The Irreverent Professor

Unvarnished realities about life, teaching, learning, and change in this wild, wild world

Archive for the tag “change”

Getting Unstuck–THEM

One of the biggest obstacles to getting unstuck, in my experience, is THEM.  You know THEM–well-meaning friends, family, and all-purpose lovers of the status quo.  The ones who think you are crazy when you tell them you are selling yet another house and packing up to move yet again (maybe to a city where you’ve already lived three times) yes–even though you’ve only lived there two years, yes–even though you have a good job, yes–even though you’ll lose money on that house.  Or going back to school…again.  Or (surprise!) having a baby at 42.  Ok, that last one was one of my better moves.

It’s the side-eye you get from your mother when you say you are thinking of just throwing out all but 33 items in your wardrobe.  It’s that judgmental over-the-glasses look you get from your son’s teacher when you say you are thinking of home schooling him.  It’s the wary look your spouse gives you when you say you think you might give up your lucrative career to become a popsicle-stick artist.

From  Courtney Carver's blog "Be More With Less."  Check it out.  It's awesome.

From Courtney Carver’s blog “Be More With Less.” Check it out. It’s awesome.

It’s hard to battle THEM because most of the fight is in your head.  I attribute a great deal to my husband’s single raised eyebrow.  That eyebrow speaks volumes to me.  In fact, it talks to me all night.  It argues with me all day.  And by the end of the day, I’m furious with the eyebrow.  Or I’m resigned to believe the eyebrow is right.  But 9 times out of 10, when I ask my husband for eyebrow-interpretation, he attributes some innocuous meaning for the raised eyebrow like “Wow, I didn’t even know you were a dog person.”  Or he has no idea what I’m talking about.  Or he confesses that he didn’t hear my question because he was wondering why people keep eating orange cheddar cheese when by now, everyone knows that’s not natural.

Here’s what I’ve come to realize.  Although opinions are like ***holes (everyone has one), people aren’t really that concerned with what I do.  Other people don’t spend vast amounts of their time thinking about me.  What I do with my life doesn’t directly impact them (unless they happen to be married to me or my son).  So while I can listen to their input, their collective input has to be given it’s proper weight–0.000427% of my decision-making factors.

GapingVoid.com @gapingvoid always knows just what to say

GapingVoid.com @gapingvoid always knows just what to say

And just like that, THEM (THEY?) don’t have the power they used to have over me.  Don’t give people more power than they have earned.  Don’t let them take up valuable real estate in your head.  THEM are only a barrier to getting unstuck if you let them be.

Carpe THEM!  I mean, carpe us…I mean carpe YOU!

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Getting Unstuck: Sacrifice

I feel sure that there are a number of people out there who think I’m bat-shit crazy.  I’ve moved 17 times in my adult life (six times to where I live now – I kept at it until it stuck).  I’ve changed jobs 16 times in 26 years, often into a completely different career (for example, caterer to lawyer).  I have four college degrees.

IMG_3106

When I got engaged, I told my would-be husband that I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to stick it out for the long haul because I didn’t seem to stick with anything for the long haul.  I’m happy to say we’ve been married for 15 years…in no small part, perhaps, because he’s been willing to move six times (and sometimes the moves were even his idea!).

Now maybe I am bat-shit crazy, but here’s the thing: I don’t just tolerate change.  I crave it.  I thrive in chaos.  I loathe the status quo.

So when someone tells me they really want to change ____ (job, career, relationship, location, etc., etc.), I am baffled when the next words out of their mouths are…”But I can’t.”  Sure you can.  You always can.  The thing is, change takes sacrifice.  It’s not so much that people “can’t.”  It’s that they aren’t willing to make the sacrifice.

