How I feel about working with technology

I hate to say this, but I have technophobia. When I am faced with a new technology, I close up shop like a turtle. I try to find someone else to do it while I watch. Then, I tell myself that, because I watched someone else do it, and because I followed the steps and it appeared clear to me, I understand it. Of course, I know that I do not know how to do it because I have still not done it; watching someone do it is not the same as doing it.

Technology makes me feel inadequate. old. stupid. incompetent. slow. never good enough. subpar. inferior. Trying something new with no exit, (like this blog assignment), is almost nauseating. I am afraid of it.

It was not always this way. When I started graduate school at Bryn Mawr College, I felt like the world was my oyster; I could do anything. And I almost did -- coursework, three kids (5, 4, and 2), teaching, Russian choir directing. But then came word processing, the dissertation. Writing my papers by hand in Russian had been allowed in all my classes up to that point, but now, the diss had to be word processed. So, I went to Sears with my kids to buy a computer because I had no money and Sears represented to me -- a person raised in the rural Midwest -- an American mainstay company that would sell me a cheap yet reliable computer. We carried that computer home and I typed on it like a typewriter. No problem. All went well until one day it began to whir, and the whirring didn't stop, and all was lost--I hadn't backed anything up on a floppy. I didn't know from Adam what I was doing. I'd never had a technology class, had never encountered technology before. I didn't know anyone in the area, as I'd picked up and moved there on a few weeks' notice. And I was too inhibited to ask undergrad Bryn Mawrters for help. I couldn't show them how dumb I was. I didn't even know where the lab was. I went to class, did my work at home and took care of the children. I was hellbent on writing that dissertation and so, blindly moved forward, ignorant as a fool.

When the computer crashed, I had to go to the lab and word process. The first time I went, I didn't know how to save, so I forced myself to go to the Help Desk. The only way to describe the look on that Bryn Mawter's face when I asked her how to save was disgust. She impatiently and haughtily showed me how to "Save as". It made no sense to me. Why would I want to save something "as" something else when I just wanted to save? She kept trying to convey the importance of tracking versions of paper writing by organizing them in a folder and identifying each version with a "1" or a "2" added to the file name. I just did it, without understanding, to free us both from discomfort. I was clearly a lost cause. I suffered through years of such treatment; it never varied. I came to hate the Help Desk in a deep and dark way, the way they hated me.

I realize now how traumatizing it was for me, but I was in a situation where failure was not an option. So, I got married instead and threw myself into a new life in a new city, where I was part of a congregation playing a pivotal role using all my personal skills with Holocaust survivors who had never seen a computer, much less used one. I was back on a loving team in a friendly community. I was in my element, and the diss and technology moved to a back burner.

I like working as part of a team. I like people. It's being alone with a technological assignment I have no background knowledge of that is depressing. Even if I know what I'm supposed to be doing, actually doing it feels like an unattainable accomplishment. I completely understand how library patrons and staff feel when encountering new technologies because I am them.

If this entry goes through properly, then I will gain an ounce of confidence. I am trying to overcome my fear. I have come a long way. I need to conduct meaningful work in the 21st century on my own. Going through library science school has been my way of forcing myself to learn. I pity my profs, esp. my 401 instructor. But, G-d bless her and everyone else at IUPUI--they have treated me with compassion. I will always be grateful.

I will get to the finish line. It won't be pretty, and my knees will be shaking the whole time, but I will arrive.