01 Sep 2024

This blog was written by Alex Bell, a Liaison Librarian, and a PgCert student from the 2023/2024 cohort, as part of the Higher Education in Practice: Personal reflections on your discipline and the wider context of higher education submission.

Alex

Keywords: creative education, higher education, art libraries, policy, quality assurance, decolonisation, internationalisation, anti-racism, neutrality, belonging, sustainable education, transformation. 

In creating my response, I aimed to utilise a critical approach whereby “images provoke action for social justice” (Weber 2008:46). My role as both a librarian and educator are built upon bricks of policies and practices that can influence artistic freedom and student belonging within creative education. The collage represents these overlapping layers of my practice through a re-imagining of the tale of the Tower of Babel. In this tale, the destruction of the tower serves as an act of dividing the world into different languages and cultures. As Azzarito states, the visual as a research method has the power to subvert and confront ideologies that implicitly serve neocolonialism in education (Azzarito, 2023:20). My collage therefore explores my practices within a context of internationalisation and decolonisation. 

When students and staff enter higher education, they may be faced with many institutional barriers. There is an implicit expectation to mould their imagination and way of thinking to conform with academic language (Bhambra et al, 2018:104-105). Burnard et al (2022:145) call out this power dynamic "... because we know that the language and discourses of the academic status quo work to keep us conforming to and confirming their power and privilege instead of conferring the possibilities we dream of for our words and writing”. Like Borges’ (2023) Library of Babel, students learn to navigate the seemingly infinite structures of both the library and the wider university; labyrinthine in navigation of their words and systems, they are full of ambiguous philosophical, social, and cultural norms. As students learn to translate their imagination and find their voices in this maze, they are also looking for a sense of belonging.  

In Kuang’s (2023) novel Babel, she draws attention to the vulnerability of trying to find a space to speak and be heard - “that’s just what translation is, I think. That’s all speaking is. Listening to the other and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they’re trying to say. Showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands” (Kuang, 2023)  

This has made me reflect on the discourse surrounding neutrality and the role of the librarian in decolonising education and fostering belonging (Gibson et al, 2017; IFLA, 2024; Williams, 2017). The imagery of my collage could be interpreted as grappling with the weight of these responsibilities. It has become clearer through reading critical pedagogies of the power that words, institutional policies, and missing histories or narratives have on how our students access resources and find themselves represented in curriculum, leading me to question - how much do I uphold and preserve the legacy of colonial knowledges through collection development to the detriment of students? In what ways am I actively supporting decolonising the university so that student can both see and express their vibrancy of perspectives and experiences?   

I’ve started to recognise that I can use my position and influence to create positive change and notches in some of the structures that prevent inclusivity or belonging for students. As IFLA (2024) states “libraries do make a difference to the communities they serve. To do this, they need also to make a difference to the decisions that shape the environment in which they work.” By sharing recommendations for resources in course validations, supporting the development of EDI guidelines (UCA, 2024b) and creating open access resources like a sustainability reading list (Bell, 2024), I’m aligning my practice to the education for sustainable development framework, contributing to a “globally inclusive and future-focused curricula” (Advance HE and Norton, s.d.:9) and providing resources that enable a “high quality academic experience” (OfS, s.d:10). These also demonstrate my application of critical and compassionate pedagogy alongside aligning my practice to collection development policies which state that “the university will develop and maintain its collections to stimulate and inspire creativity and promote excellence in learning, teaching and research.” (UCA, 2024). 

Although the imagery creates a metaphorical cataclysm or breaking of structures, I want to emphasise my hopefulness, altruism, and joy in the continual rebuilding and repurposing that my role allows. The foundation of the European Commissions’ (2023) recent policy recommendations for transformative education urges educators to use their positions to instigate strategic and institutional renewal. I think the power of everyday compassion should not be underestimated here too. As Marcus and Van de Peer (2023:7) explain, “the bottom-up approach shows commitment […] to an implementation not of structural changes but of individual changes at low levels that can be witnessed immediately, even on a small scale.” So, as I stand here now looking up at the tower ahead of me, it feels a little daunting, but I am inspired knowing that I can make a difference to students belonging; the little kindnesses and changes I hope to make can be seen and felt by students, and therefore, work towards chipping away at harmful academic structures, brick by brick.  

List of Illustrations 

  • Fig. 1 Bell, A (2024) The Tower of Babel [Collage] In possession of: the author: Tonbridge. 

References