AERA and NCME

I am just coming back from the AERA and NCME Annual Meetings in Los Angeles, CA, United States (and have recovered from my red-eye), and wanted to share a bit about my experience.

While I had presented at and attended conferences before, the 2023 annual meetings in Chicago changed everything. At the time, my life looked very different. I was working full-time as a data analyst and hadn’t yet started grad school. Just weeks earlier, I had turned down my dream school in educational research and measurement (a decision that absolutely crushed me...happy to chat more about that 1:1). I went to Chicago carrying that weight, but I was also really excited to nerd out.

I was very fortunate to have the opportunity to go, and I just wanted to be a sponge. Before I left, I heard a lot of well-meaning warnings: that AERA was a “big conference," and I’d need to "collaborate with an important faculty member" if I ever wanted to present there; that NCME was for “heavy quant people” and I might "find it intimidating" (even though I had taken several stats courses already by that time). I appreciated the concern, but I was still curious and very excited.

That was one of the greatest weeks of my life, despite wearing heels on the first day (lol). I bounced from session to session, crossed the river more times than I can count, and fully leaned into the chaos of conference geography.

Well, I’ve attended AERA and NCME every year since, and somewhere along the way, I found my rhythm: AERA at the beginning and end, NCME in the middle. Posters (with headphones), then a session, then back to posters (headphones off), maybe a roundtable, a quick stop at the exhibit hall (headphones back on), then outside for a reset. Then, repeat! You’ll only ever find me in sneakers (Heels are no longer part of the packing list). And I always make time for the free headshot (if nothing else, to track the progress of my locs year over year).

I’ve been to other conferences, across the US and in different countries. NCME isn’t intimidating anymore. It’s my first academic home. It's not perfect (nothing is), but it still feels like home for me.

This year, I didn’t attend GSIC sessions; I helped run them as a GSIC co-chair. I’m still an analyst, but I'm in a new office with more visibility and now balancing more responsibility across multiple offices, two jobs, and the final stretch of my PhD.  This year was also full of firsts. I chaired sessions for the first time (2 of them). I presented my own paper at AERA (And as it turns out, I didn’t need an “important faculty member” to get my paper accepted after all). AND AND ANDDDD I served as a discussant at an NCME session which was way out of my comfort zone.

Getting to LA was smooth (Shout out to the Logan Airport). I made time for myself first...Lakers game, LA Sparks merch, Academy Awards museum, the ocean, scooters, and briefly pretended like I was in an episode of Beverly Hills 90210. Then, honestly, the next four days were a blur: chairing sessions, running the NCME graduate student eBoard competition, tracking down judges, managing the reception, finalizing discussant remarks, presenting, and walking miles between hotels, usually starting at 7:30 a.m. and ending around 10 p.m. E X H A U S T I N G!!!

Being a GSIC co-chair was incredibly meaningful. It was also a lot. Months of planning, writing scripts, organizing meetings and webinars, documenting everything for the next team, and making sure all the small details actually came together. But what most people didn’t see was everything happening alongside it. I wasn’t just a student: I was balancing two jobs, multiple responsibilities across offices, and still showing up fully in this role. There were days where I was switching between meetings, deadlines, and decisions nonstop and holding things together on the outside while quietly figuring it out in real time.

When working with large groups, learning how to navigate different working styles, expectations, communication gaps, and timelines that don’t always align is challenging. Additionally, it was difficult to figure out when to push, when to step back, when to compromise, and when to stand firm. This year made me more patient and more aware of what it actually takes to build something special with others.

It also meant being a sounding board for other grad students navigating academics, emotions, finances, etc. while managing my own version of the same things. By the end, I was tired. But I was also proud of the work, the people, and of the space we created.

And then there are the people who made that experience what it was. They all mean a great deal to me in ways that they may not fully understand. Amy, the past president, is the kind of person who shifts a room without trying. The first time I met her in person, she went in for a hug instead of a handshake and then chose to sit with graduate students, rather than with those who are seemingly more established and accomplished. It did not feel performative. It just seems like she is a kind and curious person who deeply cares about including various perspectives in shaping the future of research and measurement. Susan has a way of making you feel heard without slowing you down or rushing you through. At a reception, after what had clearly been a long day, she came over to me and two friends and gave us her full attention. She listened, asked thoughtful questions, and respectfully spoke up when she did not agree with some comments. I walked away feeling like she heard us. And Brian was steady all year in a way that doesn’t always get recognized but absolutely matters. He showed up CONSISTENTLY. He responded, helped us think through tough decisions, and made time even when he didn’t have much of it. There was never a question of whether he’d be there. He just was, and it means more to me than he will ever know.

The final day came quickly. I chaired a 7:45 a.m. AERA session, gave my own presentation, and ended the week the same way I had spent much of itwith ramen (fourth time!!). Then came the delayed red-eye back to Boston (Woof!!!).

And as I often ask when reviewing papers: what’s the significance? What’s the “so what?"

For me, it’s this: say yes to the experience, even when it’s messy. Chicago in 2023 wasn’t perfect. This year CERTAINLY wasn’t either, but somewhere in the long days, the constant movement, and the moments that didn’t go as planned, I found some of the most meaningful parts of this journey.

I’ve learned that “home” doesn’t mean perfect alignment. It means being in a space where there’s room for difference. NCME isn’t a perfect academic fit for me, and that’s fine. I bring a different lens, and in return, I’m pushed to sharpen it. I’ve had to make space for perspectives that don’t always show up in a model or a table, and stand on their value even when they aren’t the easiest to quantify. This year has made me more precise, and taught me that it's OK to celebrate the smallest of wins. 

Somewhere between Chicago and now, being unsure and being responsible for making things run, I learned more about the work, people, and about myself. I hope I did right by the people who trusted me, showed up, made space for me, and who made this experience what it was. Serving this community was an honor.
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And now… I’m going to get some rest. Finally!