Blog Post

Should We Really ABOLISH the Term Paper? A Response to the NY Times

When Matt Richtel's name appeared on my cell phone, I felt a moment of dread.   I'm pretty sure I even told him that when he called the first time.  I've written more than one post on this blog with the tagline "A Response to the NY Times" and more than once I've "responded" to a Matt Richtel piece on new modes of learning that has seemed slanted or too dismissive  about the impact of new digital learning on students today.  So one reason I answered his phone call was that I was hoping that, with enough care and time, I might even convince a distinguished journalist that, well, not everyone working on technology and learning is a charlatan, that lots of us are doing this not to make a buck (plenty of people are doing that) but to try to be responsive and responsible to youth who live in this digital era and will be running it all soon enough.  Over the course of many phone calls, I was impressed by Richtel's intelligence and openness to hearing my point of view.   I admit I was also nervous the whole way.  This isn't easy stuff; it's not clearly "good" or "bad" and there's a lot of pomposity and chicanery out there in just about every direction. I've certainly expressed a lot of skepticism about the 'dumping iPads in schools' approach to 'digital learning' too.   To his journalistic credit, Richtel made sure he quoted me precisely.  The quotes are accurate.  There are some cheap shots in the piece that I find annoying.  And, had the piece been longer, I would have definitely appreciated more context but it's a good piece in a very compelling issue of the quarterly New York Times  Education Life section.  And, below, since this is a blog, I will in a much more expansive fashion supply the context that a brief journalistic essay cannot.


You can read Matt Richtel's NYT article here:  "Blogs vs. Term Papers," Jan 20, 2012:


And for my own account of the decision not to use term papers when I taught at Michigan State, you can check out a piece I published in Academe in Sept-Oct 2011.   In some ways, it is more assertive on this issue than Richtel's piece, and is highly critical of the establishment English Department that too-often forgets its own importance as society’s “keeper” of two of the three R’s of traditional literacy, namely “reading” and “‘writing.’”   I won’t rehearse my critique; here's the link:   I also write about this in Now You See It ( there's a link in the byline at the bottom of this page). 


I hope readers interested in this topic of blogs and research papers will also turn to the work of Prof Andrea Lunsford of Stanford quoted in the New York Times piece.   Lunsford is a brilliant, senior (she’s about to retire) researcher in the field of expository writing.  Her long body of research and her reputation are impeccable.  Lunsford has done some of the best work about writing, and she’s documented, with evidence, the improved literacy levels of this generation of students as compared to previous years she has evaluated at Stanford.  She is also working with composition teachers around the country who are documenting similar findings that, in fact, this generation comes in reading and writing more and better–and, yes, differently–than earlier ones, not worse.  Lunsford uses the same metrics to assess these students as were used to evaluate past ones.  Her website is:


Since, in fact, so few teachers actually do require the full-length research or term paper any more, as Richtel’s essay makes clear, I am pleased that a vehicle as prominent as the NY Times is dedicating space to the pros and cons of the genre in the splendid Education Life issue that is full of inspiring stories of learning innovation.  And here's a nice thought:  the Richtel article might even put a few of the reprehensible research-paper mills out of business.  There is a whole industry out there dedicated to supplying students, for a significant fee, with plagiarized or tailor-made term papers.   (One of my cousins, who put four kids through college, jokes that the cadre of over helicoptering, term-paper writing mothers of the world will also thank me!)


But if the research paper is a problem, is blogging the answer?    That’s what I want to address here.   Just as there are good and bad ways to teach research papers, there are good and bad ways to use blogs in the classrooms.  They can become just as meaningless and routinized as any other assignment unless they are used carefully and strategically, with an aim to their larger purpose.  So, for those who are interested in the larger topic, here is some elaborated thinking that is missing from the New York Times piece  (and, no, Matt Richtel, I do not consider it a slippery slope from the term paper to the blog to the 140-character Tweet.   That’s a cheap shot).




(1)  I teach exceptionally experimental courses, typically taken by juniors and seniors--undergraduates not graduate students-- at Duke University.  Because they are very difficult and challenging and break many paradigms, about a quarter of the students dropout the first week---and then there is a sufficiently long waiting list that others take the course.   I do a combination of contract and peer grading and have had more than one student in "This Is Your Brain on the Internet" tell me that, contracting for an A will lower their grade point average.   I typically have astonishingly accomplished students, typically majoring in things like Biomedical Engineering and English, who are looking for a power course, a paradigm-shifting course before the leap into the world.   We have a Word Press class website.  Students blog every week about the reading and project-based assignments they create.   The two students charged with leading the class that week have to respond to every blog.  The students respond to one another.  