I can’t even tell you how much I’ve sacrificed to make all the changes I’ve made over the years.  But I’ll try.  Here are just some of the sacrifices I’ve made:

  • Damaged or lost relationships with friends or colleagues.  So many I’ve probably forgotten some people altogether.
  • Money (sometimes significant amounts) on the sale of houses and condos in real estate transactions (we’ve bought and sold six dwellings in 15 years).
  • Opportunities to be near and with family, sometimes during major life events and crises.
  • Stuff–mountains of stuff.  Stuff I’ve replaced and had to get rid of again. Stuff I bought, was gifted, was given.  Stuff I loved and hated and outgrew.
  • Space.  I’ve lived in a 3500 sq. ft. house.  I’ve lived in a 1296 sq. ft. condo.  I’ve lived in several in between. It’s all the same to me.  You know, except for the amount of stuff I can fit in it.
  • Career trajectory, upward mobility.  I could probably be a Chief Purser, law firm partner, Full Professor by now if I’d stuck with one of those things.
  • A passel of kids (but we did manage to acquire one along the way.  And by “acquire” I mean adopt, not snatch…just for the record).
We completely gutted and remodeled the kitchen in this condo...and lived there two years.  Next!

We completely gutted and remodeled the kitchen in this condo…and lived there two years. Next!

Of all the things I’ve sacrificed over the years, do you know what I’ve grieved the most? (And I’d like to say it was relationships because that would make me sound all deep and stuff but…) A chicken basket.  A white basket with a small ceramic chicken glued on it.  It was given away in one of many “Brutal Purges” that resulted in hundreds of “off to the local charity” trips.  I’ve grieved it because my mother-in-law talked a store clerk out of it when it wasn’t even for sale and gave it to us as part of a wedding gift.  She cracked me up, my mother-in-law.

I’ve known people who have made the sacrifice, decided it wasn’t worth it, and went back to their old job/relationship/town/whatever.  I applaud that.  Some sacrifices aren’t worth it.  I wouldn’t give up my husband and son for anything.  I wouldn’t give up chocolate for anything. (As aforementioned, I’m neither deep nor sentimental as evidenced again by giving my husband, son, and chocolate the same priority level. But it’s chocolate, for heaven’s sake.)

But those who say they want to change, but can’t?  I’m not buying it.  It’s just a matter of whether value of change > sacrifice.

Carpe sacrifice!

Getting Unstuck: If You Do What You’ve Always Done…

I’m stuck.

If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always gotten.

Variously attributed to Albert Einstein, Mark Twain, and Tony Robbins.

I’ve got the life I want.  Last year, I moved to the beach, I work from home, I have flexible hours, I work part-time and spend several mornings a week at a coffee shop, reading, writing, and chatting with other locals.  I have a saintly husband and a sweet, funny son who brings daily joy and surprises.  I have multiple furry creatures around for loving on–and keeping my feet warm.  Life is good.  Damn good.

But like a counterweight, although my life is going along swimmingly, I am intellectually and vocationally stuck.  I’ve been doing what I do for a long time and in various iterations.  And I’ve been arguably successful at it.  But I feel like I have stopped learning.  I have stopped growing.  I have stopped being challenged by what I do.  I hear the little girl I used to be whining to my mother (as I so often did) “I’m B-o-o-o-r-e-d.”

So as a first step to getting unstuck (and as I often did when Mom glared at me over her glasses following my plaintive cry), I’m reading books.  Not just any books.  Books that address the way of life (and work) that I have come to love: multipreneuring.  That is, doing a lot of things simultaneously and independently.  Kind of like freelancing, but with various different kinds of things–speaking, writing, teaching, whatever else comes along.  And I have started (appropriately, I think) by re-reading the appropriately titled Multipreneuring by Tom Gorman.

Multipreneuring by Tom Gorman - an oldie, but a goodie

Multipreneuring by Tom Gorman – an oldie, but a goodie

I first read it in 1999 when I was working as a lawyer/association executive/adjunct college faculty member.  So it didn’t so much change my life as validate the way I was living my life.  It is still as pertinent today as ever.

