I recently attended an unconventional conference — an “unconference”, as they call it.
The event was like nothing I had ever experienced and fostered both intellectual bliss and psychological discomfort. Thankfully, the bliss eclipsed the agony — but it was a close call there for a minute. Would you like to hear more? Excellent, because I have prepared more.
The conference was hosted by Google and some other very Google-y companies with which I am intimately familiar, but solely as a consumer. Before the conference, such companies were essentially faceless to me. I don’t have a cousin that works at Facebook, for example. I didn’t go to kindergarten with Elon Musk — and thank goodness, because I know he would’ve eaten my paste!
This year marked the 11th year of this thing. The 350 people who attended hopped on planes and trains and came from all over the country to get to Google’s Chicago headquarters. But those 350 people weren’t just any 350 people, oh ho! No, no: We were all on the list. Oh, yes. There was a list. Because whatever you want to call it — conference, unconference, think tank, nerd camp, slumber party for geeks — is by invitation only. First, you have to be nominated by someone who has attended in the past, then you have to apply, then you have to be selected. If all that works out, you can get your groovy nametag and it’s on like Donkey Kong.
Speaking of Donkey Kong: I think I met the guy who invented Donkey Kong.
It’s possible. Because that’s the kind of person who goes to this thing. The whole place was swarming with top brass in the fields of gaming; government digital operations; linguistics; neuroscience; the internet … There was a guy who owns and operates a yo-yo empire. I met a woman who makes the Chicago Botanical Garden the Chicago Botanical Garden. I was in a discussion group with the host of a very, very, very popular network reality television show. I attended a talk given by the UK’s leading war correspondent. I went to an “Ask Me Anything” session about the Chicago transit system hosted by the guy who is literally in charge of Chicago’s transit system. In the mix were scholars. Writers. Thinkers. Artists. Doctors. Comedians. Lawyers.
And one … whatever I am.
There were numerous occasions when I had to swallow hard and try not to cry. And I know, I know: You’ll say that I was in the room because I qualified to be in the room! Logically, I knew that. But emotionally I couldn’t get there. No matter how you slice it — and though every single smartypants person was so friendly and awesome — these people were intimidating. Many of them are also exceedingly wealthy, so there was that inadequacy going on, too. I wasn’t in my comfort zone, sister. I was in my “uncomfort” zone which does seem appropriate.
In a few different sessions, I said things that just didn’t come out right. Afterward, I would tell myself, “Fons, don’t talk anymore, just listen in the next one” but then I’d go to the next session and get so excited about the topic that I’d raise my hand and say something and that sounded stupid, too. The session I lead went okay, but okay wasn’t enough: I wanted it to be amazing. At lunch or in the hallways between sessions, I was nervous. Surely there was lipstick on my teeth. Surely I had toilet paper sticking to my shoe. I bit my cuticles so bad I drew blood — twice. I had to put a band-aid on, which made me feel like a gross weirdo with a band-aid on.
In my defense, it was a lot of stimulation and sensory overload. The conference is objectively stressful and the organizers warned all the first-timers that it would be. When I shared with my “homeroom” leader that I was freaking out, she couldn’t have been nicer and confessed that the first year she came, she left after the first day! However fancy-pants it may be, being thrown into a room with 350 strangers is a lot for anyone, she said, especially if you work from home or with a small team. I told her how I was in a pretty fragile state, too, from some life stuff, and that maybe that was affecting me. She gave me a hug and grabbed my hand and we went and got schmancy coffee from the coffee bar. Things got way better after that. I learned more in three days than I thought was possible.
And the stress is a distant memory, now. I’m eager to volunteer to host the monthly salons local attendees put together between conferences, and, if I get to go again next year, I’ll be the first on the list to volunteer to help out newcomers. As soon as I get my nametag on, I’ll wing my way through the crowd, eagle-eyed, looking for any girl with a fresh band-aid.
Kim Bourgeois Landry
Only one band-aid? You are amazing Mary Fons!
Maria murphree
Oh, I’m glad I’m not the only girl with a band aid over her stress-blooded cuticles!
Margaret Rovai
Think,Mary! You are an ever better writer. Not so many of those schmancy people can say that!
Colleen Tauke
You make me smile
Nancy Pederson
Mary, I admire your tenacity for sticking it out for all three days.
Amy D Fannin
Wow. I’ve teetered on the edge for years, but now I’m officially living vicariously through you. So cool! I hope you aren’t too cool for us though! Still sit with your less-cool friends at the lunch table from time to time!
Melanie
I can only imagine. Creatives are sometimes (often) introverts and the stimulation in even a small group would be tough…large groups and multiple days?!?! Forget about it! Way to stretch Mary! I’m sure MANY benefitted from your thoughts.
Sue
In the ugliness of our present world, you are a bright star that gives me hope that my granddaughters will have someone to look up to!
Ann Wiest
Mary, I love your story. It made me laugh at times. You are a brave young lady.
I love your posts, keep it up!
Li
Wow. When it comes to curious, inquisitive; you just hit the jackpot, lady. What an incredible opportunity. This is just the best.
Linda Keenum
Loved this one!!! And like most, I can certainly empathize!!!
Pam Close
So glad you had the opportunity to experience an unconference. And also proud of you for choosing to lead a session.
Scary but rewarding and your participants likely walked away with smiles and growth. Don’t short sell yourself, you are an awesome teacher/leader. This sounds similar to a phenomenon in the teaching world called edcamp (https://www.edcamp.org/). Unconferences led by teachers, always free, and session topics are dynamic and volunteered by attendees that morning. I went to 15 in one year (yes, I found 15 of them in 2017 within driving distance of central MO. Astonishing and life changing. After years of professional development led by “experts” (someone from out of town with slides) who hadn’t been in a classroom in years, these were the most authentic and mentally stimulating gathering of fellow innovators in education I had attended outside my specialized community of biology teachers (NABT).
Sarah Pegg
Good for you! You did it; you stayed and survived and are more than you were when you walked through the door for the first time. Now you are readying yourself to pass some of what you learned on to others (sometimes known as teaching.)
In case you have let it slip your mind temporarily, you are not only a teacher, you are an ARTIST, in more ways than one. So big kudos to you, girl, and keep on keeping on. You enrich us all.
Ginny Renslow
You are such a wonderful person!!!!
Kathleen
Oh Miss Mary! I am more than sure that your lipstick was perfect.
Jeanne Marie
One of us! One of us! 😉
It wouldn’t be ORDCamp w/o a heart-stopping attack of Imposter Syndrome. You are all that and a bag of chips, Ms Mary Fons
Barbara
So sweet to look for the bandaid people. If I were one of those people I’d be happy to find you!