You’ll get lots of advice as a graduate student and tenure-track faculty member – and some of it you’ll need to ignore.
Lesboprof muses on the need to maintain professional boundaries.
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You’ll get lots of advice as a graduate student and tenure-track faculty member – and some of it you’ll need to ignore. Lesboprof muses on the need to maintain professional boundaries. Excerpts from some interesting 2011 commencement speeches. A scholar who was denied tenure five years ago looks back, and his wife shares her recollections as well. Dual career couples bring up all kinds of anxieties and institutional quirks. Here’s an A to Z of dual careers. Introducing Alt-Ac, a collection of essays on the alternative academic career. Daniel J. Ennis predicts that, somewhere, a university has hired its last tenured professor. Julia Mortyakova reflects on the transition between graduate student and the tenure track. Dr. Crazy shares an experience that reconnected her with the passion and excitement of her work. Notorious PhD talks about the experience of being scooped and how she’s responded each time. When we’re faced with the necessity of figuring out something else to do with our lives than the academic career we planned for, well, it’s easy to have a complete brain shut-down. Nothing freezes us up more than the idea that we’ve got to come up with something that will determine the rest of our lives. I liken it to the panic a lot of PhD students feel when they have to finally sit down and choose a dissertation topic. I mean, this topic is going to help determine everything from what kinds of jobs you can apply for to what kinds of institutions you’re going to land in to what you’ll be researching for the rest of your natural born life. Now, the I’m-choosing-for-the-rest-of-my-life fear isn’t quite accurate in the case of the dissertation, and it’s certainly not accurate in the case of figuring out the next right step. In fact, the most important thing you can bring to the table to get to the other side of that fear is curiosity. Start with the assumption that you’re only choosing the Next Right ThingIn order to let curiosity kick in, we have to get rid of the assumption that you’re determining the rest of your life. I don’t mean to traumatize you when I say this, but the very fact that you’re having to contemplate figuring out what to do next suggests that the last time you thought you were choosing forever, you were wrong. That’s not to say anything you did on the basis of that assumption was wrong – I pretty much think every step of the path is necessary, and you learned a lot of fabulous things and did a lot of cool stuff on your way to right now. It’s just to say that, once upon a time, you probably thought you were going to be in academia forever, and you aren’t going to be. All of which suggests that anything you choose right now probably isn’t going to carry you into retirement. And that’s okay. In fact, if you can let go of the idea that you should choose something that will carry you into retirement, you can open yourself to the possibility that there are a lot of delicious choices out there – and you don’t necessarily have to choose between them. Where curiosity comes inOnce you can think about possibilities as the Next Right Thing, it’s time to bring your curiosity to bear. Be curious about yourself. What have you learned about yourself through your experiences in academia? What parts of yourself have you left behind? What dreams are so precious that they’re layered under piles of denial? What are you really, truly passionate about? What do you only think you should be passionate about? The more you can be curious about your own experience, your own passions, and your own dreams, the more you can learn what it is that really rings your bell. Be curious about what’s out there. Just as people who aren’t in academia think we get summers off and don’t understand what a provost is, we have lots of misconceptions and holes in our knowledge about other careers out there. One way to be curious about what’s out there is to browse job boards, not to find one to apply for but just to see the range of what’s out there. Another way to be curious about what’s out there is to ask everyone you meet what they do and what they like and dislike about it. You’ll have some surprising conversations that may lead you in directions you wouldn’t have expected. Be curious about how the world is linked together. Do you remember that old game, “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon”? The goal was to choose any other entertainer and figure out a way to get from them to Kevin Bacon in six moves or less. Well, that came out of a play and movie called “Six Degrees of Separation” that mused on the idea that we’re connected to every other person on the planet by six moves or less. Now, I’m not entirely sure about the six or less part, but I can get to both Pope John Paul II and Ted Bundy (the latter two different ways) in less than six moves, both of which freak me right out. What that means for your curiosity is that, within six degrees of separation from you right now is the person who can answer any question you have about any career path you can think of. Becoming a motorcycle technician. Running programs for the Department of the Interior. Being the executive director of a non-profit that serves transgendered youth. Raising money for the whales. Guiding climbers in state parks. If you’re honestly curious about a