The Life Writing Group

Last year, I expressed interest in attending a Life Writing day which was being organised by Professor Elaine Chalus, in which colleagues across the department of humanities at Bath Spa University presented their work in the area of life writing to one another. Immediately it was clear that whether English, History or Heritage based, life writing  as an approach crossed disciplinary boundaries and presented opportunities for collaboration and mutual interest between us all.

This initial meeting led to my full involvement in the Life Writing steering group, along with fellow doctoral candidate Annabel Wynne (English) With our organisational skills to the fore, we met to plan the first year of events. Later we were joined by Dr Jackie Collier and Rosie Waine (both historians) This is a great team to work with, as they bring experience, enthusiasm and a tremendous range of knowledge with them.

Two evening events were held, featuring in-house presentations and the opportunity for senior and junior members of the school of humanities to share and discuss research; a valuable and secure forum in which to trial ideas and air current work. To echo the initial 'research day', we also planned a day colloquium on the subject 'Writing Women's Lives'. 

The response was overwhelming, to the extent that a two-day conference with parallel panels was what we finally held. This event, which took place on 25th/26th April at Newton Park campus, was a resounding success, drawing scholars from all corners of the UK as well as international speakers from India, Austria, Hungary, France and Ireland.

The range of papers was fascinating, with equally engaging discussions to follow. I found that of all the conferences I have attended, I enjoyed this one the most. This has led me to consider the stage I've reached in the doctoral process.

First of all, I have gained sufficient confidence to appreciate my capabilities. This seems to me as important as the stage of research I've reached. We are all products of our life's experience, and an event like this brings all my own skills together. I know I can organise, communicate, work in a team, encourage others, work flexibly (and add to this certain experiences in catering and customer service) But now I know I can network more comfortably with other academics, talk confidently about my thesis, speak happily in front of large groups, chair a panel effectively, and handle questions from the floor. This is all easier from the perspective of 'member of the organising team' but I think that now I've done it 'at home', it will be a lot easier 'away', too. It feels almost natural. 

I am basically a shy person, but have learned to deal with this so effectively over the years that nobody believes me any more! But that helps me to demonstrate to others that anything is possible, and particularly helps me to support my students. And looking around me, it's clear that other people are struggling in similar ways. It's learning from life's experiences which is important, and this one has been altogether wonderful.

Thanks to the rest of the Life Writing team - Elaine, Jackie, Rosie, Annabel (and Georgie, who stepped into the breach at the last minute) 

Teaching

Teaching - the thing on which university life rests. Where would we be without the undergraduates?

I've been lucky enough to be given teaching hours over the past two years - quicker than expected, but as I've been mentoring students since I graduated in 2011, I'm building on previous experience.

I also have 'previous' as a teacher, because before I came back into education for my own sake in 2008, I had been a preschool leader, at a sixty-place community preschool setting. It always makes people giggle when I say there are similarities between preschoolers (aged 3 and 4) and undergraduates (aged 18 to 70)

Not in behaviour, habits or volume, I hasten to add. No, its more in the way they all grow into learners; by experience, by stages and by self-discovery. I noticed it in myself as a mature student; the way I began to question everything around me (as promised on the Open Day) the way that all learning became exciting and full of possibility again. At the age of 46, this was a revelation. The process of learning has always interested me, but now I find it quite amazing.

Currently, as a tutor, I find myself puzzling over the barriers to learning. I've met reluctant students here who fail to engage, partake, or take up most of the opportunities on offer.  They are paying a great deal of money for these opportunities, so why do they then seem to avoid them? Their motivation, and lack of it, is very confusing.

However the vast majority are hard working, enthusiastic and great fun. I find it very exciting to watch them develop as they pass through their undergraduate years. One or two of the ones I've mentored have gone on to postgraduate study too. Being proud of them must mean I feel responsible for the non-partakers too; I can't have it both ways, surely? I'm told I should be professional, offer everyone the same level of attention and pass on any issues to the appropriate people. Having established a rapport with students, and seeking to get the best out of myself and of each group, its hard not to care.

Of course this is easier with one or two groups - what about the full-timer staff with dozens of students to monitor? In a teaching-led institution, the quality of tutor/student relationships is hugely important. Research-led universities also need to retain the personal touch - it could be what marks out an institution in the future.  

On conferences

Having just submitted an abstract for one conference, and almost immediately received notification of another, has reminded me of the fascinating beast that is the Academic Conference.

The last twelve months has given me further insight into conference life, from the wide perspective of organiser, contributor and audience, and they are no longer as terrifying as I found them at first. Although the reputation of the Academic Conference is fierce, the ones I have attended have been supportive, stimulating and - I was surprised to discover - rather kindly affairs.

No doubt in many situations, academics are well able to intimidate one another, but at the gatherings I've witnessed, they've mostly been willing to encourage the more junior members amongst them. In fact, on every occasion, its been those outside university life who've proved the most troublesome. The academics have been unfailingly supportive.

What can be observed, in fact, is human nature writ large. Nervousness is heightened; social difficulties exaggerated, pomposity exposed. There's nowhere to hide, and so its best to behave politely and honestly. Someone (and someone usually quite senior) will always be finding it harder. When you  realise and notice this, fear dissipates rapidly.

At an Academic Conference, the experienced can share with the relative novice, pointing them towards fresh discoveries. The novice can learn from everyone, and observe styles of delivery, modes of communication and the way that experts in the research field function.

As well as showing you what you have still to learn, being at a conference makes you realise how much you already know, as well as what you can do to improve. And you realise that those published authors, the 'real' historians, read and revered, are human too.

I'm looking forward to the next few conferences, and will hopefully be presenting fresh papers. Now in my second year of doctoral research, I still feel a novice, but thanks to these past experiences, my confidence is growing and the 'imposter syndrome' is abating all the time.