From Dread to Joy: Why Conferences Are Worth the Stress (And How to Make Them Better)
Why Academic Conferences Are Professional Fuel, Not Professional Interruption
I'm writing this a week before heading to ISB (International Symposium on Bilingualism), a five-day conference where I'll give two presentations, introduce a keynote speaker, and moderate a panel. By all accounts, I should be feeling my usual pre-conference dread—that familiar anxiety about taking time away from my "real work" of writing papers and conducting research.
Instead, I'm genuinely excited. And that shift has taught me something important about how we approach conferences and why they matter more than we often realize.
The Familiar Cycle: Why We Dread What We Actually Love
Most academics and researchers know this pattern well. In the weeks leading up to a conference, I typically go through the same mental gymnastics. I regret committing to present (especially when it's multiple presentations). I procrastinate on preparing my slides, then panic about my unfocused presentation the night before. I question whether this trip will derail my writing schedule, whether the networking will be awkward, whether I'll have anything meaningful to contribute.
The irony is that once I'm actually at the conference, I remember why I love what I do. I sit in sessions that spark new ideas for my research. I have conversations that shift my perspective on problems I've been wrestling with for months. I reconnect with colleagues I haven't seen in years, and these reunions add genuine joy to my professional life. By the final day, I'm energized about my work in ways that weeks of solitary writing rarely achieve.
This emotional whiplash—from pre-conference anxiety to conference fulfillment—reveals something important about how we think about professional development and what counts as "real work."
The "Real Work" Trap
There's a persistent myth in academia that conferences distract from our primary responsibilities. We think of research and writing as the serious work, while conferences feel like professional socializing—nice to have, but not essential. This mindset treats conference attendance as time stolen from productivity rather than time invested in it.
But this semester, as I filled out my annual productivity report, I was reminded of something crucial. My college measures departmental productivity across several categories, and conference presentations are explicitly counted. The more productive our department appears, the more travel funding we receive to continue attending conferences. It's a reminder that institutions recognize what individual academics sometimes forget: conferences aren't separate from our work—they're integral to it.
The most innovative research doesn't happen in isolation. It emerges from the cross-pollination of ideas, the serendipitous conversations, the moments when someone else's work illuminates a blind spot in your own thinking. Conferences create the conditions for these breakthrough moments in ways that solitary research simply cannot.
What Changes When You Plan Strategically
My excitement about ISB this year stems from a different approach to conference preparation. Instead of treating the conference as something that happens to me, I've made intentional choices about how to experience it.
First, I prepared my presentations well in advance. Those last-minute PowerPoint sessions the night before don't just create stress—they prevent me from being fully present during the conference itself. When I'm worried about my presentation, I'm not listening as carefully to others or engaging as authentically in conversations.
Second, I'm treating this conference as an opportunity to strengthen relationships, not just present research. I organized a dinner for Rutgers colleagues—current faculty, PhD alumni, and new graduate students. This isn't just social; it's professional community-building that extends far beyond the formal conference sessions.
Third, I chose this conference partly because it's in a location where I can visit friends and family. Mixing professional travel with personal connections makes the entire experience more meaningful and sustainable.
These aren't productivity hacks, they are reminders of how some parts of work need to be fulfilling, or our creativity would be stifled otherwise.
The Joy Factor: Why This Actually Matters
Here's what I've learned about the difference between dreading conferences and looking forward to them: the joy isn't incidental to professional development—it's central to it.
When I leave a conference feeling energized and inspired, I don't just return to my research with new ideas. I return with renewed motivation to continue this work. The conversations with colleagues remind me why these questions matter. The innovative presentations challenge me to think more creatively about my own projects. The reconnection with friends in the field reinforces that I'm part of a community working on problems I care deeply about.
This emotional sustenance is particularly crucial in academia, where the work can be isolating and the path uncertain. Conferences provide regular reminders of why we chose this profession and who we're doing this work alongside. They're not just professional development—they're professional renewal.
Rethinking Conference Value
The next time you're debating whether to attend a conference or feeling guilty about the time it takes away from "real work," consider reframing the question. Instead of asking whether you can afford to take time away from research, ask whether you can afford not to invest in the relationships, ideas, and inspiration that keep your research vital.
Conferences, approached strategically and embraced fully, aren't interruptions to your best work. They're fuel for it.