particular field, the people you know will say things like, “You know, I have no idea, but my cousin runs a legal non-profit in DC and I bet he’d know the answer.” And boom – you have the person who can give you answers. Curiosity gets you past what you knowThe reason curiosity is so important is that it is what takes you beyond the boundaries of what you’re currently familiar with. Curiosity is what helps you ask the questions to learn new things, about yourself and the world. Curiosity is what takes you from “I have no idea” through “huh, I’d love to know X” to “hey, X is really awesome!” So if you’re stuck in fear, inertia, or doubt when what you need is to think about what the Next Right Thing is and how to get there, ask yourself one simple question. “What am I curious about right now?” The answer will get you moving, and the answer will give you a path. I want to talk about the ways that being female in the academy is complicated, the ways in which it still, despite all of our rhetoric to the contrary, matters. I’m running up against my own internal, not-wholly-resolved, critic on this one, so let me say this at the outset. There are lots of ways the academy is hard for different people, and lots of different “minority” identity positions get screwed in this system. (I put “minority” in quotes only because the people who are not marginalized in some way don’t actually constitute the numerical majority.) I do not subscribe to any kind of Pain Olympics, in which only the experience or position that is the very most hardest counts. All of our pain and othering counts. All of it. Okay? Okay. Why I’m talking about thisBecause academia relies on a narrative of merit, there is often a cultural assumption that academia is an equal playing field. And because of this, lots of smart, talented women have blamed themselves for the ways the system has undermined and devalued them. And that shit has got to stop. Despite all of our claims to post-feminism, the world – and that includes the academy – is still unequal. And blaming ourselves for that reality only makes it harder for us to identify it, respond to it, and find creative ways to call attention to it so it can be transformed. So, to that end, I’m going to list all the ways I can think of that women experience inequality in the academy. Let me count the ways
The important caveatsNow, not every woman will experience all of these. Departments and institutions vary, of course, and there are some that are doing their explicit best to address some of these issues. But I’d argue that women in academia experience quite a few of them. Some will be obvious, and some will be the subtle kind that make you wonder if you’re crazy for thinking that gender inequality might be part of what’s going on. If your gut says that gender inequality is part of what you’re experiencing, trust it. Trust that something bigger than you is at work. That doesn’t make it okay, but it means that it isn’t some fault of yours if you run afoul of the ways gender inequality plays itself out where you are. You are not the problem. A larger social and structural devaluing of women is. What other ways have you seen or experienced women experience inequality in academia? How do we measure faculty productivity? And should we? A new study suggests that queer professors are more often hit with claims of bias than straight professors. If you’ve gotten a new academic job, when do you move? Sabbaticals are fabulous – but they don’t just happen. You have to apply, and Nels P. Highberg offers some advice. To whom are we, as educators, accountable? Lee Skallerup Bessette looks at the situation in Texas to begin to answer. Happy fourth of July to all my US readers! I hope you’re having a lovely, restorative day. A dear friend of mine once told me that while she looks like a successful academic on paper, she doesn’t experience herself that way. She’s not sure the institution experiences her that way, either. I hear this all the time, both from graduate students and professors. And, like everything else in academia, it’s kind of complicated. Imposter SyndromeA grad school friend and I coined the term “academic anorexia” to refer to what we later came to know as Imposter Syndrome. Imposter Syndrome is that persistent fear that you aren’t as smart or as capable or as interesting as people seem to think you are, and one day they’ll wake up and know you for the fraud you think you are. There’s a lot of reasons we all acquire Imposter Syndrome, including being a student for way too long, the competitive and brutal nature of some departments or advisors, the constant evaluation and judgment, and the constant need to triage a workload that is more than anyone can reasonable do. I’m not sure many of us get out of grad school without a whopping case of it, and it does damage, especially to women. By undermining our confidence and our trust in our environment (not always falsely, either), Imposter Syndrome keeps us playing small, asking for approval, and constantly doubting ourselves. It’s exhausting and demoralizing. Being a round peg in a square holeSometimes our intellectual and personal quirks make us a bad fit for academia in general or an institution or department in particular. Collaboration, for example, is an important principle of some feminist scholarship – but collaboration is not only not valued in the Humanities, it’s actively punished by “not counting.” Being wide rather than deep is the way some of our minds work, but academia is based on each scholar