Voice: Finding Yours

Posted on October 23, 2023 by Athene Donald

Last week I was the protagonist in the curious ritual called a ‘post-prandial’ talk at my College (Churchill). In other words, after the whole Fellowship had met for the formal governance activity known as ‘Governing Body’, and after dinner (prandium is actually the Latin word for the midday meal, but somewhere along the way this name for the after-dinner seminar has stuck), I had to give my talk. The last time I had to go through this particular ordeal was as part of the interview process for the job of Master at Churchill, when I was asked to talk for about 20 minutes to a general audience of the Fellowship (ie scientists and non-scientists alike, who all had a vote as to who they wanted to be the next Master back in 2013) about my research after dinner. A challenge to make it both exciting to the former and accessible as well as accessible to the latter. Now 10 years later, I was asked, at about 3-days notice, to step in and talk about anything I wanted (I chose some of the work I’ve been doing about science policy) to a similar generalist audience.

Of course, the first thing to get through on such an occasion, is dinner, with quizzing from some younger members of the College. “Do I still get nervous?” – yes. “Really?” – yes, and as I said to them, it’s definitely worse talking to your friends and colleagues than to a much larger group of complete strangers who you’ll never see again. How do the nerves manifest themselves? My voice does not often shake these days (I’m sure it used to). But in the circumstances of the Labour Party Conference Fringe event I wrote about in my last post, undoubtedly my fluency departed, as confirmed afterwards by a friend in the audience. On that occasion, I was largely reading from my scripted notes, to make sure I covered all the bases that I intended, rather than ad-libbing around a Powerpoint presentation. Since the notes had had to be hastily amended in scrawled handwriting, as I described before, I felt both thrown out and overly anxious. My speech was more jerky than fluent as I tried to piece it together into something coherent. On this more recent occasion in College, with a rapidly written Powerpoint to hand, once I’d got underway I felt the words flowed quite easily (I had not drunk much of the wine proffered over dinner; flow is different from slurring).

My observations on my own research students and postdocs suggests a shy demeanour and/or nerves does not necessarily manifest itself in any visible or audible signs, nor is an excellent presentation predicated on daily exuded confidence. One of my Friday dinner companions remarked their voice tended to rise when tense, but you’d have to know the person well to detect that. However, there is no doubt that voice pitch can matter, at least to some people. I have never forgotten the comment made to me many years ago by a well-meaning departmental colleague, to the effect that perhaps I should take voice-coaching lessons to lower my voice. I was utterly appalled by this, the very idea that gravitas is more readily conveyed by a low (presumably male?) voice, regardless of content stunned me. But, this was a trick Maggie Thatcher clearly believed in, even though the rumour that she went to a voice coach may be apocryphal. Nevertheless, she certainly did lower her voice and, if the article in that link is to be believed, probably damaged her vocal chords in the process since she had not apparently had any coaching.

If you’re concerned about your voice, there are those who advocate thinking yourself powerful before giving a talk apparently, not a tactic I’ve ever used. I’m usually more concerned about content than sonority. However, this specific study suggested those who imagined themselves in a ‘powerful condition’ deliberately raised the pitch of their voices, in contrast to the comments about Thatcher. I suspect, as this commentary about the publication in Forbes points out, there are gender issues at play here, that are not pursued in the original paper. However, as this comment piece spells out, and in line with what I say above, ‘In fact for me, what conveys power is the substance of what the speaker says, not the pitch or the variability of volume.’ Quite. This journalist and I are both more interested in content than auditory tricks.

But voice has other meanings, such as that of authenticity. Management gurus such as Brené Brown are great believers in authenticity as a powerful way for leaders to speak. I think it would be true that, when at the Labour Party fringe event the words were carefully chosen for that audience, and in that sense less authentic than many of my talks, since political speech is not my natural language. At the post-prandial I would have been talking about my own doings (in that particular case, also in the policy arena) and not some hypothetical wishlist for policy-makers to hear. I hope that more recent talk made me sound convincing, as well as fluent.

