FIRST PERSON

Anything But Conventional

A Ph.D. spends five days and a lot of money learning the rules of academic conferences

Article tools

Printer friendly	E-mail article	Subscribe	Order reprints
	Discuss any Chronicle article in our forums
Latest Headlines The Fund Raiser Fund Raising in a Recession It may sound counterintuitive, but now is the time to travel to your best donors and talk about their philanthropic goals. First Person From Job Candidate to Stalker For a new Ph.D. searching for her first job in her field, the line between the two can be blurry. Career News Keep Up the Quality It's time for colleges and universities to improve academic, not just administrative, productivity. On Course Back to High School In a new book, an assistant professor of English finds radical new sources of inspiration for his discipline in K-12 classrooms. Resource Salaries: Faculty | Administrative Presidential pay: Private | Public Financial resources: Salary and cost-of-living calculators Career resources: Academic | Nonacademic Library: Previous articles by topic | by date | by column Career Talk, Ms. Mentor, and more... Landing your first job On the tenure track Mid-career and on Administrative careers Nonacademic careers for Ph.D.'s Talk about your career Blogs

By MICHELLE PARKER

I confess to having a rather ambivalent relationship with my instrument's professional society. When I first paid my dues and joined the group back in college, I was awestruck by its journal. I read every article with reverence and scanned the writers' bios, amazed by their experience and credentials. Things started to sour during graduate school, though, and by the first year of my doctorate I dropped my membership, tired of spending money for something that I had to come to associate with everything that I hated about my instrument and the people who play it.

But in the fall of 2007, after seriously rethinking my professional portfolio, I decided to rejoin the society. Even more important, I submitted a proposal this year for a paper contest at the society's annual summer convention. I wasn't sure that my topic would even be accepted, but the allure of a $1,000 prize as well as guaranteed publication was more than I could resist.

My topic, much to my surprise, was accepted. I would be one of eight presenters on the first day of the conference. Feeling rather proud of myself, I began to prepare in earnest. I rewrote my paper and practiced reading it repeatedly to ensure a smooth flow and delivery, devoid of pronunciation gaffes or other snags (ums, ahs, and awkward pauses).

After reading e-mail messages from other presenters to the conference organizer, I decided to take things further by creating a handout and a PowerPoint presentation. I continued to practice presenting my materials for weeks to anyone and anything that stood still long enough — my mom, my bird, even my bathroom mirror.

Finally it was time. I packed my bags, arranged for a ride to the airport, and a few hours later, it was all over. My presentation went as well as I could have hoped. Now it was time to reflect on things.

This was the first time that I had ever attended a convention for my instrument, or my general field for that matter. For years I had entertained the notion that academic conventions were a hotbed of action and excitement, incredible performances, amazing presentations, and people in their business-best attire networking over cocktails.

I was wrong. While some aspects of the convention were better than I ever imagined, much of it was a cross between a childish board game and a really bad foreign soap opera. And the rules of the game, as I quickly discovered, were dictated by the whims of fate.

Rule No. 1: Regardless of how well your travel arrangements have been planned, things will go wrong. My flights were delayed, the cab driver got lost, and tornado sirens welcomed me to my hotel.

Those delays were just the tip of the iceberg, though. Be prepared to spend an eternity waiting to register at the convention's welcome table. And be really nice to the poor flustered undergraduate trying to run that table; when you have a single person trying to assist 200 people, issues can arise, and yelling isn't going to fix anything.

Rule No. 2: Your presentation time will be delayed. And, if you're as lucky as I was, it will be scheduled for the same time as another, extremely popular, event that you would have liked to attend.

After doing my best Jesse Owens impersonation by racing across the campus to the presentation hall, I discovered that all of the presenters were running behind schedule. When my turn came, the chief judge ushered me onto the stage with a desperate whisper of, "Please keep it short. We have to be out of this room by 3 p.m.!"

That, coupled with the blatant exodus of the audience (who were heading out to hear what appeared to be a really good presentation on the other side of the campus), leads me to the next rule.

Rule No. 3: There is simply no substitute for overpreparation. I was fairly flustered about losing my audience and being told to hurry things along, but the time I had spent practicing at home meant that I could handle anything thrown at me. I read through my paper with elegance and precision. My PowerPoint worked smoothly.

