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Training and Tornadoes

Not too long ago I saw a sign in a store that asked (or at least I recall it asking), “Do you know what to do if a tornado is coming your way?”

My gut response was “Scream and faint.” Then, while pushing the cart around the store (randomly, so that I had to criss-cross the meat aisle several times, where I saw steaks that cost more than new bras), I thought to myself, so what would I do if a tornado was beelining toward me?

I was raised in earthquake country, where the disaster paradigm embraces serendipity and inevitability. In California, it’s all rehearse, rehearse, rehearse: strap down that bookcase, take note of the windows bound to implode, put the water and granola bars in the trunk (so if you’re wedged in between two spans of the Bay Bridge for several days, you can at least nosh away your worries). When it happens, oh mama, it happens: the earth crumbles beneath you; the seven-foot bookcase lands on your head; the bridge collapses.

So it’s strange to live in an area where you have at least a wedge of opportunity to improvise. Hurricanes are long, slow events, beginning with watching CNN for several days and racing around town to replenish your disaster vittles and then, worst case, following highways out of down marked with green symbols that I first thought had something to do with environmentalism and turned out to mean “this way to get out of Dodge.” (Unless you are like Joshua Clark of “Heart like Water” and you decide to hang around during the storm, which turns out to be a bad idea, though he did get a book out of it.)

So based on hurricanes — a sort of wind/air disaster — I concluded that if a tornado were coming my way I should run outside and — what, exactly? Dash into the woods? Get into my car and try to out-drive it?

It turns out that what I should do is either climb into our sturdy under-house crawl-space (if at home) or nip into the nearest restroom (if at work). Initially the work instructions said “appropriate restroom,” but it turned out “appropriate” did not really mean “based on the gender you most closely associate with at the moment when tornado is announced” (or even “restroom closest to your assigned office,” this being a rather flexible workplace on that point as well) but “restroom you can get to fastest when the guys with two-way radios are running and shouting.” So the instructions were forthwith clarified, and I was edified.

What this all means is that I both agree and disagree with Dorothea, who over on Caveat Lector in her “Training Wheels Culture” post grumbled quite credibly about professionals who pull out their real or metaphorical union cards and insist on “training” to learn anything; professionals who will not tinker and explore and learn on their own.

I know who she’s talking about. I knew who she was talking about back in 1992, before she was even a Liberrian, when I was training librarians on the Internet and not only did many of them not explore on their own but there were classes where I literally (if gently) placed librarians’ hands on keyboards and made them type. (I suppose now I’d be charged with harassment.)

It’s frustrating, exasperating, and depressing, even more so because Dorothea isn’t talking about librarians learning how to launch a space shuttle, program in assembler language, or cure HIV; we’re talking piddly stuff, for the most part.

But I did hear a gentle “ding” when she wrote, “I am consistently boggled by people asking me for training on DSpace’s deposit interface.”

I can think of quite a few interfaces that are massively non-intuitive. Moodle is muddled; Webjunction is disjunctured; I’ve seen “digital library” products that made me yearn for the good old days, when we rolled up papyrus and stuffed it in pigeonholes. Don’t get me started about OPACs.

Also, as with my inability to divine basic tornado common-sense, sometimes people are earnestly well-intentioned but differently-abled. Dorothea: you can help, or you can turn the page. (No, you can’t pull the Darwin card. After all, I was smart enough to attend the meeting that explained what to do in a tornado.)

I’ve also had training that caused a great bubble of light to appear over my head, wafting me out of the sublunary world of chaos and into the sweet order of knowledge. Or in any event, I had a MySQL class a couple years ago that kicked butt, and several more technical classes (including Siderean‘s excellent product training) that had me shouting, “I SEE the LIGHT!” and oh by the way, quite a few graduate level classes over the years that were “training” for various brain-muscles, and some Microsoft certification that proved extremely helpful, once upon a server.

It’s possible that the people asking Dorothea for training are Artful Dodgers, using “I need training” as the excuse for not learning and exploring. But it could also mean other things — such as (and I don’t know this) that DSpace is to digital libraries as Moodle is to courseware. And it also doesn’t mean there isn’t a role for good training, however that’s defined: hands-on instruction, online classes, conference programs, and the like. In fact, when I started as a librarian, it shocked me how few resources we dedicated to keeping skills current, so much so that the second article every published under my byline was a Library Journal article, “Train for the Top Gun.”

Still, I Know What She Means. I genuflect again in the direction of MPOW, which is remarkably free of such refuseniks. Dorothea’s post explains why I just can’t work in a library again. Life is too freakin’ short.

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