going deep into one particular facet of one particular research angle. When we don’t fit, we’re constantly running up against barriers and assumptions that tell us we’re doing it wrong. Telling the differenceHaving Imposter Syndrome doesn’t mean you don’t fit academia or your institution or your department or your field. Imposter Syndrome only means that you’re doubting your own excellence, even as you are getting generally positive feedback. When you don’t fit, however, you’re constantly running up against barriers to being successful in the ways you would naturally operate. Sometimes you can think your way around them, but you’re always having to check yourself and reorient yourself. And sometimes you can’t think your way around them and you’re experiencing negative feedback. Imposter Syndrome is painful, to be sure, but with some attention and some processing, can be transformed into a balanced sense of what we have to offer. Lack of fit, however, can only be fixed by moving – to another institution, to another kind of institution, to another department, to something outside academia. They both suckNeither one of these is fun. In fact, experientially, they’re both pretty terrible, because neither of them allows you to be your full, beautiful, whip-smart self. But doubting yourself when everything is generally working isn’t the same as not fitting. That self-doubt needs compassion, to be sure, and care, and space to process the underlying fears. But that doubting of your own abilities doesn’t mean you don’t fit. In fact, it probably means you fit really, really well. All that being said, you don’t have to put up with it. You can, in fact, be in academia and be both confident and happy. I’ve seen it happen. And assuming that academia is where you want to be, you deserve that. Bad Female Academic tells the story of being a mother in academia. Some advice on getting a job in philosophy. Naomi Schaefer Riley excerpts her new book, The Faculty Lounges: and Other Reasons Why You Won’t Get the College Education You Paid For to argue that eliminating tenure has an economic upside. It looks like the whole “are graduate students workers or students” and therefore “can they unionize” fight is taking an interesting turn with some rulings by the National Labor Relations Board. John Marsh argues that pitting social services against education (which many state legislatures are doing) means that no matter which side “wins,” the same people lose. A wave of retirements will decimate the federal government in the next five years, and Congress held hearings to figure out how to attract new graduates. (Personally, I’m skeptical of all predicted retirement waves that will supposedly create a vacuum eager young things can fill. Where have we heard that one before?) Tenured Radical and Dean Dad weigh in on the question of fundraising priorities. A few months ago, I was sitting in a breakout group of all the managers at my dayjob. We were talking about how to motivate people and how to keep people challenged, when one of my colleagues said something so wrong-headed I almost couldn’t contain myself. “By definition, work isn’t fun,” he said. “That’s why we have to pay people to do it. If it were fun, people would do it for free.” This is a common assumption or belief about work, but I don’t believe it for a second. Where that goes wrongIf that sentiment were true, jobs that were more fun would be paid less, and jobs that were less fun would be paid more. Last time I checked, jobs like cleaning bathrooms, digging rocks, or picking fruit in the hot sun are paid pretty miserably. Subsistence wages, if that. While we’ve all got our list of jobs that would be incredibly fun, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that everything on your list probably gets paid more than janitorial wages. And while there are exceptions to this very general rule (lots of creative jobs, like dance, pay extraordinarily poorly in the traditional venues), it’s instructive nonetheless. What really happensWhen we do work for a person or for an organization, we get paid because we are creating value. We are accomplishing something, making something possible that wouldn’t be possible without our labor. A teacher gets paid (okay, usually not well) for designing a class and supporting students in learning the material. Without that teacher, those people do not learn. An accountant gets paid to make sure all the money that goes into or out of any unit (an organization, a family) is accounted for so that the people in that unit can make informed choices about how they earn and spend money. A choreographer gets paid to design new and illuminating dance routines to please the senses and the intellect. Without that work, our world would be poorer. All of the work we do adds value to the world, either by enabling someone to do something they couldn’t have done otherwise, or by actually bringing new things into the world. This is a good thing. And we dedicate a significant chunk of our time to creating that value because that enables us to do things like eat and pay rent and pursue the things we want – which creates value in our lives. These are not opposedOur whole culture is organized around this idea that we’ll spend 30-40 years working our tails off, often miserably, in order to retire early and enjoy our golden years. It’s like retirement is the carrot held out instead of the stick of debtor’s prison, and we wouldn’t work if we didn’t have one or the other pushing us forward. And let’s be honest: There