Going to dinner with the speaker

It’s been a fairly mad few weeks even though mother is at home and doing well, so the ‘carer’ role isn’t as time-consuming as it could be. I’ve even done some writing. But then the Church of England went berserk over a not-very-pastoral statement from the House of Bishops which used up a lot of mental energy because I am part of this ‘Living in Love and Faith’ project about how the Church of England responds to questions around sexuality and gender identity, and over the past three years I’ve put many, many hours into going to meetings, writing, and reading drafts. The statement completely ignored and even undercut what LLF is doing, and the fallout is continuing as I write this.

Somewhere in the past few days, though, a moment came up on social media where I thought ‘Ooh, may be useful to blog about that’. An early-career academic posted about one of those activities of academic life which I’d conveniently managed to forget: taking the speaker out to dinner. Academic departments tend to have a weekly seminar in each subject, and some ‘lucky’ person gets to do the invitations, liaise with the speaker about travel, stress when it’s five minutes to go until the start time but nobody (even the speaker) has turned up, and then – at the end of a long day – takes the speaker to dinner, often with the Head of Department and a range of other colleagues in tow.

The point being made was that one often has far more important things to do than go to dinner with someone whose work isn’t even of that much personal interest. This is very true, especially if one has a long journey ahead and an early start the next day, or if one has family responsibilities to which to return. One of the extra tasks that came with being Head of Department was that one had to go out to these dinners. Sometimes the speaker was somebody I knew (and had even recommended for the list of speakers). Often, it wasn’t, but at least there was the prospect of finding out interesting things about other departments; not just the people, but any new initiatives in teaching. If nothing else, I felt I had to be there as an ambassador for my department, so that word spread in the Classics community about what we were doing. These dinners were sometimes memorable for all the wrong reasons, such as when a soft-drinks-only colleague got all huffy about splitting the bill equally because he hadn’t had the wine. Or when another colleague tried to rearrange the tables in the restaurant and the staff objected. However, often it was fun, and a great way to get to know colleagues of all levels more fully.

But should early career people not just be invited, but be expected to join in? When I was at Reading, we had an excellent policy of inviting postgrad students to come to dinner, and subsidising their costs by asking them only for a set contribution. Just to clarify, that meant paying from our own pockets to subsidise them, because the university would only pay for the visitor’s food. Undergraduates were also welcome, on the same terms, and for them it was a great introduction to what life could be like if they took their studies further. One of the reasons for taking students of any level (apart from the fact that they were often good company) was that it meant they met people from other universities, and had the opportunity to make useful connections – networking. And that applies even more to early career people. Those speakers they met could be those who would later invite them to present their work, and eventually assess their applications for higher degrees or of course for jobs.

Sometimes, however, it would just be me and the speaker, because everyone else had a reason for not going. This could be fine, or not, from my point of view, but I had the sense that speakers found it rather insulting. It was also a lost opportunity. Sure, we all have ‘better’ things to do: getting on top of the next day’s teaching, grading coursework, having a research moment, taking a break. On balance, though, much as I sometimes hated them, I think that these social events are a Good Thing for all concerned. My advice to those who really do think they have better uses for their time would be to contribute what they can to share in the wider social life of their department; if they can’t make evening events, then how about having a cup of something with the speaker before the seminar? Academia can be hideous and cut-throat, but it can also be social and fun.