Refusing (to let go of) AI: An Ignatian Pedagogy for a Real AI Literacy

Editor’s note: We welcome a guest blog post from Maxwell Gray, Digital Scholarship Librarian at Marquette University.

My personal, professional relationship with generative AI (genAI) is complicated.

Like many academic librarians, I identify as a deeply anti-AI librarian, who believes AI, especially genAI, designed and built by technocratic oligarchs outside any democratic process represents a real crisis for workers, the environment and human cognition.

But I don’t believe AI refusal represents a productive alternative to the uncritical adoption of AI in higher education. Rhetorically, I don’t think AI refusal will persuade many audiences in academic libraries and higher education to approach AI critically or ethically. I actually worry AI refusal may accidentally cause some audiences to misunderstand the choice as being literally between either simplistic refusal or uncritical adoption.

As a digital scholarship librarian in Jesuit higher education, my response to genAI has been a pedagogy of engagement with the real, lived experiences of students, faculty and staff vis-à-vis genAI. I take this language of engagement and real, lived experiences from the tradition of Ignatian pedagogy where this language represents a “serious, down-to-earth engagement with the real” in the form of the “concrete, lived experience in all its diversity and particularity.”

This kind of pedagogy may take the form of direct experience and contact with the world through the senses and emotions. How do different genAI tools respond to the same prompts? How does the same genAI tool respond to the same prompts for different users? How do the different “styles” or “voices” of different genAI tools, or of the same genAI tool in response to different prompts, make us feel in our bodies, hearts and minds?

Or this kind of pedagogy may take the form of making connections between different varieties of knowledge, or between knowledge and action. How do different genAI use policies in different workplaces reflect different data privacy frameworks in different social contexts? How do problems of informants, confidentiality and reciprocity in anthropology resonate with problems of authorship, data privacy and intellectual property in relation to genAI? (These are real examples from my experience teaching professional graduate students and anthropology major capstone students this semester.)

Ultimately, this kind of pedagogy should take the form of reflecting on experience and knowledge to decide upon the best, most meaningful course of action in the world. This kind of reflection, often called discernment in the tradition of Ignatius and the Society of Jesus, produces a kind of interiority oriented toward personal transformation and social justice. Why do I choose to use genAI tools in the ways I do? How may I use, or not use, genAI tools differently in response to other desires and callings? (These are abstract examples from my experience leading professional development sessions for faculty and staff over the past two years in collaboration with colleagues at Marquette’s Center for Teaching and Learning.)

To be clear, I’m not saying anti-AI librarians who believe in AI refusal don’t often already practice similar pedagogies of engagement with the real world. I’m not saying genAI is inevitable or there is no alternative. Instead, I’m trying to share language and perspective I think are more productive for stopping the uncritical adoption of AI in academic libraries and higher education.

What may it mean to be anti-AI librarians who don’t believe in AI refusal? What may it mean to be anti-AI librarians who believe in serious engagement, with the realities of AI and the realities of our colleagues and patrons? Jerome Nadal, one of Ignatius’s early companions, observed about the Jesuits (as opposed to monastic orders like the Benedictines) that “the whole world is our home.” What may it mean to be anti-AI librarians for whom the whole world, including AI, is our home in this moment when AI, especially genAI, often represents real injustices and indignities?

In a key text for Jesuit higher education, Dean Brackley, S.J, envisions Jesuit colleges and universities as being called to a mission of proyección social. Brackley writes, “Social projection includes all those means by which the university communicates, or projects, knowledge beyond the campus to help shape the consciousness of the wider society.” When I reread Brackley in this moment, I hear him saying that being at home in the world must not mean becoming comfortable with the realities of injustice, but instead must mean promoting justice in the world.

In my pedagogy in and around the library, I have tried to share knowledge I have learned from information studies, media studies and digital humanities with colleagues and patrons from across the university to help shape and raise consciousness on campus of genAI and its injustices and indignities. Over time I have learned doing this work requires seriously engaging with the real interests of students, faculty and staff, and the most effective ways of connecting with them that address their real fears, attachments and desires around genAI.

