Here is the last post in my series of responses to Jo Van Every and Julie Clarenbach's e-course on "Myths & Mismatches" in academic careers. I hope you've enjoyed reading these posts, and I recommend this e-course as well as other materials available on both authors' web sites.
Mismatch #5: Mismatch of Skills
As discussed in a previous post in this series, we often gain more "skills" from graduate training than we think. But the "flip-side" of that fact is that those skills are also required to develop successful academic career.
"Success" at an academic job involves juggling aspects of work that require both collaboration and independent, creative work; maintaining a high level of communicative competence in both spoken and written forms and for diverse audiences; working both within and without structures and time constraints, as the context demands/requires; and having both micro- and macro-level understanding of a topic or issue or project.
While "for some people, these skills come naturally", many of us will need to learn to balance our strengths and weaknesses to achieve the necessary results; personally I think I'll need a workaround for my introversion (I now call it being "selectively social"), for my non-linear mode of approaching things (though I'm getting much better at dealing with that), and for my chronic perfectionism about research/writing (the blog helps, I think). I worry that I'll be too "taxed" by teaching to finish any worthwhile research, that my focus couldn't be sustained while my attention has to be stretched in so many different directions. But then I also know that when I get into a scheduled "groove", I often rise to the challenge and get more work done than I would otherwise.
The question posed by Jo and Julie is whether "making do" in this way is "sustainable" for you. Like students, academics "have wildly different skill sets" and while "there may be a way to bridge that gap [...] it may not be worth the time and effort required". In other words, if the demands of the job feel like "too much", there may only be so far you can go in terms of professionalizing yourself. In my case, I ask myself whether I can learn to hone my focus for shorter periods in order to cope with the fragmentation of diverse scheduled tasks, and whether I can clobber my perfectionism and just "let go" of my writing the way others seem to be able to do. Whether I can get around feeling a disheartening sense of personal responsibility every time a student does poorly. Will "trying harder" be enough?
-------------------------
Previous posts in this series:
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
Part 7: How to Apply Yourself
Part 8: Are You "at Home"?
Part 9: Finding Your Place
Showing posts with label academe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label academe. Show all posts
Monday, January 17, 2011
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 9--Finding Your Place
Today's myth from Jo and Julie is one I find quite important--perhaps because I've done quite a bit of moving around throughout my life. I'm giving this one a lot of consideration as I ponder the next steps.
Myth #5: Geography Doesn't Matter
In case you hadn't heard, "academia is notable for the lack of control we have about where we end up geographically, especially in a job market with few opportunities."
I know that for me, place has always had importance. Sometimes there's more of a connection to the people around me (as there is in Ontario, where I've now lived for quite a while). Other places just feel "right" whether I know someone there or not (Montreal, for some reason; and New Zealand, probably because I grew up there). There are also places like England that I love to visit, but where I could never see myself living.
In a profession where long-term positions are becoming harder to obtain, mobility becomes an asset in your job search. But this is also the reason why "it's not uncommon for people to end up in geographic locations that just don’t work for their lives and personalities."
There's more to place than climate and topography: "let's face it -- being the only person of color or queer person around is rarely sustainable." The latter point is at least semi-relevant to me personally, and I think it applies to one's life-politics (as opposed to life-style) as well. For example, I know a lot of people who have applied for work in the U.S., but I wouldn't personally feel comfortable moving there even for a temporary position. That's a personal preference, which also stems from cultural tastes and familiarities developed over a lifetime. But it's also savvy to know and understand that there's no way I would "fit in" at a college in rural Arkansas (or at least, that's not how I want to spend my time).
Why is it, then, that where you work is supposed to be irrelevant? To return to a running theme in these posts, if you're living "the Life of the Mind" then "geography doesn't matter -- because you can take your mind anywhere." This is of course untrue at every level of post-secondary education (and elsewhere). It's also an idea underpinned by the separation of mind and body, by the ideal of the ascetic/academic, and by the assumption of a guarded boundary between the university and the "real world".
I feel the same way about my living/working space as I do about geographic location--I'm more stressed, it's harder for me to work, when I'm living in an unpleasant environment and there are people with whom I don't get along. At the moment I'm lucky, I have a great space and I share it with only my cats; I'm an introvert so this works out very well for me. I admit that I need quiet and physical order to get my work done, mostly because my mental state is usually pretty chaotic (or "creative" to put it nicely). The same point applies to institutional spaces, something I wrote about here.
I agree that geography, that place, "matters to our happiness, it matters to our health, and it matters to our relationships" and that this affects how well we're able to do our jobs. When you make a decision you need to take into account that place contributes to your career trajectory often in unforeseen ways. Just as the wrong institution or department can be a "mismatch" (often a career setback), so can the wrong city/town or country.
-----------------------------
Previous posts in this series:
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
Part 7: How to Apply Yourself
Part 8: Are You "at Home"?
Myth #5: Geography Doesn't Matter
In case you hadn't heard, "academia is notable for the lack of control we have about where we end up geographically, especially in a job market with few opportunities."
I know that for me, place has always had importance. Sometimes there's more of a connection to the people around me (as there is in Ontario, where I've now lived for quite a while). Other places just feel "right" whether I know someone there or not (Montreal, for some reason; and New Zealand, probably because I grew up there). There are also places like England that I love to visit, but where I could never see myself living.
In a profession where long-term positions are becoming harder to obtain, mobility becomes an asset in your job search. But this is also the reason why "it's not uncommon for people to end up in geographic locations that just don’t work for their lives and personalities."
There's more to place than climate and topography: "let's face it -- being the only person of color or queer person around is rarely sustainable." The latter point is at least semi-relevant to me personally, and I think it applies to one's life-politics (as opposed to life-style) as well. For example, I know a lot of people who have applied for work in the U.S., but I wouldn't personally feel comfortable moving there even for a temporary position. That's a personal preference, which also stems from cultural tastes and familiarities developed over a lifetime. But it's also savvy to know and understand that there's no way I would "fit in" at a college in rural Arkansas (or at least, that's not how I want to spend my time).
Why is it, then, that where you work is supposed to be irrelevant? To return to a running theme in these posts, if you're living "the Life of the Mind" then "geography doesn't matter -- because you can take your mind anywhere." This is of course untrue at every level of post-secondary education (and elsewhere). It's also an idea underpinned by the separation of mind and body, by the ideal of the ascetic/academic, and by the assumption of a guarded boundary between the university and the "real world".
