Considering the ubiquity of devices available to children and content created for them, parents of children 12 and younger should be targeted as a specific group for new information literacy programs.  A May 2025 Pew Research Center survey reported that parents of children 12 and younger allow their children to use various devices (TVs, tablets, smart phones) to access platforms (YouTube and social media), for reasons such as entertainment, learning, staying connected, and calming down. Parents of the same survey also reported that smartphones and content created for social media is more harmful that beneficial and that tech companies and law makers should do more to prevent harms. They also reported challenges about deciding what to allow and how to manage screentime for their children. Many reported they felt a need to improve their decision making related to screentime and content. Today, families are less likely to receive instruction and support from libraries to evaluate technology and content for children than in the past due to more option to access devices and information.

Research is a lifelong intellectual endeavour that transcends academic qualifications, professional status, and social background. Whether one is an undergraduate student, postgraduate scholar, healthcare practitioner, policymaker, entrepreneur, volunteer, or independent learner, research remains indispensable to growth, innovation, and societal advancement. Indeed, every meaningful improvement in human endeavour is rooted in the ability to seek, evaluate, and apply credible knowledge. Research, therefore, is not merely an academic requirement; it is a systematic and continuous process of building upon existing knowledge to solve emerging challenges and expand the frontiers of understanding.

This article explores how YouTube content becomes believable enough to shape public knowledge. Drawing from Filipino Personhood Theory, it argues that believability emerges through Kapwa, Pakikiramdam, and Kagandahang-loob—forms of relational trust, communicative sensitivity, and moral credibility that extend beyond algorithms and visibility metrics.

Imagine a fourteen-year-old sitting on the floor of a library, flipping through a book they found almost by accident. The main character shares something deeply personal with them. For the first time, their life is not treated as unusual or controversial. It is simply there. Then the book is removed. No announcement. No explanation. Just absence. The message lands anyway. Your story is a problem. This moment captures what is often missing from public conversations about censorship. When books disappear, the impact is not abstract. It shapes how young people understand themselves, how they understand others, and how they learn to think.

Picture a student-teacher at a College of Education in Ghana, preparing a lesson on early childhood literacy. She approaches the library catalogue terminal, types a few keywords, “early childhood reading Ghana”, and receives a handful of results, most of them older texts with limited relevance to the Ghanaian classroom. She leaves with less than she came for. Now imagine the same student interacting with a library interface powered by a large language model: she types, in her own words, “I need materials about teaching children to read in Ghanaian primary schools.” The system responds conversationally, surfaces related resources, and asks whether she would like materials that address mother-tongue-based multilingual education. Something has clearly shifted. But as a college librarian in Ghana, I find myself asking: how deep does that shift really go and for whom?

Auriemma and Staley belong in a conversation about representation and leadership in LIS because the same racialized and interpretive pattern of disruption appears here too. LIS describes itself as progressive, inclusive, and equity minded, but Cooke and Kitzie (2021) argue that marginalized scholars and practitioners still function as outsiders within, included inside institutions that were not built with them in mind. Cooke and Green (2023) make a related point in their call for inclusive leadership, arguing that LIS leadership models have too often reflected structures that privilege white men and exclude others from full authority.