engaging the public during the pandemic, many archives, libraries and museums launched digital collecting projects. Digital collections enable cultural heritage organizations to gather primary source material about the pandemic in real time, even while buildings are closed, while also giving the community an outlet to express their individual perspectives on this unusual time. 

Local history archives that are part of public library systems tend to have limited staff and resources compared to independent museums. As a librarian at one such archive, I hope my experience with launching a COVID-19 digital collection portal might be useful to others. 

After participating in the Virginia Museum of History and Culture’s project “Share Your Story: Documenting COVID-19 in Virginia,” it occurred to me that our local history archive had a unique role to play in collecting digital material specific to our county. We had an opportunity to capture specifics meaningful to residents: local restaurants delivering take-out food via robot, neighborhood car parades honoring essential employees and graduates, the airport looking barren on what would normally have been a bustling travel day. These images and experiences will be of interest to future generations studying the impact of the pandemic on our county. 

In early April, I proposed to colleagues the idea of using a Google Form to collect stories and digital materials from our community while the building was closed. The deed of gift information and thank-you note could be embedded in the form, negating the need for separate documents. The form would allow typed responses as well as uploaded files: images, video or audio. All agreed, so I drafted the form and it was quickly launched via our website and social media pages and promoted via notices to local media outlets.

The level of interest in the project was greater than anticipated. Within two months there was more than one television segment on the story, as well as coverage in print and online. Items in the digital collection now number in the hundreds and include stories, drawings, photographs, video clips and links to podcasts and blogs. Contributors range from children to senior citizens, teachers to small business owners. By gathering diverse narratives from all demographics within the county, we preserve a fuller record of what has occurred for future generations.

Below are a few tips based on my experience with this project.

Leave it creative and open-ended. People will surprise you with their ingenuity. In a difficult situation, it’s important that people be able to respond in a way that is meaningful to them, whether by typing a few sentences, uploading images, or sharing a link to their blog. By enabling all of these options on the form, we received a maximum variety of contributions. 

Plan in advance for publicity. It’s a good idea to have, if not an official press release, at least a written description of the project ready to draw upon when asked. Often there is short notice to prepare for interviews or articles. Be sure to credit contributors who have elected to receive credit if the material they submitted is shared. (We also have a “keep me anonymous” option on the form.)

Be aware of legal and ethical issues. The Society of American Archivists offers a resource kit: Documenting in Times of Crisis. It’s thorough, covering everything from emotional support to budget, including sample templates and forms. When launching a project quickly in response to crisis, it’s not always possible to foresee all possible issues that could arise, but at least be prepared to sequester sensitive contributions (such as a journal that names other people) until staff can determine how best to handle such items.

Be flexible. The need to adapt as the project develops is likely. As community interest in our project grew, we decided to drop the original June 10 deadline and collect indefinitely. Community experiences in April may be very different from those in June or July, as the situation evolves. We also hadn’t anticipated needing to share items with the public until a later date, but due to interest in the project we began putting samples on our Friends of the Virginia Room Library Facebook page.

Next Steps

The next step is to make the majority of the collection digitally browse-able by the public. Beyond that, I hope to eventually connect our local COVID-19 collection with those of other towns, cities and states around the country for future researchers. Currently we’re investigating Biblioboard Creator for these purposes. Other options for tools to collect, catalog, and enable public access to a digital collection can be found in New York University Library’s Guide to Digital Humanities Tools & Software. For a recent video introducing several different approaches to this type of project, see Collecting in Crisis: Responsive Collecting in a Digital Age by the Maryland Historical Society and partner organizations.

Disclaimer: Any opinions expressed in this article are my own and not meant to reflect those of my employer or any other individual or organization.

The post A Covid-19 Digital Archive first appeared on Public Libraries Online.