I feel the same way about my living/working space as I do about geographic location--I'm more stressed, it's harder for me to work, when I'm living in an unpleasant environment and there are people with whom I don't get along. At the moment I'm lucky, I have a great space and I share it with only my cats; I'm an introvert so this works out very well for me. I admit that I need quiet and physical order to get my work done, mostly because my mental state is usually pretty chaotic (or "creative" to put it nicely). The same point applies to institutional spaces, something I wrote about here.
I agree that geography, that place, "matters to our happiness, it matters to our health, and it matters to our relationships" and that this affects how well we're able to do our jobs. When you make a decision you need to take into account that place contributes to your career trajectory often in unforeseen ways. Just as the wrong institution or department can be a "mismatch" (often a career setback), so can the wrong city/town or country.
-----------------------------
Previous posts in this series:
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
Part 7: How to Apply Yourself
Part 8: Are You "at Home"?
Saturday, January 15, 2011
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 8-Are You "At Home"?
My series of responses continues today with one of the most crucial issues you might end up facing as a graduate student or as a professor...
Mismatch #4: Mismatch of personality
Every workplace, every university department or academic "unit", is more than the sum of its walls and windows, its rules and regulations. It's a place that emerges partly from the interactions of the people involved, i.e. faculty, staff, students, and so on; "the basic personality of departments, not to mention universities, is a conglomeration of many factors". These include institutional orientation (e.g. research or teaching); departmental divides along theoretical, methodological or generational lines; and "the particular configurations of personalities that just don't work well together".
You've probably noticed after spending years in university environments that you feel more at home within some of these spaces than in others--and you might have identified some of those factors that "work" for you. But it's really hard to tell what a "good fit" might be from only brief interactions with place, and with people and institutional structures. I've often felt afraid of making the wrong call on this point, since "much of this personality [...] isn't apparent at first glance". And it feels even more important when one thinks about applying for faculty positions; as a student there is always the option of switching programs or institutions, but faculty need to be able to fit in eventually with their colleagues and with the university in the long term.
Jo and Julie argue that when a "personality" disconnect occurs, "the problem isn't you--it's just the mismatch between what you need and what they offer." You can work with compromise up to a point, but you need to recognise if and when "you just don't fit the culture of the department or institution".
------------------------------
Previous posts in this series:
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
Part 7: How to Apply Yourself
Mismatch #4: Mismatch of personality
Every workplace, every university department or academic "unit", is more than the sum of its walls and windows, its rules and regulations. It's a place that emerges partly from the interactions of the people involved, i.e. faculty, staff, students, and so on; "the basic personality of departments, not to mention universities, is a conglomeration of many factors". These include institutional orientation (e.g. research or teaching); departmental divides along theoretical, methodological or generational lines; and "the particular configurations of personalities that just don't work well together".
You've probably noticed after spending years in university environments that you feel more at home within some of these spaces than in others--and you might have identified some of those factors that "work" for you. But it's really hard to tell what a "good fit" might be from only brief interactions with place, and with people and institutional structures. I've often felt afraid of making the wrong call on this point, since "much of this personality [...] isn't apparent at first glance". And it feels even more important when one thinks about applying for faculty positions; as a student there is always the option of switching programs or institutions, but faculty need to be able to fit in eventually with their colleagues and with the university in the long term.
Jo and Julie argue that when a "personality" disconnect occurs, "the problem isn't you--it's just the mismatch between what you need and what they offer." You can work with compromise up to a point, but you need to recognise if and when "you just don't fit the culture of the department or institution".
------------------------------
Previous posts in this series:
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
Part 7: How to Apply Yourself
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 7: How to Apply Yourself
Closely tied to the idea that "Academia is the only game in town" and that "You're not qualified to do anything else":
"Myth #4: School is the only place for smart people."
Jo and Julie pose the question, "why are we telling ourselves that if we're smart, we must necessarily go for the highest degree possible?" One answer would be that this is how the system works; certainly Ken Robinson makes this argument, that the entire educational apparatus is designed to perpetuate itself by allowing those most successful to ascend to the level of Professor. When or not one agrees with the rest of Robinson's theses, this point is useful because it highlights the process of replication that becomes especially important in graduate education. This can be stultifying; not only is the government agenda to push PhDs out of the university, but "if the last twenty years have taught us anything [...] it's the power of smart people outside of school".
Not only is "school" the only place for intelligence, there's also a hierarchy of knowledge. I know when I was considering doing my PhD in Education, I was advised not to (by more than one person) essentially because the discipline wasn't respected; this seems to relate to a long tradition of Education as a research area being perceived as less valuable and prestigious than other disciplines (for some history on this, see "An Elusive Science" by Ellen Condliffe Lagemann). I've also heard of top students being advised not to apply for their B.Ed, for the same reason--teaching as a profession isn't respected the way law, medicine and engineering are. The irony is that we need teachers to be the smartest people we can find, since they're the ones preparing the future generations who'll be running this place when we're all too old to participate. Seems straightforward enough to me.
To be considered very smart and to do something other than remaining in academe is to violate expectations; after all, academe is supposed to be the one place where intellectual merit is rewarded most highly. But "what if we could bring our smartness to bear on whatever it is that makes us passionately, excitedly happy? For some people, yes, that will be academia. But not everyone." I think this summarises my attitude--I want to be as effective as possible at something, given my own abilities and limitations; I need to feel like I'm doing something towards whatever my goal is (though the goal itself is evolving, and has always been so over time).
For myself, I do think it's reasonable to view a university career as a good fit if I can engage in the things that are meaningful/productive to me (such as teaching, writing a book, being around other intellectually engaged people, communicating/engaging with different "publics", and so on). I like the structure of the academic environment because in spite of its flaws, it helps motivate me and at its best it gives a kind of institutional form to practices and values I find important. And I think the university should be a place where new ideas can be tried out--where faculty also have a responsibility to voice critical viewpoints, to "engage" with larger audiences. Knowledge is political, that's one of the things that draws me to this career; and the university is an ongoing project in which all members have some role. I find the perverse balance between tradition and innovation to be at the heart of the university, and rather than destructive I think this struggle is its very reason for continued existence over thousands of years.
But all this is about more than being "smart" or a good writer--it's about negotiating the whole package, warts and all, and that's part of what this whole series of posts has been about. You can be smart and do a hundred other worthwhile things, it's just that this isn't necessarily the message you'll get while you're at university, particularly in graduate school. If the whole package doesn't end up working out, there are other, equally meaningful forms of employment to which you can apply your considerable skills and training.
--------------------------------------------
Previous posts in this series...
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
"Myth #4: School is the only place for smart people."
