"Job snob". I first heard the term a few months ago when apparently some politicians urged Gen Y to stop being Job Snobs and face the fact that in this current financial crisis, they should settle for whatever job they can get.
Whilst this seems to be yet another example of assuming Gen Y of being lazy, over-privileged brats, this "advice" from our nation's leaders seems to go completely against every piece of career advice I've gotten. Mostly along the lines of never taking a "backward step" in one's career, and always knowing what you're worth. And no, I've never actually gotten career advice form a Gen Y'er.
Anyway, this evening, I went along to an event run by the ALIA New Graduates Group, on Job Interview techniques - mostly because I'm the Convenor of the group, but also because I was curious to see if there was anything particularly outlandish that jobseekers were being told these days.
And there were certainly a few recurring themes, and a few interesting ideas that stuck.
1. Know what you want and, more importantly, why you want the job that you're being interviewed for. "Because I really need a job!" isn't really good enough. If you don't see yourself staying there for more than six months, then you probably don't really want it, and you're just wasting your own time and theirs.
However, 2. Be honest. If the only reason you want the job is because you need a source of income, then it's better to say that, rather than lie and say that you love working with pre-school children when, in fact, you hate it. You might not get the job, but it's better than getting the job and having to do pre-school storytime when you really hate small children.
3. Don't be afraid to withdraw your application. Even if it's halfway through an interview. Employers will respect your honesty and professionalism and, more importantly, your desire not to waste their time, or your own.
4. Ask intelligent questions. Find out the history of the position, whether it's been newly created, an amalgam of previous positions, and why it was created, or why the previous person left the position. Find out about the kind of people you'll be working with - colleagues, superiors, stakeholders. Ask about the organisation's strategic direction, and get a sense of their vision and how you might be able to contribute to it.
These kinds of questions will help you answer the real question - Do you really want to work here? - and, again, don't be afraid to walk away if the answer turns out to be a resounding NO.
5. Have some creative answers. A textbook answer is not impressive enough to get you a job. Employers want to see if you can think outside the square. You also need to demonstrate your personality, as employers want to get an idea of your cultural fit within the workplace. Things like enthusiasm, positivity and open-mindedness are essential in making an impression. Of course, central to all of this is actually caring about the job that you're applying for and, again, knowing why you want to work there, in order that you can actually provide a thoughtful answer.
This has all been invaluable advice for jobseeking in general, and I thought it was interesting to hear from library-related employers that they value the importance of being a discerning jobseeker, and knowing what you want from your career. And I guess it's as much in the library's interests as the employee's to recruit somebody who knows what they want, rather than somebody who has the right answers. And that the interview is not so much about getting the "right" or "wrong" answers, but rather seeing how the applicant responds to a question, and getting a sense of how they think.
And on an interesting note, one of the speakers did a quick hand survey of what library jobs people were looking to get into. When he mentioned academic libraries, most hands shot up. When he mentioned publics - not so much. This intrigued me a little - I have to say that I've gotten far more job satisfaction working in public and state libraries than I ever did in an academic library. Then again, perhaps I haven't worked in the right academic library yet.
So, should we be "job snobs" when it comes to our career? Well, I think the label is a bit of a misnomer. I don't think anybody really expects their "dream job" to fall in their lap. But, certainly, they need to identify that dream job, and have a realistic plan to get there, whether it be by finding an entry level position with one's "dream employer" and moving up internally, or getting enough relative experience through other jobs, in order to move sideways into said "dream job".
There's nothing "snobby" about being strategic with one's career, and Gen Y are certainly not the first generation to be career-focused.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Taking the "young" out of YA Fiction...
I recently visited a Melbourne public library and, as usual, my first port of call was for the Young Adult section. Upon entering the library, I looked around. Yes, there was the Children's section, with Picture Books, Early Readers, and Junior Fiction, to my left. Adult Fiction to my right. Public access computer terminals straight ahead.
But no Young Adult Fiction section in sight. Nothing to indicate "teenagers". Not even a "Twilight" poster to guide the way.
I wandered upstairs to the non-fiction collection, on the off-chance that there was a designated YA area, that had been put in a special, out-of-the-way place to give "young people these days" a slightly noisier place to hang out. I did find a "games room" - a tiny dark room, with a games console and TV inside, and a big sign on the door that said "This room is under video surveillance". But no books.
Finally, like most people who use libraries, I opted for my last resort. I asked the librarian.
"Oh, we interfile them with Adult Fiction," she informed me, somewhat sympathetically, "You might want to know the name of the author that you're looking for."
I revisited the Adult Fiction aisles, and sure enough, there they were - John Green next to Kate Grenville, Suzanne Collins next to Wilkie Collins, Maureen McCarthy next to Cormac McCarthy. It certainly struck me as being unconventional, and I wondered why a library would bury its young adult literature amongst the adult literature.
