The opening sentence caught my eye: “In graduate school, a professor told me that she decided to choose her discipline based on the people she wanted to argue with for the rest of her career.” The author–Jarrett M. Drake, one of several archivists recently writing about first-time publishing at the Students and New Archives Professionals (SNAP) Blog.
Rebecca Goldman was a leading force behind the establishment of the SNAP Roundtable of the Society of American Archivists (SAA). Archivists, librarians, and Library and Information Science grad students saw the need and made it happen. I followed the threads on the main SAA Listserv and Social Media which led to her proposal. I understood why Rebecca lobbied for SNAP. And why Kate Theimer, one of the most visionary archivists to serve on SAA’s Council, helped supporters of the new Roundtable.
Most of the older Listservs which I follow show less engagement now than 15 years ago, when there were fewer platforms for outreach. I follow the bursts of conversations on the SNAP List, the insightful #snaprt chats on Twitter and thoughtful posts on the Roundtable’s blog.
I usually take time off from work for much of December but not this year. So it’s nice to have four days off right now. It’s good to let my thoughts wander, even more so than during the long walks I like to take. And to catch up on posts such as “[On the Job Training]: The First Publishing Experience (Or, Using Graduate School Work for a Higher Purpose” (December 17, 2015).
In his essay on publishing, Jarrett used a powerful image to explain how he approaches conversations and knowledge sharing (learning, teaching). I find what he writes applies to publishing and to more informal engagement online and in person, as well:
“To determine my unique contributions to a given conversation, I first research, read, and consider the range of archival literature published on a given topic. This first step allows me to assess accurately the pulse of a conversation and highlight any gaps or absences. The words of journalist Amy Goodman ring relevant: ‘Go where the silence is and say something.’ I often take weeks or months just reading and annotating articles and books that pertain to the conversation I want to enter. This process of assessing the conversation is similar to jumping rope, double dutch style. As a kid, it amazed me how seamlessly other kids could enter the terrifying prospects of two deadly pieces of twisted twine twirling at breakneck speeds. It further amazed me how seamlessly they left and allowed others to enter. Scholarly communication bears resemblance to double dutch. One must study the twirl, the twirlers, and jump in when and where you feel comfortable.”
Having a good sense of self and of others–what you and they bring to professional situations, what to personal ones, when to listen, when to talk, is part of this. You study the twirl, the twirlers, and learn when to jump in and when to hop out and let other players jump in.
Jarrett’s double dutch image fits the world of archives, records, and history well. The twirlers and the jumpers are the participants. You have to judge the speed right, listen to the cadences of the chants or the beat of the music, watch the movement.
To me, the twirl can mean tone, style, and format. The scholarly, the governmental, and the political playgrounds and streets are different. The most skilled players recognize those differences and calibrate accordingly. You can spot through lines if you look at how people express themselves, in writing and visually.
Anthony Grafton and James Grossman wrote in “Habits of Mind” that a “student of history learns that empathy, rather than sympathy, stands at the heart of understanding not only the past but also the complex present.” A year before she graduated from high school in 1969 my twin sister Eva sketched anti-Vietnam War protestors. Her 1968 sketch was impressionistic but not cartoonish. You can’t tell from how she drew the people then, and later in college in 1970, whether she supported their views or not.
As it happens, as a teenager Eva supported the war effort although she later came to see the issues as much more complex than when she was in high school. By drawing the protestors as individual human beings, not caricatures, she showed in high school the same empathy and discernment she later brought to studying history and being a supervisory archivist. There’s a spectrum among historians, as in other academic disciplines, of course. Eva always turned to fine strokes, not to thick markers. You see my late sister (at right on both photos) with me at Christmas 1975 and Christmas 1989, when we both worked for the National Archives.
The workplace requires similar skills to those Jarrett Drake describes. Ability to read situations well is a gift, an asset; tone deafness a disadvantage. The best executives and managers recognize leadership skills early on. With the rise of Social Media, they can pick out emerging leaders even before meeting them. Lucky employees (this may depend on opportunities, and yes, on privilege) find good mentors who help them thrive.
I say thrive because as does AOTUS David S. Ferriero, I think leadership skills largely are innate. They can be developed but not really taught. David observed in 2008 that
“There is a set of interpersonal skills a person has to have to be a good leader, and they can’t really be taught, but after all these years I can tell pretty quickly if someone has them. I look for an individual who truly cares about people, who has good listening skills, who has empathy and is able to understand what people are going through and is genuinely sensitive to the situation. Directness and honesty. And of course, the ability to make decisions.”
And David is right, as he observed in 2012, about the importance in public service archives and library work of discernment in outreach. “Tailoring the amount, style, and content of messages to the needs of the audience and handling and resolving questions and contrary opinions in a positive and constructive manner.”