Jo and Julie pose the question, "why are we telling ourselves that if we're smart, we must necessarily go for the highest degree possible?" One answer would be that this is how the system works; certainly Ken Robinson makes this argument, that the entire educational apparatus is designed to perpetuate itself by allowing those most successful to ascend to the level of Professor. When or not one agrees with the rest of Robinson's theses, this point is useful because it highlights the process of replication that becomes especially important in graduate education. This can be stultifying; not only is the government agenda to push PhDs out of the university, but "if the last twenty years have taught us anything [...] it's the power of smart people outside of school".
Not only is "school" the only place for intelligence, there's also a hierarchy of knowledge. I know when I was considering doing my PhD in Education, I was advised not to (by more than one person) essentially because the discipline wasn't respected; this seems to relate to a long tradition of Education as a research area being perceived as less valuable and prestigious than other disciplines (for some history on this, see "An Elusive Science" by Ellen Condliffe Lagemann). I've also heard of top students being advised not to apply for their B.Ed, for the same reason--teaching as a profession isn't respected the way law, medicine and engineering are. The irony is that we need teachers to be the smartest people we can find, since they're the ones preparing the future generations who'll be running this place when we're all too old to participate. Seems straightforward enough to me.
To be considered very smart and to do something other than remaining in academe is to violate expectations; after all, academe is supposed to be the one place where intellectual merit is rewarded most highly. But "what if we could bring our smartness to bear on whatever it is that makes us passionately, excitedly happy? For some people, yes, that will be academia. But not everyone." I think this summarises my attitude--I want to be as effective as possible at something, given my own abilities and limitations; I need to feel like I'm doing something towards whatever my goal is (though the goal itself is evolving, and has always been so over time).
For myself, I do think it's reasonable to view a university career as a good fit if I can engage in the things that are meaningful/productive to me (such as teaching, writing a book, being around other intellectually engaged people, communicating/engaging with different "publics", and so on). I like the structure of the academic environment because in spite of its flaws, it helps motivate me and at its best it gives a kind of institutional form to practices and values I find important. And I think the university should be a place where new ideas can be tried out--where faculty also have a responsibility to voice critical viewpoints, to "engage" with larger audiences. Knowledge is political, that's one of the things that draws me to this career; and the university is an ongoing project in which all members have some role. I find the perverse balance between tradition and innovation to be at the heart of the university, and rather than destructive I think this struggle is its very reason for continued existence over thousands of years.
But all this is about more than being "smart" or a good writer--it's about negotiating the whole package, warts and all, and that's part of what this whole series of posts has been about. You can be smart and do a hundred other worthwhile things, it's just that this isn't necessarily the message you'll get while you're at university, particularly in graduate school. If the whole package doesn't end up working out, there are other, equally meaningful forms of employment to which you can apply your considerable skills and training.
--------------------------------------------
Previous posts in this series...
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Part 6: Getting Your Priorities Straight
Friday, January 14, 2011
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 6: Getting Priorities Straight
The week's theme continues today with a more posts in the "Myths & Mismatches" series, in which I respond to an e-course by Jo Van Every and Julie Clarenbach.
"Mismatch #3: Mismatch of Priorities."
As discussed in a previous post on the "Life of the Mind" and pointed out by Jo and Julie, "structurally, if not ideologically, academia still takes as its ideal employee the gentleman scholar". This means that if you have commitments to anything other than work, you're implicitly being considered an exception to the ideal. And while this is more or less obvious depending on context (and has been mitigated over the past half-century), in general academic institutions continue to be built on the assumption of this invisible ideal (which is similar to the assumption of a certain kind of student).
I think I also previously linked to a blog post about this, but the gentleman-scholar "model presumes that someone else -- let's call her a wife -- is doing all of the other work necessary for a life". This would be the person who tends to all the details of everyday living that are presumed not to trouble the solo academic, including of course domestic duties such a housekeeping and child-rearing. This stereotype is still quite real; consider the phenomenon of the "faculty wife" (written about here and here), while the "two-body problem" is encountered by partnered academics moving to new institutions. [Update: here is a new post from Jo Van Every on the same topic.]
We all have other things in our lives beyond our jobs, and these can be accommodated with varying degrees of success depending on context. The problem arises when we cannot reconcile academic life with other parts of life, because of the nature and demands of successful full-time university work.
Jo and Julie note that "a mismatch of priorities is often read as a lack of commitment -- if you really cared about this profession..." I want to point out that this problem is likely to be gendered; for example, women are the ones who take leave during a pregnancy and after children are born. Male academics are far less likely to have their tenure time-line affected by this, while women may be viewed as "less committed" to work if they choose to start a family.
I've definitely questioned my own priorities in light of the above assumptions. If I "really cared", I'd be willing to go anywhere to find the right academic job. If I cared enough, I'd take contract teaching work while applying for every tenure-track job of relevance that came up. Or I'd have had five publications by now. But I know I'd rather find a job in another "sector" when my PhD is finished, if it seems that there's no chance of getting something worthwhile at a university--which of course means I'm not "committed enough" to academic life.
I don't know--maybe that's true, but the most important thing is that I'm committed to my life.
--------------------------------------------
Previous posts in this series...
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
"Mismatch #3: Mismatch of Priorities."
As discussed in a previous post on the "Life of the Mind" and pointed out by Jo and Julie, "structurally, if not ideologically, academia still takes as its ideal employee the gentleman scholar". This means that if you have commitments to anything other than work, you're implicitly being considered an exception to the ideal. And while this is more or less obvious depending on context (and has been mitigated over the past half-century), in general academic institutions continue to be built on the assumption of this invisible ideal (which is similar to the assumption of a certain kind of student).
I think I also previously linked to a blog post about this, but the gentleman-scholar "model presumes that someone else -- let's call her a wife -- is doing all of the other work necessary for a life". This would be the person who tends to all the details of everyday living that are presumed not to trouble the solo academic, including of course domestic duties such a housekeeping and child-rearing. This stereotype is still quite real; consider the phenomenon of the "faculty wife" (written about here and here), while the "two-body problem" is encountered by partnered academics moving to new institutions. [Update: here is a new post from Jo Van Every on the same topic.]
We all have other things in our lives beyond our jobs, and these can be accommodated with varying degrees of success depending on context. The problem arises when we cannot reconcile academic life with other parts of life, because of the nature and demands of successful full-time university work.
Jo and Julie note that "a mismatch of priorities is often read as a lack of commitment -- if you really cared about this profession..." I want to point out that this problem is likely to be gendered; for example, women are the ones who take leave during a pregnancy and after children are born. Male academics are far less likely to have their tenure time-line affected by this, while women may be viewed as "less committed" to work if they choose to start a family.