Psychologist Carol Gilligan’s 1982 book, In a Different Voice, which I am currently re-reading, discusses yet another sense in which ‘voice’ is used. Gilligan is talking about how adolescents, and particularly young women, develop a voice (in the sense of content, not pitch) that is what they believe to be right, even if it isn’t what they genuinely believe. They lose their authenticity in order to fit in with what they perceive to be expected of them or, as Gilligan puts it, they lose their connectedness with their inner self. She sees this as one of the ways in which women shortchange themselves, and are shortchanged, by a patriarchal society where the male voice/view is taken as the norm and any deviation as ‘less developed’, allowing women to be seen as sub-standard men rather than fully-rounded women. These are ideas she builds upon in her much more recent (2018) book Why does Patricarchy Persist?, co-written with Naomi Snider. These approaches are not ones that I utilised in my own book, Not Just for the Boys: Why we need more women in science, but perhaps I should have done. My book is rested far more in the social sciences (such as gender and educational studies) than in psychology.

Voice is not simple, and we each develop our own tricks for survival and for communication. Sometimes what we use relates to our audiences, and sometimes – perhaps not often enough in our daily lives – to our inner selves.

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Beyond the Comfort Zone

Posted on October 16, 2023 by Athene Donald

Last week started off in unfamiliar ways. I’ve written before about the challenges of doing something for the first time, and this week I had two consecutive days of things that felt stressful and unusual to me. These issues of strangeness do not necessarily go away with age and experience, or at least not if one is pushing oneself.

On Sunday I travelled, with some difficulty due to tube closures in London, to ExceL to participate in New Scientist Live. I’d not been to this conference before, but was delighted to be able to talk about my book Not Just for the Boys to a general audience. The venue is massive, and in a single large hall there were four platforms with simultaneous speakers, plus an exhibition. I’d been slightly startled, when I arrived and asked the security man at the door where to go for speaker registration, to be greeted by a surprised look, and the response ‘Speaker? For New Scientist Live?’, as if he’d never met a female speaker before (although there were plenty on the programme). It felt symptomatic of my topic.

Standing on the platform I was very conscious of the background hum from everything going on around me, indeed rather more than hum, even though the sound system for my particular platform was excellent.  There was a good-sized audience who seemed receptive to my topic, and fired plenty of questions at me, and the book signing was also well attended. But, whereas a recent talk to scientists on the Biomedical Campus felt familiar because I had a good idea of the background of the audience – although one never knows at talks about my book, whether there will be many men present; at LMB there were – this isn’t true when talking to a more generalist audience. Judging from the questions, both publicly and even more from those who came up to me privately afterwards or who came to the book signing, there were a significant number of year 11-13 girls, those thinking about their futures and wanting encouragement to stick with science and, even more, the physical sciences. I felt I had definitely reached them.

From London I went straight on to Liverpool, to do something even more unfamiliar. On behalf of the Royal Society’s new Science2040 project I was talking to a Fringe event at the Labour Party conference, a joint reception with the New Statesman. Never having been to a party conference of any hue, this was walking into the unknown. Just trying to work out which of the multitude of Fringe events I would try to get to, distributed within and beyond the secure zone, was complicated enough. In the end, I only got to a couple; another one I was aiming at was standing room backed up so far into the lobby that I gave up. The whole conference was an extremely well-attended event. Those who know more about such things seemed to think it was overfull, no doubt reflecting the state of attitudes in our current politics.

My job was to give a brief speech about this new Royal Society project, initiated to explore what the science system should look like in 2040, and the need for long-term funding commitments regardless of the persuasion of the Government. This project is exploring the breadth of issues from the economic to the people dimension, from infrastructure to our place in a changing world. In other words, what needs to be done to address the major problems we are all facing. The centrepiece of my speech was meant to be a call for Labour to commit to long-term funding, talking after the Shadow Secretary of State for Science, Innovation and Technology, Peter Kyle, and before the Shadow Minister for Science, Research and Digital, Chi Onwurah.

