Something I wish I knew this going in as a UX Instructional Associate
Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before.
Why were the teacher’s eyes crossed? She couldn’t control her pupils.
Okay, cheesy teacher joke aside. Those of you who know me already know that I love what I do — Product and interaction design. It’s an obsession. But what I also enjoy doing is passing off knowledge about what I do and what I’ve learned, so the practice of it isn’t the center of this talk, but rather the method of teaching in a classroom setting, subject matter notwithstanding.
I recently concluded a 3-month gig at a tech Bootcamp as a User Experience(UX) Design Instructional Associate. If you were curious, you just might ask, “So James, how was the experience? Did you enjoy it? What were the key takeaways that you could apply going forward?
It was both exhilarating and traumatic.
It was an experience to which I was ill-prepared. I didn’t receive ample time for class prep; instead, I was approached for the position Thursday, Interview, and orientation the next and class starting in less than 48 hours that following Monday as a last-minute replacement, but no one is at fault here, it just is.
It was one of the most challenging journeys I would partake, more than fighting MMA and Muay Thai and more than making a career change as I did three years ago. And I’m going to tell you something I wish I knew going in as an instructional associate for those next ten weeks at the Bootcamp
The sun does not measure its light by the shadow it casts.
Celebrate the things that you do accomplish and recognize the good!
In those first few weeks after starting the cohort, I was on cloud 9. Some of my tasks included providing support to my lead co-instructors and giving emotional support to overwhelmed students, being that I was once a student in the same program myself. I was also to answer questions about UX when my co-leads were busy.
During field research, while working a holistic problem-solving exercise, which can be challenging, the students would inevitably approach the instruction team for help. I was more than happy to help them out and answer all their questions to the best of my abilities
A marker of a good teacher is not giving the right answer but guide the student towards formulating their own. And then have them present evidence on how they arrived at that solution. UX lives in ambiguity because there’s more than one right answer on a case by case basis. There are a thousand ways to skin a cat. I followed this practice in giving “non-answer direction” and about a third of the students didn’t like what I had to say.
The feedback anonymously received from some of these pupils was a punch to the gut. In response I shifted, pivoted, took a step back as not to ruffle any feathers. I decided to diminish my role in facilities and support and be vulnerable; let them be aware that I didn’t know everything so we could find the answers together.
This group was making it difficult for me to be the teacher I imagined I would be.
Subsequent feedback a few weeks later, however, proved even worse, as my adjustments only gave them fodder to further personally criticize me. I mean, what’s a fella to do?
“I don’t understand how James was chosen to be an IA; he doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about; doesn’t give direct answers, and when he does, they are not aligned with what the other instructors had given.”
“He is overeager to share, and it makes me uncomfortable.”-
Among the milder comments to name a few.
Flashback, a few years ago, before design, I was scared, no, petrified of taking that plunge. I had this notion that people would find out and stigmatize my lifelong struggles with my autism spectrum disorder along with my challenges with verbal and non-verbal communication that came with it. When I finally risked the chance, I diligently worked to address this problem through talk and cognitive behavioural therapy, medication, and joining 3 Toastmasters clubs. Today, I thought I could mask the problem, and I thought okay, look how far I’ve come, I’m good now. I’m normal, and I think I can manage this.
I was wrong.
I’ll admit that I am hypersensitive, but I can also take constructive criticism if it helps me do a better job. You can criticize my work all day to beat the band, but this, - it was personal, and it cut to the quick. Thinking I left my struggles in the past, those comments brought back a forgotten lifetime of pain, disappointment, and humiliation returning to the surface. My dark passenger reappeared,
“Now you see, don’t you? What I told you from the beginning? They found you out, freak, and now your fraud has been exposed.”
I felt exposed.
This small band of anonymous students with whom I did not share my unique communication style and did not recognize my value spoke deafeningly louder than the other fantastic two thirds who did. It was then that their It was like being a comedian or an entertainer at a concert who is killing their performance; however, they can’t help but zero-in the one attendee responding not with enthusiasm, but with arms crossed and a look of indifference or worst, disdain.
Was I angry? Was I frustrated, Sad? Yes, for a hot minute.
So what did I do?
I stewed on this for the weekend, maybe two. I made another pivot and focused on the few students with whom I mattered. I prefaced conversations with them by asking if they needed clarity or needed me to rephrase the statement/question as I am aware of nuances in my communication style that can get misinterpreted regardless of my intentions.
I took on a different approach and framed my context in a more positive way, which is conducive to a safe and open dialogue.
I reminded myself to assess my engagement with others, make mental adjustments, make the appropriate response based on those conversations, long-forgotten techniques from my days doing CBT sessions.
As with those on the spectrum, we crave structure and hierarchy because we instinctively see the world in only absolutes, Yes/No, black and white, either-or. So living in the grey has been especially challenging for me- and this endless battle grind as a life-long work in progress is something I have come to accept.
I practiced flexibility in balancing openness and keeping my guard according to the situation. In other words, to “read the room.” Well, it’s simple for most people; I have to work a little harder, but I have never hidden away from hard work, and I came to the realization that this was similar to when I first made that risky decision to get into design. I was terrified, but I kept grinding as this was just another hurdle which to get over.
As a result, I was able to establish relationships with those who were receptive to my feedback. I had meaningful conversations with those who were flexible with me and let those who weren’t, be.
It gave me a high to see these design apprentices learn, grow, and get to that Aha moment where they can attach themselves to a part of the broad spectrum known as UX design. Some of the students even respected me enough to request recommendations. It fills me with pride that I had a hand in inspiring younger designers as they move into their new careers.
The sun does not measure its light by the shadow it casts.
Celebrate the things that you do accomplish and recognize the good!
I can’t make everybody like me. So I focus on the ones who do. And keep the door open to those who don’t.
I have since become stronger from that experience as an instructor and continually try to compare myself to who I was yesterday and not to who someone else is today.
Now the real question is, was it worth the heartache and heartbreak to go through teaching? Would I do it teach?
In a Bloody Heartbeat.
