This blog showcases the perspectives of UNC Chapel Hill community members learning and writing online. I can’t say if the technique will always work. A consistent, rigid schedule has never come easily to me, but this technique, at least for now, has offered a path forward. And by tackling difficult tasks early in the day, I ensure that, even when I lose focus later on, I still feel accomplished. A set of four fifty-five-minute periods both better suits my working rhythm and reduces the number of alarms that I endure. Since beginning this process, I’ve changed the length and number of my pomodoros. The timer on my phone blared like an irate drill sergeant. Every minute needed to be accounted for and every task documented. After only two hours of work-four 25-minute work periods, three five-minute breaks, one fifteen-minute break-my life seemed endlessly regimented. Of course, this technique has its disadvantages. Pomodoro today, pomodoro tomorrow, pomodoro forever? Perhaps more importantly, these breaks let me spend time with my dog, Lulu, who firmly believes that all breaks should include leisurely walks. Longer breaks, say a half-hour, provide welcome opportunities to stretch my legs. While five minutes may not feel like much, that time allows me to decompress and readjust. Once infrequent, breaks now feature prominently in my schedule. Less urgent tasks, emails in particular, receive their own time slots later in the day, when I feel the least productive. With this new technique, I feel better equipped to prioritize my time. After thirty minutes had passed, I would notice that I had written more words in my emails than I had transcribed in my notes. That kind of awareness empowers me.īefore, my work time resembled a meandering path: a dozen or so minutes spent transcribing a nineteenth-century text in Zotero, another dozen flipping back and forth between the text and a recent news article, a few following an unexpected lead from my source, and a couple here and there replying to emails. If nothing else, I know what I’ve accomplished in one block and what I need to do in the next. On the few occasions when I’ve finished a task early, I simply move on to whichever task requires the least time to complete. Rarely do I complete one task in exactly twenty-five minutes-I can only aspire to that level of precision. Annotate section on de Neuville in En campagne (2 Pomodoros).Annotate article #2 from Le monde illusté on the panorama of Champigny (1 Pomodoro).Annotate article #1 from Le monde illusté on the panorama of Champigny (1 Pomodoro).Some pomodoros might be as simple as “write a topic sentence” others involve a set of related tasks, as in “annotate two newspaper articles,” or stretch across multiple pomodoros. What does research include? What can I feasibly complete in twenty-five minutes? The answers to these questions constitute the “specific task” for my pomodoro. Penciling in “do research” in my planner doesn’t quite cut it.
By encouraging, even forcing, me to concentrate on a specific task, this technique helps me think carefully about how I divide my time. Over the last two weeks, my skepticism has given way to gratitude. After four blocks of time, or four so-called pomodoros, take an extended break lasting fifteen to thirty minutes. The technique is simple enough: set a timer (tomato shape not required) for some amount of time, usually twenty-five minutes, and work on one specific task until the timer beeps. (In Italian, pomodoro means tomato, so named for the inventor’s use of a tomato-shaped timer.) Despite my reservations, I decided to try the technique. Sure, I needed a new system to manage my dissertation project, especially now that I worked exclusively from home, but I wasn’t convinced that a method named after a tomato was my best bet. When he first recommended the Pomodoro technique, I was admittedly skeptical. Lost and frustrated, I did what I’ve done many times before: I asked my advisor for, well, advice. By the end of my first week in quarantine, the worst case scenario had become my only scenario. In the worst, I’d done little more than “half-work” all day. In the best cases, I had accomplished a great deal. Afternoon turned to dusk, dusk to night, and soon I realized that I hadn’t stopped to rest, let alone eat. The hours seemed to pass me by as I worked. One Tomato, Two Tomato: How I Use the Pomodoro Technique
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