To other anti-AI librarians in academic libraries, I propose, “let us say yes to who or what turns up” in our classrooms or workshops and for our students and colleagues, wherever they are on their personal AI literacy journeys. In this way, we may open educational contexts where real engagement and discernment can take place, whether in a one-shot for students or over a series of professional development sessions for faculty and staff.

The former Superior General of the Society of Jesus Adolfo Nicolás writes, “Depth of thought and imagination in the Ignatian tradition involves a profound engagement with the real, a refusal to let go until one goes beneath the surface.” What may it mean to be anti-AI librarians who “refuse to let go” of AI until we go beneath the surface of reality toward more critical futures of AI in academic libraries and higher education? What companions may we find to join us in this work? What converts may we inspire?

Takeaways from Two Virtual Library Conferences

Over the last few weeks, I had the opportunity to attend two virtual library conferences – the 2026 Southeast Collaborative Conference, and the Transforming Libraries for Graduate Students 2026 Virtual Conference. I wanted to use my blog for this month to reflect on what I learned from both of these experiences.

Southeast Collaborative Conference

This conference happened first, over three days in the second week of March. I thought the pacing of the conference was helpful, as they included breaks in the schedule so attendees could check in on our day jobs without missing any of the content. Additionally, most of the sessions were pre-recorded, which allowed the speakers to be active in the chat throughout the presentation, answering questions and responding to comments. I thought that really helped to recreate how an in-person conference feels, and the emphasis on engagement made sessions fun. I also really appreciated that the conference made all of the slides and materials available to participants as soon as the conference ended. Knowing that I can reference them later, and see the materials from sessions I couldn’t attend, means that I really got the most I could out of the conference experience.

I was excited to see a presentation on Generative AI Literacy from two librarians that I know from my UNC-Chapel Hill grad school days, including one librarian whom I took a class with! I learned a lot from the presentation that I can incorporate into my own AI instruction and workshops (with attribution, of course). The presenters even shared that they’re going to be developing asynchronous tutorials for Generative AI in libraries that will be freely available to anyone, and let attendees know that all events about Generative AI at the University Libraries are open to anyone, not just university affiliates. I had no idea that I could still join any of the trainings that are offered online, and am looking forward to signing up for as many as I can attend.

Additionally, I thought the keynote was extremely powerful. It featured state librarians from five states – North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia, Georgia, and Tennessee. One of the only live presentations at this conference, these leaders spoke candidly and eloquently about the challenges facing all types of libraries and library systems today, and what they’re doing to meet them head-on. It was inspiring and made me glad all over again that I chose this career.

Transforming Libraries for Graduate Students

This conference was second, held over two afternoons in the third week of March. This conference took place over Zoom, in four-hour sessions each day with no breaks. The format was more challenging than the previous week’s, but still emphasized the importance of engagement between presenters and attendees. I was especially excited about this conference, because all of the programs I support are master’s and doctoral programs, and during this first year I’ve felt unsure at times of the best way to approach supporting these programs. I really hoped that I could learn some tips and tricks from the presenters.

Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few sessions about Generative AI at this conference as well. These presenters didn’t get into the nuts-and-bolts of how to get the most out of Gen AI the way the previous conference did, but I appreciated the contrast of this approach that focused more on platforms and how graduate students tend to engage with these tools. Between the two conferences, I was able to add a lot of different tools to my Gen AI toolbox.

Several presentations also focused on how to approach orientations and workshops for grad students differently than for undergrads. I present a lot of library orientation sessions, and librarians at my institution are currently being asked to make sure our workshop offerings are robust, so these sessions were especially relevant to me. I appreciated how presenters focused on acknowledging graduate students have unique needs and may be juggling additional responsibilities when compared to undergrads, so it’s important to make sure the library is giving them the tools and knowledge they need to accomplish their goals.

I do wish that the sessions had been a bit more focused on specific actions that attendees can take in their own libraries. It seemed like many presenters were focused on sharing their work and what was successful for them, but not as focused on how their successes could be adapted for other libraries. I would have liked to have a few more concrete programming ideas that I could take back to my own libraries. Perhaps that’s something that I could work on as a presentation of my own for a future iteration of this conference. I also wished that the conference had stretched an additional half hour to add a break in the middle. I think it would have helped with tiredness and staying on top of other work at the end of the day.