            Three points:    (a) my students write more than they think they are writing because the context is so urgent, compelling, and interactive that they enjoy it and it doesn't seem like drudgery.  They work so hard to articulate and defend ideas about which they have strong convictions that it does not feel to them like the exercise of "writing a term paper."   When I put their semester's work into a data hopper, even I was shocked to find out that they were averaging around 1000 words per week, in a course about neuroscience, collaborative thinking, the technological and ideological architecture of the World Wide Web, and the "collaboration by difference" method that I prescribe as an anecdote to attention blindness, the way our own expertise,cultural values, and attention to a specific task illuminates some things and makes us blind to others.   I argue that the open architecture of the Web is built on the principle of diversity and maximum participation--feedback and editing--that gives us a great tool for compensating for our own shortcomings.   (i.e. with the right tools, partners, and methods, we can do a pretty good job of overcoming attention blindness, or what, in the psychological jargon, is called "inattentional blindness").  Best example:  Wikipedia.   It gets better and better, more and more stringent, as more of us contribute and gets beyond many of our biases of culture, since worldwide participation of volunteer writers and volunteer editors leads to a far more complex history than "experts" might write on a given subject.  Students learn to evaluate one another's thinking and challenge one another--and, far more important, they learn from one another and correct themselves.  I cannot think of a better skill to take out into the world.  By blogging and responding to one another's posts, my students aren't learning how to write for an English professor.  They are learning how to write for the world they are about to enter, in their jobs, in their careers, and they are learning how to improve their active discourse already happening on line. They are learning that some of the best thinking (as Socrates would say) is dialogic,and their writing is part of an interactive, vibrant written dialogue.  This is not a lack of critical thinking; it is exactly critical thinking, tested thinking. 

(b) I respond more too.  Like my students, I feel like I'm not spending as many hours reading and grading term papers, but, I know, from the end-of-term data crunching again, that, in fact, I have spent more time responding to their writing than I used to.  I no longer engage in a ritual that too often happens among assigners of research papers (you know who you are), that frantic last week reading and marking 50 term papers before grades are due.  Too often, in the old days, I would read and write comments on papers that wound up in a box outside my office door that few students ever came by to collect--a pointless and deadening pedagogy if there ever was one. 


(c) Two assignments in my "This Is Your Brain on the Internet" classes have to be "public contributions to knowledge."   Those are substantive, well-argued essays that have to be published on the Internet in a serious place as part of a serious interactive exchange.   Some students have written Wikipedia entries (and if you have never tried, I dare you:  it is far, far harder to get content to "stick" on a Wikipedia entry than you have ever imagined).  Some pre-Med students have contributed to professional discussions with full medical professionals and made a difference.   Interestingly, the tipping point in these classes is when someone the student doesn't know, an anonymous stranger, responds to their work.  When it is substantive, the student is elated and surprised that their words were taken seriously.   When it is rude or trollish, the student is offended.  Both responses are good.  The Internet needs more people committed to its improvement, to serious discourse.


(2) The other writing course Richtel discusses is expository writing, a class I taught many years ago at Michigan State University.  I taught at MSU for a dozen years, and, although I have loved teaching at Princeton and really love teaching at Duke, there was something truly incredible and powerful and urgent about teaching in East Lansing, Michigan, at MSU.  I taught there during the tragic collapse of the auto industry, where many of my first-generation college students were suddenly living in cities with over twenty percent unemployment, with parents who had lost their jobs.  Their own job prospects were restricted, their horizon suddenly diminished.   Yet they came into the classroom with what I thought of as a fighting, rights-based Michigander union mentality that might be summarized as: "my taxpayer dollars pay for your job; you better deliver a great education!"  


I loved their demands on me.  Sometimes the line outside my office was as long as those at a crowded bakery on a Saturday morning, winding down the hall.  Students wanted to squeeze every ounce of interaction fromme because they believed--really believed--that what they were learning in my classes could make a difference in their life.   I will be grateful for the rest of my life that my first tenure-track job was at Michigan State.   Those amazing MSU students taught me that an English teacher's job is the most fundament, basic, and precious possible, that teaching excellent communication skills, interpretive skills, and critical thinking skills is life-changing and should always be at the highest standard.   "Relentless" is the word that just popped into my head.  My MSU students were relentless in wanting/needing/getting an education and they helped train me to be relentless in never settling, always pushing, always experimenting. 


