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It is 10:30pm. I just got back to my office, after spending the day at the Saturday sessions of Dark Side of Astronomy weekend course, hosted by the Oxford University Department of Continuing Education. Longtime readers of this journal may recall that I was contacted last May and asked to deliver a lecture for the class.
Jump back in time several hours, to about 4 o'clock. I was also sitting -- and pacing[*] -- in my office, as I tried to rehearse my presentation. I had finished writing it by about two o'clock in the morning and I slept a good five hours before waking up to attend the morning sessions. However, I had not yet practiced and was using the afternoon break to do a "dress rehearsal". It was not going well. I would get through several slides awkwardly and then stumble over myself, not knowing what to say next. I was nervous. It did not help that the last lecture of the morning -- the one before mine -- had been quite good and extremely polished. Several times, I started my rehearsal... and all were fairly rubbish. Several times, a string of expletives escaped my lips. Not good. Not good at all. Somewhat unusual, too, as I reckon myself I reasonably talented speaker.
Eventually, it was time to make my way over to the lecture hall. I walked, rather than cycled, to give myself time to clear my head.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cheshcat, who was coming just for my presentation, had already arrived and was seated, browsing through the handout copy of my slides. I set up the PowerPoint file on their computer and tested the laser pointer, microphone. All was ready... except, perhaps, me. Five o'clock struck, and I began teaching.
Now jump forward an hour and a half. It is six thirty and I have just finished fielding questions at the conclusion of my talk. Apparently, I do have some talent as a speaker, because it went extremely well. Not quite sure how, really. In fact, I only remember parts of the lecture that I gave. In some sense, it is like I have a noticeably[**] nervous minute or so at the beginning and then, somehow, I magickally invoke the Spirit of Physics Teaching who takes over and delivers the talk for me. For whatever reason, said Spirit does not inhabit my body when I try to practice my talks... but once I get in front of an audience, I am inexplicably off and running.
Tonight was not the first time that this has happened, really. Thinking back, I realise that I have tried -- and failed -- to practice talks before. I should just accept that this is not something I can do... and then just stop trying. All I prove by continuing these exercises in futility is that I have no clue what I am doing. Apparently, so long as I take the effort to make good slides and ensure that I am familiar with my subject matter, all goes well.
And I do have good reason to believe that all went quite well. Partly because I received a large number of compliments from people afterward. Partly because my applause seemed to go on for a great length of time -- considerably longer than I expected. Partly because many people stayed to ask me further questions when I was done. But all of that could just be British politeness. More than anything else, I am convinced that I did well because of the comments people made tocheshcat while I was busy fielding those additional questions after the talk was over. Since she had only come for my presentation and we had not interacted, it was by no means evident that she was my partner. Yet people still said made very positive remarks to her, such as saying that they thought this was the best talk of the day. That cannot be easily written off as politeness.
So, yes, I can apparently still deliver a kick arse lecture -- even when talking about what is largely particle physics to a group that had gathered to hear about astronomy. Good to know.
After my lecture was a dinner break, followed by the after dinner address. Since this is the 30th annual astronomy weekend, the director of the programme for the past eighteen years gave us a "trip down memory lane." He went over the past thirty years, noting major world developments, major astronomy discoveries, and the themes & speakers of the astronomy weekend in each of those years. I could not help but notice some names of lecturers on the old programmes. The former head of my sub-department (now deputy head) here at Oxford was one. The current head of the Oxford Physics Department -- who was only a young researcher at the time -- was another. The spokesperson for my old experiment, the Pierre Auger Observatory, was a third. And Sir Martin Rees was yet another. Colour me duly impressed -- both that this course has had such accomplished lecturers in the past... and that I was chosen to be one of the presenters for this year.
I realise that my ego may be showing just a tad here. That's okay, though. It is healthy to receive a reminder every now and then that I do have a brain in my head. Working at Oxford University, where everyone around is ridiculously brilliant, it can be all too easy to forget sometimes. I mean, you actually need to have a Masters degree just to sweep the floors in this building![***]
[*] Not at the same time, obviously.