Which makes me wonder: do other people feel stuck?  Like they want to change their lives or careers or both and aren’t sure how?  Or where to start?  Are they just scared?  Or do they not know what to do?  And is there a way I can help those people while I’m helping myself?

I end with this thought (which I will explore more thoroughly another time)…again, because it is so pertinent to my situation: “Just because you are good at something, doesn’t mean that’s what you should do.”

Carpe getting unstuck!

First Impressions…Don’t Judge a Book By it’s Cover and All That

First impressions are important.  And yet they are often misleading.  So why do we put so much stock in them?  I confess to meeting someone once and quickly categorizing them on one of the shelves in my mental library of acquaintances: Someone I’d Rather Not See Again, Someone I’d Say Hi to if I Passed Them on the Street, Someone I’d Like to Have a Drink With, Instant Family.

I saw a new doctor last week who was recommended by a friend.  The experience was…tepid.  She (the doctor, not the friend) seemed distracted and basically let me dictate my own care–I need these prescriptions refilled, I need these labs, I need something for this.  I don’t want to dictate my care.  I’m a doctor, but of the PhD variety.

We can't all make such a great first impression.

We can’t all make such a great first impression.

All I should get to dictate are long, boring papers with lots of citations in them.  The funny thing is, though, that two people have now raved about this doctor to me.  About how caring and personable she is.  So instead of categorizing her on the “Someone I’d Rather Not See Again” shelf, I’m going to assume she was just having one-of-those-days.  I mean, who knows what is going on in her office or in her life?

Plus, and this is my big aha for the day–I realize that I often don’t make a very good first impression.  I suspect that you could ask five people who just met me in different circumstances and get five very different first impressions.  When I’m “on” (such as when I’m doing my public speaking thing), I have been told that I come across as an extroverted, funny, and smart.  But if you meet me at a reception, you’d likely think “What a personality-less dud.”  Or maybe just “Rude.”  And if I have ever ignored you walking down the street, it was (probably) not intentional.  I once walked right past two people I’d just had dinner with it…and truly did not see them.  See, I live in my head.  It’s a busy place (think: Alice in Wonderland meets Salvador Dali with Transformers everywhere) and I’m often so immersed in it that I don’t even see the “outside” world.  I’m working on being more present and more mindful, but it doesn’t come naturally to me.

Me trying to make a good first impression on the (then) unknown birth mother who would choose us to be parents for the child she carried.  Apparently it worked!

Me trying to make a good first impression on the (then) unknown birth mother who would choose us to be parents for the child she carried. Apparently it worked!

What kind of first impression do you make?  Have you ever thought about it?  Has anyone ever said anything to you about it?  I’ve told a few people that turned out to totally rock that I had, um, less-than-stellar first impressions of them and that I was happy to be wrong.

My food for thought today.

Carpe lasting impressions.

Visiting My Past

They say you can never go back.  But you totally can.  I just returned from a trip to my Past.  Well, okay, it was really just a trip to Washington, DC.  But since I lived there off and on for 20 years, it feels like the Past.  And the Present.  And some little bits of it are like the Future.

Stepping off the plane at National Airport (it wasn’t named after Ronald Reagan when I first lived there–he was just in his second term at the time–so it’s always going to just be National or DCA to me), I felt that immediate stressful hunch return to my shoulders.  My face dropped its smile and my feet moved purposefully.  It’s the city.  I immediately and subconsciously adopted the City Attitude.

My travel companion, P. Monkey, loves sleeping in hotels.

My travel companion, P. Monkey, loves sleeping in hotels.

When I’m in D.C., I truly struggle to maintain my identity as Present Tyra.  I shift in and out of dimension like someone caught in a time-space continuum anomaly in Star Trek.  I get on the Metro train and have to consciously force myself to stay seated as the train passes the Pentagon Metro stop (from which I commuted for several years) and the Foggy Bottom stop (yes, it’s a real neighborhood name–go ahead and smirk, I still do) where I worked for several years.