The term “vocational awe” was coined by Fobazi Ettarh in Vocational Awe and Librarianship: The Lies We Tell Ourselves, In the Library with a Lead Pipe, January 2018: “Vocational awe describes the set of ideas, values, and assumptions librarians have about themselves and the profession that result in notions that libraries as institutions are inherently good, sacred notions, and therefore beyond critique.” In a piece that resonated, albeit with some discomfort, among many in the field, Ettarh argued that vocational awe directly correlates with pervasive problems in the profession such as burnout, under-compensation, job creep, and lack of diversity. How can devotion to positive ideals go wrong? Ettarh writes: “In the face of grand missions of literacy and freedom, advocating for your full lunch break feels petty. And tasked with the responsibility of sustaining democracy and intellectual freedom, taking a mental health day feels shameful. Awe is easily weaponized against the worker…”

Serving the community is our mission. But librarians are people too, and also part of the community. Problems for individuals become problems for the profession as a whole when fewer excellent candidates are drawn to or remain in the field. It becomes a problem for public librarianship in particular when the demands of irregular rotating shifts make childcare difficult and increase stress, causing loss of staff to other types of libraries that offer stable schedules.

The decision by many city and county officials to keep libraries open during the start of the pandemic entailed particular risks to public library staff and patrons. The very ideals that public library professionals take pride in– welcoming service to all, the more the merrier- is exactly what exacerbates danger during an infectious disease crisis. Closure of schools and enjoinders to “work from home” during the pandemic meant more people displaced from other institutions would flock to public libraries that remained open, compounding the risk. 

As COVID-19 spread in the US, along with reports of devastation from countries previously affected, library social media sites formerly devoted to enthusiastic sharing of program ideas and reader’s advisory tips became infused with something else: fear and anger. As staff continued to work in libraries visited by hundreds or thousands of people per day, sharing keyboards, touch-screen kiosks, books and toys, many worried for their health and that of loved ones and patrons. Many felt in the dark as to whether or when their libraries would close or limit services. As more did close, those remaining at work in crowded buildings pleaded on social media for others in the field to advocate and sign petitions on their behalf. 

Mirroring those concerns, a piece in The Gothamist about the Brooklyn Public Library remaining open quoted one employee as saying: “I’m a bit worried. It seems to go against what public health officials are saying.” Another was blunt: “I’m so mad. I have kids at home… They don’t care about our health…”

Chicago Public Library kept some branches open until the Governor of Illinois announced a “stay at home” order for the state. The Chicago Tribune quoted Chicago Department of Public Health Commissioner Alison Arwady stating libraries must remain open to “provide for those who have no other place to go for basic access to the internet or other resources.” A library staff member quoted in the article confessed: “…maybe we are serving too many purposes, maybe there should be other alternatives for our homeless population.” ProPublica Illinios also reported on the situation, quoting a librarian: “The mayor is forcing libraries to be the social safety net of the city… She is relying on us to do what the city is supposed to be doing by providing homeless shelters, mental health institutions, being a day care.”

By remaining open, libraries send a message to the public that it’s safe to come in. “My library was filled with older people… I just wanted to go out and scream, ‘Go home. What are you doing here?’ I knew that if we didn’t make that move to close the building, they would never stop coming. We were, at that point, doing more harm than good,” relayed Jennifer Pearson, director of the Marshall County Memorial Library in Tennessee, quoted in Wired Magazine. On March 17, the ALA Executive Board concurred, recommending that all libraries close during this stage of the pandemic: “Keeping libraries open at this time has the potential to harm communities more than help.”

Not only should we be asking what constitutes a fair burden to place on library staff- but whether the very fact that public libraries provide access to limited resources allows us to make excuses for the fact that so many in our society struggle with underclass status- without access to wireless and internet services, without access to emergency shelter. When it comes to serious widespread issues such as poverty and homelessness, offering public libraries as the panacea can seem like siphoning up the ocean with an eyedropper. The temporary closure of libraries might force us to examine some of the inequities in society and envision more widespread solutions. 

Disclaimer: This article expresses my own opinions and is not intended to reflect those of my employer or any other individual or organization.

The post Resisting “Vocational Awe” During the Pandemic first appeared on Public Libraries Online.