Who we know
After giving 1000 lectures to > 100,000 College and University students, what's the biggest lesson I've learnt over the past 15 years?
This is part 2 of my attempt to chronicle a typical “day” (really week) in my teaching semester. If there’s one main takeaway so far is that my job is exciting, unpredictable, and comes with a lot of responsibility. The only way to manage the uncertainty is to develop systems and routines to manage what’s in my control on any given day. You can find Part 1 here.
1. Judgement Day
Lecturer.
Faculty.
College Professor.
Member of Academia.
It doesn’t matter what title or label we go by, we are all collectively scrutinised using (more or less) the same criteria. As we ascend the academic ladder, all of us need to collect evidence that demonstrates the national and international impact of our work. Travelling to conferences is the lifeblood of our profession, and if we want to succeed we really can’t stand still.
I recently completed my annual performance review, and it’s only after this (mandated but welcome) reflection did I realise how many conferences I’ve been to in the past 2 years. It turns out I’ve given over 50 (!) invited conference talks during this time, and you would think all these reps would inoculate me against the typical anxieties associated with public speaking. I was certainly under this assumption, especially as I started to establish a pattern of writing, editing, and rehearsing the talks leading up to each and every conference. Running a YouTube channel in my downtime definitely helped with this process, forcing me to constantly translate my ideas into a visual medium.
Of course, you know what they say about assumptions.
In episode 5 of the Crossover Connections podcast, Jack and Amanda contemplate the implications of GPT 4 and the announcement of Microsoft’s AI Co-pilot, how this may impact scientific discoveries, and how productivity in our sectors can be better streamlined. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, or YouTube.
2. Miscalibration
In February I was invited to speak at the Universities Australia Conference in Canberra, on the topic of how Universities should approach teaching and learning innovation. It was a great opportunity to speak to senior leaders, policy makers, and politicians, and I thought I was ready.
Surely after all of the public-speaking reps leading up to this point, I would be OK under the bright lights?
It was fine until the week immediately before the conference, where every corridor conversation I had with colleagues went a little something like this:
“Big week next week Jack, big week”
“It’s a big week next week isn’t it? Good luck”
“It sure is a big week. Have you finished preparing?”
“Yes definitely a big week. What a big week ahead for you”
It turns out I (somehow?) mis-calibrated how big a deal this was, and how much stress or pressure I should be feeling?
Then I remembered.
The one constant in all of the talks I’ve given up to this point.
I never feel fully prepared. I’m always full of nerves. There’s an adrenaline rush heading up to the podium every single time.
It’s never as easy as I remembered it to be, no matter how many reps I have under my belt. Each talk is a unique cocktail of pressure, audience expectations, and what I’m able to write and create within a limited timeframe.
After delivering 1000 lectures to over 100,000 college students over the past 15 years, the biggest lesson I’ve learnt as a teacher is how to recalibrate what I am communicating for different target audiences. First year vs final year students. Science students vs medical students. Academics vs policy makers. These communication soft skills transcend discipline, and can be transferred into any context, and are the secret sauce employers are looking for but don’t know how to articulate.
If you know you know right? This conference will be the ultimate test if I have enough reps in taking about teaching to a completely different audience of decision makers.
3. Reset
From what I could tell on the day, I think the talk went well? There was a lot of questions, feedback, and discussion, which is all I can hope for as a presenter on a panel designed to provoke and stimulate new ideas. I connected with new people, discussed new ideas with existing connections at the meeting, and felt like I belonged at the table.
This is a far cry from where I was even 5 years ago, a level B lecturer trying to figure out my place in the Higher Education sector. Not knowing what skills I should be learning, or even how I should go about learning them? Like many professionals I felt a little lost, unsure of myself, and not aware of the value I can provide to employers or organisations.
If I could go back and do it all over again, this is what I would change. I wish I would have been more proactive in establishing stronger connections with my mentors, who could have told me all of these things 5, 10, 15 years ahead of the game. My professional learning roadmap was filled with unknown unknowns so I couldn’t make the most of these connections. I had great mentors all along the way, but I didn’t know the right questions to ask?
What skills did you prioritise, and how did you go about learning them?
How did you change your thinking over time around measuring your impact?
What did it take for you to move up to the next level?
Who did you connect with at different phases of your career, and why did this make a difference?
If you’re an Early-Career or Mid-Career Researcher, you should be developing a 5 year plan for how to find new mentors for the different domains of your activity profile, which is just as important as a 5-year plan for your research output.
Like most competitive professions, academia can be an isolating experience but we are nothing without our professional networks. The people we know.
Talk soon,
Jack.
