I’ve drafted my first ever academic publication and had my first ever experience of peer-review. The feedback was that we have some work to do. Not that our manuscript was bad, just that it’s focus wasn’t well matched with the intent of the book. After reading the feedback and considering how I’d go about revising our manuscript, which I think turned our pretty well and has something useful to say. I actually felt that it might be a better use of my time to rewrite the chapter from scratch and submit the manuscript for publication elsewhere. So while this is, on the face of it, a knock-back that entails a bit of work, I feel pretty positive about it.
While reading and writing sides of this scheme are ebbing and flowing, I’ve been pretty consistent in getting my reps in. I’m riding my bike to work fairly regularly, hitting the gym three or four times a week, and getting in brief workouts at home with my kettle-bell. Not to mention visits to the pool or playground with my energetic three year old. Today’s workout:
Barbell squats: 72.5kg, 1-2-3/1-2-3/1-2-3
Bench press: 52.5kg, 1-2-3/1-2-3/1-2-3
Dumbell rows (superset with bench): 25kg, 10/10/10
Farmers walk: 30kg each hand, 5 trips of about 40 paces.
So a deadline sailed past me and I’m riding pretty high on the terror curve. I’m ostensibly coauthoring a chapter with my doctoral supervisor, but my imposter syndrome and procrastination monkey are ganging up on me.
I’m confident about my cognitive abilities; I know I can read and write well. It’s the doing it, or not, that is doing me in. It’s something I have to address, and soon. With a full-time job and a family that I want to be present for, I need to build some more sustainable habits.
It’s not all doom and gloom, however, as I’ve been pretty good on this side of the ledger. I had a good workout on the weekend:
Barbell squats: 72.5kg, 5/5/8
Bench press: 47.5kg, 5/5/12
Seated cable rows: a bunch
Close-grip bench press: 40kg, 12/12/10
Face pulls: a bunch
I’ve also been enjoying riding my new bike. The single speed can be hard work sometimes but somehow it’s a lot more fun than a geared bike. I got a pair of clipless pedals and some snazzy shoes to go with them, which has made my pedaling a little more efficient.
One of the things that I treasure most of my five years at RMIT Vietnam is how I was able to follow my students through their university journeys. I taught hundreds first as an English teacher and then again years later as their career educator in RMIT’s Career Passport programs. Later still, I met them again when they joined career centre events as alumni guests.
Each year, my Facebook feed is filled with graduation photos. My former students are often kind enough to tag me or thank me in the captions. In 2014, I was honoured to be thanked by Nguyen Thao Vy, the RMIT President’s Award winner, in her acceptance speech. I’m always proud to have played a part, however small, in these students’ academic and career development.
This year, one Facebook graduation post, in particular, stood out from the rest.
I first met Nguyễn Võ Trọng Trí as one of 16 students in an English class that I taught in 2011. Over the years, I would often see him volunteering with the Student Ambassador Team during university open days, orientations, and other events, leading a group of high school students, parents, or RMIT first-years around on their campus tours.
Trí’s post on Facebook was titled “My Little Un-Graduation Speech”. Trí wasn’t graduating with his cohort, for various reasons, but he clearly had something he needed to say, and he said it remarkably well.
Today, some of my friends
who entered this university at the same time
as I did are going to attend their graduation
Trí wasn’t to be there with them. He is frank and honest about why. Poor decisions he made, family issues, new starts. But Trí learned a lesson that many of his graduating classmates did not. He learned that university is about the experiences you have as much as the degree that you earn. For Trí, the Student Ambassadors Team taught him as much as or more than his classes did.
Who am I today? At this very moment,
while many of my fellows become
university graduates, I am no one with no
college degree, no work, no nothing.
I was moved by Trí’s post. I identified with Trí, as his words describe the way I felt in 2000 when I dropped out of university with a couple of semesters worth of lacklustre grades. I was proud that one of my students would have the courage and honesty to make such a post public, especially in the strongly collectivist culture of Vietnam.