I've definitely questioned my own priorities in light of the above assumptions. If I "really cared", I'd be willing to go anywhere to find the right academic job. If I cared enough, I'd take contract teaching work while applying for every tenure-track job of relevance that came up. Or I'd have had five publications by now. But I know I'd rather find a job in another "sector" when my PhD is finished, if it seems that there's no chance of getting something worthwhile at a university--which of course means I'm not "committed enough" to academic life.
I don't know--maybe that's true, but the most important thing is that I'm committed to my life.
--------------------------------------------
Previous posts in this series...
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Part 4: Structural Faults?
Part 5: The Myth of Academic Meritocracy
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 4: Structural Faults?
Continuing my weeklong blogging escapade of commentary, today's "Mismatch" from Jo and Julie is one that relates quite directly to my own research project on governance of universities...
Structure relates to the functioning and ultimately to the purpose of the university. Jo and Julie write that the purpose of the university is to "transmit the best that has been thought and spoken (i.e., maintain tradition) and advance the state of human knowledge through novel research (i.e., innovation)". And they rightly point out that there's something of an inherent contradiction between those two things, one that is dealt with in different ways depending on things like disciplinary context.
With the changing context of the university as institution comes changes to the way academics are expected to do their jobs, including how they work with colleagues, where their funding comes from and how it's allocated, how teaching appointments may work, what's expected in terms of research and "engagement" with scholarly work and life, and so on. Jo and Julie cite the example of interdisciplinary work and the (lack of) institutional structures designed to facilitate it, and one of the ways in which even the best candidates in graduate school can "fall through the structural cracks".
In spite of what looks like an obvious topic of study (post-secondary education), I've found that my own work seems to be pretty interdisciplinary--probably because of my background in multiple areas of study, which in turn is feeding (I think) an existing intellectual tendency. I follow paths that interest me and I'm usually focussed on some specific kind of "problem" or issue. If there's an answer to my questions in another discipline, then I tend to start extending myself and sniffing around that territory in search of something useful for my purposes. And in the process of this, I've realised that interdisciplinary/"innovative" work is or can be fairly unsafe, depending (again) on the environment in which you're working and on what your goals are. It's hard to build an academic career in an environment rooted in disciplinary distinctions when you're not sure which conferences to apply to, which scholarly associations to join, and (my own current problem) which journals would be appropriate venues for your research.
My tactic thus far has been to take "slices" of things and relate them to specific disciplinary areas, e.g. if a particular paper or presentation topic relates more heavily to Communication Studies, then I take that into account and try to tailor it to that perspective. It doesn't always work, but it gives me something to start with. My hope is that knowing the norms and expectations of this environment will help me to find ways to work within the existing/evolving structure, even as I'd like to be a part of changing it--though as Jo and Julie note, "the university has a lot more inertia than you do" so to expect to make your own "place" within it is to take on a complicated (though obviously not impossible) task.
You may not feel like you really "fit" anywhere, but this feeling can have different causes and implications. It could signify that you're on the "cutting edge" and doing work that will in time have an important place, but it'll be a place you'll have to carve out for yourself. Or it could just as easily mean that you should be looking for a career in some other arena that better accommodates your interests and needs--and as I've discussed previously in this series, there's no reason why academe needs to be the only environment in which you can write, think, and produce scholarly work.
--------------------------------------------
Previous posts in this series...
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
--------------------------------------------
Previous posts in this series...
Part 1: "Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Part 2: "Mismatches": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Sunday, January 9, 2011
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 3: Assessing Your Qualifications
Today's "myth" from Jo and Julie is a real classic, something that can be unconsciously inculcated from the moment you enter graduate school-! And it's this...
"Myth #2: You’re Unqualified to Do Anything Else"
This is the illusion that even after successfully completing a PhD, there's still no-one other than a university who'd hire you--because what "real-world" relevance is there for your academic training? (And look--there's that "Real-World/Academia divide again.) Part of the reason for this assumption is that in graduate school, the focus is placed heavily on "content knowledge" and not on the skills and "process knowledge" that come along with grad school experiences. And (discipline-specific) content is generally less transferable to work outside the university.
This is an idea that works alongside "Myth #1", that "success" after the PhD means becoming a tenured research professor (and that any work outside the university is somehow "lesser" than an academic job). Not only are you unqualified for a job in another field; it would also be an admission of inadequacy to abandon the quest for tenure-track employment. In some cases this line of thinking can be quite potently inhibiting.
As the authors point out, "the reality is that, outside of academia, most jobs are far more about your skills than about your content knowledge - and just by virtue of having been through graduate school, you've amassed a lot of relevant skills" relating to research, writing, editing, presenting, organizing, collaborating, assessing, teaching...the list goes on.
I still feel as if I'm simply not aware of most of the job options I have in front of me (but with a much better sense of possibility than I had several years ago). Though I'm in a position where my topic of research is one that can apply in more than one context, I still have so little idea of my own usefulness outside the university classroom--and how to put that to work. I'm fairly sure I still have talents I haven't yet discovered, and I think that's been the major lesson I'd take away from the past 8 years or so. After all, when I abandoned my BFA after two years, I never imagined I'd end up studying Communication Studies, Linguistics, and Education (and doing well at it). I know I have a lot of fears and insecurities to overcome, but I think I'd rather feel significantly uncertain than feel as if I'm staking my career on only one prospect.
Jo and Julie also write that "academic disciplines act as though they're in competition with one another, viciously defending methodological and content boundaries between fields that one might think would have lots of things to say to one another." I don't know if it's my own interdisciplinary background or perhaps a kind of inherent pragmatism, but I've never held much to the maintenance of boundaries between different kinds of knowledge. My reasoning is that I'm more likely to be able to address a problem critically if I can do it from multiple angles; and that is a skill highly applicable to the "real world".
Lastly, there's "a general denigration of intellectual work" in our culture (speaking broadly about Anglo-America), such that what is "academic" is considered to be irrelevant, disconnected from reality somehow--like academics themselves. This is reinforced by the beliefs we may hold about the "narrowness" of our education, beliefs that can prevent us from seeing our own value in contexts other than academe. They can also prevent us from learning how to communicate the relevance of intellectual work to larger publics, which is a increasingly an expected function of faculty work as well.
----------------------------------
Previous posts in this Series:
Myths and Mismatches, Oh My!
"Mismatches #1": Time, Place, and Opportunity
"Myth #2: You’re Unqualified to Do Anything Else"
This is the illusion that even after successfully completing a PhD, there's still no-one other than a university who'd hire you--because what "real-world" relevance is there for your academic training? (And look--there's that "Real-World/Academia divide again.) Part of the reason for this assumption is that in graduate school, the focus is placed heavily on "content knowledge" and not on the skills and "process knowledge" that come along with grad school experiences. And (discipline-specific) content is generally less transferable to work outside the university.
