Bryan Humiliation Stories, Part 1 [Bryan]

I've decided that I want to become a better storyteller. When I talk about myself, I seem so vapid and lame, as if nothing ever interesting has happened to me. Well, there might be some truth to the idea that nothing interesting has ever happened to me. The thing is, an interesting life is not always just lived, but made after the fact through the process of storytelling. As you tell the story of your life, you start to realize things about your life that suddenly make your story interesting. Little connections here and there, a fleeting realization, the development of a plot. Suddenly a person is changed into a Lincoln, a Churchill, an Einstein. A parade of trivia is turned into a great life quest! At least that is my hope.

Here is the story I want to practice today: my first academic humiliation.

So there I was. The year was 2003 and I had just finished my masters degree at UIUC. I was, on the outside, young, confident, and intellectually brash, but inside I was a quivering mass of academic uncertainty. I had written a paper that brought together my interest in Greek literature with my interest in education. It was a wild little essay entitled "Creon's Decree and the Ethics of Educational Policy." I still think it was a good paper. It dealt with King Creon in Sophocle's play the Antigone and his tragic attempt to educate his city about civic duty. I was very unsure of my ability at presenting my work before critical audiences. I feared humiliation. I mustered courage, though, swallowed hard and sent off my paper to be reviewed at a small, regional conference. After a few weeks, I found out the paper had been accepted and, not only that, I had won the graduate student award for best paper. My confidence grew.

The day of the conference, I got up early and drove to Chicago. I arrived a few hours before my presentation and, since I had time to kill, went to hear a few other presentations. I was not impressed. The other papers seemed derivative and boring, especially in comparison to my award-winning essay on Greek political philosophy. I was ready to make my splash.

When it was time for my presentation, I went to the assigned room and waited for the audience to trickle in. And boy did it ever. Once person came in. Then another. And another. Soon the room was filled to capacity, standing room only. I was nervous to be presenting to such a large group, but it was clear that this was my moment to shine. There they all sat, looking at me intently, ready to hear about my award-winning ideas. They had come to bask in to glow of this young graduate student's wisdom, and I was determined not to disappoint them.

Suddenly, one of the conference organizers appeared in the room. "Excuse me," he announced, "for those of you who haven't heard, Prof. Jones's talk on education reform has been moved to room 329. In this room, Bryan Warnick will be presenting on ethics and educational policy."

In unison, the entire audience stood up and left. At least forty people made as quick an exit as they could, eager to hear Prof. Jones pontificate about education reform. I was stunned. Before me sat three people. One of the people was breathing with the aid of an air tank and another person was his helper. They were not in the position to be move very easily, so they decided to stay at my presentation. So, in my first academic conference presentation, I unveiled my work to a grand total of one interested person. She alone saved me from the ultimate academic disgrace: a no-show, an empty room, row after row of completely deserted seats. Bless her soul, whoever see was. I meekly presented my paper, and hurried home.