Day 2: The Presentation of Self

I am an introvert. I prefer to spend time by myself, with my family, or with a few close friends. When I was younger my introversion was interpreted by others as shyness. I internalized that narrative. I avoided speaking to groups, and discussing the picayune details of my life. Those things made me uncomfortable.

Much of what I do as a college professor I do by myself, or with a close colleague. Being a professor allows me to indulge my introversion. Except when it does not. Much of what I do involves interaction with others. Teaching classes, presenting papers, contributing in meetings, describing my research–they are all parts of the job. They all require me to be someone other than my introverted self.

On a daily basis–in front of a class, in meeting, at a conference–I find myself in uncomfortable situations, situations that challenge my tendency toward introversion. If your first exposure to me was in a classroom you would swear that I was an extrovert, a comedian.

I am a performer. I am an actor.

According to sociologist Erving Goffman, we are all actors. In presenting ourselves to others we adopt verbal and nonverbal means of communication that shape how others understand us. Goffman calls this the “presentation of self.”  He uses the metaphor of theater to understand how the actor and the audience interact to create understanding.

Presentation of self depends on the individual and the audience. My presentation in a classroom involves a combination of humor, informality, curiosity, and professional rigor. In a meeting, a mixture of authority, humor, and purposeful ignorance. The common thread in my presentation of self is humor, which I consider indispensable for a variety of purposes, especially relieving class or group tensions. I am reasonably funny. It works for me. Especially to the degree that my authority is already established.

This week the Interdisciplinary Learning Community focused on the presentation of self. Lindsey O’Connor (Sociology) discussed nonverbal behaviors and how they influence others’ impressions of us. Her main focus was Deborah Gruenfeld’s distinction between high and low status behaviors.

 

Behaviors associated with “playing high” include being open, and relaxed; keeping one’s  head still, speaking in complete sentences, and holding eye contact. “Playing low” includes behaviors like keeping one’s body close and tight, minimizing one’s footprint, shrink, incomplete sentences, fleeting and jerky movements, glancing and looking away, smiling, trying to make others feel better. All of these behaviors indicate that you know and understand your position.

Effectively presenting oneself involves a combination of playing high and playing low. Playing high promotes confidence in one’s self and thus in others. Playing low improves others’ sense that one is approachable. To help students better understand these two sets of behaviors they were asked to do two 30-second “elevator talks” –one adopting behaviors associated with playing high, and one demonstrating behaviors of playing low.

There is no perfect recipe for presenting oneself. At least I do not think there is. One has to understand one’s self and one’s audience. What is comfortable and may work for me may not work for another person. And my presentation of self does not work for every audience. Some will find my humor or informality (e.g., my willingness to employ profanity, wearing jeans and t-shirts to work) off-putting, or unprofessional. Yet, simultaneously, my willingness to use humor and occasional profanity may paradoxically communicate a higher sense of status.

Each of us has to find a level of comfort with our presentational style. We need to adapt to changes in our audience. We need to become shrewd students of our own behavior, how our behavior affects others, and how others’ use their behaviors to influence our impressions of them.

 

 

Marshmallows are Metaphors

Day 1 of the Interdisciplinary Research Learning Community (IRLC) focused on building marshmallow towers. The marshmallow challenge gives students 18 minutes to create the tallest possible tower–using 20 pieces of uncooked spaghetti, one yard of string, and one yard of masking tape– that can hold a 0129160950single marshmallow aloft without human support.

Studies show that business executives do the worst job with this challenge, while kindergarten students  perform the best. Scholars who study marshmallow tower construction suggest that the success of young children is owed to their willingness to proceed on a trial-and-error basis, allowing for mistakes and mid-course corrections. Executives plan and, if the plan fails, have little to no time to adjust their strategy.

The challenge is an apt metaphor for the research process.

 

  • Rarely do we have the raw materials we would like to have to achieve our goal. Faced with a problem we often have to use the material that we have at hand. This is not to say that researchers should be satisfied with the materials at hand. In my work with Scott Frisch we have railed against this approach.  However, armed with the best resources one can lay one’s hands on, the research process needs to move forward. That said, the “perfect” should not be the enemy of the “good.”
  • As with the construction of the tower, the research process is not a linear process moving inexorably toward an “optimal solution.” There are false starts, dead ends, and difficult decisions to start over’; or even quit. Sometimes things work. Sometimes they do not. One must be willing to adopt an ethos of “bold experimentation.” In the words of president Franklin Roosevelt: ““It is common sense to take a method and try it; if it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.”
  • Like building marshmallow towers, research is difficult and uncertain. One of my favorite readings is a short article (which we assigned to the students) titled “The Importance of Stupidity in Scientific Research.” In the article Schwartz reminds us that  ‘What makes [research] difficult is that research is immersion in the unknown. We just don’t know what we’re doing. We can’t be sure whether we’re asking the right question or 0129160944adoing the right experiment until we get the answer or the result.”
  • There is no “optimal solution” (though I am sure some engineers would disagree) to the challenge. As I watched the students working away, I wondered if they thought that we had an optimal solution in mind; that we would show them at the end what “they should have done.” The challenge does not have an optimal solution. There is no “right answer.” As with the research process, the challenge is about moving toward a goal (an answer to a question) but minus any prescribed path.

    MM Challenge 2-2
    One of two winning towers
  • Research is a collaborative experience. Whether it is active collaboration in research groups or an individual researcher toiling away, our research takes place in a web of social relationships. Even the “lone wolf” researcher is reliant on the work of others.

Compared to CEOs and Kindergartners our students did well. All four groups were able to create a tower (not all groups can). Each group built a tower of more than 20 inches (better than the CEOs on average, less than the 30+ inches of the Kindergarteners), and the winning groups (there was a tie) held the marshmallow 27 inches above the surface of the table.

The marshmallow challenge is a fun icebreaker. But it is also an apt metaphor for the nature of the research and creative processes students are engaged in.

 

 

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