Accepting rejections

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Lima, Peru

I have learned to accept rejections.

Two years into my doctoral degree, I have had my share of rejected conference paper submissions. A classmate even asked me once how it felt to have a paper rejected because she had never experienced having one. Ouch. But I have learned to accept rejections. They are part of my academic experience, of my learning process, and sometimes even of my nightmares.

There is always a reason behind every rejection. No, I am not referring to reviews such as questioning a non-generalizable sample in a qualitative study. I am referring to a paper I presented in a conference last year in Peru, a paper that was previously rejected by another conference.

So what’s the reason behind that particular rejection?

1. I believe that rejections—at least for mortals like me who experience them—happen to make scholars persistent. When my paper got rejected, it broke my heart. But after sobbing—and I may not be exaggerating here—I went back to my computer, read my paper again, and reflected on what went wrong. I rewrote some parts. I added more literature. I ran more analyses. I revised the paper. And then revised it again. I rewrote some more sentences, some more paragraphs, and then some more sections, until I believed it has become unworthy of another rejection.

2. I believe that rejections happen to bring about surprises. When I learned about the call for papers from the World Communication Association for the 2011 conference in Peru, I took the chance. I have never joined WCA before. But the prospect of going to Peru was enough motivation. I have never been to Peru before. So I submitted my previously-rejected-now-improved paper and a few weeks later got a pleasant surprise: My paper was accepted.

Pollo a la Brasa

3. I believe that rejections in one’s academic career can eventually bring people to places. In my experience, it literally brought me to Peru. I was destined to try sumptuous dishes such as ceviche (fresh seafood in lime sauce), pollo a la brasa (roasted chicken), and even anticucho (grilled beef heart). I was destined to drink chicha (sweet drink made of purple corn) and Inca cola (the most popular soda in Peru). Two necessary conditions allowed me to come to Peru. First, my school, the University of Missouri-Columbia, graciously gave me a travel grant enough to cover my pricey airfare. Second, I got a free place to stay, thanks to the nicest Peruvians I know, Dr. Bruno Takahashi (whom I first met in a conference in Singapore the previous year and who is now an assistant professor at Michigan State University) and his father Luis. 

4. I believe that rejections can build and strengthen friendships. My friends in Mizzou consoled me when my paper was rejected. The same paper brought me to Peru and reunited me with a good friend. I also made new friends from countries I have never been. 

Paracas, Peru

5. Finally, I believe that rejections can lead to unforgettable experiences. And I don’t mean the heartbreak that comes with them, or even the laborious work of revising. In my experience, having that paper rejected, and choosing to improve the manuscript rather than wallow in misery, gave me precious memories (and wonderful photos for Facebook). I drove by the Andes Mountains on our way to Huaral and marveled at the sight of reddish peaks that glinted with the sun. I saw penguins and sea lions during our trip to Paracas and took photos of rock formations protruding from the pristine blue sea. Bruno, whose paper won best student paper, had the humor to nominate me for best student presentation. I now have a nice glass trophy to remind me of my visit.

In a system that privileges approval, rejections are always disappointing. But how we respond to them defines our experience.

I have learned to accept rejections. I have learned that there is always room to grow, a chance for improvement, and an opportunity to be better.

There is a reason behind every rejection, especially if you accept it not as an end but as a beginning: There are always new memories to create, more experiences to make, and lots of Facebook photos to take.

For me, there was Peru.

The theory that theory doesn’t work

One night I read a book about building theories. Nope, I did not build a new theory after reading it, but at least it made me write again. So how about discussing “theory” in a national paper?

Here is how it looked, as published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/221605/the-theory-that-theory-doesn%E2%80%99t-work

University of Missouri’s Memorial Union

COLUMBIA, Missouri—For many industry people, theory and practice don’t mix. Outside the school, you will often hear the cliché that something is “good only in theory.”

I have heard this as a journalist. What you learned in school, I was told, was different from how things worked on the news beat.

This disdain for the theoretical among people focusing on what’s practical is a surprise to me, especially now that I am a student again.

A theory is a set of statements about the relationships between concepts. Theories not only help explain things but also predict outcomes.

In our everyday routines, we make our own theories.

We avoid a particular road during rush hour. We know there is a relationship between the time of day and traffic jams based on personal experiences.

We pick a restaurant with lots of people, theorizing that having lots of customers means the food is good.

It is the same principle behind the theories we come across in books.

In one of my research projects, I wanted to test the assumption that the Internet displaced traditional media like television and newspapers.

The claim is that as people’s use of the Internet increases, their use of traditional media decreases. This understandably worries traditional news organizations.

I turned to two theories to better understand the issue.

Maxwell McCombs’ relative constancy theory says resources allocated to the media, such as time and money, are finite, so if a new technology gets a share of the pie, the slices for the existing technologies become smaller.

John Dimmick’s niche theory also says that no two mediums can occupy the same niche; if both mediums serve the same uses, only one will survive for that particular niche.

These theories guided my research. From them, I deduced some expectations (or what we call hypotheses). For example, that Internet use drives down the use of other traditional media.

But theories are meant to be tested. That’s why it is important that we apply theory to practice.

To test these theories, I used data from the literacy surveys of the National Statistics Office. These surveys asked respondents to report their use of each medium, like newspapers, radio, television and the Internet, among others.

I compared media uses reported in 2003 and 2008.

What my analysis showed is that, consistent with the two theories, the resources allocated to Internet use increased in 2008 compared to 2003. The resources allocated to radio and newspapers decreased.

However, the resources allocated to television—and even moviegoing—increased in 2008 compared to 2003.

Does this prove the theories wrong? Not really.

It points to a need to reformulate the theories. What I think my findings showed is that while a new medium might displace the resources allocated to old mediums, some of these displaced resources get redistributed to mediums that survive.

We reformulate our theories even in our everyday lives.

We eat in that restaurant filled with people and find out the food is not really that good. It is actually the cheap price that drives traffic.

We drive on Edsa outside rush hour, but still get caught in a jam, and realize that the Ortigas malls are holding sales. Then we realize that the volume of cars, and not just the time of day, is the culprit.

When we find that something is “good only in theory,” then we might have been using the wrong theory after all. Or maybe we need to reformulate the theory—even create our own theory—to better guide our behavior.

Theories are helpful not only because they provide tentative explanations. They are helpful because they make us think.

They work if we make them work.

(The author is a Fulbright scholar and a Ph.D. candidate at Missouri School of Journalism. He is scheduled to present the results of his Internet displacement study at the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication conference in Chicago in August. If you have questions, or want to know more about the paper, e-mail edson@fulbrightmail.org.)