I am interested in a career in international education and exchange. I had hoped that my own personal experiences abroad – one year on an exchange program in Europe, three years of university, and one year of English teaching abroad – would be enough to land me a position in the field. I have applied to a number of positions in the field in the DC area, but am starting to feel that almost all of these entry-level positions give preference to graduate degree candidates. Do you have any recommendations for gaining pre-Masters, salaried work in the field?

Some excellent questions packed in here, ones that I hear regularly. My response to this reader went something like this:

It sounds like you’re building a good resume for work in the international education/exchange field—don’t let yourself by deterred or disheartened if you’re applying for but not landing these jobs. The difficult fact is that the people hiring for these positions likely received a large number of applications, including a lot of qualified ones (when we recently hired for an entry level position at my organization, we received 400+ applications). Just because you didn’t get those jobs does not mean you aren’t qualified for them, or other ones like them.

While some positions may prefer or even require a master’s degree, my honest opinion is that a Master’s is not the (or even a) key criteria most organizations are looking for, especially for entry/junior level positions. I think “Master’s preferred” has become something of a reflexive criteria included in many job descriptions, whether or not a higher degree is actually necessary to be successful in the position. For my part, I’d much rather hire someone who has the right combination of experience, skills, disposition, and who I feel will be a good fit for the team, regardless of their higher education situation.

A few further thoughts:

1. How well are you highlighting the skills and experience you do bring to the table? Sounds like you’ve had a number of varied experiences in the field—so ask yourself: why should they matter to potential employers and the specific positions you’re applying for?

   Cover letters are very important, and I’d encourage you to look back at your own and see if they truly convey what you hoped they would. A good cover letter should seek to impart not so much what you’ve done, but why you’re a good fit for the positions you’re applying for and why your particular skills and experiences are relevant. I often see cover letters that are nothing more than a recitation of a resume. No need for this duplication. Rather, use the cover letter to interpret your resume for the potential employer, to let them know why they should care about your particular skills and experiences–why those skills and experiences are relevant and will put you in a position to succeed in that particular job.

2. Do informational interviews. I’m not sure where you’re based, but if you’re able to meet directly with people at organizations in cities (like DC) where you’re interested in working, do that. I’ve seen firsthand how successful this tatic can be. People want to hire known quantities, candidates who they’ve seen in person and can judge to be good, reliable, quality people.

   People are also typically more than willing to talk with you for 15-20 minutes and tell you more about their jobs and their organizations. This is a great way to get to know organizations better, as well as to network and to put yourself in front of those who might be hiring later on. So don’t worry if an organization isn’t hiring at the moment (in fact, informational interviews often work better if it’s not attached to a job opening—makes the conversation more relaxed and natural, and the person you’re talking with doesn’t feel like you’re trying to get something out of them, rather just hoping to connect and learn). Target organizations you’re interested in working at and try to locate a mid-level person (not a CEO or senior leader) who is doing interesting work and you’d be interested in talking to. Email them and ask them for a short informational interview (at their office, or at a coffee shop convenient for them, or even via phone or Skype if you can’t be in DC). Then after your conversation, stay in touch with them by email. If a job does open at their org, they should be the first person you talk to before applying. And they may even pass along job openings to you that they learn about, since they know you’re looking.

For career development, though, these events can be important. And sometimes we just can’t avoid them if they’re a part of our jobs. We can’t always count on going with colleagues or running into people we know. So how can those of us who struggle with networking events get the most out of them? Here are three easy steps that might help:

1. Head straight to the bar. No, no, not because you need booze to make it through. This move provides you with an immediate destination when you arrive and something to do when you first walk into the room, other than stand there awkwardly. (Also, you never know who you might meet at the bar.)
2. Once you have a drink in hand, briefly survey the room. Look for someone standing alone, or a small group of two or three people. I usually look for people at a standing table, which provides a set location and somewhere I can set my drink or a plate of appetizers. It also makes it easier for other people to join the group.
3. Once you’ve identified a target, simply approach and introduce yourself. Do so not too aggressively—don’t startle or abruptly interrupt a conversation. But be confident. Don’t linger and wait for your target to notice you. Use body language to indicate your intention to join (like setting your drink on the standing table). This cold-turkey approach can be hard for some of us, I know. It is for me. But I’ve discovered, lo and behold, people go to networking events to meet other people (I know, a groundbreaking insight). Approaching a new person and starting a conversation is, in fact, something that’s kind of expected at networking events.

