Titles we give Ourselves
Whenever I fill out a form asking me to fill in my “occupation”, I pause, unsure what makes the most sense. The space given on any of these forms never gives enough room to actually write in what I do. Or arguably, what any of us does.
Typically I fill in Professor. Sometimes this feels like an antiquated term associated with older men wearing blazers with arm patches and carrying satchels of books. Sometimes I get jokes about grading papers or single vs double spaced assignments. Most of which, does not apply to anything I do (or wear). Design Professor is more descriptive, and includes the field I work in. But this term usually leads to questions about if I teach interior design, how to design buildings, or make stuff. While these are all closer to what I do, I’m more interested in being a Systems Designer, than how to make posters or logos. Recently I’ve been more of a Design Strategist who educates students on how to design behaviors, interactions and environments that address wicked problems such as climate change. When I say all this, sometimes people like to show me their reusable tote bags or coffee mugs. While I might like their color choice, I’m more interested in the design of habit and behavior than the object, which still confuses some.
Technically though, I’m not actually even a Professor. In the very first job I had “teaching at the university level” I was given a form to fill out to have business cards printed up. Naively, I asked a colleague “what do I put as my title… professor?” Quickly I was put in my place and instructed that, at the time, I was a “lecturer” with no right calling myself “a professor”. It was then that I learned about the power and perception of rank, not just occupation. Some years later, and now at a different institution, I can confidently call myself an Associate Professor. While this carries weight in certain circles, I’m doubtful the people processing forms at insurance companies likely see the differences in any of these terms.
A few years ago I added another title, Department Chair, to this complicated line of occupation, which technically also includes Program Director, as I oversee both a program and a department in addition to teaching. Seeing these titles usually leads to assumptions about administration, power, and leadership, some of which are true. On occasion it leads to questions about if I have ambitions to be a Dean, a path I’m not sure about. This speaks to fact that sometimes what we see in this occupation box is not about the present, but about what came before or what might be next.
Professors (as well as Assistant Professors, Associate Professors, sometimes Lecturers, Instructors, and others in academia) don’t just teach, but are also Researchers. When I first began my “career”, my research took the form of visual artworks exhibited and displayed in galleries and museums. When I was in those spaces, I was seen as an Artist. I also did commercial work for various organizations where I was hired as a Designer. Over the course of my almost fifteen years in academia, I made less objects, and started doing more writing and speaking. I became an Editor of a book, a Contributing Writer, a Published Author, and Guest Speaker. Given that this fills a good portion of my time in addition to teaching and administering curriculum, should these terms go in this tiny box to describe what it is I do?
And yet, when I think of my entire day, none of what I’ve already described includes the countless hours spent preparing meals, packing backpacks, organizing play dates and swim lessons, trying to manage summer camps, pediatrician appointments, and school calendars, figuring out who needs to be picked up when, coordinating with my husband when one of us has to work early or late, parent volunteer hours, pot lucks, patching holes in beloved stuffed animals, making sure our two girls have everything they need (and usually more), while carrying the weight of a working Mother, being torn between worlds.
These titles so far refer to roles understood (even if superficially) on the outside, as to what we do. There’s also the many other titles that we carry on the inside, describing who we are. Sometimes these are told to us by others, gained through experiences, or repeated to ourselves only in our thoughts. I’ve had friends and colleagues refer to me as a Bad-Ass, a Powerhouse, and a natural Leader. I’ve also been told I was only hired because we needed to hire more women, that I’m not good enough, a failure, and that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been called aggressive, which depending on context could either be an angry bossy person or a strong woman in leadership. At times of doubt I’ve been told I suffer from imposter syndrome which which just makes me feel like, well, an imposture. Between my many hats, I’ve read my share academic research, self-help articles, parenting blogs, and everything else in between to know we internalize the negative far more than the positive, and that who we tell ourselves we are, is sometimes the most powerful. Balancing all of this is a difficult task.
We are all greater than the sum of our parts, and much greater than any individual title given to us. In my classroom it’s my job to prepare students for careers as designers. But I also strive to prepare them to do this as whole people. I am more than their professor, and they are more than my students, who will be more than whatever career they end up in. If we could see each other, and ourselves, for more than a one word occupation (or tweet, or post, or selfie), perhaps we’d have greater empathy and understanding for one another. Maybe the titles we tell ourselves internally would be more positive than negative, knowing we all are balancing more than is seen. Just as it’s easier for people to think of design as posters and objects, it’s easier to see each other as discrete slices. When I teach students about systems thinking and design for behaviors, this includes ourselves and how we interact in the world — externally, internally, and collectively.
So as I stare at this box asking me in the space of 2 inches to write in my occupation, I usually answer based on context and what it’s being used for. And as I review in my mind… Professor, Design Professor, Associate Professor, Department Chair, Program Director, Editor, Educator, Artist, Designer, Systems Designer, Design Educator, Speaker, Writer, Mother, Wife, Friend, Daughter, Sister, Volunteer, Failure, Imposture, Loser, Leader… I’m often tempted to simply write in “person”.
