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In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, many employees had to switch to remote work. While some adjusted successfully to this transition, others have struggled. Leveraging information systems (IS) to adjust to major exogenous shocks is called digital resilience. The purpose of this paper is to understand what we can learn about employees' digital resilience from externally enforced transitions to remote work.

As digital resilience is challenging to measure, this study uses an embedded mixed methods approach. The authors conducted a qualitative analysis of 40 employees' statements on their remote work experience during the first six months of the pandemic and complemented these findings with scale-based digital resilience scores.

The authors find that employees' digital resilience largely depends on the amount of technical equipment and support they receive from their organizations as well as their ability and willingness to learn how to adequately use and communicate through information and communication technologies. Being self-disciplined and self-responsible positively affects digital resilience, while social isolation threatens it. Organizations can foster digital resilience building by encouraging digital networking, building a digital culture and netiquette, and treating digital resilience as a sociotechnical phenomenon.

This is one of the first empirical studies of digital resilience on a human level. It sheds light on the missing link between IS-enabled resilience and transitions to remote work. Specifically, it provides original insights into its development and manifestation in a remote work context during the COVID-19 pandemic. For researchers, it provides novel guidance on choosing appropriate measurement instruments to capture digital resilience.

This work examines implications for educational administration of the International Association for the evaluation of Educational Achievement (IEA) surveys. Major implications discussed include productiveness of both international comparison and international measures of educational achievement. Implications are also discussed in terms of viability of the application of large scale sample survey data to decision making within individual countries. Issues generated by the IEA studies are presented including: (1) cultural relevance of test items; (2) ethnocentrism of test makers; (3) contributions to comparative analysis; (4) cost effectiveness and feasibility; (5) potential descriptive value to individual nations; (6) data interpretation; (7) relating data to micro policy issues; (8) and potential for redefining concepts of educational achievement. It is concluded that the work of educational administration must proceed with awareness of the hazards and blessings of cross‐sectional research for training, practice, and new research.

FOR many years the LIBRARY REVIEW has provided a service of Irish news in the form of letters sent by Irish librarians. The correspondence has proved interesting, not only to our Irish colleagues themselves, but also to librarians in Britain and overseas. It served to supplement the news published in the official Irish magazine, An Leabharlann, in virtue of the fact that it usually covered the library field in the North as well as in the South. The letters have mainly been amiable, but in our Autumn number our correspondent made the following statement: “In your Summer number I read your notice of As I Was Going Down Sackville Street by Dr. Gogarty. This book has been well read in Ireland, but an injunction has been taken out against it, greatly to the regret of most people of liberal mind, but much to the satisfaction of the perfervid Gaels who, as followers of Mr. De Valera, are leading the nation up the garden path to a waste land in which we will croon our ancient songs and hymns of hate in bad Gaelic. There are those of my friends—few enough in number I may say—in favour of Irish language studies, but the majority of average Irishmen are simply being driven into the movement. In their heart of hearts they loathe the Gallicization of the country, but they remember a period when to criticise would possibly have meant a stab in the back, tarring and feathering, or some other sadistic pubishment …” It is not necessary to quote the remainder of the letter, and those particularly interested may read it for themselves in the number in which it appeared. Naturally enough, some of our Irish colleagues do not see eye to eye with our correspondent, and have protested to us, and, in terms of our general policy, we are pleased to publish their protests, along with the detached observations of two other colleagues.

DO children know a good book when they see it? This question was debated at the Brighton Conference during the session on Work with Young People. Some delegates said “yes, children choose the best,” but others said “no” and instanced the craze for certain ephemeral authors. To some extent both sides were right, for much depends on the literary foundations laid in early days. Children who had good books in their homes, and had guidance at school and in the public library will pick out the best (with occasional lapses), while others often enough go for the second‐rate every time. Librarians are alive to this and accordingly provide the best picture and easy reading books from the presses and, incidentally, there seems to be a wider choice in this class of literature than for any other age group. On the informative side Harrap's have just published Hippo and Patches, attractively told and illustrated tales of a hippopotamus and her baby, and of a young giraffe, both written and illustrated by Joel Stolper (5/‐ each). Margaret M. Pearson's The Story of Australia (Harrap, 6/‐) gives the main facts of the discovery, early settlement and development of the continent in the form of a brightly illustrated story suitable for reading to the five‐to‐eight year olds. Mishka and the white Reindeer is a charmingly illustrated fairy tale by Alfred Wood (Dent, 6/‐) about a wood‐cutter whose friends were the creatures of the wild. The story is simply told and of the kind that children will read until they know it by heart. Mary Shillabeer's At First (Museum Press, 7/6) is an educational picture book designed to introduce children to the differences of sex by means of brightly coloured lithographs of animals and their offspring. They will love the gay pictures but whether they will lead “to the natural conclusion of the child's own relation to its parents” seems a bit doubtful considering the tender years the book is designed for. Other animal stories which will appeal to the youngest readers are Hester Wag‐staff's The Story of Fuzzy Wuzzy and Woolly Wonder (H. Hamilton, 6/‐), about two engaging bob tailed sheep dogs who play their part in the life of the town and win prizes in the Salvage Drive. The new method of illustration by colour photographs is used in The Friendly Adventures of Button and Mac, by Ursula Hourihane (O.U.P., 8/6), and the teddy bear and Scotch terrier heroes, their bedroom, their picnic with luncheon baskets, crockery, biscuits and all the minute detail children love, are attractively designed in colour, and in line drawings. The stories are designed for the six‐to‐ten year olds. The same age group and probably those a little older will enjoy the fancy in Frank Batchelor's Golden Journey (Newnes, 6/‐) in which a lean tabby, a musical hedgehog and an unaccomplished frog set off to find some money to comfort them in their old age, and the lesson they learn thereby. Another imaginative tale is The Flying House, written and illustrated by C. W. Hodges, about an inventor whose house is suddenly carried away by a balloon while he is showing it to two children. High up in the sky they come to a rocky island, encounter a witch and other strange things, but all ends well. For those who missed Walter de la Mare's The Dutch Cheese, The Scarecrow, and other stories there is now available his Collected Stories for Children (Faber, 10/6) containing these and many other tales, all illustrated by Irene Hawkins. The Brownie Scouts is a Polish children's classic by the late Mary Konopnicka, poetess, novelist and traveller; it is published by the Riverside Press at 10/6. It is in the old tradition of fairy tales with plenty of difficulties to overcome and with lively conversation giving it a modern touch. The brownie people depicted are a likeable lot and should become favourites.

