Over the past several weeks as the Gould Library intern, I have had the opportunity to immerse myself in the multifaceted world of Resource Acquisition and Discovery Services (RADS). When I first began the term, I knew broadly that RADS handled the “behind-the-scenes” processes that make library collections discoverable—but I quickly learned that this deceptively simple description conceals a remarkable range of intellectual, technical, and ethical labor. Each week has revealed a new layer of complexity in how information is organized, made accessible, and sustained for the Carleton community.
Highlights of My Work in RADS
Two highlights stand out most vividly from my work so far: learning about acquisitions and developing my cataloging project for the graphic novel collection.
My introduction to acquisitions came through meetings with Brendon, Susan, and other members of the acquisitions team, who walked me through how materials actually make their way from a publisher’s catalog to a library shelf or database. I learned that acquisitions is far more than a transactional process of “buying books.” It encompasses selecting materials that meet the curricular and research needs of the community, coordinating with vendors, managing budgets and purchase orders, processing invoices, and ensuring that every item is received and recorded accurately. The amount of logistical coordination involved—balancing firm orders, standing orders, and approval plans—was both impressive and humbling.
What surprised me most, though, was the ethical dimension behind these practical steps. Each acquisition decision, even one as seemingly simple as choosing a vendor or format, reflects the library’s broader values: inclusion, accessibility, and stewardship of resources. Conversations with the acquisitions librarians revealed how deliberate the department is in ensuring that Carleton’s collections reflect diverse voices and global perspectives. Thinking about acquisition through that lens transformed my understanding of collection development from a technical workflow into an ethical practice—one that determines what stories and ideas become part of the intellectual fabric of campus life.
Equally formative has been my ongoing work on cataloging the library’s graphic novel collection. Under the guidance of Katie Lewis and Kate Niemisto, I have learned to evaluate bibliographic records, apply subject headings, and assess record accuracy. This process has introduced me to the ethical dimensions of cataloging: the realization that classification is never neutral. Every decision—how a title is described, which subject terms are chosen—affects whether and how readers will find a work. I was particularly moved by how these choices can either reinforce or challenge existing biases in information systems. Cataloging, I’ve learned, is a form of narrative work: a practice that structures knowledge and shapes whose stories become visible in the catalog. Over the past several weeks as the Gould Library intern, I have had the opportunity to immerse myself in the multifaceted world of Resource Acquisition and Discovery Services (RADS). When I first began the term, I knew broadly that RADS handled the “behind-the-scenes” processes that make library collections discoverable—but I quickly learned that this deceptively simple description conceals a remarkable range of intellectual, technical, and ethical labor. Each week has revealed a new layer of complexity in how information is organized, made accessible, and sustained for the Carleton community.
Highlights of My Work in RADS
Two highlights stand out most vividly from my work so far: learning about acquisitions and developing my cataloging project for the graphic novel collection.
My introduction to acquisitions came through meetings with Brendon, Susan, and other members of the acquisitions team, who walked me through how materials actually make their way from a publisher’s catalog to a library shelf or database. I learned that acquisitions is far more than a transactional process of “buying books.” It encompasses selecting materials that meet the curricular and research needs of the community, coordinating with vendors, managing budgets and purchase orders, processing invoices, and ensuring that every item is received and recorded accurately. The amount of logistical coordination involved—balancing firm orders, standing orders, and approval plans—was both impressive and humbling.
What surprised me most, though, was the philosophical dimension behind these practical steps. Each acquisition decision, even one as seemingly simple as choosing a vendor or format, reflects the library’s broader values: inclusion, accessibility, and stewardship of resources. Conversations with the acquisitions librarians revealed how deliberate the department is in ensuring that Carleton’s collections reflect diverse voices and global perspectives. Thinking about acquisition through that lens transformed my understanding of collection development from a technical workflow into an ethical practice—one that determines what stories and ideas become part of the intellectual fabric of campus life.