And sure, I can see the arguments for it. There is a lot of crossover between YA fiction and Adult fiction, both in its content and their readers. It creates a distinct divide between "safe" books, (ie. primary and middle school-aged) which would be shelved in the Junior section, and books containing ideas that might be considered "unsafe" by some, due to themes of sexuality, substance abuse, politics, etc. This also acts as a defence against parents who might object to such literature being held by the library, with a reply of "oh, but we shelve them amongst the adult books." And some might say that it also prevents have a so-called "young adult ghetto" in the library.
But at the same time, what is the library saying to young adults who visit the library, when there isn't a designated area for them, highlighting the best in young adult fiction that they can borrow? Whilst there is a substantial crossover between YA and Adult fiction, it cannot be denied that there is also a strong crossover between YA and Junior fiction. This is something that makes YA fiction so unique - a literal embodiment of adolescence and all that it evokes. And what of teenagers who are reluctant readers? What hope do they have to finding that elusive book, when they need to sift through shelves of adult fiction in the hope of finding a YA book that engages them? What hope is there of luring them into reading when there's such a barrier in their way?
But maybe I'm overreacting a little here. I'm curious to know what you think - do you think mixing YA and adult literature together makes sense, or should they be kept to their own collections?
But no Young Adult Fiction section in sight. Nothing to indicate "teenagers". Not even a "Twilight" poster to guide the way.
I wandered upstairs to the non-fiction collection, on the off-chance that there was a designated YA area, that had been put in a special, out-of-the-way place to give "young people these days" a slightly noisier place to hang out. I did find a "games room" - a tiny dark room, with a games console and TV inside, and a big sign on the door that said "This room is under video surveillance". But no books.
Finally, like most people who use libraries, I opted for my last resort. I asked the librarian.
"Oh, we interfile them with Adult Fiction," she informed me, somewhat sympathetically, "You might want to know the name of the author that you're looking for."
I revisited the Adult Fiction aisles, and sure enough, there they were - John Green next to Kate Grenville, Suzanne Collins next to Wilkie Collins, Maureen McCarthy next to Cormac McCarthy. It certainly struck me as being unconventional, and I wondered why a library would bury its young adult literature amongst the adult literature.
And sure, I can see the arguments for it. There is a lot of crossover between YA fiction and Adult fiction, both in its content and their readers. It creates a distinct divide between "safe" books, (ie. primary and middle school-aged) which would be shelved in the Junior section, and books containing ideas that might be considered "unsafe" by some, due to themes of sexuality, substance abuse, politics, etc. This also acts as a defence against parents who might object to such literature being held by the library, with a reply of "oh, but we shelve them amongst the adult books." And some might say that it also prevents have a so-called "young adult ghetto" in the library.
But at the same time, what is the library saying to young adults who visit the library, when there isn't a designated area for them, highlighting the best in young adult fiction that they can borrow? Whilst there is a substantial crossover between YA and Adult fiction, it cannot be denied that there is also a strong crossover between YA and Junior fiction. This is something that makes YA fiction so unique - a literal embodiment of adolescence and all that it evokes. And what of teenagers who are reluctant readers? What hope do they have to finding that elusive book, when they need to sift through shelves of adult fiction in the hope of finding a YA book that engages them? What hope is there of luring them into reading when there's such a barrier in their way?
But maybe I'm overreacting a little here. I'm curious to know what you think - do you think mixing YA and adult literature together makes sense, or should they be kept to their own collections?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
The world's oldest library spaces...?
A few weeks ago, I spent a week up in Darwin, to thaw out from the Melbourne cold, and enjoy the local festivities, particularly the last few days of the Festival of Darwin.
However, whilst I was up there, it had occurred to me that, in the two and a half years that I was living up there, I had never visited Kakadu National Park. I'd visited other places, such as Berry Springs, Litchfield National Park, and even Katherine Gorge, but never Kakadu. I guess it had been because (a) I figured that it'd be crawling with tourists, and (b) it was a few hours away, and you needed to spend a couple of days out there to make the most of it.
However, I found myself in Darwin with two days to kill, so I hired a car, woke up with the sun, and drove out to Jabiru - the main township that is located in the middle of the national park. My hotel was shaped like a crocodile.
After visiting the visitor centre, and working out where everything was, I headed south to Nourlangie Rock. I was fortunate enough to catch one of the ranger's talks at Anbangbang Shelter, and she talked about this history of the site. In the tropical heat of the Top End, the rocky outcrops of Stone Country provided nature's air-conditioning, and this was the first thing I noticed as I entered the shelter - it was nice and cool and you completely forgot that you were up in the tropics. The shelter was used by the local indigenous people predominantly during the wet season, when the floodlands were inundated, and shelter was needed from the rain.
Other than being an obvious place for shelter, there were other signs that the place had been inhabited for generations. The rocks on the ground were dotted with small round bowl-shaped hollows - the result of thousands of years of grinding local seeds and lily-root for making food.