The memories flood back–college (not so good), working at the Key Bridge Marriott (awesome), various restaurants and points of interest that are tied to good (and bad) memories.  And yet I’m there on business.  I’m Present Tyra.  Phase shift.

There are some wonderful things about the city.  I love “city walking.”  Block after block of concrete, interesting characters (who I pretend not to notice as I adopt the disinterested blank face of a city dweller), the fabulous and diverse restaurants (disregard that I ate in the hotel two out of three nights of my trip).  I love the way the city landscapes its tiny green places.  And the street musicians who play and to whom I always give money because in my mind, they are providing a service to the community.  I do not, however, miss the traffic, the noise, and the sadness I feel when I see all the homeless and panhandlers.  And I don’t enjoy the pace–the frenetic hurry-hurry self-important attitude of everyone except the tourists.

Colorful green spaces in the midst of concrete.  Beautiful in their contrast.

Colorful green spaces in the midst of concrete. Beautiful in their contrast.

Being in the Past reminds me of how far I’ve come in my life.  From an insecure small town girl heading off to the Big City for college to…well, to the small town woman who recently returned home after 20+ years to the only place I’ve ever loved.  It’s nice to visit the Past, in part because it makes me appreciate my Present.  It also makes me appreciate the Past and all its players who played a part in getting me to where I am, Home at last.

Carpe the Present.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

I hate to do this, but we need to break up.  I need some space.  I need some time.  It’s not you.  It’s me.  We’ve just been together so long that I’ve forgotten who I am.  I’ve gotten lost in our relationship.  I’m not saying it’s forever.  I love you.  I do.  I just need to find myself.

Break-ups hurt.  But sometimes they are necessary.  So I’m breaking up…with my industry.

We’ve been together for 25 years.  Call it a midlife crisis, call it a mid-career crisis (although “mid-career” might be generous), but I need some time to think about whether I’ve done all I can with and for this industry or whether I still have something to contribute.  I feel spent, worn out.

There is a wonderful supplier who contributes “Has Been” ribbons to wear on conference badges.  I always look for them and wear one when I can find them.  I wear it as a joke, but beneath that joke is a serious concern.  Am I a “has been?”

I have been a member of a variety of professional associations.  I’ve served on committees, I’ve chaired committees, I’ve done research, I’ve contributed to the education, I’ve attended the conferences, I’ve been given awards I value greatly.  And I’ve loved it.  Until recently.  And recently, I’ve begun to think “been there, done that” a lot.

A "red carpet" shot of my husband and I at a Professional Achievement Award Dinner

A “red carpet” shot of my husband and I at a Professional Achievement Award Dinner

I’m seeing the same issues come around for about the third time since I joined the industry at the still-wet-behind-the-ears age of 23.  And I’m seeing many of the issues come and go again without resolution or significant progress.  It’s a little depressing.  I’m a huge advocate of “If you aren’t part of the solution, you are part of the problem.”  And that’s the thing–I feel like I’m part of the problem because I don’t have the energy (motivation, wherewithal?) to be part of the solution.

It is difficult to figure things out with so much “noise” around, so this year I’m not renewing my association memberships or my magazine subscriptions (apologies to my journalist/editor friends who read my blog!), I’ve taken many of the industry people off my social media lists and tried to populate my Twitter account with more variety, and I’m not planning to attend conventions (this is  a big deal since my industry is meeting and event management).

What I am doing, though, is taking the opportunities that come my way–but ONLY the ones I really want to do.  The ones that allow me to grow and explore, professionally or personally: the opportunity to do presentations on fresh topics, to combine business with family time, to speak to groups that I haven’t spoken to before, to teach a class on a subject I’ve never taught.

Gaping Void always knows just the right thing to say

Gaping Void always knows just the right thing to say–I feel like I’ve gotten stuck on the jungle gym. I’ve got to get off and rest a bit before I jump back on.