I’ve found that, while the vague idea of approaching strangers at an event and striking up a conversation can be daunting, having this strategy as my “entry plan” makes it easier. As an example, it worked well for me the other night at the U.S. Global Leadership Coalition’s annual Tribute Dinner (affectionately known in DC as the “Smart Power Prom”). A huge event with more than 1,000 attendees, I was going on my own. I wasn’t sure if I’d run into anyone I know. So I used my strategy. Here’s how it went down:

Entered the pre-dinner reception. Headed straight for the bar (opted for a gin and tonic on that night, though sometimes I’ll do a beer, or wine, or a sparkling water). Turned and surveyed the room. Saw a guy about my age at a standing table by himself, checking his phone. Approached, set my drink down, said hi, and allowed him to finish what he was doing on this phone. We then introduced ourselves.

Turns out the one guy I chose to talk to, out of a room full of hundreds, grew up ten minutes away from me in Cincinnati, lives and works (at Proctor & Gamble) back in our hometown, and is good friends with two guys I was friends with back in high school. Small world, no? We had a great conversation centered on our Cincinnati connections, and then on our various international work. During our conversation, a colleague who writes for Foreign Policy magazine spotted me and joined us. I hadn’t seen him in more than a year, so it was great to catch up. Eventually the dinner bell rang, and we separated to head to our tables. But the cocktail hour, which I’d been apprehensive about given that I didn’t know anyone, turned out to be time very well spent. And all because of my three step process.

Next time you’re dreading a networking event—or thinking about not going because you won’t know anyone—give this strategy a try. I’d love to hear if it helps.

To that end, she began the Race Card Project, an effort to encourage these conversations. She asks people to distill their thoughts, feelings, and observations about race into one six word sentence. She challenged the CIEE audience to try. Mine came out like this:

Norris tweeted me back, asking to hear more. So here it is:

I grew up in a mostly white suburb north of Cincinnati, Ohio. My grade school was not diverse. I remember one black classmate in my year – we played baseball and basketball together – and one girl of Asian descent, but that’s about it. My high school was more diverse, but not by much.

When I was 15 and a half, going on 16, I enrolled in a driver’s ed course, as everyone at that age does. The driving school was in a diverse neighborhood that was also central to many other neighborhoods – so the school drew students from a variety of different places and backgrounds. Which meant a variety of races. Which meant I was in class for the first time with a lot of black students.

I didn’t think much about this in the broader sense of racial politics or diversity. But I do remember being aware of it, aware of the details, like the way my black classmates talked to one other, interacted with the teacher, and approached the learning environment – which was often different than what I was used to at my mostly white school. Not wildly or uncomfortably different, but different enough that I can, 18 years later, still remember being in that classroom.

One day in class, the teacher asked a question. I couldn’t tell you what that question was, but I guess I knew the answer, so I volunteered. I was correct, and the teacher said well done. I remember one of my black classmates turning around and praising me for my correct answer. I don’t remember exactly what he said, and I don’t remember his particular tone or intention. Meaning, he might have been actually praising me, or maybe he was gently giving me shit for being a know-it-all, or more likely somewhere in between. Just one teenager talking to another.

And anyway, that’s not really important. What’s important – and what I do clearly remember – is my reaction. I gave him the wink and the gun. You know, the wink and the gun: that gesture where you stick out both hands like mock guns, thumbs raised and pointer fingers pointed ahead, while winking and making a little clicking sound with your tongue and your back teeth. The reaction to this was instantaneous: raucous laughter all around. Someone yelled with glee, “Oh, he gave you the wink and the gun!” The teacher called for order, things quieted down, and class continued.

I was left burning with some combination of embarrassment and confusion. Why the wink and the gun? Why did I just decide on a gesture I’d ever done before and probably haven’t done since (at least non-ironically)? Did I think this was something black kids my age did? Did I think it would make me “cool” with him? Did I just not have any idea how to relate to a black peer, so I crashed around searching for something, anything, I thought to be appropriate?

In the grand scheme, a small moment. But one that has, for whatever reason, stuck with me. I’m not even sure there’s a broader point here. But if there is, maybe it’s this: when we’re getting to know people different than ourselves (different race, gender, neighborhood, country, culture, etc.), it’s probably best to just be ourselves. And maybe even more importantly, best to allow those we’re getting to know to be themselves too—and avoid imposing upon them our own (likely erroneous) notions of who they are.

Oh, and also, don’t give the wink and the gun. To anyone. It makes you look like an idiot.

