I’m changing jobs and schools next year in preparation for more time with family—and all these changes have provided a great opportunity for reflection. Many friends at ABLE asked, “Will you be back next year?” For now, my answer is still “Gee, I don’t know… but I’d sure miss it…” The pang I feel when I say that, however, offers a great chance to reflect on WHY I love attending ABLE meetings. Better yet, after bringing a new colleague to this year’s ABLE, I’ve also had an opportunity to see ABLE through fresh eyes.
So… what sets ABLE meetings apart?
The workshops, of course, are fantastic. Where else can you do others’ lab exercises with your own hands, ask the author him/herself for clarification, get lists of suppliers and ordering information, and “feel” firsthand what your students will experience in doing a lab… for three days in a row? At the end of each conference, we all walk away with a fantastic binder full of ALL the protocols—even for workshops we couldn’t attend—as well as email addresses for all the authors. And in my experience, these are people who always write back—sometimes multiple times, often with more information than you asked for (but exactly what you needed to know).
Delivering a workshop is also a great experience. I’ve only done it twice, but both times I’ve received feedback that has ultimately improved my labs—both for publication and (more importantly) for their execution by students back home. Writing up a lab for your teaching peers offers a different perspective from writing up a student handout for class, and usually prompts me to learn about something I’d neglected, or fill in a gap I’d overlooked. What has impressed me both times I’ve presented is the constructive tone of feedback at ABLE. Even when I feel like an idiot for overlooking something fairly obvious, the suggestions I’ve received are positive and gentle—more than I feel I deserved. After ABLE, my labs always evolve for the better. It also doesn’t hurt my ego at all to run into people at our meetings, year after year, who tell me they are still using one of my labs, or offer further suggestions. What a great way to have an impact on education!
The primary benefit of belonging to ABLE and attending the annual meeting, however, is the people. While every meeting typically brings in a couple hundred attendees, there’s a core group that appears at every meeting—and we get to know each other surprisingly well in those 4-6 days each year. Even when I don’t know names, I recognize more faces each year: “Oh! I had a great conversation with you last year! How are you?” I can say with confidence that there’s no other conference I’ve attended in which other participants yell my name and come jogging over to give me a hug. (I lost track of how many times that happened this year. Aw, shucks…) It’s like an annual reunion with a bunch of like-minded friends. At the end of each conference, I wish I could take them all back home with me. (Why not have a biology department of a hundred or so creative, talented people?? Then again, I don’t think I could afford to feed all of you. Box lunches, anyone?)
I don’t mean to suggest that ABLE is a mere hugfest—we don’t generally sit around and sing Kumbaya. The spirit of the meeting—and the people—however, does foster a certain kind of bond and close interactions. As my colleague observed, “People don’t seem to come to this meeting, present, and then leave like they do at some other research meetings.” Indeed, you’ll hear presenters bemoaning the other sessions they’re missing while they lead their own workshop—and some of us find ourselves presenting partly as an excuse just to come to ABLE so we can attend others’ workshops. People at ABLE are engaged and present—they listen to each other closely, offer tips, suggestions, and support. On the whole, ABLE members love teaching, and love to share what they know with others. Some of the best tips and tricks are gleaned outside of the workshops, over lunch or breaks. (As an example, the workshop I presented with Kristi Teagarden this year resulted, ultimately, from a conversation with Patty Aune two years ago, at the Hayden-McNeill reception!)
Every year I leave ABLE feeling more positive than when I arrived. No matter what obstacles we face individually—whether it’s career changes, the logistical challenges of high enrollment, or academic politics—there is someone else at ABLE in a similar situation or with relevant experience. Many years I’ve departed feeling glad for my job: not only because I’d rather face the obstacles I knew than some of the ones I’d heard about, but also because I had new ideas for how to approach those challenges. Even shared “war stories” at ABLE have a different tone: they almost never descend into competitive whining matches—at least not for long. Instead, almost inevitably, the focus shifts to what we CAN do, what we CAN change, and what we DO have. So… who can blame me for being a bit over-enthusiastic, when I’m part of such a positive, creative, can-do group?
It’s great to be part of ABLE. If I’m not back next year, I’ll be back soon!
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