are plenty of people who are miserable in their jobs, because they’re doing work they don’t like, for people who aren’t very nice. But that’s not “the way things should be.” That’s a tragedy. In fact, retirement, far from being the golden experience you see in the brochures, is often hugely stressful to people, because they got meaning and joy from their work and aren’t sure what to do with themselves now. When we’re doing work we love and we’re good at, we’re creating value for ourselves, and we’re creating value for the world. At the same time. Right now. Yes, there are tradeoffsIt’s true that we will sometimes be willing to take a lower salary in return for a job we really love. But that lower salary will likely still be above the line of what you need to support yourself and your family. And it’s true that we could all use more time off than we usually get, which leads us to dreaming of job-free lives. But for most of us, lolling around the beach in a hammock would get old soon enough. In other words, we don’t get paid because work is odious. We get paid because we are providing something of value to someone else. So why does this matter?It matters because, so long as work is defined as “no fun,” it’s hard to take seriously what we really, passionately want to do – because we assume it can’t make any money. It matters because such an assumption makes us hesitate to charge money for our skills and talents, because they’re too fun to be worth much. It matters because it makes thinking about work and careers depressing, instead of exciting. It matters because it helps us settle for less than we’re worth, doing work that is less than we’re capable of. A few months ago, I was sitting in a breakout group of all the managers at my dayjob. We were talking about how to motivate people and how to keep people challenged, when one of my colleagues said something so wrong-headed I almost couldn’t contain myself. “By definition, work isn’t fun,” he said. “That’s why we have to pay people to do it. If it were fun, people would do it for free.” This is a common assumption or belief about work, but I don’t believe it for a second. Where that goes wrongIf that sentiment were true, jobs that were more fun would be paid less, and jobs that were less fun would be paid more. Last time I checked, jobs like cleaning bathrooms, digging rocks, or picking fruit in the hot sun are paid pretty miserably. Subsistence wages, if that. While we’ve all got our list of jobs that would be incredibly fun, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that everything on your list probably gets paid more than janitorial wages. And while there are exceptions to this very general rule (lots of creative jobs, like dance, pay extraordinarily poorly in the traditional venues), it’s instructive nonetheless. What really happensWhen we do work for a person or for an organization, we get paid because we are creating value. We are accomplishing something, making something possible that wouldn’t be possible without our labor. A teacher gets paid (okay, usually not well) for designing a class and supporting students in learning the material. Without that teacher, those people do not learn. An accountant gets paid to make sure all the money that goes into or out of any unit (an organization, a family) is accounted for so that the people in that unit can make informed choices about how they earn and spend money. A choreographer gets paid to design new and illuminating dance routines to please the senses and the intellect. Without that work, our world would be poorer. All of the work we do adds value to the world, either by enabling someone to do something they couldn’t have done otherwise, or by actually bringing new things into the world. This is a good thing. And we dedicate a significant chunk of our time to creating that value because that enables us to do things like eat and pay rent and pursue the things we want – which creates value in our lives. These are not opposedOur whole culture is organized around this idea that we’ll spend 30-40 years working our tails off, often miserably, in order to retire early and enjoy our golden years. It’s like retirement is the carrot held out instead of the stick of debtor’s prison, and we wouldn’t work if we didn’t have one or the other pushing us forward. And let’s be honest: There are plenty of people who are miserable in their jobs, because they’re doing work they don’t like, for people who aren’t very nice. But that’s not “the way things should be.” That’s a tragedy. In fact, retirement, far from being the golden experience you see in the brochures, is often hugely stressful to people, because they got meaning and joy from their work and aren’t sure what to do with themselves now. When we’re doing work we love and we’re good at, we’re creating value for ourselves, and we’re creating value for the world. At the same time. Right now. Yes, there are tradeoffsIt’s true that we will sometimes be willing to take a lower salary in return for a job we really love. But that lower salary will likely still be above the line of what you need to support yourself and your family. And it’s true that we could all use more time off than we usually get, which leads us to dreaming of job- A few months ago, I was sitting in a breakout group of all the managers at my dayjob. We were talking about how to motivate people and how to keep people challenged, when one of my colleagues said something so wrong-headed I almost couldn’t contain myself. “By definition, work