Overall Takeaways and Future Thoughts

Although I’ve been to several in-person conferences before, I had never participated in an online conference and wasn’t sure how the experience would translate. I love the feeling of walking into a conference and knowing that everyone is there to learn, meet fellow professionals and maybe make future friends, and get everything that we can out of the experience. I was worried that these conferences would be lacking in the camaraderie and excitement of an in-person setting. Although I didn’t get quite the same feeling as I do when I walk in the door of a convention center, I was really happy to find that both conferences were able to recreate similar vibes over online platforms.

It’s also important to recognize that online conferences lower a lot of barriers of participation for many people – including me! I’m lucky to be at an institution that strongly supports professional development, but even that support wouldn’t have been enough for me to travel to two conferences in subsequent weeks. Holding a conference online also means that the cost to participate is likely lower – or in the case of these two conferences, eliminated completely. I really appreciate both conferences’ commitment to access, affordability, and availability.

Overall, I had a great time and gained a lot from my participation in these conferences. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye out for registration to open next year – and maybe I’ll even submit a presentation proposal myself!

“What are your research interests?” “Hmm. I’ll get back to you.”

Commonalities across first-year academic librarians (FYALs) may or may not include imposter syndrome, teaching jitters, too much coffee, and navigating the life of an academic. A large part of what an academic is stems from their identity as a researcher, but as new librarians entering the university system for the first time, it is something to be reckoned with. Scholarly responsibilities, academic service, professional development, and others are all expected, but how do fresh library school graduates tackle these aspects while linearly following an interest that just makes sense? 

Now more than halfway through our first year as early-career librarians, the FYALs, Eleanor, Lisa, and M, wanted to share a peek into the thought processes in tackling the giant monster that consists of finding a research interest. 

Lisa: A Sea of Information, Even Within Myself

On Academic CV templates, the two sections that I always struggled with the most to fill were teaching philosophies and research philosophies. One of the first goals that I put for myself in the beginning of the school year was actually to find my identity as an instructor-researcher. Immediately, something my supervisor commented on was how it would be a long journey, often taking several years to really refine and clearly develop.  

Acknowledging that it would be a multi-year process, I started reading about different ways scholars describe their methods of conducting research and presenting their work, and an idea that I appreciated was the notion of a praxis. Borrowing ideas from critical race theory, the intersecting effects of identity, race, emotions, and critically examining how these elements coexist in research was a perspective that I didn’t think to bring into my daily work. Even though I am a research librarian by job title and supporting specific departments in Health Sciences and STEM, elements of myself bleed into the work that I do, whether subconsciously or consciously. Consequently, my thought process was that once my identity as a researcher was settled, I would be able to examine the big picture and see new perspectives that I contribute to.  

Although this is most definitely still a work in progress, I notice myself slowly finding projects that I continue to gravitate towards, words that I enjoy writing or reading more about, or research that makes me realize how fast time flies by. I am still very much tying up the shoelaces of my student projects and have been learning how to balance my work between teaching, consults, outreach, and my own research. Although I definitely do not feel like I have things under control right now, I hope to have some sort of routine where I will be able to balance the percentages of responsibilities and find myself with a clear identity as a librarian-instructor-researcher. 

M: Is It All Just Research? 

When I decided to go into academic libraries, I started hearing right away about how research was a key component of those jobs, so I would need to have a good answer for questions like “tell me about your research interests.” Initially, I used my master’s paper topic to answer that question, which was convenient – but it was really a cover up for the fact that I had no idea what “conducting research” actually meant. 

Until very recently, when I’ve thought about “conducting research,” I’ve pictured a long process that involves choosing a topic, developing a research question, getting IRB (Institutional Review Board) approval, designing and conducting a study/survey/interviews/focus groups, writing a paper about the findings, and getting it published in a peer-reviewed journal. The concept of trying to take that on, by myself or with a peer, and fit it in around other work has been overwhelming, but I thought I would have to make it happen somehow, because what else could research mean? 