By the mid-afternoon it was clear my  speech needed to be rewritten, as Peter Kyle – in his major speech to the main conference – had made precisely the commitment we were seeking, saying: “a Labour government will create certainty with 10-year R&D budgets.” So, a hastily scribbled-on piece of paper was what I had to read from at the event, reworking my words in an anxious way. I certainly felt my fluency was diminished, however much Kyle’s announcement was welcome news. I am used to being able to modify my written words on the fly, to suit the specific composition and reactions of an audience, but this required a more fundamental rewrite, and I hadn’t brought the technology into the secure zone to do this in more than an illegible way on the script to hand. Unfortunate, but I hope I could still deliver an appropriate message.

There were good things about attending the conference, not least a long chat with one of Chi’s new aides, and I am glad to have had the experience. But it is a salutary reminder that things that feel like old hat to some – colleagues both scientific and from the media who make the trek every year to wherever the party conferences are being held – can feel very strange and stressful when doing them for the first time. For those just setting out everything may feel unusual and uncomfortable, but it is worth remembering everything gets better with practice and you are not alone in your discomfort. Most people feel it, even if less often.

 

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New Scientist Live and Other Talks

Posted on September 30, 2023 by Athene Donald

It’s the start of a new term in Cambridge and this weekend the streets around the city will be full of nervous looking parents trying to find somewhere to park to unpack their anxious looking children. (One of the many advantages of Churchill College is that, as an out-of-town-centre college it has far more space for parking and unloading.) This cohort, like the last several, will arrive burdened with the consequences of the pandemic and social and educational isolation in ways we have yet to discover for this particular age-group. It will be many years before the lasting effects of Covid are no longer an issue for students.

Over the summer I received a fair number of invitations to talk to different groups of students and postdocs around the University about my book, Not Just for the Boys: Why we need more women in science during the upcoming term. I am pleased to realise that the book has penetrated many different departments locally, although whether it has reached the people who might be able to act upon some of my recommendations as much as the early career researchers who have to work through the challenges, I don’t know. I could also wish such penetration were true in other universities too, that the leadership of departments look at how their staff – and indeed other students – are behaving and act accordingly. However, one only has to hear about the comments some men think it is OK to put out on air about women and whether or not they are to their taste sexually (I won’t repeat the remarks Laurence Fox made, but they were outrageous) to believe that our universities will not be exempt. They will contain men who rate the women on their courses or in their research groups not for their brains but for their bodies and convey such views in their words and actions. Of course, such harassment is common across many sectors but, if numbers start out low in subjects like engineering, physics and computing, isolation may make an unpleasant situation much harder to cope with.

This week I start the term by talking to researchers at the University School of Clinical Medicine and the MRC Laboratory of Molecular Biology in a joint event on Monday (in person and online). At the end of the week, I go further afield to talk at New Scientist Live at Excel in London. I may have a fair idea of what sort of lecture environment I’ll be talking in for the former, but what size audience and what age and occupation distribution I will encounter for the latter is much less clear to me. Of course, one always has to respond to the audience one finds, modify the way one talks about each Powerpoint slide in the face of the faces in front of you, but public talks feel very different to the more familiar one of an academic venue. The New Scientist Live talks I believe will also be live-streamed, opening up an invisible channel to people sitting in their own homes, or potentially down the pub given I’m talking at lunchtime. Keeping remote audiences engaged is yet another challenge, but it is one that it is almost impossible to judge with what success.

With the various talks lined up for the months ahead about my book (there’ll be another one in London at the Royal Institution on November 16th), I am conscious how each organiser has put slightly different demands on me. Not just a question of audience, but of length of talk and how long to set aside for questions from the audience. Sometimes the talks are not talks but discussions, as for instance the upcoming event I will be participating in with Diane Coyle and Tabitha Goldstaub about ‘Why we need more women….’ through the Bennett Institute. Diane has written plenty about the dearth of women in her own subject of economics. What this all means is that each and every talk has to be written separately. If you think I just turn up and deliver the same talk as I have already given multiple times before, you’d be wrong. I’d be very bored if I did, and so would the audience.

I learned the hard way a long time ago, when still very early in my career and travelling, as it were, with my one and only talk (back in the day when it was hard copy transparencies and 35mm slides that were the norm), that repeating the same talk over and over again leads to a lack of attention and animation in the speaker. Sometimes, even, a complete loss of the thread of one’s words: have I said this before to this particular audience? being a particularly vicious thought as a source of confusion as one stumbles along.