The same skills that enable us to navigate “real life” apply in the virtual world. Part of being effective is understanding silence. There are times when you go where the silence is and speak up. And there are times when silence is the gift you give others. As Jarrett tweeted in June, sometimes you have to “stfu and listen” instead of speaking for, to, or at others. You let them choose how, when, and where to speak and what they–not you–need to say.
Only some of Twitter’s value shows in analytics. Sometimes you engage. There may be no response. At other times, a tweet leads to a wonderful back and forth. Others may join in. I’ve seen that work well with Tweeters–what they learned as they studied the twirl and the twirlers stands out. And sometimes not. Yes, that can be complicated as with all group dynamics! Learning comes through trial and error.
Sometimes you show respect by reading what people you Follow tweet and not replying. That you nod along and silently think of a powerful series of tweets, “I wish you well,” doesn’t show up in their Mentions. And sometimes, clicking “Like” doesn’t suit what they are saying about harrowing topics so you do nothing. But respectful silence while reading is part of building the online relationship.
You’re reading and annotating tweets mentally, preparing to speak later, to stand up for others, to use the concept Jarrett described. By showing silent respect and listening first, you’re learning who they are.
Jumping in without stumbling on twirling ropes, jumping out of conversations to give others a chance to play, is a skill that some people display more effectively than others. If you mess up (I have, most of the people I know have from time to time, too) you can learn, adjust. Learning, calibration are part of effective communications.
A highlight of 2015 for me was seeing Ashley Stevens tweet about meeting David Ferriero. Two archivists I know in person and admire finally had a chance to meet! During the time she worked at the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), Ashley often helped me keep going in Washington. Her insights, resilience, and candor were a bright spot for me on Social Media. I’ve often written about her at Nixonara and was glad to see her re-launch her blog this fall. I’ve added “History Matters” to my blogroll here.
Ashley’s recent blog post about “Sustainability: The Key to Understanding Me,” demonstrates exemplary professional awareness.
“I’m not always the ‘ideas person’ but I can turn that idea into a workable, customizable model. I think when I realized that, there was an internal sigh of relief. Sure I have ideas about things but that’s not where I expend my energy. That’s not my strength. And, there’s nothing wrong in admitting that.
One of my favorite quotes growing up comes from Irish dramatist George Bernard Shaw:
‘You see things; and you say “Why?” But I dream things that never were; and I say “Why not?”‘
I mistakenly thought that this ‘why not?’ was my raison d’etre. Turns out it isn’t. You have the people that say ‘why not’ but my question is how?”
She called her old blog “Emerging Archivist and Historian Adrift in the Delta Quadrant.” Since Ashley no longer is an emerging archivist but a seasoned professional, I can see why she changed the title. But truth be told, many of us feel adrift at times!
I know I do–that’s one of many reason I take the long walks I write about here. Washington can be a complicated place to navigate. But there are scenes of incredible beauty, if you know where to look.
Ashley writes of happiness and sustainability,
“I look back on my somewhat short career and I think on those things that still exist. A project I started that paved the way to another project. Or a social media strategy that is still in use today. I look back on those things with a sense of pride. I did that. And in doing that other people benefit. If it benefits just me, then I’m not as fulfilled unless others are reaping the benefits.
The question I pose to you dear reader is what makes you happy? What drives you?
Understand that and you understand the key to who you are.”
I’m considering adding update paragraphs to a handful of my older posts here. Not revising them–they reflect how I saw things at the time. But indicating through short notes that I’ve broadened or changed my perspective on some issues as I’ve talked, listened, and learned. So I’ve marked a few posts for future annotation, a backburner project.
Part of learning is understanding how others see you.
I recently read through the Internet Archive some essays on a site that no longer exists. Clicking on a link in one post took me to a 2009 Twitter thread the author described as being about someone else. At the time of actual posting, the thread at the account did show discussion of that person. (I remember reading it in real time). But because of a three-month crawl lag, the archived Wayback Machine link instead shows tweets about me from later in 2009. I had read those in real time, ouch. They were a good example of how the Twitter backchannel can point to what we might do differently.
Much has changed since 2009. I’m at peace and my attention and connections are different than they once were. My network is wider, more diverse than it was when I was one of the most frequent (essayist) posters on the old Archives and Archivists Listserv. And what makes me happy reflects those changes and that larger network and greater community.
The most beautiful gift to give others is the ability to look beyond the individual to what will help the larger group succeed. To step out of oneself. To listen out, in what is said and what you can intuit, for what others need and want. To ease their burdens, help them achieve their goals. To shine a light.
Seeing others shine lights, use their gifts in purpose-driven work, stand up for those who need it, give gifts to the community, as those I’ve written about here today do, is what makes me happy. Seeing others give back, build for the future, is a wonderful gift. And yes, sustainability matters, matters a great deal–part of “the true gift of what we do!”