The NY Times article did not supply that context when it retold the story of how I didn't teach term papers at MSU but taught resume-writing and life stories.  I did, in  fact, teach resume-writing and life stories in first-year writing and it is true that I got in trouble (a story I tell in the Academe piece) for refusing to stay with the expository writing syllabus in my quarter-long (10 weeks, 10 short weeks!) required first-year writing class.   As I often do with classes, I did a diagnostic, found that many of my students were woefully lacking in basic writing skills.  I asked them what they most wanted from a writing class, and quickly transformed the class into a "writing as if your life depended upon it" workshop.   The context was a world of 20% unemployment and students who took on average of six years to graduate because they all were working in factories or at fast food restaurants or in the campus cafeteria to help pay their way through school. 


What did they do in a quarter of first-year comp? They read great writers and sometimes I would have them imitate different styles of writing to help them find their own voice.   But the required writing for the course was all about them.  For goodness sakes, something in their world, where the bottom had just fallen out, had to be "all about them."  I am still proud of that.  I decided that they would learn to write brilliant job cover letters.   They would learn to write life stories that made their experiences--working in the cafeteria, a parent without a job, you name it--the best possible character recommendation for a job ahead.   (If you think that is easy, you've never done it.)   I had them write resumes for themselves.  And I turned them into a class "employment agency," reading and responding to one another and scouring newspapers (the Internet didn't exist yet) for potential summer job and intern possibilities.  The "final" in the class was for each student--with lots of readings by me and the rest of the class--to apply for three or four summer jobs and internships.  That year, every student landed a position.  Some were unpaid and, despite my urging, the students just couldn't afford to have a summer without pay and passed up what more affluent students would have seen as a career stepping stone.  But I am positive that no group of students has ever left a 10-week writing class more clear that good writing is important, that it makes a difference, that it can improve your life. 


By contrast, in the faculty lounge at MSU, I would too often hear some of my most arrogant colleagues (it was a subset, certainly not all:  there were many wonderful teachers in the department) ranting that all kids today did was watch TV, their writing was abominable, they were getting worse and worse, they didn't care about good writing any more.  Some of my colleagues enjoyed sitting around reading "howlers" from student term papers to one another, laughing at how bad the writing was.   And then they would complain that writing comments on these final research papers was a "waste of time."   Yeah, buddy:  a waste of your student's time.  Their tax dollars are paying your salary, buddy!   I found it offensive then, I find it offensive now.  If you are an English teacher and this paragraph feels all too familiar, well, then Change Thyself!


I was indeed told by a head of the writing program that I had to either teach the prescribed syllabus or leave.  I left.  I did not want to ever become one of those professors who spends time in the faculty lounge complaining about how bad students are today, how TV (or, now, the Internet) has made students dumber, more shallow, more incapable of reading and writing, and how writing comments on their papers is a waste of time. 


Is the way I taught freshman composition the only way to teach a writing class?  No.   Would I teach it that way again if I were in that same situation?   Absolutely. 


[An aside:   I also found it offensive when students would confess they wrote their term papers the night before they were due.   No wonder they are terrible!   More recently, I asked graduate students why they often left their term papers until the end and, with sadness, they confessed it was often because the whole exercise of writing a research paper is so debilitating and terrifying they often developed writer's block or writer's anxiety and needed the deadline to motivate them to write.   I pushed deeper, and had them each tell about a past research paper experience--and every one of them had had at least one awful one, with a teacher as rigid and uncreative, and dictatorial as the community college situation Richtel writes about (accurately!) at the end of his column, where, tutoring a brilliant, creative tech student who had trouble writing, I found myself helping him to write mechanically (for a teacher who mandated things like sentence length and number of adverbs and paragraph structure: topic, development, more development, conclusion, paragraph after deadly paragraph).  My grad students all had at least one martinet English teacher who gave them a low grade on a paper they had boldly put forth as innovative and creative.  I had one of those too; I'm convinced they are a subspecies of the genus "English Teacher" and they are hated the world over.  I don't teach many grad classes any more but, when I do, I have doctoral students write their scholarship on a blog and then for a public audience, too. I do not have them write a term paper just for my eyes.  I don't think I've ever had a student tell me about writer's block when they are writing weekly blog entries for their peers.   That is interesting!  I have also heard from many HASTAC Scholars over the years that, being able to write about serious ideas on has been better writing training, better at helping them lower their "writer's block anxiety," than other forms of writing.] 