The one audience I fear I am not reaching through my talks, blogs etc are teachers. I hope there will be many at New Scientist Live, but I have had no correspondence from anyone who recognizes the issues from their own schools. When I went to Parliament to meet MP Carol Monaghan(see image), a former Physics teacher from Glasgow, she recounted some of her own methods to ensure girls felt fully integrated and belonging in her classes. I wish more teachers had given the matter so much thought. Carol was a member of the Commons Science and Technology Committee which carried out an enquiry into Diversity and Inclusion in STEM, a committee chaired by Greg Clark and to which I gave evidence. The report from the committee received a bland and defensive response from the Government which did not please Clark. I wish I had a way of reaching out to teachers, as I feel they have an absolutely key part to play in encouraging more girls to follow their dreams into technology and physics.

Carol Monaghan in HoC June 23

So, talks aplenty coming up for me in the weeks ahead, along with the normal busyness of a Cambridge term. Not only do I have a talk to give about my book on Monday morning, but my last speech to Freshers after their formal welcome dinner that evening.

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Educational Disadvantage

Posted on September 1, 2023 by Athene Donald

With many schools in England apparently in danger of crumbling around or upon pupils, the start of the new school year offers the potential, once again, of being disrupted for thousands of pupils. Since the start of the pandemic in March 2020, generations of students have been impacted in ways it is hard to imagine won’t resound through the rest of their life.

This year’s A Level results combined the cohort who had not taken their GCSE exams with the retightening of grading.  (I am only writing about England, although similar implications to what follows are likely to be felt around all of the UK.) For many this will have been a disastrous combination, and teachers’ predictions have been shown often to be wide of the mark under the new grading guidelines. I think everyone understands in the abstract this group of students have not had it easy, although how that understanding will translate as their lives progress, be it at university or not, is far from clear.

However, the impact of the pandemic will not now miraculously disappear from all future schoolchildren working their way up the school ladder and, just as with future career progression for staff within universities who had to cope with pandemic fall-out, I worry the inequalities that the pandemic imposed on children living under different family circumstances, will propagate throughout their lives. If you missed the best part of a year of formal schooling just as you were beginning to learn to read, but are then presumed by the system to be a competent reader at 8, you may find yourself struggling to cope with all lessons thereafter. Will that be remembered when you sit GCSE’s in eight years time? If you and your four siblings were all squabbling over who had access to the single mobile device for your lessons, that will be an entire family whose learning will have been thrown into disarray. But will any allowance be subsequently made? What happened to all the extra tuition promised, given that much of the money has not been spent?

Those comments refer simply to the formal education that being present in a classroom might confer, but probably just as important is the disruption to a child’s developing social interactions. To be unable to mix with other children for extended periods is likely to have affected the development even of toddlers at the time, just when they were starting to understand a sense of self. Obviously, for adolescents the loss of opportunity to see friends in real life situations, rather than as a small face on a screen, will have done nothing for their own identities or ability to handle social situations. Of whatever age, I think adults too have exhibited many different manifestations of social unease from the repercussions of our long seclusion. It seems to me, in my own circle, that the after-effects of the pandemic are still very much in evidence. Everything from how often someone is expected to turn up at their place of work rather than work from home, to the use of Zoom and its like to running committee meetings, the world has changed. Sometimes I believe it has changed permanently in ways that are going to be detrimental to decision-making for all of us.

Amongst all the existential crises the world currently faces, social unease in the population is perhaps hardly top of the list of things to worry about. On the other hand, consequences of the loss of talent that poor ability to access education during the critical years of child development is something the country (and, of course, much more widely) should be very concerned about. It is something we will all have to face for an extended period. I worry people’s memories will be short. Those who had no trouble accessing online learning may not recognize the disadvantage peers may have had to contend with. The concept of excellence, of the A* star pupil who shone on the day of exams and fulfilled their teacher’s predictions, means those who come out on top may believe they are inherently superior to the kid from down the road whose educational experience was utterly different. I’m not sure what can be done about this, but I do hope people will ensure their memories are long enough to recall this societal disruption and how it has further entrenched inequality for too many in the next generation.

