academic whining
There is something about me that is physically opposed to the notion of revision.
My brain is wholly aware that being given the opportunity to re-work or even entirely re-write a paper is absolutely incredible. It means learning from and correcting the mistakes of an earlier draft, and ultimately producing a stronger, sleeker, better paper in the process. It means that there is always room for growth, and for reflection -- both in terms of my own skill set as an analyst of literature, and in terms of my developing abilities as a writer of academic prose. It means that I will not be judged on my first, amateur-ish attempt, but rather on the sum of what I can accomplish when guided by the thoughtful critique of others far more advanced in my field.
And yet somehow my body doesn't get this. Every time I'm handed back a paper with comments and suggestions, I experience an intense moment of physical anxiety-bordering-on-revulsion. My stomach turns, my palms sweat, my heart beats a little too fast and irregular. To call it "discomforting" or "disconcerting" is to merely scratch at the surface. The problem is that, despite all of the things that are awesome about being able to revise a paper, before getting to the realization of that privilege, I first have to admit that the paper I turned in was imperfect enough to require correction.
Now don't get me wrong, I know that the papers I turn in are far from polished (though I do strive to make them as good as I possibly can). But I also inevitably care, often very deeply, about the opinions of the people who are providing comments and critique on these papers. Generally my self-esteem and self-confidence levels are very high, and I don't really care what others think of me -- but I have a minor idol-worship issue where it comes to certain professors, and thus, they are exceptions. As much as I know that their commentary is entirely directed toward encouraging me to improve myself -- which says, if not always in so many words, that they care (perhaps also rather deeply) about me -- my gut response is to be frustrated with myself for potentially disappointing their expectations, and to worry that they may form less-than-flattering judgments of me based on the work they've seen me do.
Not to mention, half the time I also am at least a little sick and tired of the paper in question (especially shortly after its completion), and I want the time to be able to flush it from my system and distance myself from it before returning. Unfortunately, that's not always possible -- and I also know that if I spend too much time away, I won't come back.
It's stupid. It's something I'm working on. But it's something that seizes me EVERY SINGLE TIME I am working on a paper that involves revision and response to professor commentary. At this moment, I am doing everything I can (including writing this post!) to put off reading my professor's comments on the seminar paper I'm planning to transform into my MA thesis. I plan on working closely with her over the next few months to make this paper better and I know that this is the first step along the way. But I just don't want to do it, no matter how much I know I must, because my bodily reaction of minor terror gets in the way of the higher reasoning structures of my brain.
I'm sort of hoping that this will get better with time, because if in twenty years I still feel this way when senior colleagues in my department make comments on my newest book chapters, etc., I have probably chosen a rather unhealthy profession...
ETA: Of course the comments were 90% positive, nothing to be afraid of, genuinely supportive and enthusiastic and helpful, etc. They usually are. But the pre-revision anxiety does not acknowledge this fact, not one bit.
My brain is wholly aware that being given the opportunity to re-work or even entirely re-write a paper is absolutely incredible. It means learning from and correcting the mistakes of an earlier draft, and ultimately producing a stronger, sleeker, better paper in the process. It means that there is always room for growth, and for reflection -- both in terms of my own skill set as an analyst of literature, and in terms of my developing abilities as a writer of academic prose. It means that I will not be judged on my first, amateur-ish attempt, but rather on the sum of what I can accomplish when guided by the thoughtful critique of others far more advanced in my field.
And yet somehow my body doesn't get this. Every time I'm handed back a paper with comments and suggestions, I experience an intense moment of physical anxiety-bordering-on-revulsion. My stomach turns, my palms sweat, my heart beats a little too fast and irregular. To call it "discomforting" or "disconcerting" is to merely scratch at the surface. The problem is that, despite all of the things that are awesome about being able to revise a paper, before getting to the realization of that privilege, I first have to admit that the paper I turned in was imperfect enough to require correction.
Now don't get me wrong, I know that the papers I turn in are far from polished (though I do strive to make them as good as I possibly can). But I also inevitably care, often very deeply, about the opinions of the people who are providing comments and critique on these papers. Generally my self-esteem and self-confidence levels are very high, and I don't really care what others think of me -- but I have a minor idol-worship issue where it comes to certain professors, and thus, they are exceptions. As much as I know that their commentary is entirely directed toward encouraging me to improve myself -- which says, if not always in so many words, that they care (perhaps also rather deeply) about me -- my gut response is to be frustrated with myself for potentially disappointing their expectations, and to worry that they may form less-than-flattering judgments of me based on the work they've seen me do.
Not to mention, half the time I also am at least a little sick and tired of the paper in question (especially shortly after its completion), and I want the time to be able to flush it from my system and distance myself from it before returning. Unfortunately, that's not always possible -- and I also know that if I spend too much time away, I won't come back.
It's stupid. It's something I'm working on. But it's something that seizes me EVERY SINGLE TIME I am working on a paper that involves revision and response to professor commentary. At this moment, I am doing everything I can (including writing this post!) to put off reading my professor's comments on the seminar paper I'm planning to transform into my MA thesis. I plan on working closely with her over the next few months to make this paper better and I know that this is the first step along the way. But I just don't want to do it, no matter how much I know I must, because my bodily reaction of minor terror gets in the way of the higher reasoning structures of my brain.
I'm sort of hoping that this will get better with time, because if in twenty years I still feel this way when senior colleagues in my department make comments on my newest book chapters, etc., I have probably chosen a rather unhealthy profession...
ETA: Of course the comments were 90% positive, nothing to be afraid of, genuinely supportive and enthusiastic and helpful, etc. They usually are. But the pre-revision anxiety does not acknowledge this fact, not one bit.