I can quibble with other things in the NY Times piece but why bother?   The point I want to make is that if you are an English teacher and you are convinced that everything about the way you assign, read, grade, and give feedback on that term paper makes students believe, forever after, that their writing makes a difference, then that is the context in which you absolutely should assign a term paper.  If you grumble in the faculty lounge or on Facebook or wherever you grumble, that the "students get worse and worse every year," then you have to be introspective about what you are doing, what they are doing, and fix the situation.   The empirical research by experts in the field (I teach based on my experience and on experts who research the field, such as Andrea Lunsford and others)is that students tend to make the kind of mistakes in the formal research paper that they do not make in informal writing (such as blogs) that the sociolinguist William Labov found among working class speakers aspiring to be middle class:   use of the word "whom" in situations where it is ungrammatical but sounds fancy, use of semantically incorrect but pretentious vocabulary ("Thesaurusitis"), longer sentences that lack punch but sound "upper class," lack of demonstrative language, vague construction that lacks a point ("In this essay it shall be argued that . . . ").   And so forth.  None of those things make for good writing. 


This is a long response, close to 3000 words, and with even a citation or two (hey! I may have just about written a term paper here).  Kidding aside, I've written at length because I know there are  junior English professors out there who can use this much detail to rethink what and how they are doing writing assignments in their classes and who may need to make a case to their own supervisors about why they want to use blogs instead of term papers.  I don't want the Richtel piece to hurt their experimental ambitions.   Basically, I think experimenting with form, in any setting, improves the setting, including when the experiment fails.  Trying the risky is a good way to invigorate.  My larger point is that "blogs vs term papers" is a nonsensical binary.  There are good and bad ways to use blogs just as there are good and bad ways to use term paper or any other assignments.   Do I want to abolish the term paper?  No.  I'm sure some professors use the form well, teach it well, and their students are immeasurably enriched by the exercise.  That is not my experience. 


I personally am convinced that the traditional English department research paper, like the traditional English dissertation, can be wonderful sometimes but, for the majority of writers, the very conventions of the term paper genre hurt writing more than it helps.  I happen to have a partner who is a university press editor and I watch him and his colleagues spend countless hours helping young professors un-learn their dissertationese and learn how to write compelling arguments in compelling style for a wider audience.  Bingo!   That is what I strive for in my writing classes.  I want my students to feel the power of writing, the power of their writing. Writing is communication.  It deserves an audience.  And that's the bottom line:  I don't want my students to see me as their audience.  I want them to leave my classes seeing the world as their potential audience.   






Cathy N. Davidson is co-founder of HASTAC, and author of The Future of Thinking:  Learning Institutions for a Digital Age (with HASTAC co-founder David Theo Goldberg), and  Now You See It:  How the Brain Science of Attention Will Transform the Way We Live, Work, and Learn (Viking Press). She is co-PI on the HASTAC/MacArthur Foundation Digital Media and Learning Competitions.   NOTE:  The views expressed in Cat in the Stack blogs and in NOW YOU SEE IT are solely those of the author and not of HASTAC, nor of any institution or organization. Davidson also writes on her own author blog, [NYSI cover]



Apropos wiki-collaboration, I'd like to challenge the prescription of an "anecdote."


This is a very insightful response to a problematic article. I have composed a probably less insightful and more rambling response on my own blog for those interested.


Thank you for writing this! I read the NYTimes article and admit that it made me spectacularly cranky--as a former blogger myself, and now a new teacher trying to work on how to teach writing / what sort of writing I should be teaching... I did think that the article was extremely reductive of the differences between blogs and term papers--and, now that I read your response, of your own positions on it.

Thank you for writing about your experience at Michigan State, as well--absolutely inspiring. As I start a new semester, I've defnitely been thinking about what types of writing will be most useful to my students. This is very helpful!


Thanks for taking the time to respond so thoroughly to the NYTimes article!

