My Last Academic Conference

Posted by Naomi Rockler-Gladen Nov 25, 2006

For years now, I've attended the National Communication Association Convention in November. Without fail, I dress in my most professional clothing and uncomfortable shoes, and by the end of the day the heels of my feet feel like the hooves of an Old West work horse. This year, as I was limping past the Alamo on the way to the San Antonio Convention Center, I decided that enough was enough. I stumbled into a nearby mall and found a Crocs display, and resisted the urge to chuck my heels off of the River Walk. Yeah, the Crocs looked pretty dorky with a dress and pantyhose. And you know what? I didn't give a Texas hoot.

It was my last academic conference. I am leaving academia at the end of the year.

Now don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed being an academic, and it can be meaningful to go to a convention and mull over ideas for hours with fellow scholars. But more often than not, academic conferences have felt like an enormous amount of energy and money spent on an event of inflated importance. This year, I corraled myself out to San Antonio to give a ten minute presentation on television criticism and a ten minute presentation on something about Christmas and Fox News. Each presentation had an audience of about twelve people. Ironically, one of my papers this year was chosen to appear in a panel for Emerging Scholars. For this my department spent close to $1000 for my travel and hotel accomodations. (I paid for my own Crocs.)

Conferences make me lonely. I get to see old friends and schmooze with interesting people, and that's great, but I also spend an awful lot of time wading my way through crowds looking for a familiar or friendly face. Thousands of people show up at these things, and I feel like I'm pushing my way through an enormous high school hallway, searching for my locker.

This year, I didn't bother wandering through the halls much (my feet hurt, after all), and instead parked myself on a bench and watched the scholars plow past. I watched their faces, and I noticed how intent everyone looked, like they were rushing as quickly as they could to a locale of great import. Were they faking it, or were they truly passionate? Both, I suppose. But as I watched, it became solidified in my heart that I had made the right decision. I didn't feel passionate, and I didn't want to fake it. And I certainly did not belong in that convention center.

I don't regret my decision to become a professor, and I expect to be writing some informative articles around here soon about about the pros and cons of academic careers. But I'm done with academia. I'll be riding off into the sunset soon, hooves clad in comfortable Crocs.