I know I’m prickly these days about my competence as a scholar, and riddled with anxiety about my soon-to-devour-me tenure case but … this just doesn’t seem appropriate.
Email from student I’ve never heard of:
“Hi! My name is X and I am a student in Dr. Y’s class. We are attempting to [do something that you know a little bit about]. She suggested emailing you, as you might have information on how we can get started. We were wondering if you could tell us [list of questions].
We understand that you may be too busy to answer all of our questions due to your tenure coming up. If that is the case, would you please give us the contact information of someone who may be able to do so? Thank you for your time.”
I’ve indicated the part that’s making me steam. What’s up with my colleague Dr. Y discussing my tenure case with undergrad students? Sure, Dr. Y was probably trying to be respectful about my heavy work load — but … but … it still pisses me off.
Grrr …
In which our intrepid young professor, who has suffered some major professional setbacks recently, questioned herself as a scholar, and struggled to keep her chin up in the midst of a bonanza of grading and depressing faculty meetings, opens her email and discovers that she has been given an unexpected, un-hoped-for, and startlingly large raise.
I know. I was surprised too.
We’ll return to our regularly scheduled complain-a-thon soon.
This picture captures my mood today.
I’m in that all-too-familiar state of mind, one I’ve complained about many times on this blog — and yet, here I am again.
It’s Sunday afternoon. I’ve been working pretty much non-stop since I finished my Thursday afternoon classes. I’ve been grading and writing and revising and prepping and there is no goddamn end in sight.
I have not been raking the leaves piling up in my backyard, doing yoga, running errands, cleaning my house, making good meals, or taking any kind of a break.
It’s been a fucking weekend of work and I’m pissed about it.
Once again I am asking myself how I have allowed this scenario to unfold — what choices I have made (including the one to become a professor) to create such a flat, unsatisfying, exhausting life for myself.
In a few weeks, when this awful semester finally ends, I will feel differently, of course. I’ll applaud myself for being a teacher and therefore getting a month off between semesters. I think kindly about my students and look forward to the next semester. I will allow myself to forget how unbelievably hellish it can get, and how shallow my life is most of the time because I’m working so hard I cannot even think about anything, let alone be creative, spontaneous, curious, or alive.
But right now I’m like a raging storm cloud. Watch out for the lightning.
Public Service Announcement to Students Everywhere:
The term you are searching for is feminist, not feministic. In fact, feministic is not a word, which your computer may have been trying to alert you to when it kept underlining it with a red line.
It’s great that you are making an effort to utilize appropriate terminology in your essays, but it’s a writing strategy that will be even more effective if you get the terminology correct.
Feminism is …
Fantastic.
Realistic.
Dynamic.
Strategic.
Democratic.
Anti-chauvinistic.
Down with it.
The fucking shit.
But it is not feministic.
Word.
I am a bad academic in more ways than I can count. By “bad academic” I don’t mean “unsuccessful academic” – although these days I don’t feel like a very successful academic. Rather, I mean that I often don’t fulfill the preconceived notion of what academics should do or be. Initially, I thought I’d list some examples, but the list got long and unwieldy, so I’m just going to say: See Previous Blog Posts. That’ll tell you everything you need to know.
The latest evidence of the fact that I’m a bad academic emerged last week, when I was at a conference. (The conference, by the way, was awesome and my presentation went really well and I got lots of lovely compliments about it – further evidence that I am, sometimes, a successful academic.) At the conference I was asked a particular question by numerous people, ranging from close friends to recent acquaintances – a question that academics get asked all the time but which I’ve decided is one of the worst questions ever:
So, what are you teaching this semester?
After some reflection, I’ve figured out why I hate being asked this and why I never ask it of others. The question sucks in large part because of the answer it demands. There’s really only one way to answer it: to list your classes. “I’m teaching intro class A, survey B, special topics C, and grad seminar D.” Blah.
Of course, once you get through this tedious recital, there can be further questions that elicit far more interesting answers, but, really, can’t we just cut to the chase and ask what we really want to know?
I am not interested in knowing the list of classes you are teaching – sorry. What I want to know is whether you’ve had any particularly interesting or challenging experiences in your classes, whether you’ve developed any effective or innovative teaching techniques, whether you’ve read anything new and exciting, whether you’re using your research in your classes, or whether you’ve got a good group of students or a bunch of losers.
May I propose that we dispense with that boring ol’ question “What are you teaching this semester?” and try a couple of new conversation starters:
How are your classes going this semester?
Have you faced any teaching challenges this semester?
Are you teaching anything new this semester?
How are your students this semester?
I’m going to try to use some of these myself – but I’m also going to try to answer the implied direction behind the “what are you teaching?” chestnut: tell me something interesting about your teaching life.
Don’t have too much fun without me!
To my colleague who labored tirelessly to organize the Annual Big Deal Event for my department, an event that garnered more than adequate attendance, including some sessions that I attended that were standing room only, but who nevertheless sent an epic email to the entire department afterwords, scolding faculty and students for not attending and accusing us (as evident in our shocking lack of participation in the event) of not being sufficiently committed to an intellectual community.
Hey colleague! Isn’t it true that you didn’t attend last years Annual Big Deal Event?
I guess you were too busy fostering intellectual community.
In which The Bittersweet Girl cancels all the appointments and office hours she has scheduled for tomorrow and schemes to stay home and write her conference paper.
Who says academics are straight-laced, up-tight, and square?
When I’m bad, I’m very (sorta bending the rules in a way that will disturb no one and cause no disruptions) bad.
Just call me Mae …
… is what I did just now.
The beans that I had quick boiled this morning & then soaked for several hours.
The ones I was going to make dinner with.
The dinner I was working on, chopping all the requisite vegetables.
Before I knocked the colander of damp beans off the counter and onto the dirty kitchen floor.
The floor with the liberal amounts of dog and cat hair on it.
The kind of pet hair that sticks fast and relentlessly to damp, squishy beans.
Universe, I cry uncle.