This is an idea that works alongside "Myth #1", that "success" after the PhD means becoming a tenured research professor (and that any work outside the university is somehow "lesser" than an academic job). Not only are you unqualified for a job in another field; it would also be an admission of inadequacy to abandon the quest for tenure-track employment. In some cases this line of thinking can be quite potently inhibiting.
As the authors point out, "the reality is that, outside of academia, most jobs are far more about your skills than about your content knowledge - and just by virtue of having been through graduate school, you've amassed a lot of relevant skills" relating to research, writing, editing, presenting, organizing, collaborating, assessing, teaching...the list goes on.
I still feel as if I'm simply not aware of most of the job options I have in front of me (but with a much better sense of possibility than I had several years ago). Though I'm in a position where my topic of research is one that can apply in more than one context, I still have so little idea of my own usefulness outside the university classroom--and how to put that to work. I'm fairly sure I still have talents I haven't yet discovered, and I think that's been the major lesson I'd take away from the past 8 years or so. After all, when I abandoned my BFA after two years, I never imagined I'd end up studying Communication Studies, Linguistics, and Education (and doing well at it). I know I have a lot of fears and insecurities to overcome, but I think I'd rather feel significantly uncertain than feel as if I'm staking my career on only one prospect.
Jo and Julie also write that "academic disciplines act as though they're in competition with one another, viciously defending methodological and content boundaries between fields that one might think would have lots of things to say to one another." I don't know if it's my own interdisciplinary background or perhaps a kind of inherent pragmatism, but I've never held much to the maintenance of boundaries between different kinds of knowledge. My reasoning is that I'm more likely to be able to address a problem critically if I can do it from multiple angles; and that is a skill highly applicable to the "real world".
Lastly, there's "a general denigration of intellectual work" in our culture (speaking broadly about Anglo-America), such that what is "academic" is considered to be irrelevant, disconnected from reality somehow--like academics themselves. This is reinforced by the beliefs we may hold about the "narrowness" of our education, beliefs that can prevent us from seeing our own value in contexts other than academe. They can also prevent us from learning how to communicate the relevance of intellectual work to larger publics, which is a increasingly an expected function of faculty work as well.
----------------------------------
Previous posts in this Series:
Myths and Mismatches, Oh My!
"Mismatches #1": Time, Place, and Opportunity
Saturday, January 8, 2011
"Myths & Mismatches" Part 2: Time, Place, and Opportunity
Continuing my commentary on Jo and Julie's "Myths and Mismatches" series...
"Mismatch #1: Context".
It's a great idea to address conflicts of context, the "external circumstances" that have an effect on our career successes, because a lot of self-destructive psychological baggage can come from the idea that one's "failure" is entirely one's own fault. And while it's important to take responsibility for your own decisions, just as crucial is the ability to recognise when your (lack of) "success" is being influenced by factors beyond your control. These factors can include anything from personal issues with health and family, to a simple lack of appropriate positions or an over-supply of candidates in your particular academic field; they are "more about timing and luck than [...] a comment on your worth as a person or quality as an academic".
In spite of the sense of it, I feel quite ambivalent about this point. because if I looked at the list of contextual factors in my own case, I'm pretty sure I'd pick another path to follow. That's not meant as a comment about my own capacity--more as a point about the nature of the academic job market, which has declined considerably in the past 25 to 30 years. One reason for this pinch is that the "production" of PhDs has increased; and another is that simultaneously, the proportion of tenure track academic positions has actually decreased as universities have come to rely on short-term contract faculty (or "adjuncts" as they are referred to in the U.S.).
So I do feel uneasy about the context in which I'm finishing my own PhD, one that I think is becoming more evident to more people, though I don't recall that there was ever a frank discussion of prospects and odds during any of my graduate courses. While the PhD is not just about "getting a job", I think career-development should be emphasised from the beginning in a more well-rounded fashion so that by the time students reach year 3 or 4, they have a better sense of their options and a balanced idea of what factors they can "control" in terms of later employment options. This could be seen not as simple "job training" but as a reasonable/thoughtful process in which to engage considering the significant commitments of time, effort and resources that are required to complete a PhD, and the shrinking chance of achieving a tenure-track faculty position. It could also help graduate students to develop awareness of their strengths and capacities, and to build the resilience and adaptability that help with creating and navigating through a professional career (in whatever field).
"Mismatch #1: Context".
It's a great idea to address conflicts of context, the "external circumstances" that have an effect on our career successes, because a lot of self-destructive psychological baggage can come from the idea that one's "failure" is entirely one's own fault. And while it's important to take responsibility for your own decisions, just as crucial is the ability to recognise when your (lack of) "success" is being influenced by factors beyond your control. These factors can include anything from personal issues with health and family, to a simple lack of appropriate positions or an over-supply of candidates in your particular academic field; they are "more about timing and luck than [...] a comment on your worth as a person or quality as an academic".
In spite of the sense of it, I feel quite ambivalent about this point. because if I looked at the list of contextual factors in my own case, I'm pretty sure I'd pick another path to follow. That's not meant as a comment about my own capacity--more as a point about the nature of the academic job market, which has declined considerably in the past 25 to 30 years. One reason for this pinch is that the "production" of PhDs has increased; and another is that simultaneously, the proportion of tenure track academic positions has actually decreased as universities have come to rely on short-term contract faculty (or "adjuncts" as they are referred to in the U.S.).
So I do feel uneasy about the context in which I'm finishing my own PhD, one that I think is becoming more evident to more people, though I don't recall that there was ever a frank discussion of prospects and odds during any of my graduate courses. While the PhD is not just about "getting a job", I think career-development should be emphasised from the beginning in a more well-rounded fashion so that by the time students reach year 3 or 4, they have a better sense of their options and a balanced idea of what factors they can "control" in terms of later employment options. This could be seen not as simple "job training" but as a reasonable/thoughtful process in which to engage considering the significant commitments of time, effort and resources that are required to complete a PhD, and the shrinking chance of achieving a tenure-track faculty position. It could also help graduate students to develop awareness of their strengths and capacities, and to build the resilience and adaptability that help with creating and navigating through a professional career (in whatever field).
"Myths and Mismatches", Oh My!
Over the next week or so I'll be blogging my responses to "Myths and Mismatches", an e-course by Jo Van Every and Julie Clarenbach. The goal of this series is to bring attention to a number of "myths" that can get in the way of making "conscious career choices" in the academic environment, particularly for those who are feeling "dissatisfied" with academic work.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately (and blogging about it too), since I need to make decisions about "where to go" next, and I find the options overwhelming. I thought it would be interesting to think through my responses to Jo and Julie's course by writing about each of them as they arrive in my inbox.
