Years ago now, (2008) the international library corporation OCLC conducted a surprising study. They interviewed some 4,000 people to find out what they really felt about libraries.
The issue was a weird contradiction. The use of the library was growing sharply over the past 25 years. Many patrons enthusiastically admitted “I love my library!”
But at the same time, support for libraries — measured by the ability for the library to get on the ballot, or win the election when they did — was falling.
The study, which was replicated 10 years later, surfaced all kinds of interesting and non-intuitive findings. Here’s the big one: library use, all by itself, simply doesn’t have much to do with support.
That is, the folks who check out 40 books a week to feed the curious minds of their toddlers were no more likely to vote for a library mill levy than people who didn’t use the library at all.
There was, however, a group of super supporters. They shared some characteristics that seemed important. They believed in the common good. They believed that even if an investment didn’t help them, but did help children, it was money well spent. They believed that if the librarian–meaning anyone who worked at the library — was a passionate advocate for learning, then they would vote for that.
The finding I keep thinking about is this. Many people in our society draw a sharp distinction between transaction and transformation. That is, if you check out a book about growing tomatoes, that’s a transaction. It’s ok, but it’s not all that memorable.
But at every library I’ve ever worked at, there are also transformations. A library worker hands to people not just a book, but the right book, the astonishingly eye-opening story that alters the trajectory of their days.
The more I think about this, the more I think it’s all about life transitions. I suppose transformation is possible at any moment. But it’s more likely at predictable stages.
The first is that transition from toddler to child. I can remember reading “Morris the Moose” to my daughter. She was a very serious child, a close watcher of the people and events around her. But when she got a load of Morris with a spoon stuck sideways in his mouth, she giggled uncontrollably. From that day on, life was funnier for her.
The second is the transition from child to young adult. There are a number of issues that show up. The first is often falling in love, as hormones suddenly complicate the chemical soup of our lives. Reading about young love is both affirming and instructive. It helps young people begin to make sense of their feelings.
But it could also be an interest in religion or philosophy. At a basic level, I think it’s about identity. Many young adults begin to question the beliefs they were raised with. That’s how we become adults, with our own views. Or as my uncle once said, “You try to teach your kids to think for themselves. And when they do, you wonder where you went wrong.”
The third, in America, is the transition from young adulthood to actual adulthood. Now we step into that first real job, that first long-term relationship, and maybe even the first child. Now the shift is from thinking that you are the center of the universe to realizing that you are part of a much larger world. You have not just rights, but responsibilities.
The fourth is the shift from worker to retired. In some faith traditions, this is the beginning of elderhood. Now the task isn’t so much to be productive. It’s not about status or money. It might be more about teaching or grandparenting, about passing on the many insights resulting from doing a lot of really stupid things and a few smart ones. But it’s also the opportunity to do some deep reflection. As Viktor Frankl put it, all of us are on a search for meaning. Sometimes, that requires a little extra time to think.
A transaction changes your day. A transformation changes your life.
I sometimes think library education should focus more on that. When someone falls into those moments of transition, we should practice having a deeper conversation with them. What’s the interest that seems to be rising? Once we can name that, there are so many choices!
Here’s the good news. The people who find transformation at the library are lifelong supporters. It’s the difference between being a consumer, and being the creator of your life.
The issue was a weird contradiction. The use of the library was growing sharply over the past 25 years. Many patrons enthusiastically admitted “I love my library!”
But at the same time, support for libraries — measured by the ability for the library to get on the ballot, or win the election when they did — was falling.
The study, which was replicated 10 years later, surfaced all kinds of interesting and non-intuitive findings. Here’s the big one: library use, all by itself, simply doesn’t have much to do with support.
That is, the folks who check out 40 books a week to feed the curious minds of their toddlers were no more likely to vote for a library mill levy than people who didn’t use the library at all.
There was, however, a group of super supporters. They shared some characteristics that seemed important. They believed in the common good. They believed that even if an investment didn’t help them, but did help children, it was money well spent. They believed that if the librarian–meaning anyone who worked at the library — was a passionate advocate for learning, then they would vote for that.
The finding I keep thinking about is this. Many people in our society draw a sharp distinction between transaction and transformation. That is, if you check out a book about growing tomatoes, that’s a transaction. It’s ok, but it’s not all that memorable.
But at every library I’ve ever worked at, there are also transformations. A library worker hands to people not just a book, but the right book, the astonishingly eye-opening story that alters the trajectory of their days.
The more I think about this, the more I think it’s all about life transitions. I suppose transformation is possible at any moment. But it’s more likely at predictable stages.
The first is that transition from toddler to child. I can remember reading “Morris the Moose” to my daughter. She was a very serious child, a close watcher of the people and events around her. But when she got a load of Morris with a spoon stuck sideways in his mouth, she giggled uncontrollably. From that day on, life was funnier for her.
The second is the transition from child to young adult. There are a number of issues that show up. The first is often falling in love, as hormones suddenly complicate the chemical soup of our lives. Reading about young love is both affirming and instructive. It helps young people begin to make sense of their feelings.
But it could also be an interest in religion or philosophy. At a basic level, I think it’s about identity. Many young adults begin to question the beliefs they were raised with. That’s how we become adults, with our own views. Or as my uncle once said, “You try to teach your kids to think for themselves. And when they do, you wonder where you went wrong.”
The third, in America, is the transition from young adulthood to actual adulthood. Now we step into that first real job, that first long-term relationship, and maybe even the first child. Now the shift is from thinking that you are the center of the universe to realizing that you are part of a much larger world. You have not just rights, but responsibilities.
The fourth is the shift from worker to retired. In some faith traditions, this is the beginning of elderhood. Now the task isn’t so much to be productive. It’s not about status or money. It might be more about teaching or grandparenting, about passing on the many insights resulting from doing a lot of really stupid things and a few smart ones. But it’s also the opportunity to do some deep reflection. As Viktor Frankl put it, all of us are on a search for meaning. Sometimes, that requires a little extra time to think.
A transaction changes your day. A transformation changes your life.
I sometimes think library education should focus more on that. When someone falls into those moments of transition, we should practice having a deeper conversation with them. What’s the interest that seems to be rising? Once we can name that, there are so many choices!
Here’s the good news. The people who find transformation at the library are lifelong supporters. It’s the difference between being a consumer, and being the creator of your life.
[This column appeared in the March 28, 2025 edition of the Post Independent.]
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