As ASP folks, we probably spend a lot of time talking students down from their raging imposter syndrome. Imposter syndrome is defined as someone having, “repeated feelings or thoughts that they are incompetent or not good enough, despite evidence to the contrary.[1]”
In ASP, we often see students who worry that they don’t belong in law school, or that they will never be a good lawyer. I address it upfront during orientation when I tell my 100+ captive 1Ls that our admissions office is one of the best in the country and that they don’t make mistakes.[2]
But what about the feeling as ASP professionals that we don’t belong? I feel it in faculty meetings and leading committees.[3] I feel it when everyone’s salary is benchmarked but ours. I feel it when colleagues forget that not everyone is tenure track. Am I an equal member of this community? Surely, if it was calculated by the amount of work I get done, I should almost be in charge here. But alas, in an unfortunate throwback to the class president race in 7th grade, that is not the metric we use. Nothing feeds imposter syndrome like actually being treated like you are insignificant. [4]
As Joseph Heller said, “[j]ust because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.[5]”
Yesterday, we held our graduation celebration. I love graduation because the students that I know struggled the most will finally feel that they are deserving of this degree. I love cheering extra loud for my students-they may have taken the scenic route, but they have arrived at the same destination.
At my institution, the attending faculty gathers in a tent before we process to the stage for the ceremony, and put on our robes, hoods, and poofy hats. They offer us snacks and beverages.[6] We discuss grading and summer plans. It is usually quite convivial. Usually. Except, yesterday I tried to engage with some doctrinal colleagues in the faculty tent and felt excluded, unwanted, and unworthy. When I talked no one answered-it was like I wasn’t there at all. While there were others whose every word was carefully absorbed. I did a quick imposter syndrome self-frisk to see if I was interpreting this using a defeated mindset, but I didn’t think I was. No one noticed when I walked away.
Do I know exactly what these folks were thinking? No. But I do know that whether or not I did was no concern of theirs at the moment. Do I usually talk with these folks? Not really. But here we all were, at a moment of joy and celebration-in the same tent-in the same ridiculous outfit-and I truly thought for a moment that we were the same. We had all contributed to getting our students to this point and should be glad as a community to see them off.
The academic hierarchy is an outdated system of privilege. It gives earned (and sometimes unearned) advantages to the usual suspects in the privilege game and leaves out the same folks who are always on the margins. Perhaps their imposter syndrome is why some colleagues cling to it so tightly. Nonetheless, making others feel small in order to feel big is pathetic.
I am looking forward to learning more about how I can avoid this kind of interaction, and make sure that I am judged on my merits, my work, and my contribution to getting students across the finish line at this week’s AASE Conference. I am looking forward to seeing you there-and I promise you are absolutely welcome in any conversations we will be having!!
Remember, without the margins, you cannot contain the text within.
(Liz Stillman)
[1] https://www.mcleanhospital.org/essential/impostor-syndrome
[2] Making it seem insulting to us somehow works. Of course we make mistakes, but this seems to break the ice….
[3] And I know not everyone has these “opportunities” (to do so much more unrecognized work….)
[4] And to be very clear, not everyone is like this. Some folks who live in “tenure town” are just lovely.
[5] https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2016/aug/09/reading-group-catch-22-by-joseph-heller
[6] Usually, a mistake as there are no convenient bathrooms and it is a long ceremony!