And, on the walls, was the rock art. Rock art provided a number of purposes. Firstly, it acted like a menu for the area. It let people know what food you were able to find locally. This was apparent, both at Nourlangie, as well as Ubirr, which I visited later on.
Secondly, it was a way of storytelling and preserving their culture. There were a number of dreaming sites, where indigenous people went to learn the various dreamings, and it's interesting to note that, whilst many consider Australian Indigenous cultures to be a "oral tradition", the visual is also very much a part of the storytelling tradition, whether it be through rock art, or bark paintings, etc. A dreaming such as the Rainbow Serpent, as shown below (located at Ubirr), provides not only the basis for preserving culture through storytelling, but also dictates the cultural laws that are necessary both for survival in a somewhat-hostile environment, but also to maintain social harmony within indigenous nations, through kinship laws.
And, of course, the librarian in me noted: Aren't these all things that libraries aim to do in this day and age? Provide safe and inclusive community spaces. Provide opportunities for the free flow of information and preservation of culture and knowledge, whether it be local mythology and storytelling and / or the local knowledge, and "secret business" (there were places in Kakadu that I wouldn't be able to visit, due to secret women's business, etc). To create a space where somebody can express themselves. To be able to immortalise yourself through the act of making a hand-print on a rock that would remain for thousands of years, through which time civilisations have risen and crumbled.
Most importantly, it's been through these sites that Australian indigenous culture has remained alive for thousands, if not tens of thousands of years. Some of the sites have been dated as having been used by local people for at least 20,000 years, but possibly up to 60,000 years. And it's the same dreaming that is being taught in indigenous communities these days.
For a culture to be maintained for that period of time is awe-inspiring. It highlights the importance of the relationship between a place and its community, and how strong communities can maintain a culture of storytelling. I wonder if our current library spaces will have the same role in preserving modern culture, when people look back at us thousands of years from now.
However, whilst I was up there, it had occurred to me that, in the two and a half years that I was living up there, I had never visited Kakadu National Park. I'd visited other places, such as Berry Springs, Litchfield National Park, and even Katherine Gorge, but never Kakadu. I guess it had been because (a) I figured that it'd be crawling with tourists, and (b) it was a few hours away, and you needed to spend a couple of days out there to make the most of it.
However, I found myself in Darwin with two days to kill, so I hired a car, woke up with the sun, and drove out to Jabiru - the main township that is located in the middle of the national park. My hotel was shaped like a crocodile.
After visiting the visitor centre, and working out where everything was, I headed south to Nourlangie Rock. I was fortunate enough to catch one of the ranger's talks at Anbangbang Shelter, and she talked about this history of the site. In the tropical heat of the Top End, the rocky outcrops of Stone Country provided nature's air-conditioning, and this was the first thing I noticed as I entered the shelter - it was nice and cool and you completely forgot that you were up in the tropics. The shelter was used by the local indigenous people predominantly during the wet season, when the floodlands were inundated, and shelter was needed from the rain.
Other than being an obvious place for shelter, there were other signs that the place had been inhabited for generations. The rocks on the ground were dotted with small round bowl-shaped hollows - the result of thousands of years of grinding local seeds and lily-root for making food.
And, on the walls, was the rock art. Rock art provided a number of purposes. Firstly, it acted like a menu for the area. It let people know what food you were able to find locally. This was apparent, both at Nourlangie, as well as Ubirr, which I visited later on.
Secondly, it was a way of storytelling and preserving their culture. There were a number of dreaming sites, where indigenous people went to learn the various dreamings, and it's interesting to note that, whilst many consider Australian Indigenous cultures to be a "oral tradition", the visual is also very much a part of the storytelling tradition, whether it be through rock art, or bark paintings, etc. A dreaming such as the Rainbow Serpent, as shown below (located at Ubirr), provides not only the basis for preserving culture through storytelling, but also dictates the cultural laws that are necessary both for survival in a somewhat-hostile environment, but also to maintain social harmony within indigenous nations, through kinship laws.
And, of course, the librarian in me noted: Aren't these all things that libraries aim to do in this day and age? Provide safe and inclusive community spaces. Provide opportunities for the free flow of information and preservation of culture and knowledge, whether it be local mythology and storytelling and / or the local knowledge, and "secret business" (there were places in Kakadu that I wouldn't be able to visit, due to secret women's business, etc). To create a space where somebody can express themselves. To be able to immortalise yourself through the act of making a hand-print on a rock that would remain for thousands of years, through which time civilisations have risen and crumbled.
Most importantly, it's been through these sites that Australian indigenous culture has remained alive for thousands, if not tens of thousands of years. Some of the sites have been dated as having been used by local people for at least 20,000 years, but possibly up to 60,000 years. And it's the same dreaming that is being taught in indigenous communities these days.
For a culture to be maintained for that period of time is awe-inspiring. It highlights the importance of the relationship between a place and its community, and how strong communities can maintain a culture of storytelling. I wonder if our current library spaces will have the same role in preserving modern culture, when people look back at us thousands of years from now.
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