Equally formative has been my ongoing work on cataloging the library’s graphic novel collection. Under the guidance of Katie Lewis and Kate Niemisto, I have learned to evaluate bibliographic records, apply subject headings, and assess record accuracy. This process has introduced me to the ethical dimensions of cataloging: the realization that classification is never neutral. Every decision—how a title is described, which subject terms are chosen—affects whether and how readers will find a work. I was particularly moved by how these choices can either reinforce or challenge existing biases in information systems. Cataloging, I’ve learned, is a form of narrative work: a practice that structures knowledge and shapes whose stories become visible in the catalog.
One of the most exciting parts of my work this term has been contributing to the library’s growing graphic novel collection. This project has allowed me to think critically about representation and access while engaging with a form I love. Recently, I selected, ordered, and cataloged The Magic Fish by Vietnamese American author and artist Trung Le Nguyen—a stunning story that intertwines fairy tales, family history, and queer identity. Bringing this title into the collection felt especially meaningful, as it exemplifies the kind of diverse, visually rich storytelling that expands what academic libraries can offer. Working with this collection has deepened my appreciation for how acquisition and cataloging decisions shape the inclusivity of our holdings and the narratives available to readers on campus.
What Has Surprised Me
Perhaps the most surprising realization has been the scale and interdependence of RADS operations. I expected to learn discrete workflows—acquisitions, cataloging, e-resources—but instead found a system defined by constant dialogue between its parts. Acquisitions decisions influence cataloging workflows; metadata standards inform digital access; and all of these processes intersect with questions of equity, representation, and sustainability. Observing how each area complements and depends on the others has deepened my appreciation for librarianship as both a technical and deeply human enterprise.
I have also been surprised by the amount of invisible labor that sustains access to library resources. Before this internship, I rarely considered the intricate chain of steps that allows a newly published book or database to appear seamlessly in the catalog. Now, each barcode, call number, and metadata field feels like evidence of a larger network of care—one that ensures users can encounter materials without friction. That invisibility, I have come to see, is intentional: a marker of the profession’s quiet dedication to making access appear effortless.
What Has Been Confirmed
While many aspects of RADS have surprised me, the internship has also affirmed what I suspected before I began: that libraries are fundamentally systems of connection. My coursework and prior experiences had already taught me that libraries are more than repositories—they are dynamic ecosystems where information is constantly curated, negotiated, and reimagined. Working alongside RADS librarians has confirmed that idea in practice. Every workflow I’ve observed, from acquisitions to cataloging, is guided by a shared ethos of intentionality and accessibility. The degree of collaboration among RADS staff, and between RADS and other library departments, has confirmed my belief that effective librarianship depends on communication and collective stewardship.
The work has also reaffirmed my appreciation for the library’s role in advancing diversity and inclusion through collection development. As I’ve cataloged graphic novels that represent a wide range of authors, genres, and cultural perspectives, I’ve seen how libraries can intentionally broaden what is visible and valued in academic spaces. This confirms my sense that librarianship is not only about preserving knowledge, but also about shaping the intellectual landscape of a community.
What I Hope to Learn Next
As the term continues, I hope to deepen my understanding of how RADS work evolves in response to changing technologies and user needs. My time so far has given me a strong foundation in the fundamentals of acquisitions, cataloging, and digital collections management; now, I want to explore how these processes adapt over time. How do librarians decide which tools, metadata standards, or digital platforms best serve their communities? How do they balance innovation with the stability that long-term access requires?
I am particularly interested in learning more about metadata management at a systems level—how records are maintained, shared, and improved across institutional boundaries. The MARC record system, for example, has shown me how structured data enables interoperability between libraries, but I am curious about the next generation of metadata standards that may replace or supplement it.
Finally, I hope to continue reflecting on the human side of technical work. The conversations I’ve had with RADS staff have revealed that even the most procedural tasks are grounded in values—equity, accuracy, accessibility, and care. As I continue my work this term, I hope to carry forward that sense of purpose: to see every record edited, every collection analyzed, as part of a larger commitment to making knowledge discoverable and inclusive for all.