Corn-Eating Contests

This might be a rather unprofessional "take" on conferences, but so be it... 

Both Dr. Ann Gagne and Dr. Maha Bali covered this topic recently in their own blog entries, and I wanted to chime in ever so slightly with some specific examples and thoughts about my own conferences and conferencing observations. 

Let me start with examples - My First Conference Ever: I was a grad student way back in the early 2000s, and I believe a proposal of mine - about blogging maybe? - got accepted at a graduate-student based conference in Edmonton, AB, Canada. Yes, Canada. I lived in Fargo (North Dakota), and after scrapping together some funds, I drove to Winnipeg, then flew to Calgary, then Edmonton. I found a youth hostel, and I figured out the bus system in order to get to the conference on a college campus. It was quite the experience: I knew no one, I had to learn how to navigate travel in a different country, and the only thing that reminded me of home was the damn weather. I do not remember my presentation session or any other session I attended; I do recall feeling very lonely at the hostel, and I do remember having to call collect home to let my family know I was okay.

• Meanwhile, back in Fargo, my parents asked my siblings - who I was living with in a house (we were all attending NDSU at various levels) - where I was. My brother shrugged and said, "A corn-eating contest"? Since then, the joke has been that these conferences are corn-eating contests, and since I love corn-on-the-cob that's why I attend.

I think we can all hear the privilege in this first example, yes? I had the funds and the time to attend a conference in a different country.  I think the common theme I see in my own conference experiences is that if I - a privileged white woman - felt awkward or not included in conference environments, then how do others feel?

Another example - The Cool Kids Club: I was a loner in high school. I floated about... from being a nerd reading a book at home on Friday nights to playing various sports to having a tiny core group of humans I cared about who happened to be comprised of various genders and ages. That said, I was not part of the popular group.

• With that background in mind, it was almost mind-blowing to be accepted into a sort of "cool kids club" at my first ever TYCAMW (Two-Year College English Association, Midwest) in Madison, Wisconsin (2009?). I stepped into the Thursday night reception, and once it was discovered that I was the lone human from North Dakota, a few people from the TYCAMW Executive Committee wrapped me in their metaphorical hug. As much as I adore this group of people (yes, I became the ND rep that night, and since then, I've become the web/social media guru), I see issues with how we've wrapped some people into our "fun crew" not others. Why was I chosen? Was it random, or because I am a privileged white woman? Would they have made it a point to include me if I was a woman of color? I don't know.
• If you've ever attended a discipline-specific conference and had some of the "popular kids' names" dropped in your lap, it can feel very discouraging to feel like you don't know who you are supposed to know.
• At my first 4Cs conference (Conference on College Composition and Communication) in Portland, OR (2017), I attended the first-timers breakfast and was almost immediately mansplained a concept I knew about - contract grading. Based on that experience alone, the 4Cs didn't sit with me well. I even met someone who said, "When you leave the 4Cs, you feel like you don't know anything, but when you leave a TYCA, you feel like you can do ALL the things." With that helpful mantra, I spent much of that conference wondering if I "fit" at all. I don't have my Ph.D. I don't want to read a paper to an audience; I want to have conversations with practitioners who've taken the theories and done something with them.

Another example: #OER. Ever since dousing myself in the juices of Open Educational Resources (2015?), it's been an interesting juxtaposition to attend conferences fueled by publishing companies. It's slightly defeating to realize that I'm welcomed in non-discipline specific spaces - like Open conferences and #Ungrading tweet storms - but not necessarily with the majority of English teachers based on what I'm practicing in the classroom. Are conferences meant to showcase futuristic ideas of pedagogy OR are they meant to keep the status quo in place? Hell, there is still a cacophony of faculty - with loud voices and no evidence - that keep "online learning" on the shelf of blasphemy STILL to this day!

• This feeling of being the odd "man" out has followed me to smaller conferences, too, where people question the validity of OER, even with all the research out there that proves its helpfulness in the arenas of social justice, student learning, student finances, and accessibility.

Connection to my students and the classroom. When it's necessary to cancel classes for a conference, I do tell the students what I'm doing or where I'm going and why. Typically, the students nod like, "Good, go get your geek on!" I sometimes tell them my brother's "corn-eating contest" story, or sometimes, I just say I'm going to go learn things. They've also been involved with the aftermath of one such conference when I told them how an attendee of my session took me aside to tell me he left my session because I swore. They wanted to holler at him; I got a smile out of that conversation, and now as I reflect, I realize I could've taken that as an opportunity to talk about what the definition of "professionalism" is.

• When it came to these last few years, as covid changed things, I still canceled classes to attend virtual conferences. Even typing that sentence makes me feel guilty, but my dept chair shrugged when I spoke of this guilt. "You would take time away from campus if it was an in-person conference, so what's the difference?" Again, more privilege: support from admin is something not every faculty member has.

Conclusion & Solutions? There are so many ways we can make conferences and conferencing better. We could easily start by asking ourselves how we would help as many people come to the "space" and learn at all - just as we should be doing with our students and classes and classrooms...

• If courses should be offered as hybrids, then conferences should be, too. Being accessible should be the norm. 
• When it comes to how conferences are funded, perhaps we move away from for-profit assistance? If the cost is an issue, let's dig into that; college and courses are expensive for students, right? What do we do to help them?
• When people attend, how can we make them feel welcomed? How do we make sure our students feel welcomed in our classrooms?

This summer, I'm participating in #MyFest22, and it's like taking five massive progressive steps in the evolution of conferences. Step 1: Flexible scheduling of sessions and no overlap; Step 2: Flexible pricing; Step 3: Lots of community building! Step 4: Revolves around inclusivity and accessibility and openness and care; Step 5: So many ways to participate (asynchronous and synchronous). Plus, they don't require you to turn your cameras on! 

The image below was created from a recent tweet of mine (image found on Unsplash): 

#MyFest22 Session on #OER Made by Students: Deconstruction of the power dynamic and culture in the classroom is often more important than the deconstruction of pedagogy. #open #ungrading