The elaboration here on your philosophy and practices over the years is deeply inspiring.

I first encountered your work when you wrote about Crowdsourcing Grading a few years ago. I included a link to that post - along with links to Emily Hanford's recent American RadioWorks program on Don't Lecture Me and Howard Rheingold's Peeragogy Handbook Project - in a recent post on client-centered therapy, student-centered learning and user-centered design I wrote on my own blog.

I'm still at the early stages of the learning curve on how to best facilitate student-centered learning in my own courses, and I know that you and others who read this blog are far more knowledgable and experienced in such matters, but on the outside chance that anyone here hasn't already encountered Carl Rogers' 1952 essay on Personal Thoughts on Teaching and Learning - which provided the initial motivation for my blog post - I wanted to mention it here, as I think there is considerable alignment with what you've written here.


The NY Times has a policy against linking to another blog so I couldn't share the link to my larger elucidation above with the NY Times readership.  However, I did leave a comment, reproduced below.   And to all those who left comments here:  thanks!  And best of luck with your own writing, learning, and teaching.


  • cathyd
  • North Carolina

The "versus" in the title of this article bothers me. It doesn't seem to me that "blogs" and "term papers" are in competition with one another. It's not a contest. But, as commenter Daniel Rosen notes, blogs are part of the repertoire of tools that engaged teachers can use to inspire good writing. Do blogs teach the rules of term paper writing? No. But those rules are not always relevant. To continue Rosen's analogy, sometimes one wants to teach not baseball but a more basic skill; that skill might be learning to throw and catch a ball accurately or it might be something even larger, such as sportsmanship. For my particular cohort of students in "This Is Your Brain on the Internet" or "21st Century Literacies," the objective is communicating intelligently on line and off, learning to give and receive feedback (including from strangers), and working collaboratively, often across distance and difference. These factors are increasingly at play in the globalized professional workplace my students will soon enter, a world where good communication skills (more email than term paper) can make or break a business relationship. As a side note, we find from the hundreds of undergraduates and graduate students who are part of our nonprofit digital learning network HASTAC ("Learning the Future Together") that blogging and interacting publicly with others in the network often inspires them to go on to write articles, dissertations, and books--and, of course, blogs.



For anyone interested in these issues, I highly recommend the most serious journal in the field dedicated to these kinds of questions, Kairos     Here's the "About" page of this remarkable online peer reviewed journal: 

What is Kairos?

Kairos is a refereed open-access online journal exploring the intersections of rhetoric, technology, and pedagogy. The journal reaches a wide audience—currently 45,000 readers per month—hailing from Ascension Island to Zimbabwe (and from every top-level domain country code in between); our international readership typically runs about 4,000 readers per month. Kairos publishes bi-annually, in August and January, with regular special issues in May. Our current acceptance rate for published articles is approximately 10%.

Since its first issue in January of 1996, the mission of Kairos has been to publish scholarship that examines digital and multimodal composing practices, promoting work that enacts its scholarly argument through rhetorical and innovative uses of new media. Now in its 16th year of continuous publication, Kairos is one of the leading peer-reviewed journals in English Studies, made so by its dedication to academic quality through the journal’s extensive peer-review and editorial production processes.

We publish "webtexts," which are texts authored specifically for publication on the World Wide Web. Webtexts are scholarly examinations of topics related to technology in English Studies fields (e.g., rhetoric, composition, technical and professional communication, education, creative writing, language and literature) and related fields such as media studies, informatics, arts technology, and others. Besides scholarly webtexts, Kairos publishes teaching-with-technology narratives, reviews of print and digital media, extended interviews with leading scholars, interactive exchanges, "letters" to the editors, and news and announcements of interest.

Because questions of copyright, intellectual property, and fair use often arise for scholars who wish to create digital publications, we have developed a statement of copyright that encourages authors to carefully consider their rights and responsibilities while advocating for a strengthening of fair use. Our copyright statement also provides authors with the opportunity to build upon and republish their work because we are committed to the continuing development of intellectual work and believe that authors should retain the rights to scholarly production.

We invite you to share your views about Kairos, and we hope you'll consider submitting your work for our editorial review.

A Brief History of Kairos

Originally called Kairos: A Journal for Teachers of Writing in Webbed Environments, the first issue was released in January of 1996 and has continually published between one and four issues per year. Although Kairos is not the first peer-reviewed online journal in the humanities (or in composition/rhetoric), it is one of the oldest continually-published venues and the first to focus on the development of work that drew upon the new media of electronic networks as key elements of digital scholarship.

