full disclosure

Welcome to session 17C in the Ukulele Room. I know it’s late in the day and as the discussant, I join with our 3 presenters in thanking you for making your way to this session. Rather than simply read out loud their names and institutions, I would like to introduce our speakers to you by way of explaining my relationship to them.

First is Dr. A who I knew of when I was a graduate student. At the time, he was the editor of a modest journal. My advisor suggested I do an analysis of the educational backgrounds of the authors of the dominant textbooks on the market. It was the kind of simplistic study we’ve all done and neither remarkable or completely without merit. Dr. A, and I’m not sure you remember this, refused to send our manuscript out for review. Instead, he delayed it for nine months by deciding instead to share it with organization’s Board of Directors. Now this is all second-hand and circumstantial, but it is pretty obvious to me today that Dr. A was fearful that this study would attract the attention of big names in the field. After nearly three years, by which time I was then a tenure-track assistant professor, the sanitized and outdated study finally saw the light of day. Three years and only 10 pages long. But that was many years ago and Dr. A has now completely ruined his liver and his color is almost as bad in sunlight as here under these fluorescent lights. I know I recognize his title from previous meetings but somehow he made it onto the program. So in a little while, and with the assistance of his orderly — I’m sorry, "doc student" — we will hear from Dr. A.

Next, we have Professor B who works at a well-funded private foundation. Again, I’ve known this individual for many years but under different conditions. She was a familiar and encouraging face at almost all my presentations when I first attended this conference. After each talk, she would push her way to me and offer warm congratulations. Once, I think it was in Atlanta, I was getting on an elevator late in the evening — and Professor B rushed on just as the doors were closing. It was an awkward moment when we simultaneously reached to push the buttons for our respective floors, and doubly awkward because our name badges became entangled. Before I knew it, and once she stands up you’ll understand the circumstance, Professor B was able to use her body to leverage and steer me into the corner. Even though she was saying something about untangling our badges, her pelvis was sending very different messages to my knee. As I recall, there were numerous plastic swords in her bouffant, presumably lofted there by her drinking buddies. Just as her pudgy hands were reaching for my ears, the elevator doors opened and I was able to fall backwards toward my room. The elastic string on my name badge gave way at the moment and the flying plastic holder lodged between her spectacles and her gray tangle of eyebrow. It’s interesting to see her again today under somewhat different circumstances and I must confess relief that others are here at the same time.

Finally, Dr C has come to us all the way from New Zealand. It’s great to see her here. I became aware of Dr C several years ago because one of my colleagues claimed she looked like a Midge or Skipper doll. I played along until I heard Dr C speak. There’s something about the accent of those from the former British colonies that accelerates my pulse. It's convenient to be here today so I can obtain a fresh manuscript directly from her delicate hands. I can report that she makes good use of her time at this conference: she turns off the lights in her hotel room around 10:30 pm, spends about 45 minutes each morning in the hotel workout room, and has a pretty good singing voice when she showers afterwards. She likes milk in her coffee but not sugar. I don’t want to embarrass her but she wore that same skirt a few days ago at the Michigan State reception, but I think this is the first time I’ve seen her wearing those pumps. Her hair is about the same length as when I first became aware of her — but I cannot confirm or deny whether it smells of eucalyptus oil. Sometimes, it can be fun just to imagine the possibilities. I hope we have time to ask questions about her research since she is scheduled on a 7 a.m. airport shuttle tomorrow in order to make her connections back to her brick condo on Blacksheep Lane in Christchurch. Please give a warm welcome to Dr C.

Who would like to present first?

choosing bottles

Four weeks from now, I will be on an adventure. First off, in the morning I present the research I have been doing for two years to the Administrative and Leadership division of the American Educational Research Association. True to form, the background material, theoretical framework and research methods are solid. The data are all in and mostly coded -- and yet I am unsure exactly what findings I will report. But by noon of that same day, I can remove my tie and begin making the transition for an outdoor trek. Part writing retreat, part desert expedition, the subsequent several days will be about as different as the preceding days as almost anything I could imagine.

The entire trip involves ten days from home. All the tickets are purchased (but need to be printed out and compiled), lodging arrangements have been made, and an initial directory of drinking establishments have been mapped. What is puzzling to me is what to include in the large suitcase. The first four days, I’ll need to look presentable to fellow academics: nice shirts, pretty ties, maybe a jacket, shiny shoes. The balance of the trip would surely ruin these. Instead, I’m envisioning t-shirts for daytime, denim shirts for night, and a pair of trail shoes that may give up their tread due to the abuse I plan to give them.For the first few days of the trip, I could spend daylight hours almost entirely under artificial lighting. The following segment of the travel will be the opposite.

Ten days is a long time and comes with the need to haul my belongings. Digging through cosmetic supplies under the bathroom sink, I am cautious about packing every single thing I may need. I need to make choices. For example, I have a sizable bottle of sunburn gel. It’s blue-green, thick gel (because of the aloe), smells fruity, and is always cold. It’s the perfect antidote for burned skin. Or I could bring a supply of high-SPF lotions that would effectively preserve my winter skin tone. I do not need both because the availability of one eliminates the need for the other. It’s a choice: one preventative and the other curative.

How do parents deal with this when hauling around 2 or more kids? I don’t expect one can really anticipate preventing every problem (rain, dirt, hunger, cold, boredom, exhaustion). But on the other hand, one probably ought to pack expecting problems (extra diaper, spare shirt, small book, a chew toy). What criteria do you parents use when choosing between a bottle of formula versus a juice box? Thinking about my conference responsibilities, I probably should post my presentations to an online resource in case my laptop goes out or goes bye-bye. And even though I’ll use Keynote, I need to have a version in PowerPoint and QuickTime. Also, a thumb drive and a power cord. More broadly, how should we go about packing for life? For a long time, I have accepted that there is only so much I can prepare for in advance. Others operate with the fear that the unanticipated might occur. (You can either sense the tension this creates or bear witness to it.) Blue cooling gel or opaque white lotion? I might could (a southernism I picked up from Peaches) take both of them. But where’s the adventure in that? Local liquor or flask from home? Okay, that's not choosing: that is simply being smart and prepared.