Three of the thesis students (Noia, Patrick, and Janet) presented at the annual CUNY Pipeline Honors Conference yesterday–a one-day event which showcases the work of honors undergraduates across the university. It was held down on the concourse level of the Graduate Center–a place where, between Macaulay events and Graduate Council meetings, I find myself more often than I expect. 😉
I enjoy the relative collegiality of the “in-house” conference experience. I generally think of CUNY conferences as a “training ground,” of sorts. There’s a level of psychological confidence that comes with being on one’s home turf, and it can be a good place to try out material. Some ITFs usually end up presenting at the annual CUNY IT Conference (this year, John and I explained the video re-curating project we ITFs now do with Seminar 1’s Snapshot Day), and I’ve always felt like that was a safe and productive opportunity to present from the “techie” end of my work. Similarly, students in my doctoral program also run an annual conference–which can be a collegial place for many of us (especially that minority who entered the PhD program after earning a bachelor’s degree rather than a master’s) to get our conferencing sea legs. My first conference presentation was as part of a panel I organized for that event, some years ago, and I remember it with fondness–it was a productive and optimistic experience. And it has also led to further collaboration–one of my colleagues from that panel will be presenting along with me on a panel we’ve organized for the northeast regional MLA.
(I note in passing that at NeMLA I will finally break my “always presenting earliest in the morning” record, since we were given a 4 PM slot. And given that the keynote is in the same room directly following, we may even have an audience which exceeds the panelists in number!)
So while I was listening to the student presenters at two panels (Noia’s and Janet’s) yesterday, I was remembering my own experiences. And I left the conference feeling more optimistic about the future than I have in a while. I went out of my way to congratulate some of the other presenters, as well as the thesis students–it costs nothing to do that, and I wanted to contribute to the positive energy of the event.
I was intrigued by the variety of presentation styles at this event. Styles varied widely among our own students, too–Noia primarily relied upon her voice (intonation, pacing) to convey her ideas, working sans PowerPoint, while Janet worked hard to develop a PowerPoint which complemented (rather than replicated) her presentation. (Great job, both of you.) On Janet’s panel, the final student (Dianne Brown, from Brooklyn) did a little of both–she had obviously practiced intonation and pacing, but she coupled it with a PowerPoint emphasizing key quotes. There was also a 4-person presentation team from John Jay on Janet’s panel, and that perhaps demonstrated the logistical limits of such an event. It’s always good to decide who will speak next, make sure everyone knows their roles in advance. Fortunately (?), their entire talk was written out on their slides, so one could follow the content, if not the talk itself. Over on Noia’s panel, the final student (also from John Jay) made able use of alternative technologies when her slides did not work, presenting a cohesive analysis with her notecards and smart phone. Having this kind of flexibility is essential when conferencing. I wonder, actually, if this perhaps even worked to her advantage–it seemed to increase her focus on her own tone and rhetorical style. I worry about those who are so reliant on slides that they don’t practice talking.
One thing I wished I could tell all of the student presenters was this: technology problems, changes in presentation order, running out of time, interruptions, people leaving and/or entering the room, too much or too little moderation from the moderator, phones going off–all of these are par for the course. But the generosity and collegiality of your peers is not. It’s rare and valuable. I was very proud of all of the presenters I saw yesterday, even those I didn’t know, who constructively engaged with their CUNY peers.
The bulk of your thesis projects will likely include some kind of quantitative visual evidence–that is, a graph or chart illustrating the statistical data which either supports your claims or shapes your research questions.
Finding The Best Mode of Presentation for Your Data
When determining how best to present what information you have, The Craft of Research‘s Table 15.7 (pp. 230-31) is probably the best place to start–because it is usefully comparative. If your data is contained within a spreadsheet, you can also readily explore the various graph options offered by Excel. Try out several and see how they compare. As the writers of your textbook note:
…different ways of showing the same data can be confusing. To cut through that confusion, test different ways of representing the same data. Construct alternative graphics; then ask someone unfamiliar with the data to judge them for impact and clarity. Be sure to introduce the figures with a sentence that states the claim you want the figure to support. (226)
Ultimately, choose the mode of presentation which makes the most sense to you, or which best illustrates either the trends or outliers you find important.
(Note: If you are unable to create graphs and charts in Excel, please make an appointment for my office hours. I will help you find the best method of presenting your data and show you how to create and export a chart for use in PowerPoint/Keynote.)
In research writing in the humanities (and to some extent in the social sciences), the use of photographs, or other qualitative visual evidence (as opposed to the quantifiable data found in charts and graphs) requires that you have a very clear sense of a given item’s relevance not only to one section of your text, but to your argument as a whole. Like charts and graphs, qualitative visual evidence needs to have a purpose, and it needs to be fully integrated into your writing. It can be awfully tempting to rely on the old adage that “a picture is worth 1,000 words,” but in truth, your picture is only that valuable if you’ve used the 1,000 words that follow to explain its relevance.
