Post-ICDAR 2024 Self-Reflection and Academic Growth
September 8, 2024“What is the unique selling point of your research?”
That was the question that brought everything crashing down. It wasn’t during a formal presentation or a panel discussion, but at an informal social event at a bar on the second day of the International Conference on Document Analysis and Recognition (ICDAR) 2024. In the dim light of the bar, surrounded by clinking glasses and chatter, I suddenly found myself in the academic spotlight, with that dreaded question hanging in the air. My mind raced for an answer, but all I could muster was a strangled laugh, followed by a pause that seemed to stretch into eternity.
“That’s a good question.” Nervous laughter. Long Pause.
But the truth was, I didn’t have a good answer. Not because I hadn’t thought about it before, but because my entire presence at the conference felt like a colossal misunderstanding—one that had started long before I boarded a flight to Athens with my former research group.
The Lead-Up to ICDAR 2024
The conference was scheduled from August 30 to September 4 in Athens, Greece—a city steeped in history, culture, and ancient wisdom. However, my journey there had nothing to do with those noble ideals. Instead, it was the product of an awkward series of events that left me feeling as though I’d been swept along by forces beyond my control.
I flew out with my former research group from Germany on August 29. By that point, I had already made the difficult decision to leave the group, but preparations for the conference had been set in motion long before my departure, and backing out felt impossible. My former advisor had strongly encouraged me to submit something for a workshop at ICDAR, and he was certain the paper would be accepted. The plan was simple: have a paper accepted, and the research institute would cover the expenses for the trip. It was a clever arrangement, but not one I was entirely comfortable with.
The paper itself was an extension of work I had done during my Bachelor’s degree—signature verification. It was a topic I hadn’t touched in five years, yet there I was, revisiting old research, co-authoring a paper with a colleague from the same group. The paper was accepted for the Document Analysis Systems (DAS) workshop, and suddenly, I found myself presenting a poster on the first day of the conference, August 30. I hadn’t wanted to go, but as is often the case, I had difficulty saying no. And so, I obliged, much to my own inner frustration.
The Workshop: A Reluctant Return to the Past
The DAS workshop was where my ICDAR experience officially began. On the surface, everything seemed fine. I stood by my poster, which displayed the work I had revisited after five years of disinterest, answering questions from attendees. But inside, I was acutely aware of the disconnect. This wasn’t my field anymore. My research interests had shifted significantly since my Bachelor’s days. Now, I was focused on gait recognition and human pose estimation—topics far removed from signature verification.
As the hours dragged on, I realized that my poster presentation wasn’t the problem. It was the lingering sense that I didn’t belong there. This wasn’t the research I was passionate about. In fact, I was only there because of the pressure to conform to expectations that had been set for me long ago. I was going through the motions, but my heart wasn’t in it.
The Bar and the Moment of Realization
The question that shattered my fragile sense of composure came the following day, during an informal social gathering. We had ventured out to a bar in the evening, where the atmosphere was more relaxed—at least for everyone else. For me, it felt like a ticking time bomb. I knew that, at some point, someone would ask me about my research. And when they did, I had no idea what I would say.
And then it happened. A fellow researcher, someone I hadn’t met before, turned to me and asked, “So, what’s the unique selling point of your research?”
The words echoed in my head as I scrambled for an answer. The truth was, I didn’t know. Or maybe I did, but I couldn’t articulate it. My research wasn’t about signature verification anymore. It was about human-centric AI, mobile applications, and neural networks. The project I had presented felt like a relic of a past life—something I had done out of obligation, not passion.
I stammered something vague, laughed nervously, and quickly changed the subject. But the damage was done. The rest of the evening passed in a haze of self-doubt. I felt like an outsider at my own conference, haunted by the feeling that I didn’t deserve to be there.
Imposter Syndrome in Full Force
By the time the conference was halfway through, imposter syndrome had settled in like a dark cloud over my mind. The moments of awkwardness and self-doubt stacked up like a pile of failed experiments. Each day, I wandered the conference halls, attending presentations and panels that had little to do with my current research interests. I felt like a fraud, someone who had slipped in through the back door of academia, waiting to be exposed.
The voices in my head were relentless. “You don’t belong here. You’re not good enough. Everyone else is smarter, more prepared, more passionate than you.”
I wanted to shake off the feeling, but it clung to me like a second skin. And with each passing day, my engagement in the conference dwindled. I was simply going through the motions, waiting for it all to be over.
Finding Meaning in the Chaos
Looking back on ICDAR 2024, it’s hard not to see it as a turning point—a moment when my imposter syndrome reached its peak. But perhaps that’s not the whole story. The conference wasn’t a disaster, nor was it a triumphant success. It was a complex, messy experience that forced me to confront some uncomfortable truths about myself and my place in academia.
Maybe the point wasn’t to deliver the perfect answer to every question or to feel like I belonged in every room. Maybe the point was simply to show up, even when it was uncomfortable. To acknowledge that, yes, imposter syndrome is real, but it doesn’t have to define my entire academic journey.
ICDAR 2024 was full of challenges, but it also offered lessons. Not every conference is going to feel like a perfect fit. Not every project is going to spark passion. But that doesn’t mean the experience isn’t valuable. Sometimes, just being there—standing in front of a poster, answering questions, and even fumbling through answers—is enough. It’s all part of the journey.