The purpose of this paper is to juxtapose different sources concerning educational experiments embarked on by an English primary school teacher, Muriel Pyrah. Pyrah taught at Airedale School, Castleford, Yorkshire, UK, from the 1950s until 1972. Her approach was celebrated in the fields of oracy and arts education in the final years of her working life. Airedale was a Local Education Authority (LEA) school within the West Riding of Yorkshire, an LEA led by Alec Clegg, from 1945 to 1974.

Using film footage, sound recordings, artwork and topic books produced by her pupils, the paper entangles these archival sources with recent interviews from Pyrah’s former pupils and a former school inspector (HMI). Pyrah’s actual name has been used, as has that of the HMI. The names of pupils who contributed insights are anonymised.

The former pupils provide accounts that encourage a move away from a revisiting of progressivism that is predominantly anchored in studying the intentions and hopes of high profile educationalists postwar.

The number of former pupils willing to discuss their memories was small, so no claims are made that their perspectives represent the dominant views of former pupils. However, these interviews reveal details that are absent in the other surviving archival sources.

The paper lays the foundation for further research on the voices of former pupils, inviting a focus on the way those participants reflect on the long-term impact of being involved in an educational experiment. Thus far, the representation of Pyrah’s pedagogy has been choreographed in print to build the legacy of the LEA. The pupils’ stories resonate differently.

In our media‐orientated, image‐conscious contemporary society the librarian may very well seem particularly unfortunate, reflected in the imagination of the general public as a fussy old woman of either sex, myopic and repressed, brandishing or perhaps cowering behind a date‐stamp and surrounded by an array of notices which forbid virtually every human activity. The media, for whom the librarian is frustration personified, have reinforced this stereotype, hitherto transmitted solely by superstition and hearsay; its greatest impact has no doubt fallen on the two‐thirds of the population who never use the library. One of its effects will be to ensure that they never do so in the future. As Frank Hatt has pointed out: “The controllers of the new media of communication … have shown a tendency to limit choices by using the considerable power of the media to limit their audience's established attitudes, simply because such limitation is good business.” The popular BBC television series, The last of the summer wine, portrayed a librarian whose vicarious sex‐life through the pages of D. H. Lawrence led to inevitably frustrated attempts to act out his fantasies in occasional under‐the‐counter forays with his similarly repressed female assistant. A Daily mail leader on an appeal against unfair dismissal made by a London Deputy Borough Librarian reiterates this concept:

National Library Week was first launched in America in the spring of 1958 with the slogan “Wake Up and Read”. It is now an established, continuing, year‐round programme to help build a reading nation and to spur the use and improvement of libraries of all kinds. The sponsors seek the achievement of these objectives because they are the means of serving social and individual purposes that are immeasurably larger.

NATIONAL Library Week was first launched in America in the spring of 1958 with the slogan “Wake Up and Read”. It is now an established, continuing, year‐round programme to help build a reading nation and to spur the use and improvement of libraries of all kinds. The sponsors seek the achievement of these objectives because they are the means of serving social and individual purposes that are immeasurably larger.

ONE MUST BEGIN with Dickens. A chapter by Christopher Hibbert in Charles Dickens, 1812–1870: centenary volume, edited by E. W. F. Tomlin, and The London of Charles Dickens, published by London Transport with aid from the Dickens Fellowship, make a similar study here superfluous; both are illustrated, the latter giving instructions for reaching surviving Dickensian buildings. Neither warns the reader of Dickens's conscious and unconscious imaginative distortion, considered in Humphrey House's The Dickens World. Dickens himself imagined Captain Cuttle hiding in Switzerland and Paul Dombey's wild waves saying ‘Paris’; ‘the association between the writing and the place of writing is so curiously strong in my mind.’ Author and character may be in two places at once. ‘I could not listen at my fireside, for five minutes to the outer noises, but it was borne into my ears that I was dead.’ (Our Mutual Friend)

I REMEMBER one elderly librarian who insisted on keeping the works of obscure authors like Lermontov on the shelves, even when faced with the plain fact that no dates were ever stamped on the labels of the books in question. Whatever happened, the books stayed, year‐in, year‐out. Here, then, was a librarian of the old school, a guardian of culture, keeping to his post while the inner‐city housewives ran for the Mills and Boons on the returned‐books trolley like piranhas hot on the scent of human flesh. He didn't care: sitting at his desk, making careful notations on the backs of book‐cards, he could ignore the crowd and think about Lermontov.