In Working World, Sherry and I talk about a condition familiar to many, known as “the overwhelm” (a term also mentioned in Rosin’s article). The overwhelm may be not only something we all deal but also something many of us (perhaps unconsciously) strive for:

“Busyness of a certain kind…became a mark of social status, that somewhere in the drudgery of checklists and the crumpled heaps one could detect a hint of glamour.”

This makes sense to me. How many times have I responded to the question of “How’s work?” with the barely-thought-out answer of: “Busy.” And this comes whether I’m actually particularly busy or not. Why am I compelled to characterize things as busy, regardless of reality? Likely because answers like “slow,” “not too bad,” or “you know, I’m actually pretty bored at the moment” aren’t the right ones. I might come across as unengaged, lacking passion, like a slacker. It’s “busyness as a virtue…a conviction that the ideal worker is one who is available at all times because he or she is grateful to be ‘busy.’”

This trap is hard to avoid. We stay late at work or check/answer emails immediately not always because we need to or are required to, but because we think this is a mark of productivity. And this leads us down a path where we confuse being a hard worker with being a smart or talented or efficient one.

One aspect of the international nonprofit world that I am grateful for is a commitment to work-life balance. To ensuring that excess hours and unnatural email response time expectations are not a part of the package. Some of this stems from being in an industry in which salaries are typically lower, and thus some extra “compensation” can be gained from humane hours and expectations. But part of it also comes from working with and around a group of people who are innately curious, restless, and inclined toward a broad interest in the humanities. And what I mean by this is: the international education and exchange community is full of people who like to travel and do other stuff good too. So it’s often not a challenge to get them to listen when you say, “stop working and go do something else.” They’ve likely already booked a plane ticket.

Sherry and I try to give our own antidotes to feeling the overwhelm in Working World: Disconnect. Take a walk, read a book, see a movie, plan a trip (go on a trip!), spend time with family and friends. I think we’d both stand by these recommendations. But I also love this solution from Rosin’s article:

“The answer to feeling oppressively busy…is to stop telling yourself that you’re oppressively busy, because the truth is that we are all much less busy than we think we are.”

Venturing overseas to get a degree makes you attractive to employers – and it’s fun.

Thanks to David Comp for the tip on this article. David also points to the oddly cheery “and it’s fun” in the subtitle, as well as the fact that this fun factor (which we can’t help agree with) is never discussed in the actual article. David asks: “Why then did the author feel the need to include this in the sub-title of the article?” A good question, especially when you consider the last line of the article:

“If you don’t like it, you can always go home.”

Fair enough and certainly true. But related to both David’s take on the balance between an academically rigorous study abroad program and one in which students are able to travel, drink “underage,” and generally cut loose, as well as this idea of whether study/living abroad is always “fun,” I’ll throw out there that: 1) life abroad is not always fun and 2) even the un-fun parts can still be beneficial.

A quick example: my girlfriend studied abroad in Paris for a semester, though it was supposed to be a year: she cut it short because the experience was a difficult one for her (she didn’t like it, so she went home, I suppose). That doesn’t mean she didn’t like everything about the experience. There were many parts of France and the French and life with her host family that she loved. But there were also an overwhelming number of difficulties (expenses and difficulties with overaggressive and culturally-insensitive French men, to name but two) that made her experience a truly “un-fun” one, so much so that she cut her time there short. She didn’t have “fun” on her study abroad experience in the same way many people do—traveling every weekend and drinking into the wee hours every night. Yet her experience in Paris was still very formative. She gained important skills that she continues to use to this day—not just language and cultural skills, but also perseverance, adaptation, and self-reliance. Despite some negative experiences, she still holds a great affection for France and the French people. And despite the fact that she wasn’t able to travel all over Europe like many of her classmates, she came away from the experience with a desire to see more and go further, a desire which she has been trying to satisfy through further international experience and travel as she gets older.

As David says, everyone has a different definition of fun. In the same way, the “success” of a study abroad experience can come in different ways for different people. It’s important to both be open to what comes your way while you’re actually studying abroad, and to allow yourself the opportunity to discover how that study abroad experience continues to affect you (perhaps in unexpected ways) as you move further away from it.

Lots more Lipton here. Of course, any Lipton reference inevitably brings us back to Will Ferrell and a scrumtralescent Alec Baldwin:

Parents of returning study abroad college students found the experience initiated a sea-change in their willingness to be more responsible, act independently, and take on the world by themselves.