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Inefficiency as a Blessing in Disguise

Posted on August 20, 2023 by Athene Donald

In the process of tidying up my office I have managed to fill several large bins for recycling. I found many unremembered old reports. Indeed, sometimes I found multiple copies due to my incompetence in remembering where I filed the first one. However well-thumbed, most were by now ten or more years out of date and probably available on the web anyhow. To my surprise, I also found two files of print outs of blogposts dating back to the first couple of years I was writing (2010-12). Why I felt I needed to print them out I can no longer recall, perhaps I didn’t trust them to have a continuing life on the web, but looking through them reminded me of things I’d quite forgotten I’d written about.

One of the posts I came across was on inefficiency, something that preys on many a researcher’s mind. It is easier, to my mind, to keep pushing on with experimental work, which has its own rhythm and often the experiments dictate the timescale. It is when it comes to sitting at a desk, things get harder. For me, having multiple alternatives of the things I really ought to do, makes life easier. If I don’t feel like writing a letter of condolence to an alumnus’s widow, perhaps working my email mountain down will be better for the state of mind I’m in. If reading through some College committee paperwork does not appeal, perhaps thinking about an upcoming meeting on policy for science will feel more attractive. Having a wide range of options of what I absolutely need to do in the next few days means I can try to be as efficient as possible, by being inefficient about any single thing.

Of course, one can get caught out. I do find it irritating when half-way through a piece of writing, sometimes even half-way through a paragraph or sentence, I look at the clock and realise I should be somewhere else. To return to my computer to find a sentence beginning ‘It is obvious that….’ when it breaks off, and with no memory of what was obvious to me a couple of hours earlier, is frustrating to say the least. To avoid this, I do try to jot down (metaphorically) a few key words to remind me what I had in mind when the words were flowing to make it easier to pick up later, but too often I don’t have the forethought/time to do this.

There is another aspect to inefficiency raised by the Guardian journalist Emma Wilkins this week, that of allowing time for thoughts to mature, including when doing something totally different such as going for a walk. As she put it

‘for me, taking time out for a walk or to visit a friend doesn’t necessarily make me less productive. Where do ideas and solutions come from if not from daily life? They are just as likely to emerge when I’m hanging out the washing or walking through the bush, as when I’m staring at a screen.’

I totally agree with that too, although I don’t think of that as being inefficient so much as creating the necessary time for ideas to crystallise or for a bit of lateral thinking to come into play. Having been staring at something on the screen for far too long and heading off to boil the kettle, often allows for the space for clarity to emerge. Time to separate the wood from the trees.

To my mind, the lack of such time was one of the issues that I found hardest during the height of the pandemic, and I know I’m not alone on this. When every meeting was mediated through the computer screen, when meetings ran on the hour every hour, often with inadequate time to get to the kettle in between, let alone the bathroom, provoked utter exhaustion. A feeling of total relentlessness and lack of control over the diary while trying to do, not only the day job, but also (as the Head of a College) keep up with the changing government regulations about meeting, catering, living together. It was a period of such intensity there was no time to think ‘am I being efficient?’, it was merely a case of ‘can I finally get up off this uncomfortable desk chair?’

The changes to our ways of working seem permanent. Whereas people used to phone for 1:1 conversations but committees were in person however far the travel (of course, that did mean some people might not show at all), that is no longer so. Phoning is rare, and I realised how used I have become to seeing people through the screen when I found myself opting for a Zoom call over the phone for a call with someone I’d never met. I used to think phoning was totally adequate, yet now it seems less than satisfactory.

But whatever changes in the way we interact with others at a distance, I am sure we will all need to continue being inefficient in whatever way works for us as individuals. Plenty of coffee and comfort breaks, plenty of brief walks around the place to clear the head, switching from task to task if that helps. Being hung up on never wasting a moment is, to my mind, the best way of wasting many moments while ostensibly sticking to the job in hand.

 

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