Some people think I’m crazy (they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong).  I’ve spent 25 years networking and building a reputation in this industry.  They say now is not the time to say, “Meh, not sure it’s for me.”  A wise friend told me I just need to find a new way to do what I’ve been doing.  Freshen it up but don’t lose momentum.  And that may be exactly what I do.

But for now, I need to step away from the noise.  Get quiet.  Spend some time listening to the voices in my head (see: crazy comment) and in my heart.  This scares me (not the voices – they are my friends).  It scares me to get off the train.  I’m scared if I stop, I’ll never get started again.  I’m scared I’ll be forgotten.  That I really will become old news.  But I still have to take this break.

I may come back in a week, a month, a year and jump right back into what I was doing…but if I do, it will be in a reenergized, revitalized, reassured way.  Or I may do a stint as a starving artist.  Or go into a completely different field.  Or a related one.  Whatever I do, it will be the next right step for me.  As this one is right now.  No regrets.

Carpe diem.

To Endings…and New Beginnings

This weekend I attended a college graduation.  It wasn’t my graduation.  And it wasn’t my first graduation.  As a professor (and serial student myself), I have attended a few graduations.  What made this graduation different is that it may have been my last.

Look at all the shiny, happy almost-college-graduates

Look at all the shiny, happy almost-college-graduates!

I resigned from my professor job to move to the place where my heart is and has always been.  The place I call “home” even though I haven’t lived there in 20 years.  The place I grew up, learned to ride a bike, had my first crush, my first love, my first heartbreak.  My first prom, my first…well, nevermind.  You get the gist.

I resigned from my professor job because…well, I’m not really sure why.  My husband said, “Why don’t we move home?”  And I said ok.  We move about every three or four years at the suggestion of one or the other of us, so this wasn’t a shocking idea. But for the first time, we are moving for the quality of our lives and not for our careers.  And that makes it very different.  But home is the where of our happiness so it must be a good thing… right?

I have mixed feelings about this ending.  Although I’m excited to be moving “home,” I’m not sure what this new beginning means for me.  Sure, it means living at the beach (yay!).  And it means raising my son in the place where I grew up (yay yay!).  But what does it mean for ME, you know, professionally?  My husband teleworks, so he takes his job with him.  But I’ve been working at a brick and mortar university.  And now I’m…not.

Beach boy

Beach boy

People keep asking, “So what are you going to be doing?”  Some persistently believe I’m retiring at 47 despite my efforts to dissuade them of the notion (it probably doesn’t help that my flippant answer to the question is occasionally “be a kept woman.”  It’s a joke!).   Answering “I have no idea” seems to make people uncomfortable (including me) and if I’m not mistaken, I’ve gotten a few pitying looks…and a few envious ones.  🙂

My goal is to relax, get quiet, and spend a few months figuring out who I am.  I call it a self-imposed sabbatical, in keeping with the professorial mindset.  Marlo Thomas (whose awesome webcast I attended last week) would probably say It Ain’t Over and Jane Pauley (whose book Your Life Calling: Reimagining the Rest of Your Life I am reading now) might call it a step toward reimagining my life.

Endings are difficult…but exciting, because they mean new beginnings.  New beginnings are scary…but exciting because anything is possible.

Carpe new beginnings.

Real Issues, Bogus Motives

A drama has been unfolding at The University of Alabama over the last couple of days.  Actually, I’m sure it has been unfolding longer than that, but it’s become public only recently.  The issue? Segregation (whispered like any mention of cancer).  It’s a real issue…for the 1950s, for crying out loud!

I love the South.  I do.  I love the “sirs” and “ma’ams,” I love the live oak trees and Spanish moss, I love the accents, I love the genteel manner people affect even if they are jerks.  One of the things I don’t love is that racism is alive and well here, y’all.  And when it rears its ugly head, people gasp in shock and fling themselves down on their fainting couch while fanning themselves with a copy of Southern Living.