I place this and other arguments like it in the category of “things I wished I’d known 7-10 years ago when debating my dad about the merits of going abroad.” That I would be gaining “maturity, self-confidence, appreciation for other cultures, and independence,” marketable skills in any profession, would probably have sounded a lot better than, “Well, uh, why not? I know you don’t want me living in the basement anymore anyway…”

In other news, was my study abroad really 10 years ago? Almost. Guh.

Luckily Ta-Nehesi Coates steps in and does the heavy lifting for us. His take on all matters black and white is as thoughtful, thought-provoking, and balanced as it gets. If you don’t read him regularly, I would recommend it.

UPDATE: It also occurs to me to acknowledge, in the context of the international affairs arena (though this could apply in any industry), the discrimination a job applicant with a “non-American” sounding name could face. The Times article points out that Barry Jabbar Sykes, ”who has a degree in mathematics from Morehouse College, a historically black college in Atlanta, now uses Barry J. Sykes in his continuing search for an information technology position, even though he has gone by Jabbar his whole life. ‘Barry sounds like I could be from Ireland,’ he said.”

Did the name Jabbar imply to potential employers that he’s black (which he is)? Non-American (which he isn’t)? Perhaps Muslim (no discussion of his religious affiliation, which is how it should remain)? Some combination of the three? Do applicants for a U.S.-based job, no matter their race or country of origin, face discrimination if they have a “foreign” name, one that isn’t boilerplate Anglo-Saxon? It’s certainly possible. Perhaps a “foreign-sounding” name indicates the applicant is a non-native English speaker, and thus doesn’t possess language skills that are up to par for the job? Or the requisite cultural skills? Every new job has a learning curve, but perhaps the “non-American” applicant’s learning curve will be too long to make it worthwhile to hire him or her? It’s actually quite easy to see how someone (even myself) could judge an applicant in these ways solely based on their “foreign” name or the “foreign” manner in which their resume or cover letter is put together, etc. (Does my recent rant about “odd” cover letter salutations fall into this category? Seems like it easily could, and this may be something I need to check myself on.) Of course it’s up to every job applicant, no matter their name, race, or country of origin, to put together their application in a professional way–clear, cohesive, concise, well-written, no grammatical or copy-editing errors, suitable for the cultural/national context in which they’re applying. But it’s also up to the hiring manager to view each application and its inherent parts with no prejudgment or bias.

As to those “foreign-sounding” names…if a person’s name says very little about what they look like, it says far, far less about who they actually are and what they can do. Even so, the human temptation to assume based on surface indicators stubbornly remains.

I’ve only had five cumulative months of employment since, this in spite of a “practical” degree (economics) from a “good” school (East Coast whatever – if my situation is any indication, an Ivy degree doesn’t mean jackshit). Friends of mine with relatively less worldly degrees in many cases have not been able to find a job at all in over a year. And it is not that we’re just sitting on our asses, playing video games because we think we’re above a certain kind of work – this high-handed claptrap is perhaps the most irritating snobbery of so-called “experts”, of a piece with their stellar market analysis over the last decade. No, when we say we can’t get a job, we mean we can’t get any job.

Certainly white-collar jobs, those that we thought we were being prepared for, are so few and far between that they’ve become the stuff of lore, a mythical entity. When someone manages to snag one of those these days it’s treated like a fucking miracle, complete with celebration and deepest envy both. This just for a job! Not two years ago a job was practically a birthright, plentiful and in season; now it’s something to forage and kill for. But we’re having to compete now for jobs that anyone can do – which makes it that much harder to get them as well. Temp agencies mostly turn us away. Shit, even the damned Safeway near me isn’t hiring. I’m perfectly content to bag groceries or wash cars or do construction, but there isn’t a scrap of work to be had.

If all that sounds unbelievable, then you just don’t know what it’s like right now for young, inexperienced people whose first taste of the labor market has been one of closed doors and pounded pavement and steadily increasing panic. At the moment I do have a part-time temp job and I’m grateful for it, but I don’t know how long it’ll last. Every time a superior passes my desk I quake because he or she could be coming to give me the axe – this is how we fortunate employed spend our days, adrenaline-riddled and constantly on tenterhooks. I don’t have health insurance. I’m engulfed in student loans.

How does this compare with your experiences? Are recent college graduates looking for work in international education, exchange, and development having this much trouble? Is the white-collar job in international affairs out there to be had, or rather a “mythical entity”?