OK, maybe you don’t have to spend 1,000 words explaining it. 😉 But if you don’t prepare your reader for the introduction of your visual evidence, and then explain its relevance, it will have far less power and far less energy within your work. It might even drain your work of its otherwise intense focus and purposefulness.
Lindsey’s Six Suggestions For Your Next Presentation
You need less text than you think! If a 20-minute conference talk is about 7-10 pages of double-spaced Times New Roman 12-point text with standard margins, then a 5-minute talk is a maximum of 2.5 pages. This means you have to condense your material into key points and highlights, or choose to present only one point in greater detail.
Your talk needs a clear structure. After beginning with something interesting to hook your audience’s attention, give a sort of verbal “table of contents”: “Over the course of this presentation, I’m going to discuss Idea #1, compare and contrast it with Idea #2, and tell you how both relate to Idea #3. I will conclude by demonstrating that Idea #4 is actually the best of all.” For even more staying power, have a slide supporting this part of your introduction.
Pacing is how you make sure your audience will “get it.”Rehearse your presentation before you give it, so that you can make sure you are speaking slowly and clearly, and that your presentation’s overall structure will be clear to the audience. I recommend presenting for a family member or a fellow student who is not familiar with your work. (I sometimes rehearse mine over the phone with my folks.) If they get it, then your “real” audience will too.
Every PowerPoint slide should be clear and have a distinct purpose. Don’t clutter them with extraneous material. Simplify all graphs and figures to show only the most relevant data. Make sure that the point of each slide is obvious to the group and to the audience.
Consider using the “notes” feature at the bottom of each PowerPoint slide to store your talk. Your audience won’t be able to see it, and it will make it clearer to you how each slide figures in your presentation.
Make a handout of your PowerPoint presentation by printing 3 slides per page with lines for notetaking. When you go to print, select the “Handouts (3 slides per page)” option. This way people will be able to easily follow your talk, and they’ll also be able to jot down notes or questions they might have. They’ll still want to see the full-size version (particularly when you’ve got images to show), but you’ll have an informed audience rather than a confused one.
Here are two very useful presentations, which I encourage you to use as resources while planning your talk! (more…)
I had hoped that, having gone through this process, I would be able to reflect upon it, and offer up some nuggets of wisdom, some insights which explain how one is supposed to summarize a nonexistent monograph.
I find, however, that I cannot adequately explain how I did what I did, or generalize beyond my own experiences.
My prospectus took ages to create. Fourteen or fifteen months, if you want to get technical about it. During that time, I wasn’t able to read. No joke–it was like being unable to see or hear. I couldn’t process the written word. In that respect, it was the single strangest year of my life. I angsted to my SO about this over e-mail, but other than that, I didn’t try to explain just how much difficulty I was having. It was embarrassing, and it made me doubt my own intellectual capacity (major points to said SO for always telling me how smart I was, whenever I started to fret, and for sending tempting science fiction novels in the hopes of awakening my dormant skills).
Last spring, I received some grant money from the Graduate Center and took myself to three different campuses for archival research. I spent a week at UCONN, and a couple of days at Texas and at UCSD. These were valuable days, each and every one. I attacked the archive with fervor–months of pent-up anxiety finally finding a moment of release. And I assumed that when I got back to New York, I’d churn out a prospectus in no time at all–that I’d be approved and ready to go by the beginning of the summer of 2009.
That did not happen.
When I got back from my research trips, I found myself back in my same old stagnant situation, with the same old problems. There was a lot of other stuff happening in my life. I felt like I was forever on the verge of change, but never quite got there. I still couldn’t read. It was deeply frustrating.
I took a deep breath and I waited.
What I learned in writing my prospectus is this:
1. Change will come.
2. Be patient.
Over the course of the summer, my life got better. My living situation underwent some positive changes. I became an aunt. My SO somehow became even more awesome. And at the end of August, spurred on by a long-time mentor, I wrote a prospectus draft.
And then a second draft.
And then a third.
And by the time I even showed it to my director, it was a fifth draft, but that was okay, because it was a true thing. I had articulated something that deeply mattered to me. Inexpert, incomplete–but it was mine.
I had not previously realized just how much that mattered.
So. Now it is January. There is a committee. There is a completed prospectus. And while it is at a lesser volume than before, I do seem able to read again. (Thanks to the SO for hanging in there.) But I find myself twitching, twitching, twitching over writing–constantly asking myself if I know enough yet, if I’m ready to set words to paper.
I have set up a deadline with my outside reader for delivery of my first chapter. That’s the best I can do.
