So….I have started a new job
No more coffee-with-friends filled days.
No more endless dreaming and limitless
hours to fill with nothing- in- particular.
Instead I am walking gingerly across the polished wooden floors of
academia.
I have a temporary job lecturing in early childhood studies.
And I have never, in all my life, felt so much
like a rough edged square peg in a perfectly smooth round hole..
I keep waiting for the hand that will tap me on
the shoulder and say
" what exactly are you doing here? You do realize you
don’t actually know anything, right?""
I constantly feel that my ignorance is about to
be revealed, my extreme lack of academic knowledge unveiled.
"Oh that ," says my translator friend
Mandy when I Whatsapp her about it, ' that's imposter syndrome. I've had it for years!"
" Have you?" I say, trying to work
out if knowing that makes me feel better.
Because
strangely, in all my almost 50 years and with the eclectic and various jobs I have done in my life, I have never felt
this before.
Never felt so completely out of my depth, so lost in unfamiliar territory.
" How long does it last?" I ask one
of the other lecturers,
" What last?" he asks, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the academic journal he"s immersed in.
" This feeling that I shouldn't really be here."I say "will I ever feel that I'm actually knowledgable enough to do this job?"
" Well," he says, ' that's hard
to say..... "
“ I'm here for 11 months covering
maternity leave," I add , "so….ballpark figure? Just to give me hope.”
" Hm," he says, looking at
me in an academically wise and generically philosophical way, " that might not be
quite long enough."
For a moment he gazes out of the window at
the huge millions –of- pounds -worth of new academic building being constructed
opposite his room.
Then turning back he looks at me, smiles supportively and after careful consideration, offers me a biscuit.
" For me," he says," I think the first 5 years felt like I was a "wisdom imposter," but I kept telling myself that it didn't matter
because at least I had worked in the field recently, so I knew more about the job than most of the other people here. But now, all these years on, I feel like an imposter because
it's so long since I've worked in the field that I'm completely out of touch."
And there it is, the Catch 22 of academia.
You lecture so that you can train students
to enter careers but you stop knowing anything current and practical about
those careers because you are lecturing.
At least I know now that I won’t be here long enough to change from being a "wisdom imposter," to being a " hands-on-experience imposter.
Being one type of imposter is enough for a lifetime.
And I don’t think I’ll mind when I have to leave
All this trying to sound
knowledgable and wearing a fake mantel of expert.... it’s exhausting.
I find myself watching hours of mindless
sitcoms every night, just to redress the balance.
“It’s not so bad,” says the other
lecturer, sensing my pain, “ you get to eat lots of biscuits….and you don’t have
to talk to that many people.”
Munching on a Digestive, I consider his
words.
He’s right, you don’t have to talk to that
many people…which is strange considering that to be a lecturer you are meant to be good at imparting information and talking to students.
But the truth is, apart from delivering
the odd lecture, academics work mostly in isolation, immersed in their own
research and lost in a world that can sometimes seem detached from reality.
And for them, the worst and most irritating part of the
imposter in me, must be my constant desire to chat, my constant craving for
human interaction.
But it's not just that.
One of the things I miss most of
all about my last job ( and with rose-tinted hindsight you always miss a lot )
is the laughter.
The laughter and the huge amount we all
cared about each other.
It's the little things that make the difference.
Remembering to ask how someone got on in a driving test, bringing in a bunch of flowers for someone who is sad, asking how someone's poorly mother is or remembering to ask how a son or daughter got on in an exam.
Knowing when a smile or a hug can make a difference or when people just need space and a safe place to cry.
They're little things but the difference they make is huge.
It's the difference between feeling listened to and valued or feeling like an imposter.
There is truth in the saying that it’s only when you’ve lost something that
you realise how valuable it was.
Even when what you have purposefully lost is the job you used to do.
But imposter syndrome aside, I do know how
lucky I am.
I have a job that some people strive all
their lives to be offered.
I have time to prepare for lectures.
I’m interested in what I do.
My colleagues are clever and interesting.
I have my own desk.
I can work from home whenever I want.
I have six weeks holiday a year.
It's almost perfect.
And yet…I know already that I will never
feel as though I truly belong.
That’s the thing about being an
imposter….you can never really take off your mask….except, maybe, to eat the odd
biscuit.