There’s a group of new and new-ish librarians at my institution who have formed a group to read and discuss journal articles, share about projects we’ve been working on, and discuss things we’ve learned. At our most recent meeting, the topics of “finding a research interest” and “conducting research” came up. I was relieved to learn that I wasn’t the only one who was confused about what those phrases meant – in fact, most of us had the same questions. One colleague who has been an academic librarian for several years shared how she thinks about research, and her views were incredibly helpful. She said that from her perspective, almost all of the work we do every day is research. Learning about a new topic to help a student in a reference interview? That’s research. Developing a new workshop on an unfamiliar topic? That’s research. Coming up with a new process or procedure to make your workflow more efficient? That’s research, too – because in all of these cases, we’re investigating key questions, learning new things, and teaching them to others – and our findings from all of those instances are worthy of presentations and publications. It’s really just research all the way down. 

Eleanor: Creativity is Research, Too

In addition to being a librarian, I’m also a writer. A year ago, I thought these two parts of myself were totally unrelated. But as I’ve begun thinking about myself as a librarian researcher, I’m drawn to the possibilities of a creative-critical practice.  

Creative-critical research blends traditional scholarship with some kind of artistic expression, such as creative nonfiction, digital media, or performance art. While some may dismiss creative-critical research as “just” creative writing (and I would challenge that use of “just”!), creative-critical research is in fact powered by deep engagement with data, history, case studies, and critical theory. 

One of my favorite examples of creative-critical library research is “Invisible Stitches: A Semester at the Reference Desk, Quilted” (Weidner, 2025), a quilting project that foregrounds the “process” in “research process” and challenges the depersonalization of library labor. In her article, Weidner discusses the “Is it research?” question, noting how some viewers rejected the idea of quilting as creative-critical research. I see a connection between this dismissal and how other feminized labor, such as librarianship and teaching, is often devalued in the academy’s traditionally masculine culture.  

At a time when libraries are under persistent attack, a creative-critical approach helps us translate our work and research into impactful stories that excite our patrons. It can help challenge artificial hierarchies within the culture of research and welcome valuable, “non-traditional” ways of developing and deepening our collective knowledge into the academy. 

The Bigger Picture: The Value of Librarians as Researchers 

As the three of us discussed our personal experiences with research, we noticed several discrepancies. M is expected to do research in order to succeed in their role, but they are ineligible for faculty status and the benefits that come with it, such as tenure, increased academic freedom protections, and participation in university governance. On the other hand, Eleanor is a term faculty member, but she is not expected to do research (instead, her portfolio focuses on teaching and service). Lisa’s institution offers a mix of these two models. Librarians and faculty are in the same union, but librarians are reviewed for “continuing appointment” after a “preliminary appointment.” When we were applying for jobs last year, we all found it difficult to identify where our prospective employers fell on this spectrum.  

Much of this varies from institution to institution, but we think our experiences represent several troubling trends across higher education. Fewer and fewer institutions of higher education grant faculty status to librarians, but they may still expect their staff librarians to take on faculty-type duties (such as research and teaching) without the support that would be provided to faculty. At a time when both higher education and libraries are facing widespread attacks, it’s more critical than ever for our institutions to provide librarians with substantial academic freedom protections as we engage in the teaching and research they ask of us. When librarians still have faculty status, we also suffer from the “adjunctification” of higher education. Tenure-track positions are dwindling in favor of adjunct and term positions, which may not provide research support and certainly offer less stability. What do these trends indicate about how higher education values (or doesn’t value) librarians as researchers?  

Our expertise is information seeking and evaluation, which is important to disciplines across campus. At a time when the information world is transforming at a dizzying pace, we think it’s essential that higher education recalls the value of librarians as researchers–not just rhetorically, but through concrete, worker-friendly and intellectual freedom-first policies that make it easier for librarians to do meaningful research.

Supporting Library Workers Who Have Lost Their Jobs

If you haven’t had the experience of losing your job suddenly, of being laid off or fired, it might be difficult to imagine what it’s like. 

The person who has lost their job is probably going through some form of grief. They’re losing financial security, their professional identity, their expectations of a stable future. Much of the same advice applies about things you’d say (or not say) to people grieving the loss of a loved one. Telling people who have been laid off things like “It’s for the best” or “It will all work out” or “One day you’ll look back and be glad this happened” aren’t actually helpful. 