isn’t fun,” he said. “That’s why we have to pay people to do it. If it were fun, people would do it for free.” This is a common assumption or belief about work, but I don’t believe it for a second. Where that goes wrongIf that sentiment were true, jobs that were more fun would be paid less, and jobs that were less fun would be paid more. Last time I checked, jobs like cleaning bathrooms, digging rocks, or picking fruit in the hot sun are paid pretty miserably. Subsistence wages, if that. While we’ve all got our list of jobs that would be incredibly fun, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that everything on your list probably gets paid more than janitorial wages. And while there are exceptions to this very general rule (lots of creative jobs, like dance, pay extraordinarily poorly in the traditional venues), it’s instructive nonetheless. What really happensWhen we do work for a person or for an organization, we get paid because we are creating value. We are accomplishing something, making something possible that wouldn’t be possible without our labor. A teacher gets paid (okay, usually not well) for designing a class and supporting students in learning the material. Without that teacher, those people do not learn. An accountant gets paid to make sure all the money that goes into or out of any unit (an organization, a family) is accounted for so that the people in that unit can make informed choices about how they earn and spend money. A choreographer gets paid to design new and illuminating dance routines to please the senses and the intellect. Without that work, our world would be poorer. All of the work we do adds value to the world, either by enabling someone to do something they couldn’t have done otherwise, or by actually bringing new things into the world. This is a good thing. And we dedicate a significant chunk of our time to creating that value because that enables us to do things like eat and pay rent and pursue the things we want – which creates value in our lives. These are not opposedOur whole culture is organized around this idea that we’ll spend 30-40 years working our tails off, often miserably, in order to retire early and enjoy our golden years. It’s like retirement is the carrot held out instead of the stick of debtor’s prison, and we wouldn’t work if we didn’t have one or the other pushing us forward. And let’s be honest: There are plenty of people who are miserable in their jobs, because they’re doing work they don’t like, for people who aren’t very nice. But that’s not “the way things should be.” That’s a tragedy. In fact, retirement, far from being the golden experience you see in the brochures, is often hugely stressful to people, because they got meaning and joy from their work and aren’t sure what to do with themselves now. When we’re doing work we love and we’re good at, we’re creating value for ourselves, and we’re creating value for the world. At the same time. Right now. Yes, there are tradeoffsIt’s true that we will sometimes be willing to take a lower salary in return for a job we really love. But that lower salary will likely still be above the line of what you need to support yourself and your family. And it’s true that we could all use more time off than we usually get, which leads us to dreaming of job-free lives. But for most of us, lolling around the beach in a hammock would get old soon enough. In other words, we don’t get paid because work is odious. We get paid because we are providing something of value to someone else. So why does this matter?It matters because, so long as work is defined as “no fun,” it’s hard to take seriously what we really, passionately want to do – because we assume it can’t make any money. It matters because such an assumption makes us hesitate to charge money for our skills and talents, because they’re too fun to be worth much. It matters because it makes thinking about work and careers depressing, instead of exciting. It matters because it helps us settle for less than we’re worth, doing work that is less than we’re capable of. free lives. But for most of us, lolling around the beach in a hammock would get old soon enough. In other words, we don’t get paid because work is odious. We get paid because we are providing something of value to someone else. So why does this matter?It matters because, so long as work is defined as “no fun,” it’s hard to take seriously what we really, passionately want to do – because we assume it can’t make any money. It matters because such an assumption makes us hesitate to charge money for our skills and talents, because they’re too fun to be worth much. It matters because it makes thinking about work and careers depressing, instead of exciting. It matters because it helps us settle for less than we’re worth, doing work that is less than we’re capable of. First rule of any office: Respect and be nice to the staff. A tale of three job search seasons: One person’s anonymous experience. Stephen C. Stearns gives some advice to graduate students. He adds to it here. Tenure is not faring well in the University of Louisiana system, which laid off tenured professors only to hire some of them back as adjuncts. Should you write for free if you aren’t on the tenure track – and thus eligible to profit professionally from your contributions? Isaac Sweeney’s recent academic cover letter in the Chronicle created a bit of a firestorm. The comments are … varied. Dressing for success outside of academia. |
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