After many years (as I understand it) of having completely segregated sororities and fraternities, someone got their knickers in a twist this year.  And now it’s a thing.  A thing significant enough to require a video made by the university President.

And it warrants “The Final Stand at the Schoolhouse Door” by the students.  A 7:00 a.m. protest that some of my students claimed was usurped by the administration as (and I quote) “a photo opp,” diminishing its significance.

The Final Stand

The Final Stand

But let’s be fair.  The students creating this event probably had a multitude of motives too.  Some surely truly feel outraged at the occurrence.  But if they are so outraged, why hasn’t something been done proactively in previous years before the opportunity to just react to Dr. Bonner’s video? (And maybe something has been done – enlighten me in the comments.  I’d love to know.).  Some are looking to make news (they succeeded).  Some just want to be part of a cause, any cause.  In my college days it was South Africa and apartheid.  I had friends dragged away by police for building a shanty town on the administration building steps.  They couldn’t have been happier about it.

I’m not saying it’s not a good idea to strike while the iron is hot.  But like some of my students, I call bullshit.  This has been going on far too long.  And it’s being carried into the public on the back of a VIP’s daughter who didn’t get the bid for her sorority of choice.

Segregation is bigger than this one girl.  It’s bigger than the Greek system.  It’s bigger than the university.  It’s an issue that presumably has already been resolved.  Catch up, people!  I want to put whole chunks of the South in a time machine and bring them into the present.

I’m usually very proud to be a Southerner.  But today…not so much.

Carpe the future.

[The comments in this blog are my personal opinions and reflections and do not reflect in any way the opinions or actions of The University of Alabama, it’s administration, faculty, or students.]

Finding Meaningful Work…or Finding Meaning in Your Work?

I had an “aha” moment recently.  I was pondering why I get “itchy” every three years or so and change jobs (and usually, cities).  (To see some of the jobs I’ve held, see the post “A Bibliography for Job Hoppers Like Me.”)  It could certainly be that I am a Scanner, as Barbara Sher describes.  I have a lot of interests and the thoughts that constantly run through my head go something like this:

Oh! I want to be a caterer!

Now I want to be a lawyer!

Ooooh, let’s move to Las Vegas!

Let’s live at the beach!

Etc. Etc.

But my “aha” moment was this: I tend to lose interest in a job when it no longer feels meaningful.  I don’t mean (necessarily) like a ministry or saving the planet (I guess I don’t aspire that high).  Just feeling like my day is spent on worthwhile things.  Not TPS reports. (Office Space?  If you haven’t seen the movie, do.  Then you’ll get this reference.  More importantly, you’ll laugh.  A lot.  Hopefully.)

By Hugh MacLeod www.gapingvoid.com (genius, artist, and King of Irreverence)

By Hugh MacLeod http://www.gapingvoid.com (genius, artist, and King of Irreverence)

One of the things I love about being a college professor is the opportunity to help young adults (or not-so-young-adults) figure out professional and personal things that will help them live a meaningful and fulfilling lives.  I’ve taught at several different universities in my life.  The experience has been pretty much the same – I start off excited about the students, the opportunities to help them learn about what I think is a fun and exciting career area, and teach them information and skills they need to know to succeed.  The first year is fabulous.  I’m in hog heaven.  The second year is good, but I feel a little frustrated that I’m not “getting through to them.”

By the end of third year, I am downright depressed and worn down because SO many students don’t seem to be interested in learning.  Some don’t bother to show up in class at all.  Some show up, but sneer at me all through class [I’ve actually kept two students after class to ask them if they know what their facial expressions look like (both said they didn’t)…and explain that this may be a detriment in an interview or work environment.  Then again, they may just really not like me.]