Immediately upon losing your job, you’re dumped into a world of unfamiliar paperwork and panic. Trying to make doctor’s appointments before your insurance runs out. Trying to determine who exactly is supposed to be able to afford COBRA coverage. Trying to get your head around the convoluted unemployment process. Trying to figure out how to roll over your 401K. Trying to parse what your severance agreement contract language actually means. Trying to scramble to save things like email contacts, pay stubs, performance records, and all those documents on your institutional Google Drive or SharePoint, before you lose access forever (or maybe they cut off your access immediately, so there’s no possibility of saving these things).

Looking for jobs, especially academic jobs, takes time. When other academic librarians started asking me if I had any interviews lined up just a few weeks after I was laid off, I wondered if they actually remembered how long the academic job search takes. It also takes an immense amount of energy and trust to put yourself out there and be judged by strangers in job applications and full-day interviews.

Because of all of the above, your colleague who has lost their job may not be as communicative as you’d expect. I had people send me well wishes months ago that I still haven’t replied to, because there’ve been times when I only had the capacity to apply/interview for jobs and pretty much nothing else. But it still meant a lot to see that people were thinking about me.

If you’re looking for ways to support a colleague who has lost their job, here are a few places to start. 

  • Offer to meet up with them, in person or online. It’s isolating to no longer have a job to go to. It’s distressing to have coworkers who used to make gestures of caring about your well being, then no longer hear from them when you don’t see them at the office every day. Send a care package or a card. Set a calendar reminder to check in in a month or two, once the initial shock has worn off, and the well wishers have moved on. Stay in touch, even when you’re not sure what to say. 
  • Offer to be a job reference. If you’re coworkers or have worked on projects together, offer to step up as one of their references. 
  • Offer to share job openings. Check in first about what kinds of jobs they’re looking for and where they’re looking.
  • Offer to write a short endorsement on LinkedIn. These aren’t super important in academic librarianship, but if someone is looking outside academia, they can set a candidate apart.
  • Offer to look over resumes or cover letters, or to practice interviewing, or to attend networking events with them. 
  • Offer to connect them with people you know. Are there other people you know who have gone through a similar job loss? Are there people in your network who have changed career paths? Are there people you know who the person who lost their job might benefit from talking with? Are they looking for partners for a “funemployment” project or a  buddy to take a class to develop new skills? Is there a Discord community that might help them stay in touch with the profession?
  • Offer to talk about or do something together that’s not related to the job search. Job searching is an absolute drag. Check in to see if they want to vent about it all, or if they’d like a distraction by talking about pets, TV shows, sports—anything but the job search.
  • Offer reminders of why you appreciate them as an individual. The process of losing your job and looking for another is dehumanizing, and it can be hard to remember what value you have when you’re rejected from multiple jobs. When you check in, tell them exactly why you liked working with them, what they brought to the office or to the profession, what you miss now that they’re not there. Be specific and make it personal, because human resource departments are sending them emails that make them feel like a cog in a machine.
  • Offer money. If you can afford it, offer to buy them a meal or throw some funds at their Venmo or PayPal. There was a time when it would’ve been considered gauche to offer money to a colleague who had fallen on hard times. Those days are now behind us.
  • Offer to start a crowdfund campaign. Especially for single people or those with kids, losing your job can mean a lot of fear about how you’ll pay rent or afford health insurance. It can be especially helpful to get a crowdfunding campaign rolling soon after the layoffs, when people are most likely to give, but that’s exactly the time when a  person who’s lost their job might not have the capacity to make it happen.

