Although I haven’t written about it, even on my relatively private Facebook page, this August brought me a personal crisis. I don’t want to go into too many details, so suffice to say that I realized some of my current behavior is due to past experiences that are (happily) no longer relevant. Some of my behavior has included clinging to perfectionism and being unable to ask for help, things that I am now ready to let go of. But the experiences were painful, so facing them and then moving past the behaviors has also been difficult. In all of this I’ve had the support and love of my family, and for that I’m grateful.
In what seems like an unrelated situation but likely isn’t, a blog post about embracing my imperfections led a colleague to suggest that I read a book. “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brene Brown is proving to be a particularly useful thing for me as I move past my crisis. Earlier this week I read something in it that I need to share:
In one of its earliest forms, the word courage had a very different definition than it does today. Courage originally meant “To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.” Over time, this definition has changed, and, today, courage is more synonymous with being heroic. Heroics is important and we certainly need heroes, but I think we’ve lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we’re feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage. Heroics is often about putting our life on the line. Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. In today’s world, that’s pretty extraordinary.
She goes on to talk about the connection between courage and compassion and other topics that are relevant for the book. But the idea that speaking honestly and openly, even about your weaknesses, struck me as something important, no doubt because it’s related to the personal work I’m doing now.
Today I started preparing my classes since our quarter starts next week. With all of this bubbling in my mind, I suddenly realized that my reluctance to show vulnerability has unfortunately been enabled by my choice of profession. Anyone who has spent time in a programming class, at a programming contest, on a forum where people ask questions about programming, or at a variety of other venues recognizes the odd combination of showing off and bluffing that computer scientists tend to do. “Asking” questions that are more about displaying your knowledge of an area than learning information; belittling someone who knows less than you do about some CS topic; exaggerating your accomplishments or abilities, often to make you compare favorably to someone else: all of these are things that computer scientists have seen, or done, at one point or another. And women (and other underrepresented minorities) are especially in a bad place with respect to these behaviors since they’re more likely to be perceived as not belonging and therefore more likely to need to “prove” that they are “worthy”. In this environment someone who courageously shares their lack of knowledge or lack of confidence isn’t likely to receive positive feedback.
This doesn’t mean, of course, that you can’t share your vulnerability, even as a female computer scientist. But it does mean that you have to have a level of confidence about who you are and your fit with computer science that eludes many people new to the area. So as I go into a new academic year, one of my goals is to show the type of courage that Brown speaks about above. As a more senior faculty member, I’m at a place where I know I belong in computer science and where I can model a healthier approach to being a computer scientist for my students, and perhaps even some of my colleagues.
asettle
Technology education and me 
Amber,
I routinely read your blog even though I rarely comment. But I am moved to offer my thoughts even as the week two crunch of a fall semester weighs heavily on my time.
You and I are in the same profession; and for the most part in the same sub-discipline. I have had thoughts of insecurity as I try to be a good educator even though I was originally trained as a physical chemist and earned my living for a decade and a half as an academic chemist. But I am a retread; no a retreaded retread having transitioned from chemistry to CS for several years and finally to IT. I was very self-conscious about my background every time I walked into a classroom.
But I have always loved the classroom and the interactions with students. And while I still interact with 17 – 21 year old students, they have changed dramatically from my first year, 1967, to the present. But every time I take on a new subject, for which I am woefully unprepared, I think that I’ll learn enough to do an OK job now and a great job next time. I’ve even learned to say “I don’t know” to some of the student questions. I have a couple advantages over you; namely I’m old and male. I think that subconsciously gives me a cloak of invulnerability. It helps when the predominately positive student evals come through at the end of each semester.
From your blogs, a courageous activity in and of itself, I know you well enough to know that you are an outstanding teacher. Over the past couple of years, your blogs reveal something about your inner self. Maybe it’s just hubris on my part, but I actually believe I see a growth and maturity emerging in you as an educator and I commend you for your efforts on behalf of students, our community and those fortunate educators such as myself who can call you a friend and colleague.
Thanks so much Jim! I agree that I am maturing as an instructor and academic and hearing you agree makes me very happy.