"Myth #1: The Life of the Mind, or, Academia Is the Only Game in Town"
The first post refers to a misconception about the nature of academe, the idea of the "Ivory Tower"--one that is perpetuated by media images of university life. Jo and Julie advise us not to fall into the trap of imagining "academe" as a cloister into which one can retreat from the Real World whilst pursuing one's ideas in peace among like-minded colleagues (and as far from possible from demanding undergraduate students, for example).
I would say it's no coincidence that this concept of the Lone Scholar is reinforced by the ideal of the tenured research professor, which we're generally encouraged to think of as the norm or the goal. If this utopian environment/position ever came close to existing, it was a characteristic of the traditional "elite" model of university education, something I've written about in previous posts.
The point here is that given the current context, you're certain to be disappointed if you see this as the ideal, since the job description for professors includes juggling not only research but also teaching, committee and other "service" and administration work, student advising and mentoring, attending and planning events and conferences, and and array of extra-curricular work/activities. In fact the trend is for professors to be more "engaged" with audiences beyond the university because ultimately, public communication is what strengthens and smooths the relationship between universities and the communities/contexts in which they operate.
In terms of my own experience, I don't think this idea of the "life of the mind" has ever been one to which I've had much access; and as wonderful as it sounds, I've also never really expected to be able to participate. Jo and Julie make the point that the mythical Great Solitary Thinkers were all men, which is only one part of that equation; there aren't too many role models to emulate. I also don't come from a particularly privileged background (economically or culturally), so my expectations have been different all along. I certainly never imagined I would end up doing a PhD at all. Since my undergrad years I've talked a lot with full-time faculty and had a good look at what happens in the day-to-day life of tenure-track professors (and part-time/contract profs as well). Probably the combination of these factors is why I've always felt ambivalent about the idea of trying to become a professor, as a specific career track. The increased competition in recent years has only made me feel less certain.
Jo and Julie point out that the flip side of "academe as intellectual cloister" is that the "world" outside the university is a barren and banal place, devoid of intellectual engagement. I think the myth of "real world" vs. "academe" is quite destructive, including that of a corporate/business world that's somehow inherently unethical and opposed to academe. It simplifies the problems faced by universities, often reducing them to an "us vs. them" argument, and it precludes the possibility of meaningful engagement across boundaries. This kind of belief also seems to entail that academe is somehow more ethical than other environments. But to cling to that idea is to set oneself up for a despairing fall--academics are no more (or less) inherently moral or "good" than other groups.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately (and blogging about it too), since I need to make decisions about "where to go" next, and I find the options overwhelming. I thought it would be interesting to think through my responses to Jo and Julie's course by writing about each of them as they arrive in my inbox.
"Myth #1: The Life of the Mind, or, Academia Is the Only Game in Town"
The first post refers to a misconception about the nature of academe, the idea of the "Ivory Tower"--one that is perpetuated by media images of university life. Jo and Julie advise us not to fall into the trap of imagining "academe" as a cloister into which one can retreat from the Real World whilst pursuing one's ideas in peace among like-minded colleagues (and as far from possible from demanding undergraduate students, for example).
I would say it's no coincidence that this concept of the Lone Scholar is reinforced by the ideal of the tenured research professor, which we're generally encouraged to think of as the norm or the goal. If this utopian environment/position ever came close to existing, it was a characteristic of the traditional "elite" model of university education, something I've written about in previous posts.
The point here is that given the current context, you're certain to be disappointed if you see this as the ideal, since the job description for professors includes juggling not only research but also teaching, committee and other "service" and administration work, student advising and mentoring, attending and planning events and conferences, and and array of extra-curricular work/activities. In fact the trend is for professors to be more "engaged" with audiences beyond the university because ultimately, public communication is what strengthens and smooths the relationship between universities and the communities/contexts in which they operate.
In terms of my own experience, I don't think this idea of the "life of the mind" has ever been one to which I've had much access; and as wonderful as it sounds, I've also never really expected to be able to participate. Jo and Julie make the point that the mythical Great Solitary Thinkers were all men, which is only one part of that equation; there aren't too many role models to emulate. I also don't come from a particularly privileged background (economically or culturally), so my expectations have been different all along. I certainly never imagined I would end up doing a PhD at all. Since my undergrad years I've talked a lot with full-time faculty and had a good look at what happens in the day-to-day life of tenure-track professors (and part-time/contract profs as well). Probably the combination of these factors is why I've always felt ambivalent about the idea of trying to become a professor, as a specific career track. The increased competition in recent years has only made me feel less certain.
Jo and Julie point out that the flip side of "academe as intellectual cloister" is that the "world" outside the university is a barren and banal place, devoid of intellectual engagement. I think the myth of "real world" vs. "academe" is quite destructive, including that of a corporate/business world that's somehow inherently unethical and opposed to academe. It simplifies the problems faced by universities, often reducing them to an "us vs. them" argument, and it precludes the possibility of meaningful engagement across boundaries. This kind of belief also seems to entail that academe is somehow more ethical than other environments. But to cling to that idea is to set oneself up for a despairing fall--academics are no more (or less) inherently moral or "good" than other groups.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Intractable Problems
In the UK today, students and faculty protest extreme cuts to funding for university teaching, with targeted exemptions (STEM subjects). Nick Clegg of the Liberal Democrats has predictably been unable to prevent the Conservative government's wholehearted adoption of the recommendations in the recent Browne Report.
You've seen it before--in Canada every year the CFS has rallies around the country protesting tuition fees; in California students stages protests and sit-ins in response to massive funding cuts; now in the UK, students and faculty are rallying in reaction to the policy bomb dropped by Cameron's government.
But the cuts happen anyway--in California, around the U.S., in England and soon enough, Canada as well (this depends on the situation with transfer payments; technically university operating budgets are a matter of provincial jurisdiction, and tuition is set at the institutional level).
At this stage, I'm not interested in launching into a diatribe about the uselessness of activism--because I don't really buy that argument. Activism of the kind I'm describing has had positive results in the past.
What I want to know is how we can engage politically in ways that prevent these kinds of "solutions"--massive cuts, for example, and related retooling of university governance--from being either required or imposed. Because the situation we're in now with university funding is one that's evolved over a period of about 40 years or more. Surely during that time, students and faculty could have been aware of changes happening? Or did we simply not realise until it was too late?
And then there's the economy--the rise and fall, boom and bust, starting with severe recessions in the 1970s and continuing through to the most recent "downturn" beginning in 2008. Why are universities (indeed, governments and banks) incapable of weathering these economic storms? Why is it that each time the axe falls, education--in spite of its apparent relation to economic prosperity--seems to be one of the first areas up for the chop?