Other actions you might be able to take:

  • Campaign against layoffs. Are multiple people being laid off? Do they have advance notice? Raise a ruckus!! When four tenured librarians were laid off from St. Cloud State University in 2019, the Minnesota academic library community rallied to support them, creating a Twitter hashtag #SaveSCSU_Library, wearing blue in solidarity, and spreading the word about the St. Cloud State University administration’s actions. At the Minnesota Library Association conference that year, I carried a sign with the hashtag and later another sign reading “Ask me about the St. Cloud State layoffs”—many librarians had no idea they were happening.
2019 tweet from @DebTorres54 reading
Tweet from St. Kate’s Assistant MLIS Program Director Deb Torres (1954–2022), a dearly remembered friend. (source)
Screenshot of a 2019 tweet from @violetbfox reading: New sign today! Please ask me about the SaveSCSU_Library efforts, we'll be discussing strategy today at 1 pm at the @ARLD_MLA division meeting: all are welcome! The tweet's image shows a sign reading Ask me about the SCSU layoffs. class=
Tweet posted during the 2019 Minnesota Library Association conference encouraging collaboration on ways to help the laid off St. Cloud State University librarians. (source)

When all nine librarians (eight of them tenured/tenure track) were laid off from Western Illinois University in 2024, a Save WIU Librarians campaign developed at SaveWIULibrarians.org. More than 10,000 people signed the petition and sent letters to the WIU administration, the Consortium of Academic and Research Libraries in Illinois (CARLI) published a Statement on the Importance of Librarians in Academic Libraries , and they received local and national press coverage (Truthout, Vox, Inside Higher Ed, The Chronicle of Higher Education).

These actions didn’t save their jobs. But they were still worth doing. It’s vital to support our colleagues. It’s crucial to share the word about the value of what we do in librarianship. It’s important to let the next employer who considers laying off their librarians know that that action will result in a lot of pushback and a damaged reputation. 

  • Start a support fund. During the initial wave of Covid, many library workers were laid off, especially public library workers and paraprofessional staff. The EveryLibrary Institute started the HALO (Help A Library Worker Out) fund, raising over $88,000 in funding from individuals along with corporate and nonprofit organizations.

When university staff have been laid off, employees who weren’t impacted can start a fund to provide assistance. Yes, sometimes it feels like we’re all Venmoing each other the same twenty dollars. But it means something to try to help, both to the person helping and the person being helped. 

  • Organize your workplace. With a union, you may be able to fight against layoffs. You can also press for contracts that ensure laid off workers have enough time to prepare for the consequences of job loss.

I’ve now written a series of posts about being laid off (Laid Off, Again; The High Cost of Being Laid Off; Making the Academic Librarian Interview Less Painful); this will be the last one I write about the topic. I don’t have a job offer lined up, but I don’t want to be pigeonholed by writing too much about my experience as someone without a job. It’s also emotionally draining to write about these painful and personal experiences, although I appreciate the kind responses I’ve gotten from readers. 

To others who have suddenly lost their jobs in libraries: I see you. I’m rooting for you. If you need to talk to someone who understands, I’m here to listen.

Coaching as Critical Leadership Praxis

Editor’s note: We welcome a guest blog post from Angela Pashia, who was an academic librarian for 12 years before becoming an ICF-Certified (ACC) leadership coach.

For the first half of my library career, I was adamant that I didn’t want to move into any formal leadership role. I was an instruction and liaison librarian, and I loved working directly with students and faculty to teach critical information literacy. I also got to teach a credit bearing information literacy course on a regular basis, which gave me a lot of opportunities to practice using critical pedagogy. I valued these opportunities to challenge rigid hierarchies and empower students to shift from seeing themselves as just consumers to producers of information.

My vision of what it means to be in management did not align with these values at all.

Fast forward several years, through becoming a reluctant leader, learning that I absolutely loved the opportunity to develop a team, and then becoming a leadership coach for librarians… Now I work with library leaders who are struggling with similar challenges rooted in similar narratives about what it means to be an effective leader.

In this narrative, the leader knows everything about how everything in the unit functions, and always has an answer for how to move forward in any situation. It’s very clear that this leader is directing everything – whether that’s through giving orders or just through always handing out solutions to every situation, for team members who’ve learned that it’s simplest to just go ask what the leader thinks. It’s clear that this leader is the one making all of the decisions that keep this library functioning and moving forward.

The best version of this leader comes across as a very knowledgeable parental figure, telling you how things should be done because they care about you. But they’re still telling you what to do, instead of helping you learn to work through the process on your own. This leader does provide development opportunities for their staff, but that tends to focus on molding you to follow in their footsteps, regardless of whether that’s the best fit for you.