[**] Noticeable, at least, tocheshcat.
[***] Not really.
Jump back in time several hours, to about 4 o'clock. I was also sitting -- and pacing[*] -- in my office, as I tried to rehearse my presentation. I had finished writing it by about two o'clock in the morning and I slept a good five hours before waking up to attend the morning sessions. However, I had not yet practiced and was using the afternoon break to do a "dress rehearsal". It was not going well. I would get through several slides awkwardly and then stumble over myself, not knowing what to say next. I was nervous. It did not help that the last lecture of the morning -- the one before mine -- had been quite good and extremely polished. Several times, I started my rehearsal... and all were fairly rubbish. Several times, a string of expletives escaped my lips. Not good. Not good at all. Somewhat unusual, too, as I reckon myself I reasonably talented speaker.
Eventually, it was time to make my way over to the lecture hall. I walked, rather than cycled, to give myself time to clear my head.
cheshcat, who was coming just for my presentation, had already arrived and was seated, browsing through the handout copy of my slides. I set up the PowerPoint file on their computer and tested the laser pointer, microphone. All was ready... except, perhaps, me. Five o'clock struck, and I began teaching.Now jump forward an hour and a half. It is six thirty and I have just finished fielding questions at the conclusion of my talk. Apparently, I do have some talent as a speaker, because it went extremely well. Not quite sure how, really. In fact, I only remember parts of the lecture that I gave. In some sense, it is like I have a noticeably[**] nervous minute or so at the beginning and then, somehow, I magickally invoke the Spirit of Physics Teaching who takes over and delivers the talk for me. For whatever reason, said Spirit does not inhabit my body when I try to practice my talks... but once I get in front of an audience, I am inexplicably off and running.
Tonight was not the first time that this has happened, really. Thinking back, I realise that I have tried -- and failed -- to practice talks before. I should just accept that this is not something I can do... and then just stop trying. All I prove by continuing these exercises in futility is that I have no clue what I am doing. Apparently, so long as I take the effort to make good slides and ensure that I am familiar with my subject matter, all goes well.
And I do have good reason to believe that all went quite well. Partly because I received a large number of compliments from people afterward. Partly because my applause seemed to go on for a great length of time -- considerably longer than I expected. Partly because many people stayed to ask me further questions when I was done. But all of that could just be British politeness. More than anything else, I am convinced that I did well because of the comments people made to
cheshcat while I was busy fielding those additional questions after the talk was over. Since she had only come for my presentation and we had not interacted, it was by no means evident that she was my partner. Yet people still said made very positive remarks to her, such as saying that they thought this was the best talk of the day. That cannot be easily written off as politeness.So, yes, I can apparently still deliver a kick arse lecture -- even when talking about what is largely particle physics to a group that had gathered to hear about astronomy. Good to know.
After my lecture was a dinner break, followed by the after dinner address. Since this is the 30th annual astronomy weekend, the director of the programme for the past eighteen years gave us a "trip down memory lane." He went over the past thirty years, noting major world developments, major astronomy discoveries, and the themes & speakers of the astronomy weekend in each of those years. I could not help but notice some names of lecturers on the old programmes. The former head of my sub-department (now deputy head) here at Oxford was one. The current head of the Oxford Physics Department -- who was only a young researcher at the time -- was another. The spokesperson for my old experiment, the Pierre Auger Observatory, was a third. And Sir Martin Rees was yet another. Colour me duly impressed -- both that this course has had such accomplished lecturers in the past... and that I was chosen to be one of the presenters for this year.
I realise that my ego may be showing just a tad here. That's okay, though. It is healthy to receive a reminder every now and then that I do have a brain in my head. Working at Oxford University, where everyone around is ridiculously brilliant, it can be all too easy to forget sometimes. I mean, you actually need to have a Masters degree just to sweep the floors in this building![***]
[*] Not at the same time, obviously.
[**] Noticeable, at least, to
cheshcat.[***] Not really.
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Oh, that is a HILARIOUS comment. I actually laugh-barked! (The cats were quite startled.) We bi folk can chat enthusiastically sometimes!