When I was working on my dissertation, my university hosted its first Three-Minute Thesis competition.
Created by the University of Queensland, the premise of the competition is simple:
1 dissertation explained in 3 minutes with 1 presentation slide.
My research focused on how high school English teachers teach African American/Black literature, and I had to convey the significance of that to a general audience.
Somehow, I had to figure out how to get the audience on board and carry them with me through those three minutes.
So, I sat down and pondered.
How could I connect this topic of literature, education, and representation to an audience who hasn’t been immersed in it, to an audience who probably has been out of school for years?
I had to bring my dissertation within their world. So that’s how I proceeded:
“Imagine looking at a flower garden through a camera lens.”
Then, I talked them through the differences they’d see through when zoomed in and zoomed out on that garden.
“And now, you see the specific features of those flowers, the water accumulation on the petals and on the leaves.”
From there, after establishing the problem of remaining either zoomed in or out, I carried the audience into my research: now take this concept and apply it to the teaching of Black literature.
I had them now. And with that presentation, I carried home the 1st place award.
Narrative sells. Narrative connects. Narrative works.
If you’re looking to add power and accessibility to your words, then look no further than narrative/story.
For guidance on incorporating narrative/story to your research and presentations, I highly advise you to listen to David P. Otey in his podcast The Power of Story & Science. He and his guests will walk through the process and the benefits.
I find myself still relying on the power of story to reach and teach my audience.
As a professional writing consultant at North Carolina Central University, I conduct in-class presentations to introduce students to the university’s writing studio.
Originally, I gave them just the facts:
Here’s what we do, what we don’t do, and why we do it.
Informative, perhaps, but boring. That approach wasn’t sticking. I was just going through a bulleted list. My details felt disconnected.
As a result, I wasn’t convincing the students that the Writing Studio had value to them personally.
They heard the facts but didn’t see themselves in them.
So I couched the facts of the Writing Studio within a couple of recent student experiences.
“Myles, a sophomore, came to the studio a few weeks ago looking for help with organizing his thoughts. And we at the Writing Studio certainly help with that and with ___ and ____ as well. So I sat down with Myles, and we talked through his writing together. You’ll find that the Writing Studio is a collaborative space that has teaching at its core. Each session, you’ll walk away having learned something new. In particular, Myles was struggling with…”
Now, that narrative approach had power. Students could now identify with Myles and see themselves in the story. They could see how the Writing Studio could help them.
But here’s what’s interesting.
I didn’t change the facts of the Writing Studio.
They remained the same.
I just folded them into a story to be more digestible.
And my mindset changed. I shifted from sharing information to sharing a story. Because of that narrative vehicle, the details became much easier for me to remember.
As you’re working on your dissertation chapters or your conference presentations, you might find yourself staring down disconnected facts. Sure, you understand them. But what about everybody else?
