You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'academia' category.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
My personal value is not determined by my professional achievements.
From my email in-box this morning, edited for content:
Dear Ms. BSG,
My name is Stu Dent and I am a graduate student of Related Field at Random University in Major City. I am writing a research paper on Broad Historical Topic and came across your article on Jstor. I wanted to know if you could brief me on the Another Broad Historical Topic as well as Even Broader Topic. I know this is a lot to ask so if you are unable to answer these questions that’s fine.
Thank-you for considering,
Stu Dent
–
Shall I enumerate all the ways this email pisses me off?
1) “Ms. BSG.” You are going to write me an email that cites my scholarship and asks for me to freely dispense my knowledge, but not address me by my professional title?
2) “Your article.” Which one, you lazy little bastard? I’ve actually written many articles on this topic — indeed, it is the subject of my (maybe one day forthcoming) book. You have the time to look up my email address but not to look more closely at my CV and see that I have several publications that may be relevant to your research?
3) “You could brief me.” Sure! It’s super-duper easy to sum up this very complex historical issue — not to mention all the literary and cultural implications — in an email. And, I’m totally happy to do that for you, even though you are a complete stranger, I have my own students lined up outside my office door to get help on their papers, and a few hundred other responsibilities right now. I can’t wait to “brief” you!
4) “I know this is a lot to ask so if you are unable to answer these questions that’s fine.” Gee, thanks. I appreciate your understanding that this might be a completely inappropriate request. But, don’t let that stop you from making it!
I’m really tempted to do some research on Stu Dent, find out which professors s/he is working with, and drop them a friendly email about their student’s research methods.
How did we come to this, people?
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.
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.
I first encountered the term “mission creep” at Dean Dad’s a few years ago, where he described the phenomenon when institutional goals begin to creep upward despite – or sometimes in notable disconnect from – the material reality of that institution.
Unnamed U. is in the midst of a period of widespread mission creep. The administration has decided that the most urgent goal we have right now is to Raise Our Status. This is the governing logic behind every decision made from hiring to promotion to curriculum to parking. Everything is about Raising Our Status, and anything that does not appear to contribute to Raising Our Status has no prayer of receiving funding or support.
The reason this constitutes “creep” instead of actual improvement is because the administration is not making any of the structural changes that would be necessary for Unnamed U. to actually be equivalent with higher ranked institutions like, say, reducing course loads, lowering course caps, providing research/travel funding, etc. Nope, we’re supposed to Raise Our Status without bothering the admin about any of these pesky details.
At the same time that Status Raising has become the drumbeat around here, there has been a concurrent wave of discourse about the Threat of Swine Flu. Reflecting recently, I realized that actually these two issues have a great deal in common.
Consider:
Both give rise to hyperbolic, hysterical claims. The idea that “We can be the next Harvard!” is somehow not unlike “We’re all going to die in a horrific, unstoppable pandemic!”
Despite such claims, the reality is that most people won’t actually be affected significantly. We might all be a little bit feverish but, really, it won’t be such a big deal and it will probably be over soon.
However, while most people won’t be affected, a few people will be seriously impacted, including a handful who will lose their lives/livelihoods.
The modes of survival are not dissimilar either: For Swine Flu, we are recommended to wash our hands frequently, cover our mouths when coughing, and stay home if sick. Surviving mission creep involves keeping your head down, your ass covered, and staying out of all the battles that inevitably attend such wrong-headed institutional policies.
Now, where’s my surgical mask?
