Presentation Day.

First Talk as a Researcher

That’s it. I’ve officially delivered my first ever talk as a researcher.

And yes, it was nerve-wracking. But it was also everything I had hoped it would be.

First, the like-minded people:

Being surrounded by professionals who share my values, people who are genuinely committed to the success of their learners, was the best audience I could have wished for.

Then there were the important people: the governors, the boss’s boss, and all those who needed to scrutinise my work from the past year and decide whether it had been worth the time (and money).

And, of course, my research lead, who I really didn’t want to let down.

The day didn’t start well. My car had a puncture, and I had to rush home to swap for my husband’s car (luckily, he didn’t need it that day). I then drove into the centre of Cardiff to teach my learners until 12pm, knowing I had to be back and ready to present by 1pm.

What should have been a 30-minute drive turned into nearly an hour of stress, and I almost missed the start of my own presentation.

With seconds to spare, I set up my laptop and finally exhaled. Because as soon as I looked up, I realised this wasn’t a place of judgement, it was a room filled with kindness, curiosity, and support. I could feel it radiating from my colleagues.

And I suppose that makes sense. When we’re researching how best to help our learners thrive, it’s because we care. Deeply. We just want to showcase and support the very best in them.

I’d feared so much beforehand. Technical issues (there were none). Endless questioning of my methods or intentions (that didn’t happen). But most of all, I feared not being accepted as a “real” researcher.

But I spoke with as much honesty as I could. I shared everything I felt was important. I presented my results clearly, and I held nothing back.

And now, looking back, I can see, it was worth it.

I had nothing to fear.
I was good enough.
I had taken pride in my project and could hold my head high. Because if my learners are better off for what I did, then that’s enough for me. More than enough.

Now that the writing part is nearly finished, I feel a wave of sadness. This page is turning. And although I’m ready to move on, I wonder what I’ll do with all this time to myself.

No doubt Polly dog will enjoy having me to herself a little more.