But Trí’s post was not about self-pity. He showed great maturity, a level of optimism, and most importantly, pride in what he had done and learned during his time at RMIT.
It shall be a very tough career path for me
since most of this society does not always
appreciate one’s ability yet his or her
degree. However, I know that as an RMIT
student and a Student Ambassador, I can
prove them wrong looking down on
neglected people who are disoriented or
lack of luck at some points of life.
“Calculated luck” and Chaos Theory
My favourite part of Trí’s post is his conclusion, where he unwittingly references two important career development theories: Krumboltz’s planned happenstance and Pryor and Bright’s Chaos Theory of Careers. Trí has never studied career development theory, but he clearly has the wisdom and reflective maturity to articulate the key points based on his experience.
And finally, to my fellow graduates, good
luck on your career path. When I say luck, I
mean a calculated luck. Be passionate
about what you do, have good
experiences and knowledge. Magnificent
ideas will surprise you and when they do,
experiment or take action immediately
then shall come the luck.
My Little Un-Graduation Speech, by Nguyễn Võ Trọng Trí
Trí’s calling is to be a designer, so it’s fitting that he put together a visual document to present his speech. With his permission, I can share it here for you to read in full.
One of the first things I ever published as a career consultant was this article for the RMIT Vietnam student magazine, Blitz Magazine. The editors had approached the Career Centre asking us to provide an article, and I volunteered.
Around that time I had been sharing a lot of my own experiences with my classes, particularly the times when I have made decisions that seemed a little risky at the time, but which worked out amazingly well:
Dropping out of uni when I realised that I lacked ambition and motivation
Giving up the chance of an important scholarship to go chase a girl in a foreign country
Leaving a job that I enjoyed and was good at to go into an area I didn’t know much about
I had been reading about John Krumboltz’s theory of Planned Happenstance at the time and wanted to share the idea that career planning involves a lot of uncertainty, luck, and randomness, but also that there were several things you could do to orient yourself and make sound decisions.
I decided to write the following article, framing three major turning points in my life as “mistakes” where I made the decision that, on the face of it, was the riskiest. Some of my colleagues were worried that our students wouldn’t get the joke, but I was confident that I could get my point across without too much confusion.
I had a good response from my students, with a few emailing me to make a comment or ask a question. I also got quite a few concerned questions asking me how my wife felt about being labelled a “mistake”. Luckily, in this case, I was wise enough to run it past her first.
Unfortunately I no longer have the text of the article and you can’t copy and paste from the online magazine, so here some screen captures of the article as it appeared in the magazine.
“Employability skills” are a bit of a buzzword in career education. They’re typically defined as the skills that are needed in all professions, regardless of industry or specific context. There are dozens of lists of employability skills out there, but they all cite similar skills as being fundamental requirements in all workplaces:
Planning and organising
They’re a very useful concept, as they remind students that employability is more than just their degree and their technical proficiency. The problem is when they’re presented like this, as a list of words without a lot of context. Students then dutifully list them on their resume, not realising that without context they are meaningless.
Take “communication skills” for example. In and of itself, it’s a meaningless phrase. Almost everyone can communicate. Newborn babies can communicate, as can household pets. Bill the postcard vendor from Saigon was an engaging communicator, but I wouldn’t want him writing my research proposals. James Joyce was a genius with creative prose, but I wouldn’t put him in charge of my social media marketing.
Some employability skills resources are better than others, in that they do break down the skills into more specific actions and contexts (see this one from the University of Sydney for example). But when it comes to career education I strongly believe that any discussion of employability skills must come with some serious time given to deconstructing and contextualising employability skills, to ensure that students are attentive to the specific requirements of their professional field.
In my next post, I will share a lesson plan for an employability skills activity that I’ve had great success with, both in class and as a blended or wholly online activity. It’s a lot of fun for students and educators alike and does a great job bringing the idea of contextualising and defining employability skills home.