Even after spending a fair bit of time with these problems over the last five years or so, I feel bound up as if by a web when confronted by these kinds of policy quandaries, which are central to the governance of universities and which have such real effects on people's everyday lives. Today's protests in the UK remind me of just how far we have to go yet before the answers are in sight.
You've seen it before--in Canada every year the CFS has rallies around the country protesting tuition fees; in California students stages protests and sit-ins in response to massive funding cuts; now in the UK, students and faculty are rallying in reaction to the policy bomb dropped by Cameron's government.
But the cuts happen anyway--in California, around the U.S., in England and soon enough, Canada as well (this depends on the situation with transfer payments; technically university operating budgets are a matter of provincial jurisdiction, and tuition is set at the institutional level).
At this stage, I'm not interested in launching into a diatribe about the uselessness of activism--because I don't really buy that argument. Activism of the kind I'm describing has had positive results in the past.
What I want to know is how we can engage politically in ways that prevent these kinds of "solutions"--massive cuts, for example, and related retooling of university governance--from being either required or imposed. Because the situation we're in now with university funding is one that's evolved over a period of about 40 years or more. Surely during that time, students and faculty could have been aware of changes happening? Or did we simply not realise until it was too late?
And then there's the economy--the rise and fall, boom and bust, starting with severe recessions in the 1970s and continuing through to the most recent "downturn" beginning in 2008. Why are universities (indeed, governments and banks) incapable of weathering these economic storms? Why is it that each time the axe falls, education--in spite of its apparent relation to economic prosperity--seems to be one of the first areas up for the chop?
Even after spending a fair bit of time with these problems over the last five years or so, I feel bound up as if by a web when confronted by these kinds of policy quandaries, which are central to the governance of universities and which have such real effects on people's everyday lives. Today's protests in the UK remind me of just how far we have to go yet before the answers are in sight.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Decisions, decisions, Part 1: What's in store?
Almost every day I take time to read the higher education (PSE) news from Canada and around the world. And every day a cluster of common (and inter-related) themes tends to dominate the articles and blogs.
One of those themes is: How many (or how few) tenure-track jobs are there available for new PhDs in various fields? Can we give tenure to "adjunct" (contract) faculty whose working conditions are insecure? Given the lack of tenure-track hiring, should we be encouraging and preparing grad students for careers outside academe? And inevitably the questions arise--should we retain the tenure system in universities? Can we keep it, and if so, how and why? What purpose does it serve, and for whom?
I'm going to try not to repeat too much what others have already said, since the discussion has been a regular one over some time and many of you have been following it with interest. What I write here is profoundly influenced not only by what I "study" (post-secondary education) but also by who I am, since the question of tenured academic employment is more than merely theoretical for me--it's about actual life choices I need to make in the immediate future. My personal perspective is that of a PhD student who will need to decide, within the next couple of years, about either focussing on an academic track or looking for work outside the PSE system (and possibly returning to it later in my "career"--if I'm lucky).
I feel deeply conflicted about this issue. On the one hand, I love the "ideal" of the academic life: I love teaching and would like to be able to do research of my own (and even write the book I have planned). I was drawn into grad school because I loved the conversation, the learning, the sharing and development of knowledge and ideas that occurs when academe is at its best. And I like participating in the continuance of the university itself, in decision-making within the institution.
But then again, close observation of the academic environment over the course of about 7 years has led me to doubt the reality of the "life of the mind", to question its continued existence in its (past and) current form, and to think through the privilege that is necessary merely to have access to such a life, let alone to live it through the university. I feel more trepidation and doubt now that I did at the end of my BA. What kind of career might be possible for someone like me in the increasingly competitive environment of the university--and would I want it?
I do love teaching but I frequently feel frustrated by the context of teaching, wherein I've often felt stressed and compromised and have seen many others in the same state. Universities have continued to expand during the last 30 years in spite of relative declines in funding; the growth in undergraduate numbers has meant an increase to the amount of teaching work, and this task has been transferred to inexpensive contract faculty rather than to new tenure-track hires. Universities are now dependent on such faculty, and on inexperienced graduate students, to carry out undergraduate teaching at budget rates--in spite of the potential for negative effects on the learning environment.
Even as the need for teachers has increased, research and publishing are still the main means to reaching desirable tenure-track jobs. For those unable to score such a position immediately after the PhD or post-doc fellowship, the "hamster wheel" of contract teaching can take up all the time that might have been put towards writing. Gender also matters: not only is teaching itself feminised, but as a female entering my 30s I will face difficult choices about family and career--choices that often put women at a disadvantage in the university workplace, wherein we already earn less on average than male scholars. Contingent faculty also have much less input--if any at all--into the way the university is run, so they are shut out of decision-making processes that affect them.
The question of "tenure or no tenure, academic work or not" is not only about choice of jobs. Academic training involves 10 or more years of post-secondary education, which can mean stalling the supposed milestones of adult life (buying a house and/or car, having children, building a long-term retirement plan and so on) until your late 20s or early 30s--unless you had a healthy amount of economic privilege to begin with. This is a significant investment of time, money, and other resources. If you've managed to accumulate a mound of student debt during your time in university, then you'll also be trying to find ways to juggle that with your regular living costs. In other words, you'll want a steady, reasonable income, not the tenuousness of contract-to-contract teaching work.
The lack-of-tenured-employment problem is not just a short term one, a "dip in the market". On the contrary, it is bound up with the structural changes associated with massification that have occurred in universities over the course of the last 60 years or so. For a while, the potential problems were allayed simply by injecting more public funding into the system (from the 1960s to 1970s), and hiring more full-time professors, as a means of increasing accessibility for previously excluded groups. But the recessions of the 70s, followed by 1980s neo-conservatism and (here in Ontario) the Harris Conservatives in the 90s, have made fiscal instability the norm. Hence contract faculty also serve as conveniently expendable labour when budgets shrink.
The future of tenure as a system is shaky, primarily because of these structural issues. As our PSE systems are stretched to their limits, old ways of doing things have come under attack not only by those marginalised by the existing, unequal tenure system but also by increasingly influential "stakeholders" outside the university. Tenure was a system that functioned reasonably well when universities were elite institutions with few undergraduates and even fewer graduate students, but in Canada at least, the beginning of the end of that arrangement came in the 1960s. And it's somewhat ironic that while universities have become more "accessible", tenure is now becoming much less so.
