I have been to a couple of hundred academic conferences. They are an important form of work and connection. They are sometimes brilliant, often boring, often alienating; they are especially tough for new players. This is a reflection on my experience, with some advice for beginners and suggestions on how we might do conferences better.
Outburst 1: Arriving
at the conference
Once upon a time, academic conferences were held in academic
institutions, i.e. universities and colleges. Registration was cheap, and anyone could walk in. Visitors
got basic housing in student dormitories, empty for the vacation. You might see
last term’s lecture timetable pinned on the wall, sometimes a poster, a ghostly
reminder of student culture. The beds were hard, the food was ordinary, the
showers trickled down, but the feeling of solidarity among the conference-goers
was high.
Academics used to organize the events themselves, and the results could be memorable. I went to one conference that held a dance in an
ancient shearing-shed, its floor polished by a hundred years of sheep fleeces. Being among several busloads of sociologists attempting to square-dance on
uneven timber surfaced with wool grease was an experience hard to forget.
 |
| In the hotel: a conference plenary, without dancing |
Nowadays an academic conference of any size is likely to be
held in a downtown hotel, with room charges to match, or a convention centre
with hotels attached. Some are still held in universities I’m glad to say. But
in either case, the price of admission is much
higher than it used to be (even with student discount), because conferences now
are typically administered by events-management corporations, which need to
make a profit, and corporate-style university managers now charge conferences rent.
The events-management corporation has a computer template
for conferences, the same for every discipline, so things are (a)
more predictable (b) more boring (c) both. There will be an online form for registration, an online
portal for submissions, an online schedule of sessions, and so forth. You will
know about this long before you rock up to the front door. If you are like me, you will have been
unable to enter the portal, and then unable to find your session in the
schedule, so you will have annoyed the help-staff several times already. They
are usually patient.
If the conference is in a city of any size, there is often
cheaper accommodation within walking distance or a short trip on public
transport. The conference website won’t normally show this. At one of my
first-ever conferences, in Los Angeles, I arrived by Greyhound bus from
Chicago, asked folk in the bus station, and took a cheap room in the
street they mentioned. The hotel happened to be favoured by the local sex
workers and their clients, and the activity around and about provided me with a valuable
introduction to the American gender order. Nevertheless I recommend, if you have time, asking advice
from local people before you arrive at the bus station. Going in a group and
sharing an apartment is a very good solution, provided the others in your group
don’t want to party after 3 a.m. Some conference sessions begin about 8.
When you get in the front door, look for the conference
registration area. This isn’t in the lobby, but up an unexpected escalator and
round a few corners; just keep asking, the hotel or convention centre staff
will know where it is. When you find it, you will be given a bag with some
advertising, a note-pad, a retractable ballpoint pen printed with the name of
the conference, a conference brochure (these vary from minimal to magnificent),
and an ID object.
The ID object used to be a pin-on name badge, designed for
the lapels of men’s suits. Since
women have become more common at academic conferences and suits less common,
you now get a unisex tape to put around your neck with a plastic card-holder
dangling from it. This makes you look like a CIA agent entitled to ACCESS ALL
AREAS, but hey, this is the new academic world, and you now have proof that you
belong. Cherish the card, and pass it on to your grand-children.
The best way to arrive at a conference is in a group. Big conferences can be very alienating,
and having people to share meals and conversation is good for your mental
health. You can separate for parallel sessions,
talk afterwards, and thus get a better idea of what’s going on in the whole
event. If you can’t arrive with a group, look for kindred spirits in early
sessions. You might be surprised!
Next outburst: How To Be An Audience. Coming soon!