And those "out of left field" questions by the judges? I think I hit a couple of home runs, not to mention earning repeated positive commentary about my presentation throughout the remainder of the convention. The lesson here: Repeated practice makes better. I am sure that something wasn't perfect, but I know that I presented at my best.

Rule No. 4: Paper contests are a complete and utter crapshoot. The winners of the contest were two of the worst presenters I have ever heard. "Um" was used as a spacer between every other word, and both of them tripped over words and text repeatedly. Their PowerPoints however, featured lots of bright graphics, excess verbiage, and obnoxious colors.

Obviously, I am bitter about this, especially since the contest rules placed a great deal of emphasis on having a smooth delivery without fillers and aural catastrophes. But the winners' PowerPoint presentations had, as one colleague put it, "bling."

So what exactly is the point of Rule No. 4? Regardless of what anyone tells you, flashy PowerPoint presentations are a must? Hmm, I think I'll stick with paper presentations "are a complete and utter crapshoot."

Rule No. 5: Unless you have a psychic adviser to help you prepare your wardrobe, take a little bit of everything with you. I was always taught that presenting at a convention was a formal affair, so I dressed for the part in my interview attire. But not everyone takes things so seriously, as I saw plenty of casual-Friday outfits on other presenters, along with summer shorts and sandals.

While it's one thing to be comfortable, and I love wearing slouchy clothes as much as anyone, there's something to be said for the well-dressed presenter. Looking sharp is better than looking dull, so leave those gym clothes for the gym. Gentlemen, there's a reason why some suits are so cheap — there's nothing classy about a $100 suit. Ladies, it's not a dance club, and wearing clothes that tight simply isn't flattering.

Once my presentation and subsequent networking/schmoozing was over, I went back to my hotel room and changed into a less formal outfit to blend in with the other conventiongoers. I found that my gym shorts came in handy when a colleague invited me to join his running group the next morning, and having some "night on the town" duds worked great for an impromptu barhop with another colleague. So take a variety of outfits, but be prepared to look sharp when you need to.

Rule No. 6: The walls have ears (and eyes). Watch yourself wherever you go, and whatever you do.

I watched several people get into nasty screaming matches over comments that should never have been made public. I also found myself moving away from colleagues and others who had the bad habit of making snide remarks aloud. You don't want to be the convention jerk, curmudgeon, or slimeball, nor do you want to be blamed for something that you didn't do or say. If you want to criticize something, do it in private.

Rule No. 7: Sell yourself! Take lots of business cards. Smile. Shake every hand you can grab. Make eye contact. Send follow-up e-mail messages to confirm contacts. The $25 that I spent on business cards was one of the best decisions I've made, and while it may feel strange to be glad-handing folks you don't know, it's also rather cool to have your own card.

Rule No. 8: Manure is good for the garden, but not for the convention. It's fine and dandy to brag a bit about yourself — after all, you are there to network and impress people. But please use restraint. By the end of the conference, I never wanted to hear the words, "Did I tell about that time I won …?" again. We all have success stories, and while they're great to share, once or twice is enough. As with cocktails, everything in moderation.

Rule No. 9: Everything in moderation, especially cocktails, spirits, and anything else that might make you a little bit less restrained. The pictures of drunk attendees that surfaced on the Internet shortly after the convention ended were not flattering. Know your limits and tipple cautiously.

Rule No. 10: There really aren't any rules. After five days at my instrument's annual convention this summer, I found that my perceptions had changed. I met new friends and colleagues, re-evaluated my opinions of others, and learned new ways to approach music and teaching.

I also spent a lot of money that I didn't have, lost five days at work, and came home ready to take a break from my instrument. Will I play this game again? I think I will, though I might take a break from next year's bash to allow my finances to recuperate.

As for the rules, well, Murphy's Law really seems to love conventions.

Michelle Parker is the pseudonym of a professional musician with a doctorate in musical arts who is pursuing her fourth go-round on the academic job market. You can read her previous columns: Part Musician, Part Academic, The Favor of a Reply Is Requested, Playing the Field, and Reinventing Myself Again.