Even as contract faculty form associations to lobby for their rights, we see regular stories from the United States and elsewhere about PSE institutions making it easier for themselves to dismiss tenured faculty as well. So changes to tenure are already becoming an issue that affects everyone, one that needs to be resolved fairly and sustainably and in the near future. If we don't come up with a more equitable solution by design, then the situation is likely to degenerate along the current well-beaten track--with persistent inequalities between a small, elite group of well-paid research professors (and increasingly, administrators), and the non-permanent faculty who pick up the expanding teaching duties necessitated by mass post-secondary education.
None of this looks to me like the kind of situation on which I want to stake my own career and livelihood. And I think the "rational" decision would be to choose some other field. But my love of learning--and of helping others learn--is not necessarily rational, though I do have a healthy desire to see things change for the better and to put my own energy toward that goal. As always I'm walking a line between intuition and "reason", frustration and elation, helplessness and empowerment, and looking for some happy middle ground on which to build a launching pad, a castle, a jungle gym, whatever seems necessary. Of course that must be done whilst successfully navigating the way through the PhD process, but I'll get to that in my next blog post.
--------------------------
Coming up soon, in Part 2: Why do so many of us want to be professors? The culture of graduate school, changing needs of grad students, the uses of tenure and a few ideas about (positive) future prospects.
One of those themes is: How many (or how few) tenure-track jobs are there available for new PhDs in various fields? Can we give tenure to "adjunct" (contract) faculty whose working conditions are insecure? Given the lack of tenure-track hiring, should we be encouraging and preparing grad students for careers outside academe? And inevitably the questions arise--should we retain the tenure system in universities? Can we keep it, and if so, how and why? What purpose does it serve, and for whom?
I'm going to try not to repeat too much what others have already said, since the discussion has been a regular one over some time and many of you have been following it with interest. What I write here is profoundly influenced not only by what I "study" (post-secondary education) but also by who I am, since the question of tenured academic employment is more than merely theoretical for me--it's about actual life choices I need to make in the immediate future. My personal perspective is that of a PhD student who will need to decide, within the next couple of years, about either focussing on an academic track or looking for work outside the PSE system (and possibly returning to it later in my "career"--if I'm lucky).
I feel deeply conflicted about this issue. On the one hand, I love the "ideal" of the academic life: I love teaching and would like to be able to do research of my own (and even write the book I have planned). I was drawn into grad school because I loved the conversation, the learning, the sharing and development of knowledge and ideas that occurs when academe is at its best. And I like participating in the continuance of the university itself, in decision-making within the institution.
But then again, close observation of the academic environment over the course of about 7 years has led me to doubt the reality of the "life of the mind", to question its continued existence in its (past and) current form, and to think through the privilege that is necessary merely to have access to such a life, let alone to live it through the university. I feel more trepidation and doubt now that I did at the end of my BA. What kind of career might be possible for someone like me in the increasingly competitive environment of the university--and would I want it?
I do love teaching but I frequently feel frustrated by the context of teaching, wherein I've often felt stressed and compromised and have seen many others in the same state. Universities have continued to expand during the last 30 years in spite of relative declines in funding; the growth in undergraduate numbers has meant an increase to the amount of teaching work, and this task has been transferred to inexpensive contract faculty rather than to new tenure-track hires. Universities are now dependent on such faculty, and on inexperienced graduate students, to carry out undergraduate teaching at budget rates--in spite of the potential for negative effects on the learning environment.
Even as the need for teachers has increased, research and publishing are still the main means to reaching desirable tenure-track jobs. For those unable to score such a position immediately after the PhD or post-doc fellowship, the "hamster wheel" of contract teaching can take up all the time that might have been put towards writing. Gender also matters: not only is teaching itself feminised, but as a female entering my 30s I will face difficult choices about family and career--choices that often put women at a disadvantage in the university workplace, wherein we already earn less on average than male scholars. Contingent faculty also have much less input--if any at all--into the way the university is run, so they are shut out of decision-making processes that affect them.
The question of "tenure or no tenure, academic work or not" is not only about choice of jobs. Academic training involves 10 or more years of post-secondary education, which can mean stalling the supposed milestones of adult life (buying a house and/or car, having children, building a long-term retirement plan and so on) until your late 20s or early 30s--unless you had a healthy amount of economic privilege to begin with. This is a significant investment of time, money, and other resources. If you've managed to accumulate a mound of student debt during your time in university, then you'll also be trying to find ways to juggle that with your regular living costs. In other words, you'll want a steady, reasonable income, not the tenuousness of contract-to-contract teaching work.
The lack-of-tenured-employment problem is not just a short term one, a "dip in the market". On the contrary, it is bound up with the structural changes associated with massification that have occurred in universities over the course of the last 60 years or so. For a while, the potential problems were allayed simply by injecting more public funding into the system (from the 1960s to 1970s), and hiring more full-time professors, as a means of increasing accessibility for previously excluded groups. But the recessions of the 70s, followed by 1980s neo-conservatism and (here in Ontario) the Harris Conservatives in the 90s, have made fiscal instability the norm. Hence contract faculty also serve as conveniently expendable labour when budgets shrink.
The future of tenure as a system is shaky, primarily because of these structural issues. As our PSE systems are stretched to their limits, old ways of doing things have come under attack not only by those marginalised by the existing, unequal tenure system but also by increasingly influential "stakeholders" outside the university. Tenure was a system that functioned reasonably well when universities were elite institutions with few undergraduates and even fewer graduate students, but in Canada at least, the beginning of the end of that arrangement came in the 1960s. And it's somewhat ironic that while universities have become more "accessible", tenure is now becoming much less so.
Even as contract faculty form associations to lobby for their rights, we see regular stories from the United States and elsewhere about PSE institutions making it easier for themselves to dismiss tenured faculty as well. So changes to tenure are already becoming an issue that affects everyone, one that needs to be resolved fairly and sustainably and in the near future. If we don't come up with a more equitable solution by design, then the situation is likely to degenerate along the current well-beaten track--with persistent inequalities between a small, elite group of well-paid research professors (and increasingly, administrators), and the non-permanent faculty who pick up the expanding teaching duties necessitated by mass post-secondary education.
None of this looks to me like the kind of situation on which I want to stake my own career and livelihood. And I think the "rational" decision would be to choose some other field. But my love of learning--and of helping others learn--is not necessarily rational, though I do have a healthy desire to see things change for the better and to put my own energy toward that goal. As always I'm walking a line between intuition and "reason", frustration and elation, helplessness and empowerment, and looking for some happy middle ground on which to build a launching pad, a castle, a jungle gym, whatever seems necessary. Of course that must be done whilst successfully navigating the way through the PhD process, but I'll get to that in my next blog post.
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Coming up soon, in Part 2: Why do so many of us want to be professors? The culture of graduate school, changing needs of grad students, the uses of tenure and a few ideas about (positive) future prospects.
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