If you have ever seen me leave a job, then you know what I always leave behind: a manual. Even when I graduated from high school and left my position as the drum major of the marching band, I’m pretty sure I left my successor some notes about how things work. So, when I am faced with something new, I look first for the instructions, and seeing none, I set to figuring everything out straight away before trying to dive into the daily routine.

During my first round at Indiana University, as a student in the music library’s technical services department, I spent the last two weeks of my job as an acquisitions assistant creating an exceptionally detailed manual (54 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm) of everything I had learned to do in less than a year’s time. Every aspect of the position was written down, step by step, with diagrams and screen captures. Eight years later and it’s still being used, and (thankfully) updated by the current staff. When I left Southern Methodist University, I had developed a comprehensive manual of over 7 years of knowledge (64 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm).

In both cases, the idea was that anyone could walk into the job, follow along step by step, and be successful. It wasn’t really necessary to have any prior training or understanding of the work, and anything that might come up could be solved by someone with the understanding reading the same thing and offering an explanation that plays off of that understanding.

In library cataloging, there is always a great deal of discussion about the documentation available to us. This includes our various sets of rules, guidelines, and best practices (all in written form), as well as a wealth of supplementary written resources which offer additional interpretation of the primary documentation. Locally, institutions provide even more supplements outlining practices that have been developed for internal needs and the needs of the users of that particular library.

In other fields and organizations, the same method of documenting practices and collecting the documents is called “knowledge management” (how’s that for transferable skills, library school students? Add “knowledge management” to your job search today!) Those other fields take the concept very seriously, many because they have a great deal more at stake: truly life and death situations, heavy fiscal responsibilities, or legal ramifications for doing something incorrectly.

So, yes, maybe the library won’t be shut down if you misfile a book under the wrong call number, so it’s not the same level of “crucial” as in other fields. But I have found that it is essential to consider documentation/knowledge management as mission critical for any work in a library. Whether it is collection development, acquisitions, cataloging, circulation, reference, or processing, none of it is something we should expect the next person to just figure out. Or, expect everyone you leave behind to just fill in the blanks on your behalf. You, and only you, know each and every step you take to get the job done. (For more on some of the projects I’ve encountered and subsequently mastered without process documentation, see my Projects listing.)

By the same token, if you are starting a new endeavor for which there is not yet documentation, it is crucial that you write as you go. Case in point: The De Lerma System for Classification of Sound Recordings, or De Lerma for short. In 1969, Dominique-René de Lerma wrote about his idea for a way to logically organize like sound recordings using a system similar to the classification/call number systems used for books and other print materials. Books and music scores are predominantly singular in content, meaning that each item is one work and they are easily arranged by type and then sub-arranged by creator. There are obvious exceptions, usually compilations of multiple works, which cause slight complications.

However, sound recordings are predominantly compilations, and quite often not even compilations of works by the same creator. Also, both the creator and the performer are of great interest to listeners–while performers are drawn to the music scores of a certain composer, listeners are more often drawn to the style of a certain performer. Therefore, arrangement or sub-arrangement by composer is not always the most useful. On the other hand, many recordings are compilations of multiple types of works, and therefore arrangement by type is not easy.

The only known documentation of De Lerma’s proposed system is an article he wrote on the topic:

De Lerma, Dominique-René. “Philosophy and Practice of Phonorecord Classification at Indiana University.” Library Resources and Technical Services 13, no. 1 (Winter 1969): 86-92.

A subsequent review of its use in the Indiana University music library appeared nearly 10 years later, when Ralph Papakhian presented on the topic at the Indiana Library Association in 1977 or 1978:

Papakhian, Arsen Ralph. “Record Classification in the Indiana University Music Library.” Presentation of the Panel on Alternative Classification at the Indiana Library Association, IN, November 1977 or February 1, 1978.

A photocopy of a type- and handwritten classification schedule is posted near the De Lerma Shelflist in the basement of the music library.

And that’s it. There is no guide describing how to apply the system and the posted schedule. No explanation of local decisions made as variant situations arose over time. Only the spotty memories of those who used to know how it worked and the myriad conflicting examples in the existing card catalog.

Miracle of miracles, I happen to have used the system as an intern. I also happen to have spent a great deal of time figuring out a lot of localized practices at my previous job with a little documentation, and fine-tuning the decisions and guidelines there (in writing). So, I am able to use a combination of my logic-focused brain, my own prior knowledge, and a keen ability to spot trends in practice in order to work this puzzle out, too. And you know what? I’m writing it down as I go.

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Disclaimer:
All words and images are my own. If they are not, they are cited as such to give proper attribution to the intellectual property owners.
No words or images reflect the opinions or viewpoints of my current, former, or future employers and educational institutions. They are from my own viewpoint.