In other words, I can’t find the meaning in the work any more.  I’m not blaming the students.  They are who they are and they do what they do.  And it could certainly be that I’m a lousy professor, although I have some kind former students who are nice enough to say otherwise (thanks, y’all!).  Plenty of professors stay in the job for years and years.  Clearly, they find something I can’t.  Maybe they find meaning in research (I don’t – not the academic kind, anyway) or administration (I’m a worse bureaucrat than sales person…and I’m a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad sales person).  I don’t know.

The first time in my working life that I realized the importance of having meaning in my work was when I worked as a front desk clerk at a hotel during college.  It was a revelation to realize the effect I could have on someone else’s mood, just by being friendly.  After a long day of work, a flight, and a life-threatening taxi ride from one of the D.C. area airports, they would arrive at the hotel, bedraggled and tired.  And find me, a 20 year old college student, at the front desk.  If I gave them the key to their room, fine.  They went up and their day was no different.  But if I smiled and joked with them or found something in their profile to start a conversation with (e.g., “You’re from Dallas? My brother lives in Dallas!”), it sometimes seemed to make their mood better.  And I helped!

That’s how public speaking is for me.  When I do a good job boiling what I think is important information into understandable chunks and use those to ignite a conversation with and between the participants, it feels meaningful.  It’s information that will help them in some way.  And I was able to help give it to them.  Meaning.

Still I wonder sometimes…is there really no meaning?  Or can I just not find it?  Or do I stop looking for it?

How about you?

Carpe meaning!

What Your Professors Haven’t Told You (But Should)

Part of the joy of irreverence–and being a professor–is being able to tell college students what they need to know.  And part of what they need to know is that professors don’t know it all. (collective gasp!)  In some case, what was true when they were the age of a college student is totally out date and no longer true.  For example, I was told as a college graduate (many moons ago) that I had to buy a navy blue or black suit with a white blouse or (if I wanted to be edgy) a gray striped suit…just like the IBM folks wore.  I bought pink corduroy (hey, it was fashionable in the 80’s…ok, probably not, but this isn’t a fashion blog).

Next week, I’m doing a presentation for college students at the Meeting Professionals International World Education Congress (MPI-WEC) called “What Your Professors Haven’t Told You, but Should.”  I’ve done a similar presentation for a couple of other student groups–IMEX America in Fall 2012 and most recently, at the Korea MICE Expo IMEX-MPI-MCI Future Leaders Forum in Seoul in June 2013.  Interestingly, there seemed to be absolutely no cultural barrier to the message in Korea and the students and recent college graduates in Seoul “got it” just as the (mostly) American students in Las Vegas did.  Interesting.

Some recent college graduates in Seoul who attended my presentation at the IMEX-MCI-MPI Future Leaders Forum

Some recent college graduates in Seoul who attended my presentation at the IMEX-MCI-MPI Future Leaders Forum

I love-love-love speaking to students–college students, high school students, recent college grads, graduate students.  Anyone open to a message about transition and change.  Part of the challenge with students is that (believe it or not), they are accustomed to pretty much believing what they hear.  Professor = authority figure.  Ergo, what the professor says must be true.  Not.  It’s not that I believe professors set out to tell students untruths.  I think professors really believe what they say.  I, on the other, think most of it is hooey.

Some of the bits of wisdom (read: opinion) I am going to share at this upcoming presentation include gems such as:

  • Grades don’t matter
  • You can’t learn it in a classroom
  • You already have a brand
  • Tattoos, nose rings, and pink hair are ok–even in an interview
  • Ban the black suit

There’s a lot more to each of these.  Hope you’ll be at MPI-WEC to hear about it.  And as a bonus, my buddy Professor Carol Krugman will be joining me to give her opinions (some of which differ from mine–shock).  If not, I’ll post the slides on SlideShare later.

Carpe irreverence.

P.S. You may be one of the lucky students who has an awesome professor who really does tell it like it is.  Or you may be the professor who does.  If so, kudos to you!  I know some of you are out there and I’m proud to call some of you “friends.”  🙂

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