Another version of this leader just gives you instructions and then grades how well you followed those instructions each year on your annual evaluation. They may or may not provide the scaffolded lessons that you need to complete the assignment well.

We don’t see this leader admitting when they don’t know things or asking many questions or having doubts. We don’t see this leader actively sharing power with their team members in a way that would loosen up their control.

This narrative about effective leadership becomes problematic when a new leader steps into their position knowing that they don’t know everything yet. They need to ask questions, but fear that doing so will communicate that they’re not qualified for this role. And that leads to imposter syndrome.

And this narrative doesn’t fit those of us who value collaboration, empowerment, and shared governance. I resisted moving into a leadership position for years because I didn’t want to be the person telling people what to do. My clients need support in learning new ways to lead, because this narrative of leadership doesn’t fit their values, either.

And that’s why I fell in love with coaching. 

For me, learning coaching skills, as defined and practiced by the International Coaching Federation (and described in my last post), provided a way to transfer the principles of critical pedagogy from the classroom to leading a team.

Banking Knowledge

I learned about the “banking method of education” long before I read Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Students aren’t bank vaults waiting for us to deposit bits of knowledge. Genuine learning is a dialogic process between student and teacher, building toward the development of a critical consciousness. Instead of being the “sage on the stage,” we can better support student learning by being a “guide on the side.”

And yet, we love depositing bits of knowledge! Many of the leaders I work with feel helpful when they come up with a great solution to every problem their team members bring to them. Leading a team is different from teaching a classroom, but these are often missed opportunities to develop that team member’s skills.

When a team member comes to you for help with a problem, using a coaching approach shifts you from depositing a solution to engaging in a dialogic process. When you start with a question like, “What ideas have you already thought of?”, and then ask genuinely curious follow-up questions to workshop one of those ideas, they learn more about how your organization works. Depending on the context, that may include learning to think critically about embedding equity and accessibility into library services, programs, and policies.

Holistic Approach

Building on Freire’s work, bell hooks proposed an “engaged pedagogy” that recognizes both student and teacher as whole people actively participating in the learning dialog. Students are not just passive consumers of information, and both sides bring a lifetime of rich experiences and emotional lives into the classroom.

The leaders I work with recognize that this is true with their team members, as well, but don’t always feel prepared to respond effectively when emotions are affecting how team members are showing up. When they do open a conversation, it can turn into two hours of the team member venting about everything they’re dealing with, which throws their schedule into disarray and leaves them emotionally drained. So now they’re afraid to even open that conversation again. And it’s one thing to know this intellectually, but when you feel pressured to keep things moving as quickly as possible because your library is doing too much with too little, it’s easy to overlook the bigger picture.

Learning to effectively use a coaching model to structure your conversation can help you navigate some of these tricky situations. This approach provides a roadmap to acknowledge those emotions, dig below the surface to identify the root of the issue, and figure out a path forward. It takes practice to find the right balance of listening to what’s going on now before jumping into problem-solving mode, but these models provide guard rails to keep you from just getting stuck in complaints.

And building a habit of using these ICF-style coaching skills can create openings to find out what’s really going on for people.

Self-actualization

As part of this engaged pedagogy, hooks wrote that “teachers must be actively committed to a process of self-actualization that promotes their own wellbeing if they are to teach in a manner that empowers students” (p. 15). This includes ongoing learning and ongoing reflection.

A coaching approach to leadership also prioritizes your own wellbeing and ongoing learning. Developing a curious, open, nonjudgmental mindset requires you to give yourself space to reflect, consider other perspectives, and make sure that your emotions aren’t skewing your view of a given situation. To support librarians in their ongoing learning and development, I regularly write a newsletter about applying a coaching approach in your library.

And, although it’s not exactly connected to critical pedagogy, I’ve found that this self-actualization process helps to combat imposter syndrome. Explicitly adopting a leadership style that encourages curiosity and questions gives new leaders permission to admit to not already knowing everything. And that helps to support their well-being.   

What questions does this spark for you?

I’d love to continue this discussion in the comments section!

References

hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress: education as the practice of freedom. Routledge.