Founding editor Mick Doherty explained the impetus for the creation of the journal and the decision to name it Kairos in an early essay called Kairos - Layers of Meaning:

This new journal has a great deal to do with kairos, particularly in terms of its appropriateness and timeliness in our field at this time. As we are discovering the value of hypertextual and other online writing, it is not only important to have a forum for exploring this growing type of composition, but it is essential that we have a webbed forum within which to hold those conversations. With this journal, the Kairos staff and authors intend to push many envelopes--of theory and pedagogy, of technology, of composition, and of professional scholarship--at a time when these efforts are vital to continued growth of our field. In essence, we've tried to make this the most kairotic journal we could.

Kairos now boasts over 45,000 readers per month (which is a respectable circulation for an academic journal in a fairly specialized field); these readers come to the site from every country in the world, and there are now over 2,500 specific links to the journal and the webtexts that have been published in it over the past 16 years.



The Topoi section features extended scholarly analyses of large-scale issues relating to rhetoric, technology, and pedagogy. Submissions are accepted continuously, and authors are encouraged to contact the editorial staff early in their project's development.


The Praxis section publishes scholarly investigations into the intersections of rhetoric, technology, and pedagogy with an emphasis on what happens in the writing/rhetoric classroom and why. Webtexts--case studies, discussions of networked/new media composing, or other formats--should showcase how writing is informed by emerging technologies foregrounding practical aspects (i.e., how would one use the technique being described? Who might benefit from following the author's approach and why?) while providing a theoretical grounding. Because the Praxis section typically features actual classroom research, authors are encouraged to provide appropriate, scholarly use of video, audio, image, or other digital media examples of the techniques described. Please contact Praxis Editors Andréa Davis and Christine Tulley at with any questions.


PraxisWiki is a repository of useful and provocative information and ideas for scholars and teachers at the intersections of rhetoric and technology. It invites synopses and discussions of published materials, definitions of important concepts, sketches of major figures and their works, sample syllabi and assignments along with their rationales, teaching narratives and classroom activities, and preliminary discussions of research and projects.

Contributors must submit a text of at least 500 words or provide a substantial revision of an existing PraxisWiki page for review. Upon acceptance, contributors will be given open access to editing and adding content in PraxisWiki, and pages will be monitored and adjusted as necessary by the Praxis team. Submissions are welcome on an ongoing basis and should include a minimum of five keywords. Please contact Praxis Wiki Editor Dundee Lackey at with any questions.


Inventio focuses on the decisions, contexts, and contributions that have constituted a particular webtext. Inventio authors include, alongside or integrated with their finished webtexts, materials that help them articulate how and why their work came into being.


Each year, Kairos publishes several extended interviews with scholars doing interesting work relating to rhetoric, technology, and pedagogy.


Reviews include individual or collaborative reviews of books, media, and other texts of interest to scholars of rhetoric, technology, and pedagogy. See our Call for Reviews for specific details about texts and other media we're interested in having reviewed.


Disputatio: A Reader's Forum presents webtext versions of "letters to the editor" -- this venue is designed to let our readers argue their ideas in relation to published webtexts, featured themes, or ideas in the field in general.




thank you ! This is great information and I intend to let my colleagues know about 

opportunity and the spirit of the journal. In my field of gerontology, I like to 

differentiate between Chronos and Kairos - as it relates to time measured (quanitity)

and then time "experienced" (quality) - and Kairos is a journal "for the times" - 

for the moment of schoalrship - and in a new way - and in a new landscape.


thanks, Scott D. Wright



Great post! Your need to contextual pretty much everything from the NYTimes column reminds me why I don't normally read those things ;) But your follow-up is very helpful.

Thank you, too, for talking about Kairos. (Here's the correct URL:

And, to Scott, send us a submission! We haven't published any medical rhetoric webtexts in a while :)


Cheryl (editor of Kairos)


Anonymous (not verified)

The concepts of universal availability of publications and universal bibliographic control are attributed to the International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions which were part of the core programme. By comparison with the less developed parts of the world, the developed countries like Britain have a near perfect situation.


Anonymous (not verified)

I really like this type of interesting articles keep it up.Uk assignments