Giants

Found here

Tomorrow night I travel to a national conference in Long Beach, California. It will be a very intense weekend of meetings and presentations. I am giving several presentations, one of which I am prepared to do. The other will be prepared at night after the next couple day's meetings, and one will be the result of me flying by the seat of my pants. So much for professionalism! Good job that two of these presentations are with colleagues from my university.

I had no idea what was involved when I accepted the invitation to coordinate 15 hours of workshops over the weekend. It will help me advance to full professor to have this on my resume. Being able to say that I presented three workshops at a national conference is also a feather on my cap. Small comfort that, as I stare at the computer screen for hours on end, borrowing time from other projects that are languishing as we speak.

These conferences are attended by all the Who's Who in my field. Quite frankly, it is a rather intimidating assemblage. Any number of well-known authors, theorists, and clinicians may find their way to my workshops which would cause no end of consternation on my part. (Can you tell I'm on my last nerve???)

It's interesting, this sense of intimidation.

Connie, a very well-published colleague, invited me to present along with her. Our talk is about power and privilege in the supervisory relationship--how we as supervisors can intimidate and undermine the students and interns with whom we work. More specifically, it's how not to do that. One day last week as we were putting together our presentation, we offhandedly tried an experiment that we are hoping to have our attendees do: we had a discussion about our differences and similarities for several minutes.

Connie started out: "I grew up in [the Midwest] on a farm and for some reason, I think you're very much like me. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up and I learned to occupy myself as a farm child. Something about you seems familiar to me in this way." She went on to discuss that we have similar builds and other features of our demeanor in common. Then it was my turn.

"I'm aware that you are more experienced, more published than I am, and have held a number of very prestigious positions in our field." It was the first thing I noticed. She smiled and acknowledged my comment. I added a few other similarities and contrasts and we were done. Connie was her typical warm, pleasant self, but I left that meeting exhausted and wondering why I was so spent.

Later in the evening, Connie emailed me:

I had a thought about our little exercise with each other that shows an interesting power issue. I focused on our similarity. You raised that I had been in the field a lot longer (and perhaps also then more senior/respected/known in the field). I didn't even think of that. I think this is a sign of power. The one with more privilege is not aware of it.

Her email helped me understand why I had been so tired after our meeting. I replied the next day:

Thanks for noting the power differential in our conversation yesterday. I am always acutely aware of it but had decided on some level that I needn’t worry about it since we’re colleagues and you have only ever been a pleasure to be around. But when I read your email last night, I cried—and was surprised to have had that response. I felt relieved, I think, and justified that I feel pretty overwhelmed as a just-learning and in-transition faculty member, trying to make my place among giants.

She replied,

I think this power issue is really interesting. I generally experience myself as pretty powerless and I guess I expect to relate as equals to less experienced colleagues or even in some ways with students. But that doesn’t take away the reality of the power difference. And, as one reference I read noted, the assumption of “false equality” doesn’t help to name the issue. I guess naming it is the first step. I am very grateful to have you as a colleague and expect to learn from you as well.

And this idea of walking in the land of giants is what fills my head as I plan, write, and catastrophize about it all. Articulating this with my colleague has certainly given me some measure of reassurance in terms of working with her. It is a time of internal stretching, and good growth.

Happily, tomorrow night I leave behind a nicely healing Sam. (The "happily" part is that he's healing, not that I'm leaving him home!) He's doing extremely well, hobbling around the house on his crutches. He even barbecued a chicken this evening. And only one pain pill since Sunday. So I know he'll manage without me over the next few days.

The other positive thing is that I expect to see a number of colleagues from across the nation, and make good connections with people who are interested in many of the same issues I am. While having to mingle at the receptions and dinners leaves me cold, the overall experience should be good. Even if it's only because I get to stay in a wonderful hotel for four nights on the university's dime. I'm doing all the positive self-talk I can think of, praying many times during the day, and soothing myself by singing hymns in the shower.

To quote stepdaughter #2, "Being an adult sucks sometimes." I concur. I'd rather crawl in a hole than stand in front of all those professional people and talk about my topic. But then, progress and advancement doesn't happen by accident.

Here's hoping for a growthful, invigorating weekend. I look forward to the exhiliration and relief of being done with it all on Sunday.